#my mind is becoming more clear. the more peace my life has. the happier I feel. the happier I am. the more life I see. beyond bills & $ &

[heartjellies]

bluebell

synopsis 📝 : wonwoo worries about his first impression after his first child is born

pairing 🫶 : wonwoo x reader

word count 💻 : ~1k

warnings ❗️ : reader is afab—implied this fic takes place after reader has given birth, not proofread 

notes 📞 : hi there! while this is a new blog, i am unfortunately not new to tumblr but in short this’ll be a dad seventeen au blog (more info can be found on my carrd). you can call me sona/sonatina and i hope this is a fun lil place/thing 💓 ye :]

It’s been a whirlwind of a day. It started at 4 AM when you woke Wonwoo up, alerting him to the fact that you thought the baby was coming. It’d taken a moment for him to wake up, but once you repeated that your daughter was on the way, he quickly sprung into action, his brain not stopping all day. Sixteen hours and one baby later, he finally has a moment to breathe and to think now that everything is settled; both you and the baby are healthy, and that’s all that matters to him in this moment. 

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, your face finally peaceful as you take a much needed nap. Meanwhile, Wonwoo smiles fondly at the bundle in his arms before brushing a finger lightly down the side of her face and behind her head. Wrapped in a soft blanket and cuddled closely in his arms, she has become his everything in just a few seconds. 

She lets out a small gurgle before settling back into his arms and Wonwoo’s heart melts. 

It's too soon for him to think about her growing up and being out in the real, scary world. He can’t imagine a future where she’s an adult already; that’s absolutely terrifying. What if she gets hurt? 

So for now, Wonwoo turns to the window to look at the skies instead. The night is clear and bright, just as the cries of his daughter a few hours before. He closes his eyes and a few of the glowing lights transcend them. 

However, it’s when he opens his eyes that he notices something in the reflection that hasn’t even crossed his mind until now. His hair is fucking blue.

He immediately wants to sputter out an expletive, but remembering that his newborn child is in his arms, he takes a deep breath instead.

The blip in your otherwise peaceful dreamland pops the bubble of slumber that’d taken over your mind. Startling awake, your eyes race around the room.

“The baby!” you gasp. “Is she okay? Oh, I shouldn’t have fallen—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Wonwoo replies, coming closer to you and placing her carefully in your arms. “She’s right here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Letting out a little sigh, you begin to rock her, a smile growing on your face as you look at this little creature you and Wonwoo have brought into the world together. She's the cutest thing in the whole world, a little button nose, the deepest eyes you’ve ever seen (Wonwoo’s excluded) and a whole head of dark hair. 

You know Wonwoo thinks similarly, with the way he can’t take his eyes off the two of you and the way that little smile hasn’t gone away in the hours since she’s been born. But your favorite tell is how he looks at her. It’s almost as if his eyes have become brighter since he’s been a dad. They shed a warmth on you and her, letting you know that he will always love the two of you with his whole heart, his whole being. 

Since everything seems to be fine with the baby, you let your eyes wander to Wonwoo. It must’ve been him that caused you to stir.

So you catch his eye and glance between him and the free space on the side of the bed. His cheeks push up in a warm smile when he sits down, and you murmur, “Wonwoo?”

He simply hums in response.

“Are you okay?”

He blinks for a few moments before raising an eyebrow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? You’re okay, and so is she; I’ve never been happier.” 

He gently places a finger on the top of the baby’s head before caressing her cheeks with it. They’re the squishiest things he’s ever touched in his life. 

You chuckle slightly, hoping to not wake the child in your arms. “I know that.” You don’t need him to say it to know it. “It wouldn’t be you if you weren’t happy. But what’s up?”

It’s then you see the flicker of doubt that runs through his mind, the way he lowers his gaze to the ground. “My hair is blue.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks. “What about it?”

He lets out a quiet breath, not one of impatience or disappointment, but one of stress. “Well,” he pauses for a moment, carefully weighing his thoughts in his mind before continuing, “don’t you think it’s a little…weird…for my daughter’s birth…to have blue hair? I should be making a better first impression,” he sighs, kicking his feet uncharacteristically childishly on the floor. 

“Wonwoo, baby, look at me.” He forces his eyes from the ground to meet your bright eyes, even after the most exhausting day of your life. “She won’t remember this. She can’t even see us that well! And even if she looks at pictures of today, I’d bet she’d think it’s pretty cool that her dad has blue hair. For the record, I think you look extremely attractive,” you admit with a smile.

He chuckles, leaning over to press a warm kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out against your skin.

You let yourself relax in his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “Don’t be. It’s us; we’re a team.”

Pecking you once more, he begins to rub your back in large, comforting circles. “You know, I’ve always thought about starting a family. But this is even better than my wildest dreams.” 

He feels the place where your cheek meets his shoulder grow warm as you react to his words, trying not to squirm. 

You know in your heart that you and Wonwoo will give this innocent baby the best life you two can. You’re both in for a wild ride, but in your heart, you know everything will work out. How can it not with Wonwoo—your love, your partner in everything—by your side? 

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #dad!wonwoo #dad!seventeen #dad!svt #filed under 📁 : wonwoo #filed under 📁 : astoria

[mightymizora]

Even if Love

Minthara

Read on Ao3

She has always looked good on dead men’s thrones. She has always been most at peace on the rotting legacies of those who are beneath her. Ketheric will rot, finally, in the depths of the ground and she will rise from his ashes.

Next, it will be Orin.

The last time she was in this room, lost in herself as she screamed at the master of these halls, her Saviour had watched her silently, patiently, waiting to see what she would say in her own defense. She had shown weakness, unforgivable weakness, and she had thought that perhaps she deserved the fate she was sentenced to. As she almost lost herself entirely in the tortures that followed, as she was almost broken beyond repair, there again were those eyes, looking at her. She thought it was just a fragment, a memory of their night together where the demand of her touch last silenced the Absolute, but she was there. She had come for her, silent and strong, unyielding.

Now, her Saviour yields willingly, and kneels before her on Ketheric’s throne.

I would use my hand on you again, Minthara, she tells her, her great powerful grip moving over her armour. 

Power has always suited her, and she has never felt more powerful than when her Saviour’s hand is at her cunt, still coated in the blood of their enemies.

We will not be free until we kill them all, she tells her after, as she cleans herself up and gathers their belongings. We must destroy this foetid cult, and all of Ketheric’s co-conspirators along with it.

She tells her about Orin before she can stop it, and watches as something flickers in her pallid eyes of her companion, something that she cannot quite read but pushes her to tell her everything her tongue can manage. She has only felt this free in herself once before, on the floor by that ruined altar, the last time that their bodies and minds were joined. She feels like she could tell her anything. She does not feel weak for it.

She tells her of the cruelty that inspired her, and then the unpredictable desire which haunted her. She tells her of the admiration, of the worship she felt for that woman, the Chosen of Bhaal, that instigator of her indoctrination. She finds herself still reaching for those happier memories, of the bliss of the Absolute, but finds nothing but the red of the cocoon that held her, and the screaming delight of her torturer at her pain.

You have my word, her Saviour says. We will kill them all. We will take control. 

She feels a peace in her heart. Now there is freedom. Next there will be vengeance.

She will find Orin. She will murder her. And she will smile.

They do not speak on it again for many nights, and that is well and good. She is old enough to not feel the pull of jealousy or care when she notes that the Gith and her Saviour sleep side by side many nights. Their bond is clear, and that is that. The promise that exists between herself and the woman who saved her life is different, more complex, a web that is not a single thread of desire reciprocated but a blood bond, two minds collided. It does not have to be expressed again in simple terms to be real. She does not need more than the promise of more blood.

And still, there are other intimacies she comes to treasure. Often at night, while the Gith, Lae’zel, sharpens her sword and practices form, her Saviour sits with her and asks her small questions about her life in the Underdark, of her opinions of the others, of her hope for the future. 

She shares her mind with her one more time before they reach the city, touching their thoughts together like the gentle touch of hands over a table, a sweep of lips across the jaw. She is still so unsure of who she is, but she knows, she is sure, that those pale eyes see more of herself than she can. 

They become one mind again as she reaches for the image of herself that sits in the centre of her Saviour, and it is not the passionate twisting of their bodies together, the feeling of her great fingers inside her and the weight of her body. The moment she sees is the meeting of eyes after, as the roar of blood in her lover’s mind settles for just a moment, and they see each other clearly. In the passion and the warmth 

I would spend what time we have together, in whatever way we can have it, she tells her, reaching a hand towards her Savior, her Lover, her Delight.

It would be a good life, her love agrees, and places her great fingers in a lace with hers.

They need not say anymore.

As they reach the edges of the gates she is awoken by her love, her Saviour, her own one last time.

Wake, Minthara, she whispers in her ear. I have had a vision. I know. I know who I am.

She gathers all of them, a feverish energy in her trembling arms as she holds the hands of Astarion and kisses them, much to his amusement. She comes to her next and kisses her cheek sharply, and Lae’zel moves away to avoid her attention, demanding that her Darling explain herself.

And she does. She tells them everything. She is not just blessed with the bloodlust that has driven her, but she is Bhaal’s true child, the only one in all of the planes that lives. She was usurped by her sister, her sister whose face she has seen in her mind’s eye, her kin that bears the name Orin the Red.

Hearing the name again still brings a shard of icy fear into her heart. She can see her again, feel the warmth of her lips against her neck, the grip of her dark nails at her throat. She adored that woman. She worshipped that woman. She would have kneeled for her and followed her into the depths of madness.

She looks at her Saviour again, and the memory of Orin dances over her flesh. 

I love you all, the Saviour tells them with tears in her eyes. I will give you everything you desire, I swear it. I swear it.

Her eyes are wide as she gives Astarion her wrist, and bids him bite down on it. He does without question. This is a bond they share freely, openly. You will have Cazador’s head, Astarion. You will be free. You will have no fear, you will have nothing left in this world that can touch you.

Her breath flutters as she bids Lae’zel come to her. She does not move, her face locked in anger. You will ride a red dragon. You will have your sword. You will please your all-mother Vlaakith as I will please my Father, Lae’zel. Nothing could ever stop you. I will watch you take what is owed with pride, my love.

Lae’zel lets her take her hand to kiss it, and probes her mouth with her fingers before letting her pull her in.

Finally, her Saviour turns to her, with a great fire in her eyes. And Minthara. We will kill my sister. We will do it for our vengeance. We will do it hand in hand. Hand in hand. Side by side. She will never harm you again.

This time she is the one to fall to her knees before the Child of Bhaal, resplendent on a throne made of hay on the outskirts of the great city and it feels right. It feels right, even as the fear of Orin ripples through her once more, it feels…

As her lips find the inside of her thigh, it feels right.

The Great Slayer pushes through all of their minds and shows herself to them all, in all of her gore, all of her bloodthirst, all of her power and desire. They all reel from the power of it; Astarion is the first to return, biting her with a fervour, drinking of the holy blood with a renewed hunger. Lae’zel will not be outdone, kissing her and drawing her blood from her lip.

