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milkpup · 4 months

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｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

art creds: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/113712140

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ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, aged up characters, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: this story is originally posted on ao3! this will have dark themes, if you do not like, DO NOT INTERACT! this is a multi chapter fic that is still in progress as of posting on tumblr (1/9/24). it will be updated as i write more :) i will add links to the next chapters as i post them on this thread or smthn (idk how to use tumblr lol)

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Like Father, Like Son by milkpup

Chapter 1: Promises

“When we get older, let’s get married!” you exclaimed to Megumi, who was sitting next to you on the park bench. “We know each other best, so if we find no one else by the time we go to college, let’s get together!”

You were both in middle school still. You’ve been extremely close friends since you were young children. Megumi and his father lived in the same neighborhood as you. As a natural result of your home life being chaotic and dysfunctional, you spent most of your childhood at Megumi’s.

You were still girly and feminine, but having a guy best friend meant that you had interests more like his. You both grew up playing games together, sitting in front of the tv into late hours into the night. You were a sore loser. He was always better at any games you two played, like mario kart, fighting games, whatever it was, he was better. This meant you constantly tried to improve your skills; you wanted the satisfaction of making him lose, but you also wanted him to be impressed.

You didn’t quite understand it at the time. Why did you want to impress Megumi? It’s just a game. You brushed it off. Friendly competition never hurt, right?

Years pass, the same old routine. You coming over to Megumi’s house after school, staying late or sometimes spending the night. His father, Toji, saw you as his own. A daughter he never had.

It was hard after Megumi’s mother passed. Toji was more reserved, more monotonous. It seemed like the vibrancy and color of his soul was dulled. His wife was the one person he truly cared for, who he loved, and who gave meaning to his life. Being a single father of a young boy was rough. He appreciated that you brought joy to his son’s life. He appreciated that, as you grew older, you would help around at his house. Cooking, cleaning, whatever it was, you would help lessen the load on Toji.

In the middle of your senior year of highschool, tragedy struck the community. Your parents were killed by a drunk driver. It all happened so fast. You feel selfish and would never admit this, but you were sort of relieved. You rarely spent time at home. Your father was an abusive drunk and would target you and your mother. Your mother tried to protect you the best she could. She wanted you to be safe. She was always relieved when you would text or call her saying you were staying at Megumi’s. She trusted that boy and knew he would never be like your father.

You were sad your mother was gone. But at least she now knew peace. A tragic end, yes, but better than watching her be abused by your father.

You started living with Megumi full time. It was already basically your home in the first place, just more official now. You appreciated Toji welcoming you into his home with open arms, letting you live there full time. He was more of a father than your sperm donor parent was.

In return, you cooked and cleaned almost exclusively. You didn’t necessarily mind. You didn’t see it as demeaning, but rather as a way to show your gratitude. Cooking was also a cathartic release for you; it allowed you to remove yourself from tough emotions and focus on the task on hand. And you absolutely loved when people would praise your cooking. Thus, you were constantly trying new recipes and techniques, chasing new flavors.

Toji appreciated you basically taking on the household responsibilities while he worked long hours. He has a provider mindset. He wants to fulfill his role of providing while a woman in his life would take care of the home and enrich his life.

A few times he caught himself being reminded of his wife whenever you would do something for him. Your cooking tasted like home. Your smile and laugh were intoxicating. You had a gentle and kind soul, willing to look past anything for the right person. He felt almost uncomfortable, as if he should not be having thoughts of his late wife when looking at his pseudo-daughter. But he couldn’t help it. He’s a simple man.

“Good morning, Toji!” You say while something is sizzling in the pan. “I hope you’re feeling something sweet this morning!”

Toji smiles lightly. “What are you making today, little miss chef?”

“French toast!” You turn around to face him, wearing a cute apron and holding the spatula in your hand.

Toji notices the cooking must’ve gotten a bit messy, there was flour on your apron and some powdered on your cheeks. He thought it was insanely adorable.

“I’m excited to try it. Your food never ceases to amaze me.”

Good thing you had already turned back toward the stove, otherwise Toji would have saw the bright red blush creep across your face. “T-thank you… I’m glad you like it. It’s almost done.”

You could feel him watching you from behind. It was different than usual, you felt nervous? You couldn’t possibly know this at the time, but Toji was eyeing you down. Noticing the way your apron is tied around your waist, your ass in your cute shorts, messy hair, it was all perfect to him.

“All done!” You say as you start plating the French toast. “I’m going to go wake Megumi, but please try it while it’s still hot!!” You move to untie your apron, Toji never breaking his gaze on your form.

You walk towards Megumi’s room, approaching the door and knocking. “Heyyy Megs! Breakfast is ready! I know you like sweet food, so I made French toast! Come get it while it’s still hot!”

You don’t hear much behind the door, but your stomach rumbling forces you to go back to the table. You were practically drooling the whole time thinking about how delicious this food was going to be.

You re-enter the dining room and sit across Toji. He’s already started eating, and he looks like he’s enjoying it. You didn’t take him for a sweets for breakfast type of guy, so you ask him “Is it good?”

He looks up at you, and it sends shivers down your spine. “It’s delicious, sweetheart. I’ll eat anything you give me. Anything.” He smirks. He figures that isn’t crossing any lines, just playful banter and teasing. He watches your face turn a bit red as you try and hide it while eating.

Back in Megumi’s room, he’s slowly waking up. He doesn’t feel well-rested. “Probably due to that weird dream last night”, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t know why his brain chose now of all times to remember the promise you two made to eachother all those years ago. He figures you probably forgot about it; but for him, he can’t get it out his mind.

He shakes his head. “Whatever, I need to get ready.” He will deal with his feelings and emotions later. He remembers you mentioning sweet food and he’s already out the door. His hair is still messy, his pajamas still on.

As Toji moves to pick up his keys and leave for work, Megumi sits down next to you. He takes in the sweet aroma of French toast covered in powdered sugar and fruit. His stomach is painfully growling at this point. He serves himself and takes a bite, absolutely melting in bliss. You always make the best food, and this is no exception.

You watch as he seems excited to eat. He looks absolutely adorable, his emotions on full display as easily as a book can be read. You can tell he’s happy in this moment, and you find yourself smiling, knowing it was you that brought this.

“This is amazing. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously!”

You blush. Compliments and praise feel different from Megumi. They feel genuine and sincere, full of warmth and love.

You finish up and start cleaning. You and Megumi have the same major and a bunch of the same classes, you both need to get ready soon. Megumi gets up to help you clean.

As he stands next to your side, drying dishes as you wash them, he tells you his thoughts. He doesn’t know how to best bring it up. He’s a shy guy, so he goes for the most direct route to get it out as fast as possible. “Y/N, do you remember the promise we made in middle school?” He’s looking down at the sink, awaiting your response.

“Of course Gumi, how could I forget?” You’re slightly teasing him at this point. You were actually surprised that HE would remember that. You wonder why he’s bringing it up, and ask him. “Why?”

Silence follows your question for a few moments. “I’m not sure…. I was just thinking about it.”

Hearing his response makes you blush and your heart beat faster. What does he mean he was thinking about it? He can’t be serious?

“We can talk more about it later. We need to get ready, Y/N.” You’re thankful he gave you an opening to escape this awkward situation. It wasn’t a weird awkward, but more embarrassing than anything.

You keep asking yourself why he would be thinking about it, now of all times. You are starting college now, so you figure now would be the timeframe of the promise in question. But you didn’t think he would be serious about it. You return your room, trying to distract yourself by getting ready.

Megumi waits for you to finish getting ready in the living room. You exit your room, wearing simple yet cute clothes. Megumi finds it adorable how you can look good in literally anything. Even wearing the simplest outfits, leggings and a t-shirt, and you still look breathtaking. He feels weird again, thinking about his best-friend like this. He’s just simply observing and appreciating good style, right? That’s what he will tell himself.

You and Megumi carpool to campus together. You both say it’s for the environment, but you both know it’s because you absolutely hate driving.

The car ride there is always the same, listening to music together and talking. Since you both have the same classes, you are already study buddies. You’re both excited to keep going to school together.

Megumi listens as you talk about your newest fictional crush obsession. He thinks it’s so adorable how you could talk forever and ever about the things you like. He listens and observes, not wanting to interrupt your sweet voice.

‹𝟹 notes: i have 4 chapters written for this fic so far. i'll start migrating them from ao3 to here! lmk what y'all think! feedback is always appreciated :3! check out my ao3 if you want to read what else i have posted! thanks! <3

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(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Porcelain Steve - Part 5

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

"Get a grip," Eddie mutters to himself as he places the phone back onto its cradle for the fourth time that day without having made a phone call. He paces back and forth in front of the phone, one, two, three full lines across the room and back before he picks up the phone, dials the Henderson's number, lets it ring one and a half times, then slams the phone down again before someone can answer.

He thinks he's losing it a little. All this time he thought he was the level-headed one but now that it's been two full days of not seeing Porcelain Steve, he thinks he's going to climb the walls and start ripping up the carpets. Logically he knows that nothing has happened. If something had, he would have heard from Dustin already, either by phone or over the walkie (which may or may not be on him at all times, volume as loud as it goes). They wouldn't leave him in the dark.

Right?

Right. Right.

He picks up the phone again, dialing the Buckley house instead.

Robin's dad answers, which is great. Robin's mom likes to play 20 Questions before handing the phone off. He keeps meaning to ask Robin if her mom does that for everyone that calls, or if he's just the lucky one. Robin's dad is a straightforward guy. He wants to know who is calling, and who they want to talk to.

"Robin is out, but I can give her a message, Eddie," Mr. Buckley says.

"Yes, please. Sir. Just let her know I called."

"Will do. Goodbye."

He listens to the dial tone for a few seconds before setting the phone down for the sixth time in less than 15 minutes. He has got to do something to keep busy or the carpets are toast.

Usually when he's this restless he bothers his friends, but Jeff is out of town on a family vacation, no one answered the phone at Gareth's house (first person he called this morning), and Brian has a summer job taking up his time, so now he's left to figure out distractions on his own.

His room is filled with distractions, but nothing that can claim his attention for too long. He puts a cassette in the player but doesn't turn it up to the volume that usually calms him because he doesn't want to miss hearing the phone ring. He'd been trying to distract himself with campaign planning and keeps getting off track with the fantasy that this would be the campaign he could convince Steve to at least hang out and observe, if not play in one or two sessions as an over-powered NPC.

Even Return of the King can't hold his attention for more than two pages, even if he flips through to read just his favorite parts because his mind immediately plays word association games which leads to thinking of Steve.

It hits Eddie then that he misses Steve. He misses climbing into Steve's car and bitching about whatever station Steve's set the radio on playing the Top 40. He misses late night smoke sessions where Steve seems to soften under his high and the night sky as they lay atop the trailer close enough to touch and talk about nothing. He misses being able to steal glances at Steve when he throws his head back to laugh hysterically at something he or Robin had said.

He misses Steve so intensely and fiercely that it sits like a rock in his stomach. He would give anything to hear Steve's voice again.

Oh. Oh no. He needs distraction from his thoughts now.

He successfully managed to hem and haw about his room for almost an hour before he marches back out to the living room and the phone set on the end table next to Wayne's recliner. Picks it up then sets it down again, turning on heel to the kitchen. Maybe breakfast (a glance to the clock on the wall tells him the time is 12:50, so maybe it's actually lunch) will be a sufficient time sink.