Elgg-hor. Duk-tak. Slayer. She takes her taste from her cunt and wishes she could drown in it.

The next morning she is woken by the insistent shake of Lae’zel, who bids her follow in silence. They walk to the edge of camp and take in the sunrise in silence. The heat of it burns her skin.

I used to hate that sight, Lae’zel tells her. I lived for the red of blood and the black of death. Now I see the colours in-between, and those colours came from her. I see a life beyond passion and death, war and peace. I saw those colours but… But she is the red. She is the black.

She takes the girl’s hand, for she is a girl, she realises, a child with a child’s innocence and pain. She is the red, she agrees, and the reality of it sets on her heart. But I believe you will have your sword, Lae’zel, if you are willing to do what you need to with it. I believe that path is still there for you, should you wish it. And if she lies, if she cannot or will not help you, then I…

Lae’zel nods, and squeezes her hand back.

In another life, she thinks, Lae’zel would have been a proud and loved daughter of Menzoberranzan. Or, perhaps, she would have travelled the astral seas. But no, there is no other life. There is only this moment, with the scorching heat of the sun, and the reality that they must destroy all that stands in their path, or die.

#minthara baenre #manva warhelm #bg3 #my writing

[rnakamura22]

In the next life, I want to be complete strangers with you

Ever since our second meeting, you’ve changed. Perhaps I had hurt you in some way. But you truly changed.

Saying that you have become a demon due to “The love I have for you!” Kissing me easily when you bear no hate or feelings toward me! Ha! It is truly laughable the more I think about it. Especially when everyone knows, I know the most through my skin that you loathed me, never wanted to tie the knot with me! How could you love me, a being who is worthless enough to be uncountable among people in your world? A soulless being that is not allowed to enter your heaven?

A woman’s life is truly tragic and laughable. If Edward said was true, my life is nothing more than a child’s play, abducted and thrown around by you! I should have never dreamed of hearing the secret you bear, since you bear no feelings for me. How could my soulless being be sublimated to a human to enter heaven?

Maybe if I was a man, it would be happier for both of us. I would fight with you on the battlefield, and you would be able to tie the knot with someone you truly love.How fitting for me, a woman who suck at embroidery.

Ever since I became Queen, I knew of many gazes that stabbed me repeatedly. And among one, a silver knife like gaze that stabbed me through the heart fatally. They say that gold is supreme to silver, but I disagree. There was an exception. The silver gained your passionate love, and the gold gained an empty circle of death, humiliation, and despair. It was a losing battle from the start, and I wasn’t even allowed to dream or feel any emotion or jealousy.You tried to hide it, but you see me as truly idiotic if you thought it could deceive me. You have become a demon just like the others, obsessed with the circle of light and death. I never wanted to meet you, I wanted you to let me go. I didn’t want you to stop me. But you made my last wish come true. I suppose that is you way of love, and I’m truly thankful.

oh, and now you are worried about me? They say in the times of death, people show their true emotion towards the person that is about to die. I suppose that it is true. “Out of the way! Anne is my wife!” Truly laughable. The title “Queen” that many woman wish for, the title “ husband and wife” cannot grow to be a thorn that ties me down, when you are the one that are cutting it and I miserably keep tying myself down with thorns repeatedly. If I could not be loved by you and I loved you, maybe it would have been easier if I rushed off to another man’s arms. It would have been easier for both of us, wouldn’t you agree?

“Get into bed Anne, it is not good for you to be up.” The audacity to keep saying soulless words! I wanted to spit it out right now. “My heart does not move anymore due to your soulless words.” But Edward must come first. If he is living a new life and be happy, when I know for sure that we have not lost him, I have no more regrets.

“Thank you Richard. Now, I can die in peace.” This is my farewell to you. I love you, I feel happy when I think about you, and I truly wish for your happiness. But the hate and sadness exists there. You know it better than anyone that I will not get well. You don’t believe it, and you never wished for it. “Don’t be foolish! You’ll get well soon!” The soulless words! But maybe I am the biggest fool for loving you and never being loved back. I wonder what would you do if I died and your beloved half would come back to life. It seems like the only way that I can make you happy.

My mind became clear as daylight, and I feel like I am lively and young again. Despite the noise of the servants, I began to move. Then get out of my room. Aiming to go outside and far away. Where I could feel like I can run away from every sorrow.

“Anne!” You are calling me again. “ What are you doing!? It is not good for you to be up at all! Get back into bed!”

You don’t touch me and you are worried about me? When you never wanted me? How contradicting! You have become kind enough to care about one soulless women that people claim as your queen! When the chair next to you has been empty all along, when there was no queen but only one soulless pitiful woman.

“It is none of your worries, Richard. I am lively again and well! Just like you told me! Thank you!”

When I say that, your beautiful eyes quiver. Why? Do you not loathe me Richard?

“Please… come back to bed Anne. You will worsen with such state!”

“Do you want me to?”

“ Of course I do!”

“ I will if you come to my room later.”

One last conversation, one last wish of a soulless queen. Isn’t a king able to grant any wish? You have said it yourself!

“ I will… please get back into bed. I cannot bear to see you in such state and let your health worsen.”

Such soulless words seems heartwarming when you are on your last breath.

That night, I stared at the window where Edward left. Even though it was my wish, I still could not bear the fact that he is gone. Winter was to come with me, and there would be no spring.

“Anne.” A kind voice. He must have said it to his beloved half or other people in his heavens. How kind to use it to soulless woman like me that are not allowed to enter it.

“ Richard…you’ve really came.” The words meant no meaning. It came out of my mouth naturally.

“ How could I not? But… Please lie down, it isn’t good for you.”

I obey him and get back in bed within my last strength.

“Are you feeling better?” You ask with a kind voice.

“ I believe this is my last breath. I know that in a few moments I will die. I wish that you will not cry at my funeral Richard. I do not want to see alligator tears.”

“ Do not speak that way! You will get better soon! Are you questioning my feelings for you? You will recover, I know it! ”

“It is not something to worry about Richard.!Death seemed like a fearful enemy, but now, I feel this sickness is a gift from god himself. He gifted me with the freedom I never had, and death seemed like a long lost friend that wanted the best for me.”

“Please do not speak any more of tragic things Anne,.. you have a duty to live… I cannot bear to lose you…”

“ When all waits for my death?”

You lose your words.

“ you have said it yourself some time ago, all… my sister..my family… all are waiting for my death. Doesn’t that include you Richard? “

“ Anne..”

“ I wonder what can I possibly do to make you happy. Since because of me, you’ve suffered unnecessarily. Trying to include a soulless being in your heaven and kingdom.”

“Anne.. wait..”

“ I hope in the next life… I want to be complete strangers with you Richard. Wouldn’t that be simply great? You will be what you were.. an admired noble person while loving your self and your beloved half and gaining a heir. I will be a simple girl in a town far away, not being worth of counted among people living on my own free will. I will be invited to a ball you attend, and we will dance for the first and last time. It would be simply magical. Then, the next morning you and I will go back to our lives. Nothing had happened and we will never see each other. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Wouldn’t that be splendid and what would make every wish come true?” I say this so smoothly. One of my last voices that says the bitter truth between us.

“Stop with the nonsense Anne! Do not say such sad things! You and I will be together in the next life, never complete strangers!” You hold me with your snow like arms. How lovely for a last breath of a soulless woman.

“ When I wasn’t even allowed to dream? When you wished for my death? When you loathed me from the start? Why?”

My voice just keeps speaking. Saying with the voice that was gifted from God himself. Giving me the freedom, the peace, and the bravery. Your lovely face began to quiver again, when I say the past words created from you that was the only thing not soulless. How everyone wished for my death. Including you. How you wished for the erase of my existence most of all. I say it with the uttermost bitterness.

“I hope I will be complete strangers with you in the next life Richard, but that doesn’t mean I do not love you. I am always wishing for your happiness. That is all.” I say this with the greatest smile on my face, a smile that seemed like dead, while gaining life at the time of death. That is the truth. The person who has brought me happiness and sorrow, the person I loved. But I do not want to meet you ever again. I only want to meet you when I dance with you again. The time that I could soar into the sunlight like a free skylark. But I know I won’t be the person that you have the last dance with. I know where to draw the boundaries.

Until that time comes, I bid you eternally farewell.

#requiem of the rose king #anne neville #richard iii

[yourlocaltrashpandaxoxo]

Don't Forget My Voice

(CW: Bittersweet Angst)

(Context: Clarissa suffers from sensorineural hearing loss and is slowly becoming deaf. She has days where her hearing is particularly bad and today happens to be one of the worst. Luckily, Jo knows a way to calm her down.)

Jo Hampshire/Jazzy Jamboree belongs to the amazing @sukipershipper

"How are ya feeling, darling?" Jo asked. Clarissa didn't reply.

"Hun? Are you okay?" Jo repeated, a little bit louder.

"Huh..? Oh... yea..." Clarissa replied in a sombre tone. She stared down at the carpet and sighed. She could barely hear herself breathe. Everything was fuzzy and quite and oh how she couldn't bare it. The day she got the diagnosis for her poor hearing was never going to be an easy one but she still couldn't quite make peace with it, despite that fateful day being months ago now.

She felt a nudge on her shoulder.

"Wha-?" she looked up to see Jo sat on the bed beside her, hand gently holding her shoulder.

"I asked if you wanted a hug," Jo sighed "Jeez, ya really can't hear me huh?" Clarissa hung her head low in sorrow.

"I hate this... What if I can't ever hear ya'll again, huckleberry?" she moped. She dreaded the day she'd lose all of her hearing forever. She knew it was a rare event but it still scared her badly.

So many of her favourite sounds would become nothing but a horrible silence. Her mama's singing, her dog, Bayou, happily barking and yapping, the click-clack noise of her tap shoes, the applause of a crowd after a show... But the one she'd be most upset to become numb to would be her boyfriend's voice. She and Jo would frequently duet their favourite jazz hits and Clarissa loved how happy and confident his singing sounded.

She loved how joyous his laughter sounded. She loved how tender his voice could be whenever she needed some comfort. She didn't want to forget it. But what if she did? What if she really couldn't remember what he sounded like? Tears welled in her eyes as this thought crossed her mind. Jo sighed pitifully and wrapped his arms around her.

"Shhh, it's okay, jitterbug.. I'm here," he soothed. Clarissa snivelled and held onto him tight.

"I-I don't wanna forget your voice!" she sobbed. Jo hushed her softly, stroking the back of her head and rocking her gently.

"I don't wanna forget how you sound when we sing together! I don't wanna forget how happy ya'll sound when yer laughing! I don't wanna-" a finger was put to her lips.

"I don't want you to forget my voice either, sweetums, but I want you to know that, even if ya do, I'd sing as loud as I could until my voice goes hollow so you could remember," he said, gently holding her face.

Clarissa leant into his chest, sobbing with a mix of happiness and sorrow. Although most of it sounded fuzzy to her, the last line came through loud and clear.