He pulls out all the fixings of a PB&J and is in the process of searching for a clean(ish) butter knife when three rapid knocks startle him, freezing him in place for a moment.

The knocking happens again, five quick raps this time, but Eddie was already making his way to the door by the third this time. There is a thought in the back of his mind that rises, unbidden, oh God, something's happened and it makes him wrench the door open with more force than necessary.

Robin stands on his porch, but not for long. She's got a backpack on and a grocery bag hanging off of one arm and when Eddie just blinks at her in a moment of confusion, she huffs and bullies her way inside. He full body turns, closing the door as he does so, to watch her deposit the bag, then backpack, onto the couch.

"Uh, hi?" Eddie manages as he watches her begin to unload the things she brought. A box of microwave popcorn, an obscene amount of candy bars, an assortment of nail polishes, and more but his attention is dragged up to the side of Robin's face when she starts talking, pulling out VHS tapes, clearly rented from Family Video.

"So, I brought a few options for us. Halloween because it was your most rented film back when Steve and I still worked there, so I thought it was a safe bet. Also go The Black Cauldron because you strike me as a Black Cauldron kind of guy, The Hidden Fortress because it's one of my favorites and you might enjoy it, too, and Top Gun, because, well, it might serve as a good distraction for a bit," Robin holds up each tape as she lists them off, setting them on the coffee table next to the assorted stuff she brought with. "Also got, like, a manicure set and some scrunchies and bobby pins. Not really sure how occupied you need to be right now."

"Uh.... what?"

Robin rolls her eyes like Eddie's slow on the uptake, "Distraction. I'm here to provide it. Though, maybe I should have called and asked what you do when you want to kill time. I just... defaulted to what Steve and I do. Movies and makeovers, but, like, if that doesn't work that's fine. It's just, you've joined us before on movie makeover nights, so I assumed..."

Eddie swallows pushing down the knot threatening to form in his throat. It's not a shock (anymore) that he's truly friends with Robin, but sometimes it's not at the forefront of his mind. When he thinks of friends, Jeff, Gareth, and Brian come to mind first. They've years of history together, after all. What he's got with Robin, and everyone else, is deeper than just friendship, the shared secret of Spring Break '86 that's made them all ride or die. So, now, with Robin showing up, instinctively wanting to help because they're friends even without Steve as a buffer, it just kinda rocks Eddie emotionally.

"No, it's great. I just- how did you know?"

Robin cocks her head at him, "You didn't leave a message."

He's not sure what facial expression he makes but everything about Robin softens just a bit. It's so reminiscent of how she is with Steve in the soft, quiet moments when she thinks no one else is paying attention to her and Steve. (Eddie's always paying attention.)

"Oh, dingbat," She says it softly and with a shake of her head before grabbing the popcorn box and ripping it open. She fishes out a packet and tosses it to him. "Get that going. I'm putting in Top Gun."

Wordlessly, Eddie obeys. He wants to ask more questions. What's the look for? Since when does she call him dingbat? What is happening? He throws the bag into the microwave, then remembers the PB&J he was attempting to make earlier. He makes two sandwiches, pausing only to dump the popcorn into a bowl once the microwave beeps. He puts the sandwiches on a plate to make carrying everything easier and joins Robin on the couch.

She accepts the offered sandwich with glee and they watch the first half hour of Top Gun in silence before Eddie gets his words gathered.

"How did you know?" He asks again.

"My dad," she says like a confession, not even needing Eddie to elaborate what he means, "it's, like, the highlight of his day when I miss a call from you. He's so overdramatic about delivering it, all bowing at me and repeating whatever lame thing you said like the esteemed Mister Munson has called to inquire if the lovely Lady Robin would like to partake on an outing the afternoon overmorrow or whatever shit you decide to sprout. Who says 'overmorrow' anyway? So, when I got back from helping mom grocery shop, he just... he pulled the grocery bags from my hands and told me 'I think Eddie needs you'."

He's only met the Buckley's face to face a few times. They don't hang out at Robin's house much so he's a bit shocked that Mr. Buckley even picked up Eddie's dramatics enough to notice something was off.

"My parents are a bit overprotective and overbearing sometimes but they care and listen," Robin says, "so when you called and seemed to different to what my dad is used to hearing- well, I asked to borrow his car, and made a quick pitstop. I was just kind of banking on the fact you need a distraction the same way I do."

He understands what Robin isn't actually saying. "From thinking about Steve."

She nods, "yeah. I know Dustin would never let anything happen to him, but it still leaves me jittery when I don't see him. Especially since the last time I went two days without seeing Steve he- well, he turned into a porcelain doll."

"I thought I was doing okay with all this, you know?" Eddie finds himself saying. "But I'm not. And it's so fucking stupid. It's not like I'm the only one who cares about Steve, or is worried, but- And it's not that I don't trust Dustin to keep him safe. I just- it's..."

"It's different. How you feel about Steve, how Dustin feels about Steve, and how I do. It's all different."

Eddie freezes. He's never- they don't talk about it. He's only said it out loud to three people. Wayne, Jeff, and his father. The last one landed him in the hospital and Wayne's custody so it's not a secret he lets out lightly.

"Dustin's his brother," Robin continues, either unaware of how Eddie's basically quit breathing or choosing to ignore it, "but he's also a dumb teenage boy. He'd never let anything happen to Steve, but that's not a guarantee that nothing will happen. I worry, too. I want to just take Steve and wrap him in bubble wrap, put him in a box, wrap that in bubble wrap, then put that in a bigger box and set him in the middle of an empty room where nothing could accidentally fall over onto the box."

He huffs out a laugh at the mental image that conjures up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Robin says before sucking her lips between her teeth, then pushing them out with a pop! sound, seeming to think over something. He watches as she mentally braces herself, the physical tales of her shifting to face him more, shoulders tensing, leg bouncing slightly. "So anyway, it's different, how we feel about Steve. Dustin loves him. I love him. And you... You're in love with him."

Even though they're inside his own home, Eddie still jerks back and looks around, for anyone who might hear what Robin is accusing him of. "Listen, Buckley, you can't believe every rumor you hear ab-"

"Eddie," she says, holding one hand out, palm up, "stop. Give me your hand and make terrible, awkward eye contact with me for, like, five seconds, please. It's important."

Eddie, very slowly, slips his hand onto hers, and she covers it with her free hand and, as promised, they make awkward eye contact.

"I'm a lesbian," she blurts out and immediately looks away from Eddie's face, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

And Eddie? Well, he laughs. It starts as just a snort but then it grows. And Jesus, it's such an awful response to Robin coming out to him, but he can't stop. He knows that Robin has gifted him with this trust, with knowledge that could get her murdered, and he should not be laughing.

Robin, for her part, takes it well. There's a few seconds of startled silence from her before she barks out her own laugh. Eddie laughs so hard and for so long he thinks he's going to puke, and Robin almost falls off the couch.

"Jesus Christ," is what he can manage to say once he's caught his breath.

"Jesus Christ," she echoes in a quieter voice.

Top Gun plays on in the background.

Eddie still can't say it out loud, so instead he says, "am I that obvious?"

"No. But I can recognize the signs of trying to hide a massive crush on someone of the same gender. You know, with all the experience I have at it."

"You are far better at hiding that then me I guess. I had no clue about you."

She shrugs, "yeah, well, it's not like we hang around a lot of girls for me to crush on. It's you, me, and Steve. Occasionally a kid or five. No offense, but I'd rather die than look at any of you lustfully."

Eddie fakes gagging at the thought.

Robin swats his arm playfully. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, I get that it makes you feel a little crazy not being around Steve. Especially when he's, like, literally unable to protect himself currently. I feel like that, too. He's my soulmate and no one knows me as well as he does. It's... lonely without him."

"So... Steve knows...?"

"Oh yeah. Me telling him it what I think kicked off our real friendship."

"I thought all the shit that happened at Star Court did that."

"That's when I told him. After barfing into a toilet."

"Gross."

"It really was. Steve took it so well. Then he mocked me for my crush."

"Which was...?"

"Absolutely not telling you. Anyway. That's enough mushy talky time. Paint my nails," she says, leaning over to grab a yellow nail polish off the coffee table.

Eddie holds out his hand to take it. He's not even going to pretend he doesn't want to.

Silence falls over them, a comfortable one. Eddie doesn't feel like climbing the walls much anymore, so Robin's distraction is working. Maybe it's just the not being alone in the trailer anymore. Maybe it's the knowing he's not alone anymore.

Maybe it's also knowing that Steve knows about Robin and still loves her.

(Funny that Steve just happened to find and befriend the probably only two queer people in all of Hawkins.)

They put in The Hidden Fortress next and Robin talks through almost the whole thing, telling him facts and that this next part is actually her favorite part.

By the time Robin leaves, well after nightfall, Eddie is feeling more settled.

#my fic #steddie #porcelain steve #robin and eddie friendship #robin and eddie bonding time!!#i am procrastinating writing the final part because i cant choose between the 3 different ways i want to end this #i mean ill pick one eventually and maybe just make a post about all the scenes that didnt make it into the fic #anyway theres 2-3 parts left

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sunshine-theseus · 5 months

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Cyclones | Christine Sinclair x Reader

Words: 3k

Summary: cyclones and cancelled flights eventually lead to good things.

Warnings: natural disaster?, fake injury. Let me know if I missed anything

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the voice crackles through my phone speaker, the shotty connection barely giving me time to talk to my best friend.

“I have my candles and torches, the tub and my water bottles are full, everything is inside or tied down. The only devasting loss so far is my leftover curry I had to throw out.” The torrential rain hasn’t let up since it arrived last night, but it isn’t helping the sweltering heat that will only worsen with no power. The second of which I fear I may lose any moment.

“This isn’t my first rodeo Chris, I’ll be okay.”

“But what if this is the one time you aren’t? I can’t spend my retirement vacation without my best friend. I’ll end up mourning you instead.”

“Why the fuck would y-” my phone dies and everything else in my house goes with it. I didn’t realise I had such little charge, but the newly found lack of airflow through my house is my number one issue.

A cyclone hasn’t hit my little coastal town in years, but the universe has conveniently chosen the day I’m supposed to fly out to join Christine, to hit. The Australian heat is wasting no time and as the rain carries on, I lay down on the tiles to find relief. I originally planned to turn my generator on, but eventually decide to keep everything off, it’s been a while since I’ve properly disconnected.

I gather books I’m yet to read, candles and snacks from the cupboard and sit down at my desk. I’m an hour into reading The Iliad when my cat jumps up and starts meowing and pawing at the pictures that are carefully placed on or around my desk. The main focus seems to be the two polaroid images in the same frame, of Christine and I from when we first played each other at the 2003 world cup, and from her retirement match a month ago.

We’d never met before 2003, but both sported the number 12 and thought a jersey swap would be cool. We became close friends rather quickly but only played each other at big tournaments until we both signed for the Portland Thorns in 2013.

I think that’s when I first knew I had a crush on her, but 10 years into a friendship is a rather odd time to confess to your best friend you like them, so I never mentioned it. We’ve both dated multiple people since then, but nothing ever sticks.

Then, 4 years ago, I retired after one too many ACL injuries. At 34 it was probably time for me anyway, and I always knew I’d never play for as long as Christine. After my official retirement, I moved back to Cairns, now a professional sports psychologist. I love being home, but it was missing something, or someone. Within the first month I put up every memento, gift or picture I had that reminds me of Chris, who Scout has also grown to love.