"Oh, hun..." Jo shook his head sadly "I didn't mean to upset ya more."

"Ya didn't, darlin', I'm just happy you'd do such a thing for little ol' me" Clarissa smiled weakly. Jo smiled too, wiping a stray tear away from his face.

"C'mon now, no more tears, how can I make ya feel happier?" Jo asked. Clarissa looked at him blankly.

"Sorry, can ya say that a little louder?" she asked, a little too loudly.

"I said how can I make ya feel happier?" Jo repeated, loud and clear. Clarissa shrugged. Jo thought for a moment. An idea crept into his head as he smiled warmly at her.

"Sugar pie, honey bunch... You know that I looove you~" he began singing, his tone soft but just loud enough for her to hear him. She snivelled, feeling happy tears prick her eyes again.

"I can't help myself! I looove you and nobody else~!" he beamed, cupping her face tenderly.

"In and out my life, you come and you gooo~! Leaving just your picture behind, aaaand I kissed it a thousand times~!".

She giggled and put her hands over his.

"Aw, doll... That's my favourite song!" she cooed.

"Well, it's for my favourite lucky charm in all the world," Jo responded. Clarissa sniffed, feeling herself weep with joy again.

"Oh! And one last thing..." he held up his hands and began to sign something.

I-Love-You

Clarissa couldn't help but gasp. She threw herself at him again, crying gleefully.

"Aw c'mon, songbird, I though I said no more tears?" he teased.

"Can't... help.... it!" Clarissa cried between sobs. Jo sighed and cradled her close. Eventually, the tears died down as Clarissa looked up at Jo with nothing but adoration and love in her eyes.

"Thank you so much, Jo, yer the bee's knees," she said.

"All for you, my lucky gem," Jo grinned. He got up from the bed and helped her up.

"Wanna go see what movies are on TV? I'll put the subtitles on for ya," he suggested. Clarissa smiled at him.

"You're a peach, Jo, I'd love to do that," she took his hand and both left to find a good movie to snuggle up on the couch to.

#punch out #my ocs #punch out oc #chatty charmer #jo hampshire #jazzy jamboree #(AUGH MY HEART 😭) #(Legit almost sobbed writing this)

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Another year-end round-up: Top ten comedy-related podcast episodes I heard in 2022, but not using more than episode from each podcast, because otherwise it would just be a list of my ten favourite Bugle episodes. Put in chronological order from when they first aired, simply because it was hard enough to narrow this down to only ten and chronological order saves me from also ranking them in any other way.

1. The Bugle’s John Oliver era

Hosts: Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver

Guest(s): producers Tom Wright and Chris Skinner, I guess?

Episode #/Title: 131, A Miner Celebration

Date: 2010-10-18

Obviously, trying to pick just one of these is ridiculous. I got into The Bugle in March 2022, and it proceeded to define my entire year. But upon careful consideration, if I had to pick just one, I’m going with the episode in which they celebrated their third anniversary. This was celebrated together by John, Andy, and both their producers, which seemed very exciting. Producer Tom had been with them from when they’d started until he’d moved to Australia in early 2010, but in that time, he’d made enough interjections into the conversations to be a fan favourite, and everyone got very angry when he left. This was the birth of the “fuck you Chris” running joke that lasted for years, aimed at Tom’s replacement Chris Skinner, as people would start all emails to The Bugle with “Fuck you Chris” to remind him that no one could ever replace Tom.

So it was pretty cool when, about six months after Tom had left, Andy Zaltzman surprised the listeners by announcing that Tom was visiting London and joining them in the studio for their anniversary episode! As the episode unfolded, it became clear that before the recording, Andy had been to the pub with Producer Tom and Producer Chris, and all of them were slightly drunk. Andy Zaltzman’s comedy is normally so tightly written, he’s so careful to stay in character, that hearing him loosened up a bit was a delight. As was hearing all four of those people (John, Andy, Tom, Chris) on an episode together, as by that time, Producer Chris had become a favoruite as well, and the “Fuck you Chris” emails had become affectionate, though still frequent.

It opens with John Oliver playing a voice message from Rob Riggle in which he gets called both a “bitch” and a “piece of French garbage”, and Andy Zaltzman announcing that their guests will be a soundproof safe containing “the Pussycat Dolls, longtime Bugleizers, all of them, particularly Sporty and Baby” (“That’s not... it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, I just - I’m not even going to pick you up on that, it’s fine.” - John Oliver) and it only gets better from there. There are peace talks that quickly unravel. There is cake. Andy Zaltzman talks a bunch of shit about capitalism and God. There are four people who are all very relaxed and having a very good time.

Special mentions of other notably strong episodes of this podcast go to... I don’t even know how to do this since it’s all of them, but the ones where they talk shit about News International in 2011 come to mind. The major pun runs. The one after Berlusconi got hit with a ceramic cathedral and it made John and Andy happier than anything else ever has. Bin Laden’s Fuck Youlogy. The episodes after the 2008 DNC and RNC. Playing the fan-made remixes of bullshit monologues - Boffin in a Coffin gets lots of attention and rightly so, but I think my favourite is the date with Delonte West. Any episode that’s heavy on Tuesday night football stories. Losing their minds about the songs Honky Tonk Badonkadonk and Sexy and I Know It. Just everything. 

2. WTF

Host: Marc Maron

Guest(s): John Oliver

Episode #/Title: 298

Date: 2012-07-19

Here’s what I wrote just after hearing that episode, but that does contain a lot of wandering into off-topic stuff about my own life, so I don’t particularly recommend slogging through it.

The point is that I do not like Marc Maron - I didn’t like him before and he hugely annoyed me for this entire episode - but John Oliver was so good on there that that made up for it. I really enjoyed hearing John Oliver go into his past about living in England, and talk about his influences in comedy. Not just other comedians, but things like his love of sports and Philip Larkin and a chip on his shoulder about class. It’s a really good interview, if you can stand listening to Marc Maron for that long, which I find it difficult to do.

3. The Comedian’s Comedian

Host: Stuart Goldsmith

Guest(s): Andy Zaltzman

Episode #/Title: 82

Date: 2014-06-25

Here’s what I wrote just after hearing that episode.

Rereading that post now reminds me of just how hard it hit me the first time. It was, weirdly, kind of like hearing my dad cry. Despite the fact that, and I swear I know both these things full well, Andy Zaltzman isn’t my dad and he didn’t cry. It was just so jarring to hear him out of character, and he talked very candidly - surprisingly candidly - about all the things he wished were better in his own career and in British satire overall. All the things he’d tried and failed to do in an industry that kept making the same panel shows instead.

I assume some of the candour is because this episode caught Andy Zaltzman at a tough time, during the short window between when John Oliver had started Last Week Tonight and when he left The Bugle. They were will telling the audience at that point that The Bugle would not slow down just because John had his own TV show, but I think they must have known it couldn’t last, and you can hear the frustration in Andy Zaltzman’s voice as he knows he’s about to get left behind in the only thing he’s managed to make really successful. He even opens up a bit about jealousy of John Oliver’s far greater success, which is this sort of tension that’s been almost relentlessly unspoken the more it grows.

Aside from the personal stuff, Andy Zaltzman has some great insights into comedy: the process of writing jokes as creative as his, what political comedy can be and what it can achieve, what has influenced his work. It’s such a rare look at Andy Zaltzman being serious and honest, and he has so much to say.

Special mentions of other notably strong episodes of this podcast go to Stewart Lee, Mark Watson, Paul Chowdhry, and David O’Doherty.

4. The Things We Do for Love

Host: Isy Suttie

Guest(s): John Robins

Episode #/Title: s01e01

Date: 2016-02-11

Here’s what I wrote just after hearing that episode.

Basically, this one was just enormous fun. It’s the second episode on this list that I’ve chosen partly because someone on it was drunk, which I guess isn’t great, but it was really fun. A properly drunk John Robins talking to Isy Suttie for an hour about teenage crushes and adult crushes and stupid things people do as a result. A lot of the humour came from how well they know each other, obviously with the same person having both a baby with Isy Suttie and a radio show with John Robins, and at one point Robins did threaten to murder them all for their sitcom money. It was a case of someone being totally unguarded - possibly too unguarded, and you wouldn’t want media to be like that all the time, I guess. But for one hour it was enormous fun.

I said in my post about it that I wasn’t sure if I’d listen to the rest of the podcast, but I did end up listening to all of it, and special mentions go to the episodes with Danielle Ward, Josh Widdicombe, and Bridget Christie. Those were all great, but nothing actually beat that first one.

5. The Bugle’s 4000 series

Host: Andy Zaltzman

Guest(s): Nish Kumar and Alice Fraser

Episode #/Title: 4050, Bad Boys

Date: 2017-11-18

Like with the other part of The Bugle, this entire enterprise has taken over my life in 2022 too much for me to be able to reasonably choose just one example. But I think, looking at all the episodes (and I’ve only heard episodes 4000-4200 - that took me to mid-2021 after that I took a break from the podcast because it was getting too close to the present and less escapist, thought I intend to go back and hear the rest of them in 2023), this one’s still my favourite.

Here’s what I wrote just after hearing that episode.

It was a live show, and the first time Nish Kumar and Alice Fraser, the two most frequent guests of the 4000 series, were on together. It was the first time since John Oliver left that they reached that level of chemistry again, that they naturally hit all the running jokes and back-and-forth with each other and the audience, and everyone was having a really good time. I remember listening to that and thinking this is the first time it feels like The Bugle could be really really great again (you know, like America), and I’ve heard Andy Zaltzman say something similar later on, that it got off to a shaky start but there was a turning point where things clicked and it was around here. Everyone was in top form.

Special mentions of other notably strong episodes of this podcast go to episode 4161 with Mark Steel and Hari Kondabolu, episode 4189 with David O’Doherty and Tom Ballard, and episode 4191 with Chris Addison and Alice Fraser.

6. Tea with Alice

Host: Alice Fraser

Guest(s): Tiff Stevenson

Episode #/Title: Consent Cast

Date: 2017-12-01

Here’s what I wrote just after hearing that episode.

I really enjoyed listening to this episode of two women discussing the gauntlet of experiences from casual sexism to harassment to assault, in ways that could go beyond the surface. These people work in the same industry, they’ve both been there a long time, they already know the basics. They don’t have to re-hash Consent 101 or whatever, they don’t have to address the question of “Do these bad things happen?” They can take it as read that they do happen, they’re a problem, and it’s worth discussing in more detail than that. They get into specifics of how it looks, how it’s responded to, how it feels, how it affects the atmosphere that’s felt even by women who don’t experience it directly. How it changes the choices and calculations they make. How they may have different opinions on some of the finer points of the best way to handle these things, and different women can disagree about those finer points while agreeing on the overall fact that this is a problem and needs to be solved.

Listening to this made me realize how, even though discussions about consent and #metoo are everywhere, it’s not all that common that you get a discussion between two women who have similar experiences, without any men there. It’s great to have conversations about this stuff that include men! There should be lots of those, and there are lots of genuinely good men who need to hear this stuff, and there are also times when men have useful additions to the overall conversation. But I think it’s good for there to be some conversations where it’s just women talking to each other about what women already know is happening, so they can skip the part where they explain the stuff that you don’t know unless you’ve been a woman in those positions (or unless you’ve listened to women who have been, which a lot of men do, and seriously, I’m a feminist who’s of the view that men can be feminists too, not just “allies”, I’m just saying it’s good to have some conversations that are for women and by women).

7. Mrs. Brightside

Host: Susan Calman

Guest(s): Mark Watson

Episode #/Title: 8

Date: 2018-07-23

Here’s a link to what I wrote just after hearing that episode.

I found that this episode was a little bit like the Tea with Alice one, in that it takes a subject that’s ubiquitous in public discussion these days, but goes a fair bit deeper than most discussions do. In this case the subject is mental health, and they both get very candid about their own struggles. About how it actually feels, what sort of things it can cause, what actually works and doesn’t in trying to respond to it. Some of it was genuinely hard to hear, because it got so intensely realistic, but I’m glad I listened to it.

Susan Calman is known for being blunt and direct about everything, including her own battles with depression, and Mark Watson is known for being thoughtful and analytical about everything. That makes a very good combination for an honest conversation like this one.

8. Who Hurt You

Host: Sofie Hagan

Guest(s): Mark Watson

Episode #/Title: end of 2019 wrap-up

Date: 2020-01-08, 2020-01-15

Mark Watson has appeared a bunch of times on this podcast, notably doing two-part episodes at the end of a few years in a row, in which he spent New Year’s with his friend Sofie Hagan, and they’d record several hours of the two of them talking about the year that had ended and the year that was to come. Listening to them all in a row is really interesting, but I think my favourite is the stuff they recorded on New Year’s 2019/2020, which they aired in two parts in early January 2020. These ones are a bit tough to listen to because they’re full of so much hope for the coming year, and of course we know all of that gets crushed almost immediately. But they both get into really interesting stuff, my favourites being the stuff about friendship and writing books and complicated relationships with the internet and social media. And mental health, all of those episodes get into that.

I’m going to be honest: I could easily have picked Mark Watson’s episodes for my favourite ones of the Taskmaster podcast and the Comedian’s Comedian podcast, but I didn’t because I already had to use his Who Hurt You and Mr. Brightside episodes, and I didn’t want Mark Watson to be 40% of this list. He’s just always so good on podcasts, whether he’s talking about personal stuff or comedy careers or what Hugh Dennis drew on Taskmaster once, because he’s intelligent and thoughtful and insightful. If anyone’s interested, I’ve collected all the Mark Watson podcast episodes I’ve heard into a Google Drive folder. Including all of his Who Hurt You appearances, and while I’ve picked the end-of-2019 ones as my favourites, if you’re going to listen to any of those I highly recommend hearing them all in order, it really rewards that.

9. Tiny Revolutions

Host: Tiff Stevenson

Guest(s): Armando Iannucci

Episode #/Title: 1

Date: 2021-04-06

Here’s what I wrote just after hearing that episode.

Armando Iannucci has made some of my favourite things. The Thick of It is, as I have believed since about 2009, the best TV show ever filmed. In the Loop is way up there with my favourite movies. Veep is absolutely brilliant and deserves every bit of acclaim it gets. On the Hour and The Day Today pretty much re-invented satire and inspired generations that would follow. I recently listened to that self-titled Radio Four show he made seven episodes of in the early 90s and I was amazed at how funny it was. Avenue 5 was... okay, I thought it had a lot of potential that was wasted a bit in season 2 and could have ended stronger with a more coherent plot. But overall it was very good. Death of Stalin was the best use of Michael Palin’s time in ages. The Armando Iannucci Shows are this weird surreal sketch thing he did in 2001 that are ridiculously underrated. All that without even mentioning Alan Partridge.

He also has an interesting story, with a father who ran an anti-fascist newspaper in Italy before fleeing the country for reasons that are related to that, and that obviously influenced Armando’s desire to Make Political Art. I’ve heard a lot of interviews in which Armando Iannucci talks about his background and career influences and how and why he does what he does, but I think this one is my favourite. It covers the whole spectrum of topics, and they touch on all the parts of the story I find most interesting. 

10. The Taskmaster podcast

Host: Ed Gamble

Guest(s): Sarah Kendall

Episode #/Title: 74 (discussing Taskmaster s06e07)

Date: 2022-03-31

Sarah Kendall is an absolutely fantastic guest on this podcast, and has been every time she’s appeared. She’s so smart, so analytical, so sharp with her observations. She really knows what she’s talking about when it comes to Taskmaster, her own season and the others. She’s incisive, can point out so many different things with one comment and leave Ed scrambling to keep up.

I think what really elevates this episode in my mind is a couple of things she said that just took apart Russell Howard. To the point where now when I see Russell Howard do anything, the first thing I think of are a couple of the things Sarah Kendall said about him on a podcast once.

Special mentions of other notably strong episodes of this podcast from 2022 go to episodes with Desiree Burch, Dave Gorman, and Mark Watson.

Finally... I’d love to not bring up the John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman Bugle reunion episode, on October 14, 2022, to celebrate the podcast’s fifteenth anniversary. I’d love to say that wasn’t one of the best fucking things I’ve heard this year, to say I didn’t listen to it on a bus, where I both laughed much harder than is appropriate for public transit, and may have sort of almost cried a tiny bit. But I can’t end this post without at least mentioning it. October 13 was my birthday, and this was the best fucking present I could have had.

[crazyblondelife]

Mid Year Reset - How Will You End 2023?

The first part of 2023 has gone by too quickly! I don’t remember ever being busier or happier! My youngest two daughters have both moved three hours away (in the opposite direction, of course) and as you know, we’re getting ready to have our first granddaughter in September. I love having everyone closer, but that also adds to my life, because when they’re closer, they visit more and they want us to visit them as well. Our daughter, Sarah and her husband, just bought a house in Columbia, South Carolina and I can already tell you that she is going to want help with getting settled and of course, I can’t wait to go and help! We’ll also be in Richmond (a lot), getting to know the newest addition to our growing family and we’re so excited!

We have also just gotten preliminary drawings back for renovating our master bedroom/bathroom AND the kitchen! I’m over the moon about the plans but not over the moon about the prospect of my life being invaded by construction…but it will be so worth it!

I also personally have things to accomplish and dreams to continue to pursue and I’m beginning to wonder when I’ll be able to sleep.

Going into 2023, I have a strong, clear vision of what I’m creating in my life. I plan to make that my top priority.

I’ve talked about the importance of keeping your word to yourself often. When you make promises to yourself and don’t keep them, you loose confidence and basically let yourself down. We all are so good at making excuses about why we don’t have time to get to the gym, read the book, start making healthy meals, take the course, write the book, start the blog, etc., but when it comes down to it, those things are important and when we get to the end of the year, or the end of the decade, or the end of our lives and we haven’t accomplished them, it doesn’t feel very good.

Willpower is not the answer. It’s the power to control your mind that is the answer and you find that power by creating your life in stillness through imagination. Can you quiet your mind enough to actually imagine yourself doing something you want to do? For example, can you close your eyes and see yourself getting up, putting your clothes on and driving to the gym or going for a walk? What are you wearing, what do you see along the way? How do you feel when you’ve finished? If you can do this, you are much more likely to follow through because you’ve created the feeling of the experience before it ever happened. Stay with me here…

Making time to pursue the things that light you up is self care. A pedicure is nice, but it’s pleasure and not self care. Self care feeds your soul in a way that can be life changing…it can spark your creativity and take you down an amazing life path that only you can walk.

When I wrote my course, Journey of Becoming, I had a lot of pushback about the word “becoming”. People said to me that we are already everything we need to be, we are enough. I do believe we are all enough, but most of don’t know it…our enoughness hasn’t been uncovered by us. So many women feel unworthy, unseen, and are just trying to maintain their sanity every day, which is no way to live!

Staying stagnant isn’t even an option in life because everything changes, however, t our thoughts and our beliefs in ourselves can stay stagnant and we can feel stuck because we’re living in the past and letting those thoughts dominate our lives, or we’re having anxiety about what’s to come in the future. The best place to be is in the eternal now. It’s always now and that’s where creating your life.

Life isn’t about what you do, it’s about who you be. The answers to our burning questions, greatest longings and deepest desires are found in stillness. Take the time to be in stillness every day and quiet your mind enough to feel some sense of peace and then, dream a little…imagine your life as if it were already exactly as you desire it to be. Hold a vision of that life in such a vivid way that your mind doesn’t know the difference. When you open your eyes, you will have carved out the beginnings of manifesting the life you want to live. Give yourself this life changing gift every day for at least 15 minutes! You have 15 minutes…I promise!

I used to put certain people on a pedestal, thinking that these people lived perfect lives and had everything figured out, but I found out since starting this blog that it simply isn’t true. Everyone has “stuff”. Even the people that appear to have perfect lives.

It’s all about how you deal with your “stuff” that makes a difference.

For most of my life, I made everything that wasn’t going right someone else’s fault. I never accepted the fact that I had created it all until just a few years ago. It took a traumatic experience and the realization that it was up to me to change things and accept responsibility for my life before anything would ever change.

Almost 9 years later, I’ve changed my life completely. I meditate each and every day for longer periods of time, I read books that feed my soul and I take the time to take care of me. I also take the time to take care of my body by going to the gym, walking, eating well and yes, I do get a pedicure and love my Botox.

When I ponder the next 6 (5-1/2) months left in this year, I know the importance of my daily self care. It has given me so much confidence. I want to continue to show up here and share the ways that I’m growing and learning and inspire you to do the same. I truly 100% believe that we can intentionally create our lives to be anything we want them to be…ANYTHING! If you can dream it, you can achieve it.

Here’s one of my favorite quotes from Brianna Wiest, author of one of my favorite books called The Mountain is You.

“ A beautiful life is not stumbled upon, it is built, it is chosen. It is nurtured over the years. A beautiful life is made from the heart, not the head. It is not one that is easy, it is one that is worth it.”

As we go into the last half of the year, what enoughness will you uncover? What will you imagine and dream for yourself? If you decide to do it, you truly can be on a Journey of Becoming everything that you already are…and the sky isn’t even the limit!

I’m reading an amazing book that has taken me even deeper into my meditation journey. It’s called The Neville Collection and it’s a collection of books written by Neville Goddard in the 1950’s. Wayne Dyer’s book, Wishes Fulfilled was based on Goddards methods for manifesting. This book is still so relevant for today and it’s been my obsession for the past month or so. This is a book that has made so many things clear to me and one I’ll keep forever and reread many times in the years to come. To say it has had a profound effect on me is probably an understatement. It’s not an easy read and I’m reading it slowly and taking the time to contemplate as I read.

I would so love to know your thoughts on this post! Please share in the comments if it feels right to you! Thank you so much for reading today!