“I miss her too buddy. Maybe she should come visit us so she can see you huh?” I scratch her chin as she leans into my hand affectionately.

I spend the rest of the day and the next, reading and playing around on my violin. The doors and window are all shut to keep the rain from flying in but I’m so desperate to open them to feel some sort of relief from the sauna I’ve created.

It’s around 4pm on the 3rd day that the rain slows, and another few hours until fans begin to spin again and lights flicker on. I scramble for my aircon remote before rushing to plug in my phone, desperate to speak to someone other than my cat.

It takes a few minutes, the battery slowly whirring to life, but I can’t even swipe to put in my password before a rather excessive amount of notification begin to make their way through. There are messages from friends and family asking if I’m safe, others are simple social media notifications, but the majority seem to be made up by a certain, newly retired striker.

13 missed calls

58 messages

I can’t suppress the smile that slides onto my face and the red tint that warms my cheeks as I think about how worried she was. That’s what friends do right? Worry when you might get eaten up by a natural disaster.

And I quickly figure I should call her and let her know I have power again and am in fact not dead. And I do just that.

“YOU’RE OKAY. YOU’RE BACK.” I move the phone aware from my ear as she screams down the line, but I laugh none the less.

“I’m alive, nothing is damaged, the rain has stopped, everything is back in business.”

“I can’t wait to see you. Get your ass on the next plane I swear.”

“I don’t think there’ll be a plane on a route to Canada for at least a few days. The world hates us Sincy.” A groan I’ve grown familiar with sounds over the speaker, and I can picture her falling back dramatically in her chair.

“I promise as soon as I can I’ll be on that flight out of here. Scout will be chilling with my neighbours, and we’ll be chilling on the beach with some gin.”

“Good. First flight out, I expect you on it.”

~~~~~

The first flight route heading to Vancouver turns out to be 4 days after the cyclone passed. So far two of those days have gone and I’m trying to fill my time, Christine seemed to drop off everyone’s radar and that left me with very little to do.

I’m loading up The Sims 4 for the first time in months when a knock rattles against my door. While confused, not expecting anyone or anything, I sneak toward the door, peaking my head around the wall to get a glance of who it could be. That’s when I see a very familiar face, looking around in a stupor.

“Christine?” I stand in the doorway looking quite the mess with a dumbfound look on my face. My hair in a knotty bun, glasses resting crookedly on my nose, shirt 3 sizes too big (perhaps one of Christine’s I stole a few visits ago) and bike shorts. Anything more and I’d be dying from the heat.

“Surprise! No flights were leaving for a while but some were coming in, so I thought why not go to the ultimate vacation destination.” Despite what would be nearly a full 24-hours of travel, she looks rather adorable. Her own hoodie must be a few sizes bigger and her curls rest over her shoulders, a rare sight. Her headphones rest around her neck and her bags are almost toppling over behind her.

I shake off my surprise and start running, jumping into her arms and nearly tackle her to the ground.

“I can’t believe you’re here! What the fuck, oh my god, holy shit. There’s so much to show you, very little to do. I don’t have a spare room. I’ll sleep on the couch, take my room. Oh, let’s get your bags in, you’re probably exhausted.” I squeeze between her and the lattice work that makes the short hallway outside my door and grab her rather large duffle bag and suitcase.

I take them to my bedroom, which thankfully had been tidied up recently, and tuck them neatly in the corner. Her footsteps signal that she’s following me and I quickly wipe my sweaty palms on my shirt before turning toward her.

“It gets super hot so the aircon remote is on the bedside table, or you can open the window, but Scout likes to jump out of it sometimes. Speaking of, she’s here somewhere, you’ll hear her before you see her. Also free-range of like the kitchen and stuff. There’s an ensui-” Christine cuts my rambling off with a tap to the back of my knee with her foot. Said knee buckles and I fall forward, into her arms.

“What the fuck Sincy?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Sorry. It’s just the first time you’ve been here. In my house. In my hometown. Ever.”

“And I’m excited. I’m sorry for springing it on you, I don’t actually have to stay here I can get a hotel.”

“No! No I want you to stay here. It’s just I’m usually the one making the trip, I’m not a very good host.”

“You’ll be fine. I’m down for anything and everything. After a very long nap.”

~~~~~

I waited until a reasonable hour to wake Christine up the next day.

“What the fuck is this? Do you put tar on your toast?”

“You’re telling me, all the times you’ve visited Australia, even during the world cup, you’ve never tried Vegemite? Christine… come on.” I push the plate toward her.

“No. You can’t make me eat that.” She pushes it away.

“Please, just one bite. You’re staying with me you gotta try stuff. You’re on vacation, you’re trying new things.”

“If you even try to bring a shoe with beer near me, I’m hopping on the next flight out.”

“I promise a shoey is completely off limits. That shit is nasty. But I’m going to take you to a cricket game and snorkelling on the reef, and Harley’s Crocodile Farm. The point is I have a list. Now try the ‘mite Chris.” The plate slides back toward her and she hesitantly takes a bite. A pleasantly surprised look flashes across her face.

“I’ll give you the point. This is good.”

“Oh! Mary, Mary Fowler that is, is back for Christmas. Do you want to have a beach day with her and her family? Play beach cricket and soccer?”

“For sure.”

“Oh make sure to have thongs. Your feet will thank me.”

“If you said that sentence to me 20 years ago, I possibly would have slapped you.” I giggle but make my way to grab togs and pack a beach bag.

When we arrive, the promised burning sand is what greets us, rather than the young Australian who I’ve grown somewhat close with. The sun beams down, in great comparison to the previous week, and I make sure to push more sunscreen into Christine’s hands.

“Dude how do you survive here.” A bead of sweat rolls down the side of her face and I just smile, slip my thongs off and lead the way to try and find the Fowlers.

When we do eventually find them, Christine is desperate to slip into the water, and I set up our towels beside Mary, who watches over her own family’s things as she soaks up the sun.

“In all my years of knowing you, and that is almost all my life, you’ve never been this happy. And you won’t even admit your feelings to the person who makes you this happy. You giggled when you called telling me she surprised you. Giggled Y/n.”

“I- I don’t know what to do Maz. I know I like her; I have for years. I just always figured it’d go away once I moved after retiring and seeing her significantly less but if anything, it’s worse.” I flop back against the towel covered sand and Mary joins me, resting a hand on my arm.

“Maybe you should just confess. I can’t say I know she likes you back, but the chances are high.” I glance toward the water and let a soft smile grace my lips as I watch Christine play with Louise and Ciara. Maybe confessing wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

~~~~~

A few hours later, the sun is lower in the sky and the water laps at my feet as I retrieve the soccer ball. I throw it back into play and run along the sand. The ball ends up at my feet and I begin the run back to my team’s goal, I’m about to make a pass to Caoimhin when Christine makes a tackle and takes my feet out from underneath me.

I let out a scream and clutch my knee. The sand sticks to my skin as I writhe in pain, and I feel a hand gently touch my shoulder.

“Fuck fuck fuck it hurts.”

“Holy shit I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make a tackle. Oh god we need to call the ambulance.” Christine rolls me onto my back, and I scrunch my eyes in pain. She stands up to grab her phone when I stick my leg out and trip her, making her fall beside me.

“What the fuck!?.” I start to giggle as I watch Christine’s face morph from fear to shock.

“You little shit! You faked it?”

“Uhh yeah, you were playing dirty Sinclair.” I poke her in the side as I stand and offer her a hand. As she stands back up, I remember how much she towers over me and blush.

Not long after, Mary and her family head back home, and before the sun begins to set, I get some fish and chips for Chris and me to share. As I sit back on the sand, the sun begins dipping below the horizon, casting pinks and oranges across the sky. The light shines on Chris and for a moment I forget I’m staring. Her blue eyes are clouded by the golden hues but still as beautiful as they have always been. Her hair is wet from the salty water, curling as it dries.

I only stop when she bumps her shoulder against mine, holding a chip toward me expectantly.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry.” The now familiar heat spreads over my cheeks as I tuck my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them.

“What’s running through that pretty little head of yours?” I take a moment to contemplate if I should tell her the truth.

“I… I’ve just missed playing, especially with you. I haven’t felt anything close to how I felt on the pitch, and I was forced out because of a stupid ACL injury. It’s been so long.” She wraps an arm around me and pulls me into her side. My head falls to her shoulder and her’s falls on top of mine.

“You deserved a better ending.” We both reach for the chips, hands grazing against each other. I drop the chip and rest my hand on my lap, palm facing upward. Christine’s fingers trace the lines on my palm before slipping her fingers between mine and interlocking our hands.

Nothing is said as we watch the sun rest behind the water. The sound of waves crashing on the sand nearly lulls me to sleep but Christine slowly slips from beside me and stands up. I follow suit, grabbing the fish and chips and heading to the car.

“I’d say this was a rather successful first day. Wouldn’t you?” I ask as I sit on the edge of the bed, drying off my freshly washed hair.

It’s silent for a moment and I turn to look at the Canadian.

“Chris?” her vacant stare refocuses, and she smiles.

“Absolutely.” I smile back and stand up, about to head out to go to sleep.

“Wait.” I stop at the door and wait for her to continue.

“Do you want to sleep here? I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want. Or we can put like pillows between us or something. Or-” I run and jump onto the bed, rolling onto my side to face Christine.

“Thank you for coming. I’m excited to show you everything I love. Today is only one of many.”

“I’d do anything for you. And I was thinking… what if I made this stay a little more… permanent? Well not permanent maybe just extended. Or permanent if you want. Or neither at all.”

“Yes! Yes, yes absolutely 100% I want that definitely. Please stay.” I only now notice how close together we are. I can feel her breath against my cheek, her leg brushing against my own.

Her fingers brush against my forehead and cheek as she moves a piece of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. I inch closer, eyes flickering between her own eyes and her lips.

“Are you going to kiss me or do I have to kiss you.” Her lips ghost mine as she jokes, but I don’t allow myself to overthink it as I close the gap between us.

Her lips are as soft as expected, and sweet. I can feel her smile as she kisses me back and I wind an arm around her waist.

“I’ve wanted to do that for 10 years.” I whisper.

“Do not tell me I wasted 10 years of my life thinking you didn’t like me back.” I let out a rather pathetic laugh and my head falls forward, forehead resting against Christine’s.

“Well now is as good a time as any to make up for all the lost time.”

~~~~~

Our hands swing between us as I lead her down the esplanade. The bright rainbow lights of the ferris wheel that never left, reflect off every surface as we approach. The carriages lurch to a stop and we’re ushered on by the teenager at the counter.

“This is possibly the cheesiest thing you’ve done. If we stop at the top, I will start laughing.”

“No! Stop, it’s going to be cute, okay? And a little cliché.” I knock my foot against her’s as we stare out the window, looking out across the water and the mountains, in awe of the stars that twinkle above us.

As predicted, we come to a stop right at the top, and I smile as Christine starts laughing.

“I’d do anything to make you smile, including cheesy ass shit like this.” I slide across to her and she pulls me into her side.

“I love you.” I kiss each of her cheeks before kissing her lips.

“I’ll love you forever.”

“Is it odd I’m glad you retired? I just don’t know if this would have happened if you did.” She smiles and kisses me on the forehead, and we continue to watch the landscape as we make the decent.

@Y/N_Y/L

@Y/N_Y/L I will love you until the end of time. 20 years of knowing you, 1 year of getting to let you know I love you. Chris, you’ll always be my number 1 @c_sinc12.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #wwc 2023 #christine sinclair #christine sinclair x reader #canwnt #canada wnt #portland thorns

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dostoyevsky-official · 2 years

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gorbachev’s funeral was a solemn affair kept purposefully small by an outsized police presence, ordered there by a regime that wants to distance itself as much as possible from his legacy but which cannot forsake something as momentous as the last general secretary of the ussr. at the same time, those in power hate the people who embrace gorbachev and what he stood for. therefore you have “elements of a state funeral,” a ridiculous amount of police, riot police, plainclothes police, military police, elaborate ways of making sure as few people show up as possible (gorbachev was supposed to lie in state until 2pm, but this was suddenly moved to noon; the burial was closed to the public, but it was actually open). one person was arrested for holding up an anti-war sign. surprisingly, many complained about putin snubbing the funeral due to “scheduling conflicts.” good riddance! who among those present really wanted to see him?

it was something of a quiet protest action against him and the war, even without posters. a pensioner at novodevichy cemetery told me as much: “this is the only way i can protest against what’s going on without getting arrested, and they know it. i couldn’t not take the opportunity.” but what is a protest if it’s sanctioned, quiet, and cordoned off?

at 9:30 am, crowds began to gather at the house of the unions in the city center, where all former soviet leaders were displayed in state. it was both larger than i’d expected and much smaller than i’d hoped for from moscow. from a city of 12 million, there were perhaps a few thousand people all together, many with red carnations. there were several gate systems to the memorial manned by cops who had orders not to let in more than 50 people at a time (i overheard one say so on his walkie-talkie). as with the the funeral procession later on, there was a good showing by the post-soviet generation and those who would’ve been too young to remember much of anything from the gorbachev years; there was also a fair amount of pensioners. the crowd moved fast—the cops didn’t want to let anyone linger for too long in any place—and after three security checkpoints and five gates, i was in the luxurious hall of pillars, though made austere for gorbachev. after seconds of looking at a man who embodied the twentieth century like few others, i was urged to move on as fast as possible. on the way out, a couple behind me, a man and a woman in their 50s, started crying. they were not the only ones.

across the street, a large “we will fulfill our mission” poster, written with the propaganda Zs and Vs, hangs on the scaffolding of the new bolshoi theatre, as if to put a period on what had already ended months, if not years ago. the crowds only became bigger when i left at half past ten. on my way to novodevichy cemetery, i ran into gennady zyuganov, head of russia’s communist party, and asked for a photo—why not. a smaller crowd of CPRF, left front, and other “left” parties gathered for some event near red square. later, i learned that he gave a speech celebrating the end of wwii with the victory over japan. zyuganov said that we must continue the fight and cleanse the earth of nazis, as russia is doing now. this, too, is part of gorby’s legacy, the shattered pieces of a massive, unfinished political project.

a few hours passed before gorbachev’s procession arrived to novodevichy, where the crowd was a bit thinner. i stood next to a young law student in his junior year who skipped his first day of classes to pay respects, chatting with him to pass the time. “how excellent that so many young people showed up,” he said. maybe a third of those gathered was under 30. “if we are here together, it means russia still has a future.” the police moved us around from time to time to “make space.” after finding my way to him again, i noticed he had two carnations instead of four: he gave two to a journalism student and exchanged numbers. a pensioner: “is she your sister? no? watch over her, keep each other safe.”

the procession was headed by a downcast dmitry muratov, a massive portrait of gorbachev in his hands: one nobel peace laureate parting with the other. among those present for the funeral service were ambassadors, including john sullivan from the US, the south korean, french, and german ambassadors, and suzanne massie, a historian who served as advisor to reagan and allegedly introduced him to the russian idiom “trust, but verify,” with pavel palazhchenko, gorbachev’s long-time translator.

after the service, a 21-gun salute, the crowds thronging to the burial by raisa gorbachev’s grave. alexei venediktov (editor-in-chief of the now-dissolved echo of moscow, another glasnost creation) recently talked about how he went to novodevichy with gorbachev around 2010. gorbachev started crying, telling him that all he wanted now was to be buried with raisa. the love he had for her was immense. out of all the biographies and gorbachev/perestroika studies i’ve read, it’s only taubman’s that covers how profoundly he loved her with the space that such a deep, lasting relationship merited.

during the burial: “who do you think is next,” from one pensioner to another, two strangers. “well... you know.” “yes, let’s hope it happens soon.”

a last opportunity to pay respects at a grave heaped, heaped, heaped on with roses and carnations, and then the throngs dissolved. it was the best of who and what you could see in moscow, or, russia’s conscience—what’s left of it—on public display. i have no doubt everyone at the memorial and the cemetery was anti-war. the palpable depression of this crowd was alleviated only by the reinforcing mutual presence of everyone there, a silent solidarity drawn from an organization that hasn’t been seen on the streets since march. you understand what people feel from what’s not said—the looks—the tears—the efforts of men and women in their 80s and 90s to stand for hours, so long as they could say farewell.

the possibility of such organization, reluctantly allowed for the funeral and which was widely admissible in years passed, was the legacy with which we parted today. the defining feature of gorbachev’s rule was openness, glasnost, a gust of fresh air blowing through a hot, humid room, more than economic ideas that were a halfway house for the conditions the soviet state found itself in, and which he didn’t fully understand. yet he opened windows and doors. he returned memory to the people, he allowed memorial to form, he brought sakharov from exile, and yes, he then turned off his microphone during the congress of people’s deputies. gorbachev was a complicated, flawed individual who rose through the ranks of a bloody, ruthless bureaucracy to lead an imperial superpower whose continued survival was his overarching political imperative. he couldn’t have been gandhi. at one point, he nearly killed yeltsin with nothing more than a prolonged party criticism session; he was, directly or indirectly, responsible for the deaths of those on the imperial periphery.

but what could have been instead? nothing is precisely inevitable. had andropov been healthier, the soviet union could’ve been held together to this day by sheer force, or perhaps by prolonged conflict in azerbaijan, or mass-scale repression in the baltics. set in this context, gorbachev leashed the security institutions of the ussr, but didn’t properly dispose of them. thirty years later, his failure is zyuganov’s gleeful speech on denazification, the descent into a fascist society waging genocidal war. his success was thirty years of lost opportunity.

where do we go from here? the feeling of helplessness predominates, resonating through the said and unsaid perception of what could have been and what we have had. the crowd goes home, the opposition stays in jail, the war continues.

#here's the writeup people/mutuals wanted #lithuanian anon: consider this an answer #gorbachev

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year

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Meghan and Harry: Episode 1

Why?

Seriously, why?

Bet let’s start at the beginning. I live-blogged the documentary on my Notes app. I wasn’t originally going to post it because I’ve stopped blogging, but omg, this is truly, as Scobie would say, the endgame. Of course, it’s not the monarchy losing the game. It’s the Harkles, They’ve checkmated themselves.

This was a six-hour own goal. I knew it was going to end badly for them when I saw Sunshine Sachs dropped them. Without SS astroturfing positive coverage all over the place they were doomed anyway. However, the content of the documentary takes it beyond doom and into truly apocalyptic. I bet it has great ratings. It’s a complete train wreck.

[Edited after first liveblog: Netflix is calling it the most viewed documentary ever, but that’s misleading. It barely held on to The Crown’s audience which was its base number, and I doubt it will have the same staying power. Still, not a bad The Crown companion piece for Netflix.]

But let’s break it down.

Episode 1

Starting with shots in an airport lounge and a rented house looking like absolute crap is the weirdest branding idea I’ve ever heard of. They don’t look relatable. They look pathetic.

[I’m editing this after finishing their series and this opening is even more baffling now. Episode 5 covers their last week of royal engagements. First, that segment is a lot more glamorous and exciting than these sad-sack iPhone videos and they really should have opened with that. Second, Episode 5 shows they were elated and super excited after finishing those engagements. They loved the crowd reactions and the press coverage and were over-the-moon with happiness. These videos are supposedly shot after that and they are all sad and mopey and wondering “how they got here.” It’s a huge disconnect.]

The intro music screams “cheap YouTube production.” So does the stock photo montage. Oh, now it’s home movies…why? This resembles the video tab of a super-basic Facebook couple circa 2014. Netflix paid millions for this? I don’t think they got paid $100m, but I bet Netflix shelled out a tenth of that. They still overpaid.

[Actually, maybe they didn’t. The Crown cost $13 million per episode and they likely paid $10 mil for six episodes of Harry and Meghan which got the same audience.]

Now they are in a house (theirs? Victoria Jackson’s? Oprah’s?) that looks like a Restoration Hardware showroom and they look slightly less pathetic but also like they are in couples’ therapy. Oh, she did know who he was. What a shocker. Dimwit doesn’t seem to realize the implications. I wonder if the filmmaker is secretly mocking them.

[The house is a random rental that is now for sale so I wonder if they get a sales commission for the product placement. https://www.forbes.com/sites/emmareynolds/2022/12/20/montecito-home-where-prince-harry-and-meghan-markle-filmed-documentary-lists-for-335-million/?sh=3285e16b74fa]

My husband is watching with me. He was very confused by Meghan’s comment about how “when the stakes are so high” it makes sense to get the story from them. He doesn’t understand why the stakes are high. I told her Meghan is a narcissist and he didn’t believe me. He used to watch her on Suits and despite my best efforts still thinks she’s Rachel Zane. Anyway, he thinks the house looks like an expensive rehab clinic and now I can’t get that out of my mind. I think they are trying to look like the happy couples in When Harry Met Sally but it does feel like luxury drug rehab therapy full of Restoration Hardware furniture. He also asked me what was going on with Harry’s pupils in the airport lounge video. He thought that was weird. I tell him it's cocaine, but he thinks it's Xanax or something like that.

Montage. “They are destroying us.” “This has always been bigger than us.” Oh, please.

Montecito sunset. I guess this is their backyard? It looked better in the real estate photos. Meghan croons “isn’t it beautiful?” and Archie agrees. All I can think of is that these idiots used to live in freaking Windsor Park and now they have my grandma’s yard (complete with chicken coop and everything).

Walking with Archie. Harry mutters “this is a great love story” while pushing an empty newborn stroller (why? Where’s the baby? Is Meghan carrying the baby?). This is surreal.

Glamorous wedding shot (a melancholic reminder of past glories, frankly) and it turns into a closeup of Harry’s legs. Eew.

Meghan goes to the chicken coop. There’s a lot of cyclone fencing in this house.

Back to the Restoration Hardware Showroom. Meghan is in sweats because…I don’t know. Weird Instagram family pics including a sad little birthday party for Archie. Good lord, my kids had better parties than the King’s grandson. This is so pathetic.

Oh, no. She got the cheap Amazon patio furniture protectors. At least they match the cyclone fencing.

More family Instagram. They are protecting their kids…by putting them in a documentary?

Did I just see Harry’s underwear??!! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Between the sale of family pics, the family drama, and the plumber’s crack, I’m starting to feel that Meghan married her dad.

Harry talks about consent with regards to his children…but they are too young to consent so it doesn’t really makes sense. Guess he thinks it’s only his consent that matters.