For the fashionistas who are interested in this look…the top is from Ulla Johnson, the jeans are AG, the shoes are cork from Schutz and the bag is Cult Gaia. Exact pieces are linked below!

#Inspiration #Midyear Reset #Manifesting #Fashion #Transitional Fashion

[fairytaleofbliss]

So many complexities, but not substantive thoughts perplexed my mind.

I am starting to overthink things  that somehow  I am lost for words.

I can't explain nor think straight what's in my head

There's too much information on the social media platform, workplace and people I talk with

I want to claim peace and bliss

Deadbeat and constantly thinking of change.

I'm in a loop of hell, like there's a torment of everything

Am I a bad person? If yes, I might as well deserve a punishment.

If not, Why would I feel like a misfit, undeserving, an outcast

Is there really something wrong with me?

I know pain has a purpose

Perhaps, I am a mediocre person, who doesn't want change and make a difference

and feel good about my whole self. 

I love myself, knowing that I deserve more and good things in life. 

But right now, I realize that maybe I'm not belong to the population

of lucky happy people.

I'm too numb to feel things

I feel empty all the time.

I know in m heart that I need God. 

What else is there to fight for?

What is truly my desire? Passion to thrive everyday?

I want to explore but what holds me back?

I desire adventures and wisdom

but where do I start? 

If it starts with me, How can I be a person of change? Frustration is all I felt.

Disappointment has become inevitable.

I just wanna be genuinely happy.

I am unstable to do what is right.

My network has a detrimental cause of my mental health.

I am doomed. 

Control and Choice

Just starting to read daily stoic on its page 1, clarity: control and choice. My understanding to this philosophy. Is to identity the things that are not under my control, which is the external factors that  might interfere in my decisions and how I perceive the present time. Those external factors like, instances that some people will not like you no matter how pure your intentions are and YOU as it is. Don't try hard. Don't beg for love. if that's the case, focus on the things that you can change which is within our controls. You are making a change for yourself not to please everybody's approval. It will torpedo  your life  if you do things for people who wouldn't truly see your value.  You cannot change your past trauma, and the pain you have felt during the times when we feel powerless. The power you have right now, is to change your habits so you can bless your future by doing the right thing in the moment that can enhance or improve your personal and professional growth. Live in the present time is the only way we can make choices. Heal everyone.

Choose your battles.

epictetus,discourses 2.5 4-5

"..the same is true for us to day. If we can focus on making clear what parts of our day are within our control and what parts are not, we will not only be happier, we will have a distinct advantage over people who realize they are fighting in unwinnable battle."

#personal #writing #my thougts #seriously though #thoughts #lifehacker #pro life #mind #hopeful #thinking #existence

[carlisles-girl]

What pet names or nick names would the cullens use for their significant other? :)

a/n: Yes of course! Thank you so much for sending requests, if you are the same person, it made my day when I arrived from the store!

—

Pet Names The Cullens Would Use

-

Carlisle Cullen

Carlisle would use standard, yet romantic, names.

“My love” would certainly be his favourite.

Especially when he greeted you whenever you, or he himself, came home from work.

“My love, I’m home!” And it’d follow with a warm smile, and a kiss on the forehead.

Or, “My love, you’re home!” And he’d get up from wherever he was seated at, and go over to you and bring you close by holding your waist, then kissing your forehead, then your cheek.

He’d definitely use “Dear”, too, but less often as “my love”.

Jasper Hale

I certainly feel like he’d stick to the more “Darlin’, I’m home!” Sort of 50s family sitcom stereotype.

“Darlin’” is said by him about 63 times a day.

“Darlin’, look at this,” he’d say as he showed you something.

“Darlin’, come here,”

“I miss you so much, Darlin’. I can’t wait for you to get back.” He’d say as you both were on a phone call, distanced from the other.

His accent makes it so much better and smoother.

Imagine him feeling *needy* and he’s just like,

“Darlin’, I- uhh, need ya for somethin’.”

oh my god

Alice Cullen

Alice has a more bubbly personality, so I feel like she’d switch up the pet names every once in a while.

One month, it’d be: “Sweetheart”.

The next it’d be: “Baby”.

The one she’d use the most would have to be “Honey”.

You’d asked her about it, why she’d call you that out of all of the names she’d given you, and she responded with:

“Oh, no reason, you’re just my honey :)”

Literally the cutest <3

Rosalie Hale

Probably not into nicknames, it most likely reminds her of her ex-fiancé.

However, she’d call you a shorter version of your name.

If your name was too short to be shortened, she’d call you “dove”.

The definition for dove is; “Bird Of Peace.”

Whenever you come into eye-range of Rose, she becomes instantly happier, you are the light of her life - her escape.

Emmett Cullen

As demonstrated with Rosalie in the first Twilight film, during the baseball scene, he used “babe”.

“Babe” is simpler for him to say; it’s one syllable, and goes along with just about any sentence.

And he looooves dragging it out to get something from you.

“Baaaaabe! Please? Just one more match?” He’d say after a wresting match.

Or, “Baaaabe, please?” For just about anything.

He’d occasionally use, “Baby”, whenever he wanted a little change in his everyday life, and a raised eyebrow from you, wondering why he changed it all of the sudden.

Edward Cullen

Probably would use some dumb shit like “Pookie” or something.

After an argument, let’s say, and you’re ignoring him;

Edward crossed his legs as he sat on your bed behind you. You had your back facing him and you were reading a book to clear your mind from the small argument you and Edward had just a few moments prior, but also just to ignore him. Ignoring him was such a difficult situation with Edward, because he could read every thought that passed through your brain. “I know you’re still thinking of me.” He whispered, his chin resting on his left hand. You continued to ignore him further, giving Edward a feeling of aggravation and frustration. He smiled mischievously as he scooted closer to your frame, your eyes drifting of the page you were on for a moment attempting to see what he was getting at. He rested his chin on your left shoulder blade as he brought his hands up your back, then trailed them down to your hands. You had dropped the book on your lap moments ago, forgetting even why you were mad at him as he entangled your hands with his, his chin still resting on the blade of your shoulder. “Hey,” he began, gaining your attention before your eyes fluttered closed. You hummed to him as a response, your mind still a little foggy. “You’re my pookie.” Your eyes snapped opened and you turned to face him, “What?” You said, attempting to feign your smile. “I said, ‘you’re my pookie.” Edward repeated himself as he brought a hand of his own to your jawline, bringing your face closer to his. You chuckled, so quiet that if Edward didn’t have his hearing enhanced, he wouldn’t of heard it. “What does that even mean?” “I don’t know.” He’d say as he brought your lips to his.

Esme Cullen

Would keep it short and simple like “love” or “my beloved”.

She would absolutely adore you .

“My beloved, I made you (favourite food) for dinner.”

“Love, I have a new book for you to read.”

Absolutely would treasure you for the rest of your eternal lives.

#twilight #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #jasper Whitlock x reader #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #alice cullen #alice cullen x reader #rosalie hale #rosalie hale x reader #Emmett Cullen #Emmett Cullen x reader #esme cullen #esme cullen x reader #twilight x reader #twilight preferences #twilight post

[harcove]

you uh. wouldn't mind an angst request would you haha because I have had this one scenario stuck in my head where leon (probably resi 6 leon) has been drinking a lot more and has been neglecting his s/o and they finally call him out on his shit

anyway ooga booga they fight and decide it's best they give leon his space and take a break and maybe he finds them at a bar he goes to to get wasted to already find them drunk off their ass

Angst is absolutely one of my most favourite things to write and to read like damn I do be out here making myself CRY. So I definitely don't mind angst like hell yeah!

I was gonna end this was a happier note- but uh, I really love angst so I left it semi-open ended but also pretty sad I think. Also not really dialogue-heavy, more like... I write too much detail-heavy :,) Also this isn't edited, I spent days on this cause I was overthinking it and felt it was just not good so oof I'm sorry!

Length: 2k

Request: in the ask

Warnings: angst, drinking, lowkey it's alcoholism on Leon's part, being drunk

Leon x Reader - "I know."

How long had it been since you had held your boyfriend's hand? Since the two of you had really sat together and done something together, fully, completely, involved, and focused on one another. You didn't even remember, which was agonizing to think about.

You had been through so much with Leon. And you knew where his deepest thought lay, but you could never truly know. And it didn't help that over the years the two of you had together, he had started to become more distant. And instead of finding his comfort in your arms, he found it in some glass bottle.

At first, you didn't really protest much, you didn't say much about it. A drink every once in a while couldn't hurt. Yet, it wasn't every once in a while. It was more often than you'd have liked. And he was using it to forget. To focus on anything else but his life and his memories. Your soft words trying to talk to him didn't do much to stop him or dissuade him. He brushed you off more often than not. It tore you up from the inside out that you couldn't help him, that at some point a bottle was his chosen form of comfort over you.

The guilt mixed with sadness, and then with anger. And in the end, those feelings came together and created an explosion between the two of you one night.

Your throat was hoarse as you swallowed as much air as you could. You couldn't exactly remember what the argument stemmed from but you knew it had to be related to him drinking.

"Will you just listen to me?!" You shouted, the words coming out uneven as your throat begged you to stop, "put that shit down Leon, and look at me!"

The man sitting at the aisle in your kitchen put the flask he had down in front of him, but still had his hands on it. He turned his head to look at you, barely even moving at all, and his eyes were looking at you like he was unimpressed or annoyed.

"I'm listening."

You wanted to pull on your hair and scream because he wasn't. He wasn't listening, and he hadn't been, at least not for a while.

"No you aren't, you are not listening to a word I say, you never do!"

He scoffed, turning back to his drink and taking another sip.

"Where am I going on Friday?"

"What?" He looked at you incredulously, completely lost as your voice went from yelling at him to speaking relatively peacefully, but there was no peace in your voice.

"I said, where am I going on Friday, Leon," you repeated with clenched fists, "if you listen to me if you even bother to pay attention to me, you would know the answer. So where am I going on Friday?"

The silence was your answer, as you expected it to be, you just hadn't expected it to be so painful.

"I'm going to visit my family in the town over," your voice was low and tired, and you wanted to cry but you couldn't even find it in you to do that, "I told you that a thousand times Leon I..."

Biting your lip hard, you felt yourself break skin, and the metallic taste of blood invaded your taste buds. You were so angry at him moments before, angry enough you had been yelling. But suddenly you weren't angry anymore. You were just so sad; sad for yourself and sad for him. He wasn't going to listen to you, not right now, that much was clear.

"I've been busy Y/N-" whatever he said was wasted on deaf ears as you drowned them out unintentionally, your eyes trained on the flask he nursed.

For once, you knew you had to let it be. You had to give him space, and give yourself space.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room," you offered lamely after the long silence between the two of you after he had finished whatever he had said. Leon looked up at you, with a look of surprise, and confusion, "we both need space. From each other. I just... Don't stay up drinking all night."