My husband asks if Harry is an addict. I suspect it’s partly his demeanor and partly the inconsistencies in the narrative. Meghan said she’d prefer Prince Harry, and that showed how little she knew about the royals? Media exposure requires consent, but your kids are in a documentary? Harry doesn’t seem to realize that these things make no sense.

I feel the way they structured these confessionals with an invisible interviewer was a big mistake. Oprah’s presence during that interview served to validate their shady claims. She has a lot of credibility so when she nodded and smiled people trusted that. It made their statements credible. Here they don’t have that and all the contradictions are apparent.

They’re in the yard. Meghan is trying to channel Martha Stewart and failing. Martha wouldn’t have cyclone fencing, Megs.

Meghan in sweats in the Restoration Hardware showroom. BIG expensive drug rehab vibes. I bet this is what all the rich women wear at the Betty Ford Clinic. She complains that other people write books about them and “wouldn’t it make sense to hear our story from us?” Actually, Megs it’s becoming painfully clear that the tabloids and royal biographers have made you two look a lot more interesting, glamorous and stylish than you really are. Left to your own devices you two are boring as dry toast.

Really cool shots of London. Whoa, the city looks great! They spent money on these. They probably should have spent that cash making California look good. London is their past and California is their future and so far their past looks a lot cooler and more glamorous than their future.

Tig Instagram pic montage. I wonder who was taking these? She should have rehired the photographer because the family pics she has now are terrible. These were much better. Her Tig life feels a lot more upscale and aspirational than her current Montecito existence which goes to show what good photography can do. LOL, she used the airport with the Ghurka suitcase. Yes, she didn’t know she was going to meet a prince and that’s why she traded in her Rowena for the luggage brand the princes are known to use.

Pics from what appears to be Harry’s private Instagram. Interesting—wait, the Insta rumor was real? What the? Good lord why would you admit that in a documentary???!! This is freaking surreal. Whyyyyy?”

[To those who don’t know. There was a rumor back in 2016 that Meghan was a designated Soho House “companion” and the girls were “advertised” through a private Insta account run by Marcus. If you liked a girl you could DM Marcus and get an introduction…which seems to be exactly what Harry did. I don’t understand why they would mention this in a a documentary. Everyone bought the Violet von Westerwhatever blind date story. They should have stuck to that.]

I wonder how the mainstream audience is reacting to the new instagram story. The original story got a lot of coverage and a critical mass of people may start to wonder what the heck is going on. Even my husband is skeptical and I don’t think he knew the blind date story.

BTW, the fact that she was following his account was known in Toronto as soon as the relationship story broke. Interesting.

“Friend” talking about Wimbledon. She’s actually Serena Williams agent so I’m not sure why she’s labeled as a friend. Wimbledon, blah, blah, blah. Lol, Again, Meghan’s old life appears a heck of a lot more glamorous than her current one. OMG, she told Serena’s agent she was going on a date with Harry??!! She was telling everyone wasn’t she?

Texting. She was posting all of this to Insta as it was happening which is absolutely hilarious. Actually, this whole documentary reminds of the early days of the relationship when she was posting everything on Insta and leaking stories to US Weekly constantly. They really wanted all of this material out there and waiting until they got paid for it probably took probably took enormous self discipline. Guess they took Doria's "don't give the milk away for free" advice to heart.

I just realized she’s wearing Trevor’s Cartier bracelet during her monologues and that cracks me up.

More cheap stock footage. Seriously, how much did Netflix pay for this? Endless chat about their first date, which is nowhere near as interesting as they seem to think it is. They should have stuck to the blind date story. It was slightly more interesting. Bad Soho House selfie.

Nacho shows up as a “friend” and he’s really Harry’s promo buddy. The Silver Tree person was also a Suits director. Everyone is a business contact in this documentary. All these white people in California resort wear are giving me White Lotus Season 3 vibes.

Baseball hat pics in a messy kitchen…these two are hellbent on shedding whatever royal glamour they had left. Wait, isn’t this an old picture from Toronto? Like real old, first year in Toronto kind of old. What a weird choice.

“Marry someone who fits the mould instead of someone you are destined to be with” followed by a pic of Megs trying to look sexy in a wifebeater shirt. Does the director secretly hate them? He was born in a palace but he had a trailer park heart…she was a tacky actress from the wrong side of the tracks…they were destined to be together selling family pics to the tabloids just like dad…it’s a family traditioooooooon….

Old royal footage…Diana…Charles…childhood photocalls, which Harry seems to resent, but he’s doing the same to his kids in this documentary, so I really don’t understand what he’s thinking. The Diana footage is a big misstep because wow Di was charismatic and these two losers can’t hold a candle to her.

Thirteen whole minutes of archival footage, most of it stuff his parents “consented” to, and lots of whining about press intrusion. Dude, you’re in a reality show. You’re putting your kids on television. Know where you stand.

Then a slew of private couple pics that they really should have kept private. Love the wallpaper. Bet that was Frogmore. The documentary is rather disorienting. I can’t tell what house they are in or when the pictures were taken.

Boom. “So much of what Meghan is and how she is is so similar to my mom.” My husband actually rewinds this part to make sure he heard right. Pic of Diana with her kids in the garden and then another pic of Meghan with her kids in the garden. Very similar gardens. Not so similar women.

“He wanted to marry his mom?” my husband asks.

Cringe video of Archie with a Diana photo. “I didn’t want history to repeat itself,” Harry says.

“He did want to marry his mom,” my husband says, amazed. “So he can save her this time.” Shaking his head. “This is nuts but it’s television gold. Did the brother marry his mummy too?”

“No,” I said.

“And the brother is the one who gets to be king, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

More monologue about their courtship. Lol, they really did leak the handholding painting to the press. Footage comparing Megs to Di and it’s painfully obvious she’s nowhere near as charismatic.

Diana’s death and more archival footage. This documentary is a humongous downer, isn’t it? Childhood friend of Harry’s I’d never heard about. Was he invited to the wedding? I don't think so. Strong White Lotus vibes coming from this guy.

Diana’s funeral. Harry’s drug scandal. Hellraiser Harry. Bitching about paparazzi. No mention of Vegas, which is weird. You’d think that would be the big traumatic story about media intrusion. I guess he only wants to blame the UK media and Vegas was a TMZ story in the states and the UK media wasn’t allowed to print the pictures so it doesn't fit his narrative.

More whining about royal photocalls…except for the Lesotho photo ops which Harry didn’t seem to mind. Bit of a disconnect there because those were royal pr as well. In fact, it was the way the royals rehabilitated his image after the drug scandal. Seems like Harry only hates the royal pr he can’t personally monetize. Why isn’t Sentenbale getting a shout out? You’d think he would plug the charity here (Audi, Soho House, and JP Morgan got very obvious brand placements) but if he did I missed it. [Edited: Should have added the house to the list of product placements]

LOL, Prince Seesio straight out says that the Lesotho vacation was a response to the bad press in the UK. They should have briefed him better. I don’t think he was supposed to say that.

Botswana vacay with Meghan. Wow, the Daily Mail made this look a lot more glamorous than it actually was. This wasn’t exactly glamping, was it? Were there showers? No, best to not go there. No charities are mentioned. No mention of the “love” bracelets, just a Daily Mail article shot.

More whining about press intrusion then private Halloween pics that really should have stayed private. Lol, they went to a party with Eugenie after the relationship was leaked. Tell me you leaked the relationship without telling me you leaked the relationship. I bet Meghan wanted to post this on her Insta and Jason didn’t let her. I wish they’d let her. The press reaction to the Call of Duty costume would have been epic.

Harry doesn’t seem to be catching on. If you were in disguise and no one knew you went to this party except Meghan, Jack and Eugenie, then who exactly leaked it, Harry? Because we knew about it a day later.

That’s a Toronto newspaper, the same one that had the leak about Meghan following Harry’s private account. At the time the evil British tabloids were actually under the impression Harry was still in England and had cancelled a trip to visit Toronto.

The other outlet who got the scoop early was our old friend US Weekly, and the byline was by a then-unknown gossip hack called Omid Scobie. Given what we know now about their relationship with Scobie. Yep, I think these two just confessed to leaking stories about their own relationship.

The DM had to quote the Toronto paper and US Weekly when they finally broke the story on the other side of the pond.

Interesting that Meghan and Harry’s “new and improved super real love story” is the one that was being leaked in Toronto and not the one that the evil UK tabloids had supposedly uncovered through nefarious means. I don’t understand why they are changing the story, though. The blind date wasn’t a tabloid rumor. It’s what they themselves said during a BBC interview.

End of episode. Overall, I feel this was a huge missed opportunity. Not much about his work in Africa or her UN/One Young World work. We hear about Harry’s photography but barely see it. It’s their chance to tell their story and their story is “we’re boring and tacky people who sell pics of their kids.” I feel they really wanted to put the “real” story of how they met out there—the IG dog pic, the Call of Duty costume, the crappy Soho House selfie. It reminds me of her old Working Actress blog where she was constantly stressing how unglamorous acting life really was.

I’m not blown away by the quality either. Their home movies feel cheap and curiously inauthentic. They should have run everything through a filter to make it feel coherent and cohesive. The stock/archival footage is sometimes great (London and the royal family), sometimes cheap (Soho House), sometimes missing (California), and sometimes misleading (pap shots of Chelsy, Cressida and Kate that are narrated as though Meghan was the victim).

The documentary lacks the authoritative tone most documentaries have. You really feel it’s “their” side of the story and not the “real” story. I think the problem is how they switch from the couples’ personal narrative, confessionals, and personal pics into historical pictures and public royal narratives. The institutional credibility of the royal shots makes the personal material feel biased and unreliable. The videos of Charles and the kids interacting with photographers, in particular are massive own goals because they remind the viewers that everything, including Meghan and Harry’s pictures and videos, includes invisible photographers. It’s just that the Harkles are hiding that from us, whereas the royals are upfront about it. The confessionals in the rehab setting, in particular, were huge mistakes, imo. They feel like reality show confessionals (like the ones the Housewives franchise uses) and viewers are trained to see those as unreliable narrations. Using someone else's house was also a bad idea. It feels fake.

The whole thing feels very chaotic and unconvincing. My husband thinks they are both addicts and I remember thinking that when they first started doing their beanie hat appearances. I ask him why and he cites the dilated pupils, contradictory narratives, family resentments and couch-surfing at other people’s housing. He says it’s standard junkie drama.

Other family members are watching and most of the group chat (lawyers and social workers) reaches the same conclusion: even the royals have junkie kid drama. The social worker says she has tons of clients like Meghan and the all sound the same. “They’re trying to destroy us.” “It’s a great love story.” “I don’t know how we ended up here.” “What happened.” They are all more interested in having their side of the story validated than in actually fixing the problem and they just repeat the same family dynamics over and over again. That’s why Harry is showing us pics of his kids in the house/garden/vacation right after complaining that his parents showed the world pictures of him, his bother, and his cousins in the house/garden/vacation. She noticed that he posted a pic of himself in military gear (the Halloween pic) as an adult and a similar one of himself a kid. He also posted skiing pics with the royals and then similar pics in the sand in California. She’s says he’s basically re-living his childhood and trying to get it right this time.

I didn’t expect many people in my family would be interested in this, but they are all having fun psychoanalyzing these two. Everyone thinks this is Harry rewriting his past so he gets to save his mum this time. Meghan’s motivations are less clear. No one believes she didn’t know who he was. The psychologist says it’s weird that Meghan’s side of the love story was just “it was exciting…we just got to know each other….” Her motivation is not that clear, although there was that one story about wanting to be protected from the elephants in the tent. Opinion is split with half the chat thinking she wanted to be rescued by Prince Charming and the other half (the psychologists and social workers) thinking that as an actress her fantasy would be A Star is Born. The psychologist says those two are not that different. In the Prince Charming fantasy you get rescued by an individual and in the Star is Born fantasy you are rescued by an institution, i.e., the studio or Hollywood. She thinks her fantasy was A Star is Born and that’s why she’s so resentful now. I think we’d discussed that in the blog before. Interesting to hear someone else saying it. Meghan didn’t want a love story where she was rescued by Harry, she wanted a Hollywood success story where she was acclaimed as a star by the palace. She didn’t get that and that’s why she’s still upset even though she got the Prince Charming love story. That’s not what she wanted. Harry got the fantasy he wanted, so he’s not as upset.

Not much support for the theory (mine) that she was manipulating him consciously. Everyone seems to think it’s a case of two mental illnesses falling in love, along with junkie drama. That’s why Harry is so amazed at their “fantastic love story.” He wanted to marry his mum and she wanted to be his mum. That’s a pretty unlikely combination.

I’m very curious about the “friends” featured in this episode. No Jess, no Markus, no Misha Nonoo, no one from the Suits cast except Abigail Spencer, and no Janina. Everyone seems to be a business partner of some sort. Cory was missing also, but it makes sense that she wouldn’t mention him. Reitman’s wasn’t mentioned either but I guess she doesn’t want to give them press.

I don’t understand why they didn’t lean into the charity work angle. She was doing One Young World and he was working Africa. Her "You can be Both" essay wasn't mentioned either and I feel they should have led with that instead of going with her “single girl trip” and the not-so-glam Botswana vacation. I also don’t understand why we didn’t see more of Harry’s supposedly amazing wildlife photography. After all, they are trying to build a career as documentary producers. You’d think that would be relevant. The big takeaways from this episode are: Meghan is mummy and I saw history repeating itself so I had to save her. “Save Mummy” seems like a weird narrative to craft a brand around, but my husband is right. It’s television gold.

On to the next episode.

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martyfive · 4 months

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16/12/23

it’s not like i stopped having dreams at all. i was going to bed after 3AM for months waking up after six or seven hours of sleep and still dreaming every night, but i never remembered anything. some blurry pictures haunted me, but i was lucky enough to forget them in the morning. that’s why when i found myself in my old family house with blood on the walls and the floor i knew it was a dream, but a dream so vivid i was actually more bothered by the fact that it was the first story-like dream i had in months than that there was blood all over the place.

yeah, the blood. that house has seen enough of it, but never that much. even when the nose was broken. or when the whole set of red festive dishes was scattered around the kitchen. or after the accident. but we don’t talk about the accident. we don’t.

in a dream there was so much blood i couldn’t tell if it really was the house i grew up in. everything seemed to be the same, but things changed. maybe it was because of the renovation they did after i moved out. i’ve seen the photos. the room i used to sleep in looked horrible, like a piece of a hospital environment that for some reason also had my old stuff and an ugly grey carpet in it. it was now the room my mother used to go to read my embarrassing old diaries and cry in when she missed me most or when the threat of a broken nose was possible again. at least that didn’t change. the threat of a broken nose.

the presence of blood in a dream was somehow connected to the person who used to break noses and not take responsibility for the accidents we don’t have to talk about. and i didn’t know where he was. for some reason i wasn’t scared of him or to find him inside the house for the first time in my life. looking at the blood, i should have been. but i wasn’t.

i also knew what i had to do. the blood needed to be mopped.

someone else was there with me. i couldn’t see their face, but they felt like a friend. it could have been the devil himself, but i knew i had a problem more serious than the devil at that point.

i was walking around the house like it was just another day of my life mentally preparing for the massive cleaning session incoming when my phone rang. it was my mother.

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “he killed seven people.”

i said, “okay.”

she said, “you don’t know the horrible things he did to them. i’ve seen it all. his mother was there. you don’t even need to know about her teeth or her neck. i’ve seen it all.”

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “i’ll be home soon.”

home. i had to clean the tons of blood in a house i grew up in. my mother has called it “home”. i had another name for it. she wouldn’t like it. he was also here. i had to find him.

there was no power and all i had was the flashlight on my phone. i still had an unknown friend with me. the walls and the floor with blood on them, some cleaning stuff, a flashlight and a nameless friend. i took the phone and left to go deeper into the house in a search for a man in the centre of it. he wasn’t even a minotaur in a labyrinth. that was too much of a job title.

i found him right where he was expected to be. in a corner of the library, not easy to be spotted, right where he stored all his expensive tobacco assortment i used to steal from him when he wasn’t around. he looked calm. affectionate, almost gentle. like he was glad to see me. like he was sorry. like it was another quiet morning after the-broken-nose incident. forgive and forget. it’s gonna help you heal. no fucking way.

he was covered in blood.

i said, “what have you done?”

he said, “i deserve all your anger.”

but i had none. i was tired. i had a house to clean up.

i said, “i’m calling the cops.”

he said, “i’m a disappointment.”

i said, “we’ll see.”

the cops came. there were two of them, two young ladies, almost too cheerful for a situation. almost like it was all a stupid dream.

“the house is yours now,” he said before the cops took him away after i declined the laughable offer to put the handcuffs on him myself. “it’s all over. the house is yours. it’s always been.”

they left. i shut the door. it was dark. my faceless friend was waiting for me with the cleaning stuff.

“we should hire the cleaning company,” i said as i put the rubber yellow gloves on. “there’s no way i can do this on my own.”

“no,” the friend said. “you can. and you will. it’s your house now, haven’t you heard? you can sell it, get the money and everything. that’s gonna be awesome, right?”

maybe it was the devil himself after all. the blood was seeping through the cracks of the wooden floor.

“yeah,” i said.

then i woke up. the night was coming to an end. for a couple breath stealing minutes i was stuck in a house with blood on the walls. it was still there. i was still there. cleaning the blood. mopping the floor. waiting for my mother. wondering if she’s gonna lock herself in my old room turned into a hospital ward to cry over a man that broke her nose once or twice and a kid that used to have to calm her down while she was crying.

i suddenly heard the watch on my wrist ticking. it was a quarter to six. i was home.

25/12/23

#story #text post #martyfive text #horror story #short story

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redheadgleek · 4 months

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Power has been off for 30 hours.

It’s 24 degrees Fahrenheit outside and supposed to drop to 18 (which is warmer than the 12 it was last night.

It’s 35 inside now.

When the power goes out I have no access to my garage to turn off water, so now I have to worry about freezing pipes tonight.

My hot water line to my kitchen sink sprang a leak last night (maybe unrelated to the cold). Luckily I was able to find a pair of pliers in my house (I usually keep all of my tools in the garage) and tightened it down. So far no more leaking.

I have a fireplace, which I’ve never used. The damper looks like it is sealed shut.

My driveway is a layer of ice. I can’t get out without hiking up a huge hill.

There’s no indication when the power will be back on.

#rhg does not like winter

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cressthebest · 1 month

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Tender Curiosities, Baby! thoughts pt. 4

chapter 5:

1. awww rosekiller are about to do their gay little outside the plane moment <333

2. the way barty thinks that james and reg are about to fuck behind the divider in the plane 😭😭😭 no babes they’re sobbing

3. 😳 i forgot they were absolutely unhinged for a moment and WOULD murder the mole despite james and reg’s wishes

4. awww we get to see reg being all soft about the house in brazil <333

5. WAIT NO STARTED SOBBING CAUSE I JUST REMEMBERED REG NEVER GETS TO BE THE ONE TO SHOW JAMES THE HOUSE IN BRAZIL

6. oh my god barty is being jealous of evan calling james pretty boy. maybe i like a little jealousy in fics, sue me.

7. god i fucking hate lucius. just felt like it needed to be said

8. oh shit, they’re gonna blame reg’s death on themselves because instead of finding out more about tom riddle, they’re celebrating an engagement and having a little fun

9. fuck i know i’ve already read the copenhagen swap and know what happens, but i’m not ready

10. thank fucking GOD evan finally got to murder lucius

11. 😳😳 oh my god. now, kink shame me if you must, for the horrible timing of this, but god, i bet sirius looked so hot. like picture long curly black hair loose and over his shoulder and his eyes are mad with rage as his hands and arms are splattered with blood as he’s trying to puncture tom riddle’s throat with his bare hands.

12. this chapter is making me cry again, jesus fuck

13. sitting in the blistering hot shower, completely clothed while drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey- the author is correct. that IS the way that barty would mourn

14. “Regulus would answer. He’d pick up. He always picks up when Evan calls. Always.

The phone rings and rings.

And rings.”

WHAT DO YOU MEAN REGULUS DIDNT PICK UP THIS TIME??? OF COURSE HE ANSWERED THE PHONE!! HES NOT DEAD!! HE CANT BE DEAD!

15. “Barty gets violently ill the next day and Evan sleeps for 36 hours straight.” um. hello. that’s a coma babes. evan went into a coma. holy shit

16. 😳😳 barty just broke down and yelled at peter so bad, that i’m actually scared

17. hmmmm barty has a list of rituals now to help with the pain. the showering. the tea making. that’s an odd way of grief and it mimics my own, in terms of rituals. i’m curious about this.

18. oh god, not barty finding comfort in being around sirius because sirius says and does things that remind him of reg. that’s. wow.

19. “Love had always been a violent thing for people like Barty and Evan. It was hardly ever tender or soft.” oh god, it’s no longer tender curiosities. that. that title is powerful, holy shit

20. oh god crying again. james just ndjdjsjdksks james jsut offered to do everytbjng that regulus did for evan and barty. like bailing them out of jail and all that. i— i’m not okay

21. oh my fucking god they left. this is so sad. how can this be jsut as sad as the first time i read ahb. this is ridiculous. i’m not okay

#marauders #art heist baby #mwpp #mwpp era #regulus black #ao3 #fanfic #cress' ahb reviews #tender curiosities baby #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty x evan #rosekiller #sirius black

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wixhing0nastar · 1 year

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I feel like some of y’all need to hear this so... Raine will be fine. Just close your eyes, take a deep breath real quick and count down from 10.

Feel a little better?

Not really? That’s okay, here’s an in depth analysis of why Raine will be fine in the final.

Let's start by addressing the elephant in the room: what happened to Hunter when Phillip was possessing him.

Now, there are some key differences between Hunter's possession and Raine’s possession that automatically lead to Raine being in a better situation.

To start, Raine and Hunter are two completely different species, meaning that possession would likely affect them differently. And even if this wasn’t a point, Raine is presently a puppet and based on what we saw wasn’t actively goopifying.

Which ties into the next point: even if Raine were to turn back organic, it took several hours of possession (probably between 8-12) for Hunter to get to the point his organs were shutting down.

Additionally, unlike with Hunter, the protagonists are going to be on the lookout for Phillip, plus since it seems like he's targeting Eda (and if I were to wager a guess, the rest of the Clawthornes) and with her change in physical appearance making her look a lot like Evelynn, he's unlikely to be able to hide what’s happening for long... meaning a rescue effort will happen much sooner with a potentially much stronger group of fighters than the end of TTT.