"Y/N-" his words once again fell upon deaf ears, and his fingers just missed your arm as you turned and went upstairs to the room usually used by people like Claire, or Chris, sometimes Sherry.

When morning came, you had gotten up later than usual, Leon was already gone as he usually was early in the morning with his job and everything. Your heart felt heavier as you walked into the empty kitchen and noted the vodka bottle you two had been given as a gift was half empty. Something in you asked if it was all worth it; did it really do so much that he drank more than he should've? Did it take away the feelings of hopelessness, like the one you were currently stuck in?

Those were the thoughts that followed you the entire day as you went about your routine. They followed you all the way to the spare bedroom of one of your old friend's homes as you decided you and Leon needed to take a break. If you didn't do that, you feared you would only lose him completely. Or lose yourself. It was exhausting.

But what was even more exhausting was not seeing him. You worried for him, and even if you sometimes felt like he didn't, he worried for you.

It would take about a week before something would crack, before the storm that had been brewing between you two, the one that laid dormant after you walked out to take from your relationship, would begin to thunder again, but in a much different way.

"We're here to have fun," your friend who had been letting you stay over said as she pushed a shot of... something into your hands, leaning against the bar from your side while you said on one of the barstools, "and loosen up. You specifically."

You rolled your eyes; this wasn't in your plan for the day, going to a bar. But it was more than you had done in the past week now. Your routine consisted of going to work and heading back to your friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wanted Leon. But you couldn't have him right now. You were still upset, and you didn't even know if he wanted you right now. Everything was a mess.

Things seemed to blur together over the course of the night in the bar, your friend insisting on you trying each new drink she got, some not new too. You had had one drink that you ordered of your own volition, and it had been a regular bottle of beer. But the shots your friend got for you two, and the sips of the drinks your friend ordered, culminated into more than you realized and you could say you were a bit more than just tipsy.

For some reason though, your friend seemed to be chugging along much better than you, you must've been a lightweight.

You hadn't even seen your friend in a while, but you also were so out of it that you couldn't exactly comprehend time properly at that current moment in time.

A hand on your arm and a familiar voice seemed to sober you a bit as your eyes met familiar blue, but they were clouded over with pain, with worry. Confusion too, and a bit of shock. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch his arm. His face. To smooth the furrow that seemed to be etching itself into his brow, threatening to become a new and permanent feature.

But the sober feeling you experienced also stopped you from doing any of the above. Rather, your body stiffened a bit and you pulled away from his touch, only barely missing the look of hurt that glided over his features as you did so.

"L-Leon?" the alcohol in your system made it sound more like you were questioning if he was real rather than saying his name, "What are you-"

The question you were going to ask didn't even need to be finished. It didn't even need an answer from him, because even if you were drunk, you knew Leon. And you knew why he was there.

"Oh," you couldn't help but scoff, "you want my drink? It'll start you off-"

Leon wasn't going to pretend that he hadn't come to the bar to drink away his sorrows; to forget all the pain he held onto and the nightmares he couldn't escape, and now the pain of not having you around. But when he walked in and saw you? Something in him stopped. Something in him twisted and he felt nauseous and for once it wasn't because of a hangover, but it was because of you.

You looked so miserable. Not that you realized you were wearing your heart on your sleeve at the bar, with the dejected look on your face and the limp hand holding onto a beverage you clearly didn't enjoy. Whilst at the same time, you looked empty.

Is that what you saw? Is that what he looked like to you when he was drinking? When he was at home or at a bar, focusing on anything but reality?

Leon didn't want a drink anymore, he wanted to get you out of a place that didn't suit you whatsoever. He wanted to take you home, he didn't want you to be him.

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" He cut off whatever you were trying to say as he looked into your eyes sternly.

"What? N-no I'm not stupid... I came here with a friend."

It didn't take long for Leon to figure out the friend because he spotted her coming near the bar, and recognized her.

"Hey, I'm taking Y/N home," Leon tried to not sound aggressive when he spoke, but it may have only made him sound more upset.

"Leon? Oh, ya, of course. Are you two...?"

"We'll be fine," Leon replied as he helped you stand up, "thanks for being with them."

He hadn't just meant in the bar but in the past week. It was left unsaid, but it was laid bare.

As much as you wanted to pull away from the man who gently wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist, and used the other to hold your arm behind his neck, you couldn't. You didn't have the strength to, and you missed him.

Leon was glad he had taken the car and not his motorcycle. There was no way in hell he would've been able to keep you on a motorcycle all the way back to your home that you shared, or well, you hadn't for the past week. But that wasn't the point.

"You're so mean Leon..." you mumbled as he helped you get into the passenger seat of the car. He all but carried you into it like a child and leaned across you to put your seat belt on. You leaned your face into his neck as he did so, breathing deeply.

"I just... Want you to be happy," you continued sloppily, "but you won't... Let me in..."

Leon's breathing stopped for a moment as he stilled, his hand still on the seatbelt he had just finished putting you in. He quickly pulled himself together and pulled back, adjusting the belt on your body so it wasn't digging into your lazy form, but it was still doing its job.

"I know."

There was so much more he could say, but he couldn't.  He wasn't sure if he ever could.

He settled himself into the driver's seat and got ready to start the car up.

"I still love you though..." your words were slurred as you rested your head on the car window, feeling your eyes grow heavier.

"I..." Leon's hand was turning white at the knuckles from how hard he was holding the steering wheel. He didn't deserve you. And you didn't deserve this.

"I know..."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon x reader #my writing #amy writes #resident evil #resident evil 6 #re #resident evil imagine #resident evil fanfiction #angst #re angst #hey tumblr and EVERY OTHER PLATFORM #STOP TRYING TO CORRECT MY CANADIAN SPELLING OF WORDS OKAY GOSH #Just cause i wrote favourite with a U doesnt mean its wrong i hate u #this isnt good im sorry oop #alcohol mention #drinking mention #its 5 am omfg i need to go to bed holy FUCK

[sorryforbeingcrazy]

Buffy and Spike deserved more...talking.

I´ve been marinating this in my brain for a couple of days, so here I go.

I really liked the relationship between Buffy and Spike. And I´m not only focusing on the “romance” part, but in general. I loved their transition from enemies to allies to....friends? I just enjoyed how when it came to serious threats, they always looked  and relied on one another for help.

That´s why one of the things that disappointed me the most about the last season was the fact that they never really talked about how wrong they did to each other on season 6.

Season 6 is a very very dark season, for all of the characters: Willow´s addiction to magic and the effects it has on Tara, Xander´s fears that end up leaving Anya on the altar, Giles feeling that he is useless...But who really takes the trophy home in this one, is Buffy. I don´t even know how to start.

From the moment she is brought back to life, she suffers. We were expecting her comeback to be a happy moment, filled with tears of joy, laughter and hugs. Instead, she wakes up in her grave, has to dig herself out and then she walks around a Sunnydale on fire and full of demons. Can you imagine the shock? Only the crawling up from the grave should be enough to send someone to therapy for the rest of their lives. The mere thought of waking up in a coffin, six-feet undergroundnd makes me anxious...But let´s keep going.

She is back. She is traumatized and shocked beyond belief and at home with Dawn (after reliving everything that happened before she died). She is quiet, trying to process everything while Dawn is constantly talking to her about how things are and asking if she is ok. Her hands still wrecked from the diggin. And suddenly, she is face to face with Spike. (This is a sidenote related to the actors. I cannot give enough credit to James Marsters portrayal of Spike in general. But in this scene...man, 12/10, flawless). He looks at her in disbelief. And despite the fact that he was happier than ever that she was alive again, he does not try to touch her or approach her, and the moment he sees her hands he acknowledges what she has been through. So he just tell her that they are going to take care of her, and sends Dawn away to fetch stuff to clean her wounds. And they are alone in the living room. He does not overwhelm her with questions or hugs or anything. He just stares at her, giving her time to put her thoughts in order.

It may look like a trivial scene but I´m not kidding when I tell you that, for me, this is the most important scene of the whole season. And it is because it defines how the dynamic between Buffy and Spike, and Buffy and her friends is going to be.

When Spike is holding her wounded hands, letting her ask questions, just staring at each other, there´s silence. Peace. Calm. It´s the first moment since she is back that she is at ease. But the moment her friends burst through the door, is chaos. Noise, questions, worry, light, people...And this is why this scene is so important. During the rest of the season, the reason why Buffy goes away looking for Spike is because she wants that peace and quiet. She wants the calmness she gets around him, when she does not have to worry about being fine and happy in front of her friends. She can take her mask off when she is in front of Spike. That´s why she tells him that she was in a good place. That´s why he turns into her confident.

And for sometime, it works. Whenever she feels like she can´t take it anymore she goes to spend sometime with Spike. The problem is that her life gets harder and harder: financial problems, Giles leaves, Willow´s addiction, her relationship with Dawn. Her struggle becomes unbearable to the point were Spike is the only safe constant in her life. The only person she can rely on. And of course, mixing this with Spike´s feelings and their “tension”, their relationship turns physical. Very physical. And here is when Buffy starts using, quite wrongly, Spike.

The first time could be a slip, but not the rest. She may not have been aware at the beginning, but deep inside she knew what she was doing. She knew that Spike had strong feelings for her. She knew that he would never deny her and even if he did (that he actually does a couple of times) he wouldn´t last long. So she takes advantage of him and his feelings.

Someone, blind as a fucking bat, could say “Spike wasn´t minding it. He was enjoying the sex with Buffy. It´s what he wanted.” Fuck, no. He spents the whole season wanting to talk to her about their relationship. To discuss what is going on between them. If you are in it just for the sex, you don´t care to ask questions. You just don´t care. You just take what you came for and then you leave. The way Buffy does. And this bothers him. It bothers him that the moment they are finished she runs away. It hurts him. More than once he calls her out by the fact that whenever they are not “in bed”, she is constantly yelling at him and insulting him and his feelings, and yet, she always comes back to him.

Now, for those who think that Spike was fine with this I want you to imagine for a second, that you are in his shoes. As a human being, and not caring about genders. Imagine you loved someone, beyond reason (i´m not even going to throw in the fact that he saw her die even though i could). And because you care about this person, you spent time with them because they are in a bad place mentally. And that person enjoys your company. And starts spending more time with you. And one day, you kiss. Once. Twice. Then, you sleep together. Once. Twice. And god knows how many more times. You could think “If they like to spend time with me, tell me things they do not to their friends, kiss me and even sleep with me, they must feel something, right?” It´s a fair assumption. But instead, this person is constantly telling you how disgusted they feel with themselves for being with you physically, to the point were they keep what you have in absolute secret from their friends, and they run from you everytime you sleep together.

Fucking. Imagine.

Evil or not. Souless or not. That fucks you up my friends.

What leads us to the horrifying events of Seeing Red. You won´t see me coming any close to justify what Spike tries to do to Buffy. There´s no excuse in the world that clears you from that one. But I do see where it comes from. And it´s not just because Spike is evil. That´s a lame excuse of an argument. That scene, is the representation of Spike hitting rock bottom. He wants what he had with Buffy back. Even if it was only physical, it was at least something. And so, he is desperate...and well....we all know what happens. I swear to you, that scene creeped me out so fucking much.