Furthermore, Raine is older and significantly more powerful than Hunter is in terms of magic. As a coven head, the chances Raine at least has training to resist this type of thing if not actively having protections in place.

Finally (for this section at least), unlike Hunter, Raine has Eda. More specifically, Raine has a decades-long relationship to fall back on in terms of “fighting power.” Like, Hunter was able to pull through and regain some amount of control via the power of friendship and he’d only been in the Hexsquad for like... a year max and that’s being very generous.

Now that we’re got the in-universe reasons why Raine will be fine, let’s talk about the story reasons.

Narratively, in addition to being Eda’s love interest, they also serve as a metaphor for Eda’s lost magic... or more specifically, the safety that having her magic afforded her.

What I mean by this is that prior to the end of Season 1, Eda was protected from Belos because she was considerably more powerful than most other witches... based on what we’ve seen it’s entirely possible that her claim about being the most powerful witch on the isles was true...

But during Season 2, whenever Eda’s been is genuine danger due to Belos/The Emperor's Coven, Raine was the one to step in and make sure that her and her kids were safe. (Specifically, during Eda’s Requiem, O Titan Where Art Thou, and King’s Tide).

There are one of two ways to takes things narratively during the final based on this. Either the trend continues and Raine once again puts themself between Eda and Belos to keep her safe, or the trend is turned on it’s head and this time it’s up to Eda to save Raine from Belos.

More than likely though it’ll be a joint effort between the two of them. This would be in order to narratively place them back on even footing, showing they can protect each other and in turn make each other stronger.

Furthermore, Raine hasn’t really had any genuine death signs. Unlike the fake-out with Eda at the end of Season 2, nothing that’s happened to Raine has indicated they’re going to die. Yeah, they aren’t in a great place right now, but their character hasn’t been given any closure.

Additionally, there’s not enough time left in the show for their death to have an impact. And The Owl House has handled discussions about death and grief way too well up til now to just kill Raine off when there wouldn’t even be time for the characters to grieve or react properly.

Finally, let’s talk meta reasons Raine will be fine.

We’ll start with the fact that Raeda is Dana’s OTP for The Owl House and the likelihood of her killing one of them off is slim to none. And I can tell you as a writer, you absolutely put your favorite characters/relationships through the wringer because it makes the end of story where they’re okay that much sweeter.

More importantly, Raine is Disney’s first even non-binary character. Having Raine die randomly in the final would make for some genuinely terrible publicity for a company that’s been in hit water recently for their handling of other LGBTQ+ related things, so killing off Raine would be a horrible move.

Plus this is a Disney show and we’ve already had one beloved character die and explored the themes of death and grief fairly extensively (at least, again, for a Disney show...)

All this is to say that Raine will be fine and you can breathe while we wait for the final.

#The Owl House #The Owl House Spoilers #TOH Analysis #Raeda #Raine Whispers #Eda Clawthorne #This is mostly for the people I've seen panicking thinking they're actually going to die #So you don't have to spend the whole hiatus having an anxiety attack

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the---hermit · 4 months

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A lovely festive card from a friend and random notes.

19|12|2023

I am back after being very ill again. This time I got the flu, and to make things worse my panic disorder kicked me once again and it was bad. I am starting to feel a bit better now, but I am still very weak and my stomach isn't at its best yet. I spent a couple of hellish days, and decided to skip class this week. I confident I will be fully recovered for Friday when I'll have to speak in the seminar, but until that day I am not leaving my house and I am taking things slowly. This of course means that my nice study plan is totally fucked. I am so beyond schedul and I am not in shape to get caught with it, so I will simply have to sit down and make a whole other plan. I am starting to slowly getting back into doing some work during the day, but I have not enough mental energy to power through the book I have to study. So this week I will try to stay productive as much as I can but minding what my body allows me to do. I will study less hours during the day, do lighter stuff, and stop whenever I feel like I need to lie down, or move around depending on what my body is asking me. This morning for example I got about an hourish of work done, I was very happy with myself but then I simply had to accept that I needed to lie down, and I did so. I am fighting with the guilt of not sticking to plans and feeling overwhelmed with everything I have to do, and I am trying my best. The other thing I am struggling with at the moment is food, not in a concerning way, but more in the sense that right now I feel like I lost the joy of eating and having a good meal and that is impacting my mood so bad. First a couple of weeks ago I went to the dentist and struggled so much with pain in my mouth for a while, and now due to my stomach being affected by the flu, eating has just become something I have to do and I despise feeling like this. I want to sit at my table and be happy about what I am going to eat, I want to look forward to my meals and I have yet to figure out how to get back there. Maybe I just have a bit of a scare since in the past two or three years I often had my anxiety and panic symptoms strongly linked to my stomach and I am now scared that I'll get back into that stupid place in which eating was anxiety inducing for me. I just hope that will get better soon and that I will be able to enjoy the amazing food my family will make during the holidays.

calm hobbit winter activities and productivity:

read first thing in the morning (I managed to read ten pages which is such a big win after these awful days)

wrote notes for the second chapeter of Nature, Human Nature and Human Difference by Justin Smith

updated my reading journal

started watching cabinet of curiosities (in the past few years I have been terrible at watching new series, but this morning when I had to lie down after studying I felt like watching something new could be a good way to keep my brain a bit active. I watched the first two episodes and loved the first one. The second one fell very flat for me but I am exctied to see more of it, it definitely has the gothic horror vibes I adore)

started reviewing my men theories and power practices notes and added a few additional informations here and there

practiced my presentation for Friday

📖: Bookshops and Bonedust by Travis Baldree

#i know today's long post was a bit of negativity train and it's not the energy i love to put out in the world #but these have been a few bad days and i am not going to pretend they were fun #writing things down always helps a bit to declutter my mind and since I haven't been able to journal anymore this is my only daily journal #it works tho #anyway i am getting better now friday was the absolute worse and anything is better than that #plus the holidays are near and no matter how much i'll have to do I will take a week off #studyblr #studyinspo #journal #journaling #studying #productivity #calm hobbit winter #knife gang #mine #the---hermit #student life #uniblr #university

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scary-grace · 5 months

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Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 15) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside-down world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever.

But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18

Chapter 15

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. Right now the thing that’s wrong with your house isn’t the ghost who haunts it, but the fact that said ghost is on day five of an extended sulk. With every day closer to your departure, Tomura’s gotten mopier, and no matter how many times you explain to him that you’ll only be gone for two days, it doesn’t seem to stick.

It’s Friday morning, and you’re leaving directly after work, which means you have to say goodbye to Tomura this morning. He’s not making it easy. “Someone else can go. Aizawa can go,” he complains. “I don’t see why you have to.”

“I’m the one who started looking into this. And Aizawa has kids to look after.” You finish packing your bag and zip it up. “Are you sure you’re okay to watch Phantom? Spinner said he would –”

“I know to feed her and play with her and let her out. I’m way better at taking care of our dog than Spinner.” Tomura is scowling worse than before, and you feel slightly guilty. You like hearing Tomura say that Phantom is both of yours, but that’s not a good enough reason to wind him up. “Why do you have to stay away that long?”

“It’s going to take me six hours to get there. I won’t be there until midnight tonight. I’ll take all of Saturday and some of the next day going over the documents, and I’ll be back late on Sunday.” You pick up your bag and start down the stairs. “I don’t like being away, either. I like it here.”

“Then don’t leave.”

“I have to.” You set your bag down by the front door, then crouch down to say goodbye to Phantom. You haven’t left her alone for this long in a while, and you’re going to miss her. If it wasn’t for Tomura, there’s no way you’d take this trip.

Tomura didn’t follow you down the stairs, and you hear his voice echo through a house that already feels a little too empty. “I won’t have anybody to talk to.”

You thought about that, too. You thought about it and decided that not talking to Tomura for two days wasn’t something you were prepared to tolerate. “Can you come down here? I’ve got something for you.”

Tomura’s footsteps are slow, almost reluctant, as he makes his way down the stairs. “What is it?” he asks. You don’t answer – you’re too busy searching through your hall closet for a bag you stashed there months ago. “If you want me to kiss you before you leave, just say that. Don’t act weird and –”

He stops talking when he sees the bag you’re holding out. “It’s a present,” you say. “Sort of. Open it.”

Tomura’s not very good at opening presents. He shreds the bag, followed by the box, and a charger cable and a pair of headphones fall out and clatter to the floor. He avoids dropping the main event, if nothing else – the smartphone remains in the palm of his hand, and he stares at it suspiciously. “This is for me?”

“We can set it up really quick right now.” If you were smart, you’d have done this last night, but last night you were busy – not with sex, which would have at least been fun, but with trying to snap Tomura out of his over-the-top bad mood. You beckon him closer and he hovers over your shoulder as you start the process. “See, this is your profile. What do you want to set your name as?”

“My name.” Tomura watches as you set it. “Now what?”

You adjust his phone so it’ll always be on battery saver, hook it up to the WiFi so he won’t burn through all your data, and mute all his alert sounds. “Now we’re going to get you some contacts. People you can call or text if you need to.”

You probably spent a lot more time than necessary thinking about whose numbers you should give to Tomura. You ruled out Dabi’s and Hizashi’s instantly – the last thing you want to do is give Tomura the ability to start fights with either of them whenever he wants. Giving Tomura Keigo’s number is risky, but you’re pretty sure Dabi doesn’t know Keigo’s passcode. Tomura gets Aizawa’s number, and Spinner’s, and Jin and Jin’s mom. Jin’s mom, after pleading from Himiko and significant hesitation, agreed to let you add Himiko’s number to Tomura’s phone. You add the other ghosts, too, even though Tomura doesn’t really need a phone to talk to any of them. Last of all, you add Mr. Yagi.

Tomura doesn’t like that. “I don’t want him on my phone. Get rid of him.”

“You don’t ever have to call him,” you say. “It’s just in case.”

“In case what?”

You don’t really know. Tomura makes an irritated noise. “I want Izuku’s number.”

“You can’t have Izuku’s number. Even I don’t have it.” You wouldn’t want it, honestly. Giving Izuku unlimited opportunities to text you or Tomura feels like a stunningly bad idea. “Okay, that’s everybody. Only text them if it’s important, not to start fights. I don’t want to have to fix the fence again.”

“I know,” Tomura says, annoyed. He studies his phone, then looks up at you. “Where are you? Are you in here?”

“I’ve been texting you all the contacts.” You tap your number. “This one is me. You can name me something if you want.”

You show him how to edit the contact, then watch with a little too much interest as he selects a name. He hesitates for a long time, then looks at you. “What am I in your phone?”

“Um –” You added him as a contact already. You hold out the phone for him to examine, and he studies it like he’s reading a textbook. “It’s just your name. Tomura. See? I thought about adding the ghost emoji, but that would have been silly. I can add it if you want.”

Tomura shakes his head, then sets your phone aside and types your name into his as your contact. Which is fine. Except then he adds a display name – My Human. “Hey,” you complain. “Don’t do that. I used your name.”

He smirks. Part of you wants to change his display name to something like “my asshole ghost” to return fire, but before you can say anything, Keigo honks his car horn and hollers from outside. “Hey, if we’re going, we need to go now!”

“We’re going!” you shout back. You pick up your bag and your work backpack and race out to his car. You’re about to get in when you realize you haven’t said goodbye to Tomura yet. And that you’re missing your phone. “Shit –”

“I have your stupid phone.” Tomura’s on the other side of the fence. You reach for it, but he holds it just out of range. “I want a kiss first.”