That´s why it angers me how they did not approach these subjects on season 7. They both did terrible things to each other. They should have talked about it in depth. And even though I´m quite satisfied how they ended up acknowledging each other in ways any of the other characters do, I cannot hide my displeasure about that missing conversation. They needed more closure for what happened on season 6.

Good lord. This really turned out long.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #spike #spuffy #william the bloody #sarah michelle gellar #james marsters #btvs season 6 #btvs season 7 #my thoughts #sorry for the rant #i just had a lot to say #buffy x spike

[kieraelieson]

In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Five, Logan.

Virgil Roman Patton Remus Janus

Logan had been aware of the ‘Demanding Affection Lessons’. Patton had consulted him before even suggesting them to Virgil, and Logan had agreed that they might be useful. Though to be honest, he’d thought at the time that the ultimate result of the lessons would be a closer relationship between Virgil and Patton, and perhaps Virgil would become more vocal about his needs and wants.

He hadn’t expected the nervous request that day in the kitchen. It had caught him off guard, and he’d asked Virgil to repeat himself, even though he had heard it the first time. He could hardly believe Virgil was requesting affection from him, and though he did indeed feel affectionately towards Virgil, his attempt to fulfill the request had been, even in his own eyes, paltry.

But even more he hadn’t expected the way that Virgil’s requests for affection would spread amongst the other sides. Roman, Patton, even Remus had come up to ask for affection.

As he always did when confronted with something he hadn’t anticipated, he began collecting data. Even before Remus, but especially now that he had joined, Logan could confirm that the effect of the requests for affection was nothing but positive. General moods had improved, relationships between them all had been significantly strengthened, collaborative efforts to tackle problems had increased massively, and perhaps most important, Thomas was happier.

It was a logical move for Logan to also request affection from the other sides. The benefits were clear.

However.

He did not want to subject himself to five hugs. And that would also likely not have the same benefits. He would need to ask for things he wanted. He was just concerned that if he did so, he would be rejected. His requests would take more time than a simple hug. The other sides were busy themselves, and didn’t want to take time out of their days to do him favors.

But he could see from his data the benefits that were possible. The possible improvements to Thomas’s life. Even the potential improvements to his own. How could he squander all of that by not asking?

— — —

Patton was the safest first option. Not only because he was most likely to say yes, but also because he frequently cooked.

“Patton?” Logan said, beginning to understand more Virgil’s hesitance in asking.

“Yeah?” Patton said, looking up from his craft with a smile.

Logan held out a paper on which he’d listed approximate measurements and times. “I… would like to request… for you to make me a toast with Crofters. To me i-it would be affection.” Despite his previous rehearsing in the mirror, he still didn’t manage to make it through the request without stumbling.

Patton looked at the paper curiously. “Oh. Oh, I get it! Of course I will, Lo!”

Relief swept over him more powerfully than Logan had anticipated, and he needed to sit down. “Thank you, Patton.”

Patton gave him one of those soft looks, like he did when he wanted to hug someone, but he didn’t hug Logan, just stood up, looking again at the paper. “I’ll be right back!”

That toast Patton returned with seemed like the best one Logan had ever eaten.

— — —

With a grown confidence, Logan knocked on Roman’s door.

“Come in!”

Logan entered and held out a paper to Roman. “I have a request.”

Roman frowned at the paper a minute. “Chores?”

“Not exactly,” Logan said, knowing he’d tailored this request exactly to Roman. He pulled out his flash card to be sure of the correct term. “Those are indeed chores that need doing, but my request if for you to ‘gamify’ them. It would be as a favor to me, as… as affection.”

Roman’s head cocked to the side, and he silently mouthed ‘affection?’. Similarly to Patton, the meaning seemed to hit him all at once. “Oh! Oh, well yeah. I can definitely do that. I can’t promise that my games will work, Thomas might still leave the things undone, but I can definitely make games for the chores.”

Logan smiled, something fizzy feeling welling up in his chest. “Thank you, Roman.”

Roman grinned. “Anytime, Specs.”

— — —

With Virgil, he could text. It was relieving, not to have to ask in person.

Logan: I have a favor to ask

Virgil: ?

Logan: Have you heard the term ‘body doubling’?

Virgil: yeah, I’ve come across it once or twice

Logan: Would you be willing to come into my room and engage in your own activities while I do my work? It would be received as a form of affection.

Virgil: pfft, you all are such copycats. But yeah, totally, I’ll be over in a minute.

Sure enough, there was a soft knock at the door a few minutes later, and Virgil came in with two cups of tea. “Pat said we need to be hydrated.”

Logan smiled and nodded.

Virgil set one of the cups on Logan’s desk, and then slid down the wall with his own just beyond the desk, setting the cup on the floor next to him and pulling out his phone.

Despite Virgil being the embodiment of anxiety, it felt like a peace settled over the room.

Logan: Thank you.

Virgil: no prob 💜

— — —

Remus would be… interesting to ask. But Logan wanted to ask him before he asked Janus. For one reason, if things went poorly, he had one side left with whom he expected them to go well. For another, Remus was easier to find. Janus’s job required a lot of hiding away and working in the deeper parts of Thomas’s mind, and while he could often be found in his room, it was by no means a guarantee.

Almost the moment he walked into the downstairs living room he heard a snort.

“What, Mr. No-Feelings came for hugs too?”

“No actually, I have a request for a different type of affection.”

Remus popped up from behind the couch, streaked with a… substance. “Oh?”

“There are a few subjects in which I am interested, apart from my role as Thomas’s Logic and Curiosity. I wanted to ask if you would be willing to help mold the imagination in such a way that I can pursue those interests.”

Remus shrugged. “I mean, I probably won’t make it exactly accurate, but I’m game for helping you out. Why’d you ask me though? Why not Goody-Two-Shoes upstairs?”

Logan smiled slightly. “I believe some of the subjects would be of interest to you as well.” He held out a paper to Remus.

Remus’s expression went from curious, to intrigued, to nearly gleeful. “Oh hell yeah! Come on, Nerdy Wolverine! We’re doing this Now!”

— — —

It was his third attempt. Logan knocked on the door to Janus’s room.

Rather than saying ‘come in’, Janus opened the door, looking rather haggard.

Logan blinked. If he’d intended to ask anything else, he would have immediately regretted his request.

“Yes?” Janus said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I had come to ask… You are well known to be skilled at self-care, I had wanted to join you. It would be received as affection, and, perhaps it might be good for you at the moment as well.”

Janus gave him a half-hearted glare. “I’m fine.” His face smoothed out. “But yes, that would be nice.”

Logan helped set up, glad for the both of them to be able to relax in a hot bath and have a few hours of rest and pampering.

“If you ever want,” Logan offered. “I would be open to returning favors and affection.”

Janus just hummed noncommittally. “I appreciate the offer.”

— — —

He was going to have to be blunt. And clear.

He rose up in the bedroom. “Thomas, I have something to ask you.”

Thomas startled. “Ah! Logan! Geez, you could give me a little warning.”

“Apologies,” Logan said, feeling slightly deflated. “But I do have something to ask.”

“Yeah, of course,” Thomas said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “What’s up?”

Logan offered a paper to Thomas. “I am continuing the requests for affection, however affection towards me would look different than it would towards others sides. I would greatly appreciate it if you would choose one of these healthy habits and commit to pursuing it, put it on a schedule and act on it regularly.”

Thomas studied the list.

“Additionally, Roman has created games associated with each of these, to make it easier to remember and complete.”

“Wow, Logan, this is really well thought out,” Thomas said, still looking at the paper. “I mean, I’d definitely need your help to stick with it, but sure, I’ll pick one of these.”

A broad smile invaded Logan’s face. “Of course I will be helping.”

#my own work #sanders sides #logan sanders #Roman sanders #Virgil sanders #Patton sanders #Janus sanders #Remus sanders #character!thomas

[skyborn-reads]

🎆 Message From The Universe

“...for when you hear thunder, it's only the Universe clearing Its throat to drop more tea on you.”

Pictures source

Sky 1 — Pathways

Cards drawn: Eight of Swords, Four of Pentacles

There are mainly three groups who choose this pile. Some of you want to escape the current rhythms of life. Some of you want to stay. Some of you don't know whether you should stay or leave. You stand right where you are but your eyes are darting here and there. I hope this reading helps all of you in your quest, whichever way you wish to go or remain.

To people who want to break free from the past rhythms of life — no longer will you be bound to stagnancy. The worst has passed and you have bore witness to its trials and tribulations. Now the Universe is asking you if you dare to make that one choice to free yourself from the burden. Be aware, as the crossroad is nigh.

To the ones who want to stay — there's something you're holding onto. You won't want to leave because you still feel there's gold to be mined where you are, metaphorically speaking. You still see the benefits of staying where you are, and you're right, but it would take a struggle to mine the gold, and you won't always get what you want. The Universe trusts you to make the best decision for yourself. So whether to charge towards the next stop or lay low in wait, the choice is up to you, always up to you.

To people whose eyes are darting around looking lost — ask yourself what you want and what your priority is. You have many options and it seems like every path bears fruit, but there is one path that is meant for you, and you're the best person to decide which one it is. Good luck, because you might meet challenges on your path that will strengthen you and help you become stronger and wiser than you are now.

To all of you — the next months will be an eye-opening experience for you. You'll see the true face of many people, see your situation from different viewpoints. You'll understand the rhythm of things and even be able to predict how it would eventually lead. You're safe and guided. You'll land where you want to land, but first as already mentioned there will be tests, and fortunately luck will be at your side 🍀

Your journey will be easier if you know what to hold onto and what to let go. You seem to want to hold onto more than you can but some of those things no longer serve you. Do you see their true value? Do you know what's good for you and what will ultimately cause you more sorrow? Release them now. It will be painful, but it will be worth it in the long run. There is an end to everything. By releasing them you will see joy and freedom as never felt. I wish you guys a lot of love and a lot of happiness 💚🍀💚

Sky 2 — Gifts

Cards drawn: Ace of Wands (reversed), Page of Wands

You lose something, you gain something. You've recently let go of something, but you'll be a lot grounded from your experiences and will have an inner knowing of what's good for you and what's not. Imagine waking up from a restful sleep to a cool relaxing morning. You'll feel recharged, there's nothing in this world that you cannot accomplish. You'll gain true inner strength, my dears, but not overnight. The next coming months of your life will be one that your future self will look back to and smile, for you'll transform a lot, you're the mountain in the woods — grounded, serene and wise.

Also, some new opportunities are coming your way 💚 For some of you you'll meet new people who bring you fortune, some of you will receive money, or a new investment. For some of you, your future partner will be stepping into your life in the coming months 😁💕

You'll also have a new goal. This goal will make you feel hopeful and giddy. There's a lot of love vibes here so the goal can be in the romance apartment. Some of you will be going on a date! You'll find your heart overflowing with love and the ecstacy of new love 💖 Congratulations to you!!

For others of you, your heart will be a desert no more and the warmth of self love will flow through you. By showing love to yourself, you're manifesting your future lover into your life. Take it step by step and don't rush. They will enter your life surely, and if you practise self love you will be on your best state to welcome them.

Sky 3 — Blocks

Cards drawn: Eight of Swords, The Star

This pile shares the swords card with the first pile, but unlike the first pile which is active in their quest, there's a very oppressed and stagnant energy here. I hope you guys are okay. Someone doesn't want to move forward, I feel this someone is you. You might fall victim to your limiting beliefs, believing that you are restricted, but your current situation will not improve if you don't actively make a move. I hear “make a different choice”. If you feel stuck in the same situations over and over again, it's time to make a different choice. Stop being passive. Choosing the same doors every time won't bring you to new destinations. I feel you already know that, but there's no action from your part that affirms that you want a change.

I'm sorry to say that nobody will be able to help you if you choose to remain where you are. You must first make a move. When you do, even if the road ahead might be rocky, you'll encounter people who will help you. For some of you you have kept something in your heart for a long time. You want to say it but you fear what would happen if you do. Your current situation is what happens when you don't. You're called to make a decision — which way will you choose?

You might have also recently left a toxic part of your life, be it environment or people. Your heart has tears flowing, but the Universe congratulates you on your decision to leave this situation. Soon flowers will blossom from your tears, and you'll see that they lead you to a happier place, one where you'll feel you finally belong, one where happiness resides deep within your soul ❤️ Pile 3, are you ready to welcome this change into your life? Lick your wounds for however long you need. When you're ready, the stars will shine bright for you, and you'll know where to go.

“Be it rain or blizzard, my heart stays with you.” — someone who loves you.

Sky 4 — Pillows

Cards drawn: Death, Ten of Cups

You feel tired, dears, worn out. What you've been through must be rough. Please take a rest before you continue on your path, and don't argue with me. You need the rest.

You've seen lots over the past few months of your lives, things that made you question loyalty of people who you once loved. You are starting to have doubts whether you've made the right choices all along. You have, you're just going through setbacks but the sun still rises at the darkest times. Tomorrow we'll rise and try again, shall we?

The Universe advises you to spend time in solitude to reassess your life. Don't take everything in one go, try to adopt a slow and peaceful eye to your inner thoughts. Immerse yourself in your hobbies, this time not to make money or stress yourself out, but to take the time to enjoy them as only hobbies that are meant to bring you joy. They will make you feel so loved, and you'll start to see that there's warmth to every melting candle, there are things to appreciate in every low point in life. The Universe will be gifting you a change of perspective, my dears. Because in order to grow one must first see that there is more to life than how it used to be. Soon, you'll grow wiser in mind.

But a change of perspective isn't all that the Universe will offer you. You'll soon receive an offer, an invitation if you will to make a choice. This choice will pave the way to your future family, a loved one who will adore you like the diamond you are, and most importantly, true emotional connection. For some of you this person is a soulmate. Please note that this is only the beginning towards meeting them. This path will have its own challenges, challenges on you, on your future spouse, and on the connection between you two. So take my advice and rest up first my loves, you'll need it for what's next 💖💤💖

#free reading #free readings #intuitive reading #intuitive readings #pac #divination #pick a card #universe #72 #73 #74 #75

[shadowsinger11]

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #james phelps #oliver phelps

[miyagihawk]

why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062



The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you. 

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

#eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai #hawk moskowitz

[dothwrites]

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3 

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes. 

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers. 

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color. 

“Cas.” 

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice. 

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave. 

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here. 

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?” 

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy. 

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story. 

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words. 

That’s not who I am. 

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets. 

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...” 

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking. 

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.” 

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon. 

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.” 

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what. 

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?” 

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems. 

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed. 

He does make one stop, however. 

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.” 

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...” 

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his. 

“So what happened?” 

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack. 

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.” 

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved. 

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses. 

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem. 

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle? 

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...” 

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does. 

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out. 

There’s work to be done. 

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention. 

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?” 

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human. 

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.” 

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back. 

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?” 

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.” 

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.” 

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.” 

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.” 

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing. 

---

Bobby is wrong. 

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him. 

There’s still time. 

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt. 

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow. 

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--” 

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him. 

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon. 

It’s always too soon. 

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?” 

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer. 

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.” 

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him. 

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology. 

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care. 

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier. 

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere. 

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before. 

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around. 

Dean Winchester is there. 

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world. 

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move. 

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.” 

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.” 

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm. 

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.” 

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them. 

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.” 

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--” 

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?” 

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.” 

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.” 

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his. 

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more. 

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.” 

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them. 

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?” 

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.” 

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing. 

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest. 

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed. 

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure. 

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s. 

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.” 

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say. 

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?” 

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition. 

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought. 

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him. 

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place. 

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.” 

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles. 

“Dean,” he says. 

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo. 

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs. 

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.” 

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to. 

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?” 

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.” 

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair. 

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him. 

You are valued. You are loved. 

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies. 

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling. 

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years. 

There is so much work to do. 

But they have time. They have all the time they need. 

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

#spn spoilers #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #saileen #saileen fic #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #eileen leahy #coda fix #15.20 coda #fix it #fix it fic #because fuck the finale that's why #do not take this fic as agreement with what happened #but this is the only way my brain will accept it #unbeta'd because we die like men in this house #dothwrites

[crazyblondelife]

Mid Year Reset - How Will You End Your Year

The first part of 2023 has gone by too quickly! I don’t remember ever being busier or happier! My youngest two daughters have both moved three hours away (in the opposite direction, of course) and as you know, we’re getting ready to have our first granddaughter in September. I love having everyone closer, but that also adds to my life, because when they’re closer, they visit more and they want us to visit them as well. Our daughter, Sarah and her husband, just bought a house in Columbia, South Carolina and I can already tell you that she is going to want help with getting settled and of course, I can’t wait to go and help! We’ll also be in Richmond (a lot), getting to know the newest addition to our growing family and we’re so excited!

We have also just gotten preliminary drawings back for renovating our master bedroom/bathroom AND the kitchen! I’m over the moon about the plans but not over the moon about the prospect of my life being invaded by construction…but it will be so worth it!

I also personally have things to accomplish and dreams to continue to pursue and I’m beginning to wonder when I’ll be able to sleep.

Going into 2023, I have a strong, clear vision of what I’m creating in my life. I plan to make that my top priority.

I’ve talked about the importance of keeping your word to yourself often. When you make promises to yourself and don’t keep them, you loose confidence and basically let yourself down. We all are so good at making excuses about why we don’t have time to get to the gym, read the book, start making healthy meals, take the course, write the book, start the blog, etc., but when it comes down to it, those things are important and when we get to the end of the year, or the end of the decade, or the end of our lives and we haven’t accomplished them, it doesn’t feel very good.

Willpower is not the answer. It’s the power to control your mind that is the answer and you find that power by creating your life in stillness through imagination. Can you quiet your mind enough to actually imagine yourself doing something you want to do? For example, can you close your eyes and see yourself getting up, putting your clothes on and driving to the gym or going for a walk? What are you wearing, what do you see along the way? How do you feel when you’ve finished? If you can do this, you are much more likely to follow through because you’ve created the feeling of the experience before it ever happened. Stay with me here…

Making time to pursue the things that light you up is self care. A pedicure is nice, but it’s pleasure and not self care. Self care feeds your soul in a way that can be life changing…it can spark your creativity and take you down an amazing life path that only you can walk.

When I wrote my course, Journey of Becoming, I had a lot of pushback about the word “becoming”. People said to me that we are already everything we need to be, we are enough. I do believe we are all enough, but most of don’t know it…our enoughness hasn’t been uncovered by us. So many women feel unworthy, unseen, and are just trying to maintain their sanity every day, which is no way to live!

Staying stagnant isn’t even an option in life because everything changes, however, t our thoughts and our beliefs in ourselves can stay stagnant and we can feel stuck because we’re living in the past and letting those thoughts dominate our lives, or we’re having anxiety about what’s to come in the future. The best place to be is in the eternal now. It’s always now and that’s where creating your life.

Life isn’t about what you do, it’s about who you be. The answers to our burning questions, greatest longings and deepest desires are found in stillness. Take the time to be in stillness every day and quiet your mind enough to feel some sense of peace and then, dream a little…imagine your life as if it were already exactly as you desire it to be. Hold a vision of that life in such a vivid way that your mind doesn’t know the difference. When you open your eyes, you will have carved out the beginnings of manifesting the life you want to live. Give yourself this life changing gift every day for at least 15 minutes! You have 15 minutes…I promise!

I used to put certain people on a pedestal, thinking that these people lived perfect lives and had everything figured out, but I found out since starting this blog that it simply isn’t true. Everyone has “stuff”. Even the people that appear to have perfect lives.

It’s all about how you deal with your “stuff” that makes a difference.

For most of my life, I made everything that wasn’t going right someone else’s fault. I never accepted the fact that I had created it all until just a few years ago. It took a traumatic experience and the realization that it was up to me to change things and accept responsibility for my life before anything would ever change.

Almost 9 years later, I’ve changed my life completely. I meditate each and every day for longer periods of time, I read books that feed my soul and I take the time to take care of me. I also take the time to take care of my body by going to the gym, walking, eating well and yes, I do get a pedicure and love my Botox.

When I ponder the next 6 (5-1/2) months left in this year, I know the importance of my daily self care. It has given me so much confidence. I want to continue to show up here and share the ways that I’m growing and learning and inspire you to do the same. I truly 100% believe that we can intentionally create our lives to be anything we want them to be…ANYTHING! If you can dream it, you can achieve it.

Here’s one of my favorite quotes from Brianna Wiest, author of one of my favorite books called The Mountain is You.

“ A beautiful life is not stumbled upon, it is built, it is chosen. It is nurtured over the years. A beautiful life is made from the heart, not the head. It is not one that is easy, it is one that is worth it.”

As we go into the last half of the year, what enoughness will you uncover? What will you imagine and dream for yourself? If you decide to do it, you truly can be on a Journey of Becoming everything that you already are…and the sky isn’t even the limit!

I’m reading an amazing book that has taken me even deeper into my meditation journey. It’s called The Neville Collection and it’s a collection of books written by Neville Goddard in the 1950’s. Wayne Dyer’s book, Wishes Fulfilled was based on Goddards methods for manifesting. This book is still so relevant for today and it’s been my obsession for the past month or so. This is a book that has made so many things clear to me and one I’ll keep forever and reread many times in the years to come. To say it has had a profound effect on me is probably an understatement. It’s not an easy read and I’m reading it slowly and taking the time to contemplate as I read.

I would so love to know your thoughts on this post! Please share in the comments if it feels right to you! Thank you so much for reading today!

#Fall Transitional Fashion #Inspiration #Mid Year Reset