“I was going to kiss you anyway,” you say. You lean across the property line, grasp his shoulder to pull him closer, and kiss him goodbye. You don’t stop until Keigo honks the horn again.

You’ve been in relationships before, but none of your exes ever insisted on a goodbye kiss when you had to leave for more than a day, let alone a goodbye kiss in full view of the entire neighborhood. You’re a little giddy on the drive to work, and Keigo, to his credit, doesn’t rib you too much about it. “He knows you’re not going off to war, right?”

“He knows.” You slouch down in the passenger seat. “He’s been moping all week. Did Touya do that?”

“When I was gone for too long, Touya broke out of the house,” Keigo says. Your jaw drops. “He and a bunch of other ghosts haunted this old-style family compound, and each of them was confined to a specific area. He broke out of his and into somebody else’s. You can guess how that went. So that ghost broke out of their assigned haunt, and then –”

You remember what Keigo said about ghost fights. “How many ghosts were there, total?”

“Six.” Keigo winces. “I moved pretty fast after that.”

Dabi sounds like he was a lot to deal with even back when he was Touya. A terrible thought occurs to you. “You don’t think Tomura would –”

“You told him where you were going,” Keigo points out. “And you got him a phone so he can talk to you. When it was me I just dipped for a day or two. I had no idea Touya was going to take it like that.”

“So that was kind of early on for you guys?”

“I guess.” Keigo sighs. You’re at a stoplight, and he hits his head lightly against the steering wheel. “Anyway, that one was on me. If he’d been a normal roommate I would have told him where I was going. So I think you’re probably fine. But we’ll let you know if anything weird starts happening.”

You’re hoping it won’t. You change the subject. “Thanks for giving me a ride. Parking in the station lot for two days was going to be expensive.”

“No problem. I was headed this way anyway,” Keigo says. “It’s better that you’re taking the train than driving. Less expensive.”

“It’s harder to track, too,” you say. “I don’t think anybody’s watching, but – still. Better safe than sorry.”

“Definitely,” Keigo agrees. He merges onto the highway and floors it to a speed he swears the cops don’t pull people over for. “Nobody wants a repeat of last time.”

You’re hoping to avoid it. That’s what this trip is about. When you shared the idea with Mr. Yagi and Aizawa, they both approved, although they both suggested that they should go instead of you. You held your ground. Even fifteen years after his embodiment, Mr. Yagi has a reputation among ghosts, and Aizawa’s carrying around Hizashi’s marks with no conjurer-forged bracelets to conceal them. Besides, you’re the one who found the asylum, who found Shigaraki Yoichi. Since there’s basically nothing else you can do to help, you want to see this through.

But that doesn’t mean you’re looking forward to the trip. In fact, your dread of it increases throughout the day, until you’re dragging your feet along with your suitcase as you walk to the train. Some part of you knows the dread is irrational, but it’s hard to shake, and it’s got nothing at all to do with conjurers, asylums, or ghosts. The city nearest to the asylum is the one your parents moved to, after you went to college and they sold the house you grew up in. And you and your parents have an agreement to check in whenever you’re in the same city as they are. When you texted them to tell them you’d be there for the weekend, they told you to cancel your hotel reservation and invited you to stay with them.

It’s been over two years since you last saw them. Last time it was awkward, and it was awkward the time before that, too. Your parents’ ambitions for you included a college degree and financial independence, and once you hit those milestones, it was clear at least to you that they have no idea what to make of you. But turning down their offer of a place to stay would have made things worse, and besides, hotel rooms are expensive. Saving money is worth an awkward weekend at your parents’ new home. You’ve never been there before.

You doze on and off on the train, waking up at every stop and checking your phone. Tomura hasn’t texted you, but then again, why would he? He existed in the house alone long before you were even born. Maybe he’s figuring out that he likes the peace and quiet, too.

The thought doesn’t sit well with you, and you’re crabby for the rest of the ride, although you do your best to shake it off once you arrive. The meeting with your parents will be difficult enough without you being irritated at the ghost in your house at the same time. It’s just past eleven-thirty as you make the short walk to your parents’ house from the station, your stomach growling the entire way. You’ll have to order in from somewhere once you’re settled for the night.

Their house is in a small new development, multiple homes clustered around a large central courtyard. You step through the gate and make your way across it to your parents’ front door. You check your phone one last time, ordering yourself not to be disappointed when you see that Tomura hasn’t reached out. Then you raise one hand and press the doorbell.

The door swings open almost immediately, and your father smiles at you in a way that gives you pause. He reaches out and lifts your suitcase out of your hand, then pulls you into the house and into a hug shortly afterward. For lack of anything better to do, you hug him back.

He’s smaller than you remember. More frail, and there’s more grey in his hair. How old are your parents now? Pushing seventy – they had you late, and you’ve always had the impression that you were sort of an accident. “It’s been too long,” your father says to you. He waits while you take off your shoes, then beckons you further down the hall. “Come along. We held back dinner so we could eat together.”

That doesn’t sound right. You rarely ate with both parents at once when you were a kid; family mealtimes were no one’s priority, and you ate with whichever parent was in the house at dinnertime, or you ate alone. “Why?”

Your father gives you an odd look. “It’s been too long,” he says again, as if the distance is all your fault, as if they couldn’t have reached out just as easily. “And it seems you’ll be very busy this weekend. This might be the only time we can catch up.”

“I have a lot to do,” you admit. Your father sets your suitcase down just inside the door of a room and continues down the hall. You can smell food cooking. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

Your mother is busy in the kitchen, but when you go to help her, she waves you off, under instructions to wash your hands and get settled. “I’m making your favorite,” she tells you, and smiles. But then you see the smile waver. “Is it still your favorite?”

“I make it all the time,” you say. “It never tastes quite like yours.”

Tomura’s observed you working on the recipe more than once, and he always makes fun of you for changing it each time. No matter what you change, you can’t make it taste right, but maybe – “If you won’t let me help, can I stay and watch?”

“Of course,” your mother says. “It’s been too long.”

You wish they’d both stop saying that. If they wanted you to talk to them more now, they should have talked to you when you were a kid. Hizashi’s words pop into your head, like they do every so often: Mommy and Daddy didn’t love you enough. Maybe they didn’t. Or maybe they just didn’t know what to do with a kid once they had one.

Your phone makes the sad chiming sound that tells you it’s running low on battery, and you dig up your charger and plug it in, leaving it balanced on the corner of the kitchen counter as you watch your mom cook. Watching her, it’s easy to see where you went wrong in the recipe, or where you went wrong by following the recipe – there are spices your mom uses that are nowhere to be found on the ingredient list. You didn’t watch her cook very often as a kid. Maybe you should have asked if you could help.

The three of you sit down to dinner, and it’s beyond weird. The family dinners you remember were full of silence, but it’s been over two years since you last saw your parents, which means there’s a lot to talk about. You’re not sure how to talk about your life now, so you ask your parents about theirs, and hear that your dad’s retired but your mom is working part-time teaching English at a local middle school. They like their neighbors a lot. In fact, they want you to meet their neighbors tomorrow night. Apparently the neighbors have been asking about you.

“We told them a little, but you’re so busy that we haven’t talked in a while,” your mom says. Now you get why they invited you to stay here. Not knowing what your only child is up to looks pretty bad. “How have things been for you? Are you still working in the public defenders’ office?”

“What about law school?” Your dad takes a sip of his drink. Sometime in the last three years, your parents got sort of into fancy wine. “Are you still planning to go back?”

“Yeah. Money’s still an issue. I had a hard time saving with how high my rent was.” You try your own wine, but you don’t know enough about wine to know if it’s any good. “I bought a house, though. So I guess that’s new.”

It’s quiet for a bit. When you look up from your plate, you find your parents staring at you with their jaws dropped. “You bought a house?” your mother repeats. “You can’t afford law school. How can you afford a house?”

“I didn’t have enough for law school. I had enough for a downpayment,” you say. “My mortgage payments are cheaper than my rent was.”

“That’s hard to imagine. Is it in a good neighborhood?” your dad asks. “If it isn’t – what’s funny?”

Your neighborhood, being good. “There are five other houses besides mine. Three of them have families in them. They’ve been really nice to me, mostly. We all get together sometimes.”

“What for?”

Strategy sessions. Ghost fights on the sidewalk. Conjurer ambushes that end with half the street wrecked and some of you injured. “Just regular stuff. I went to one of the kids’ parties last weekend. I brought Phantom. She was a hit.”

“Who?”

“My dog,” you say. “I’d just gotten her the last time we talked. Don’t you remember?”

“She sent us a picture,” your dad reminds your mom, while you tamp down your frustration. “Is someone looking after her this weekend?”

“Yeah. My –” The stumbling block of how to describe Tomura temporarily breaks your brain. “A friend.”

You covered it well, you think – but you weren’t fast enough. “What kind of friend?” your mother asks, way too interested. “A special friend?”

“God, Mom. No.” You imagine the look on Tomura’s face if he heard someone refer to him as your “special friend” and experience a brief but powerful urge to crawl into a vent and die. “A friend. Really, I could have asked anybody in the neighborhood. They’re all really – nice.”

“A house,” your father muses. “In a good neighborhood. You must have a lot of friends over.”

You can’t tell if he’s needling you or not. He knows you’ve never been the type to have a lot of friends. “It’s kind of a ways out from where everybody else lives. Most people don’t like driving that far.”

“Oh, so that’s how you could afford it.”

You could afford it because it’s so goddamn haunted that nobody else wanted it, and the only reason you kept it is because the ghost who haunts it let you stay. “I don’t mind. I’d rather drive than have roommates and a landlord.”

Your father nods sagely. Your mother’s on a different track. “What about dating? Is there anybody special?”

“No,” you say, lying your ass off. “I’m not seeing anybody.”

Your phone starts ringing on the counter, but you ignore it, and so do your parents. “I don’t want to rush you, but you ought to get a move on, don’t you think?” your mother presses. “You’re going to be twenty-seven soon. If you don’t hurry up, all the good ones will be gone. Don’t you want to settle down?”

“I’m as settled down as I’m going to get,” you say. Your phone starts ringing again, and you ignore it again, even though you’d almost take a telemarketer over this conversation. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You’re not disappointing us if that’s what makes you happy,” your dad says, and you’re impressed for about two seconds before he ruins it. “Are you sure that’s what will make you happy? What about –”

“What about kids?” your mother breaks in, looking honestly distressed. “Don’t you want kids? You’d be such a good mom –”

You would possibly be the worst mom on the planet. Your phone starts ringing again. “Are you going to get that?” your dad asks.

You should. Three calls in a row means it’s important, but this line of questioning from your parents is pissing you off, which means you’re not in the mood to do anything you should be doing. “Nope.”

“I’ll get it,” your mom announces. She picks up the phone and gasps. “Who’s Tomura?”

Your stomach drops like you’ve been kicked off a building. “Nobody,” you say. “He’s –”

“I knew you had a special friend!”

“He’s not a special friend!”

Your mom brandishes your phone, triumphant. “Then why is there a heart next to his name?”

He wouldn’t. He – you stare at the screen of your phone, and sure enough, there’s Tomura’s name on the caller ID, complete with an obnoxiously red heart emoji. You’re going to kill him. You seize the phone, accept the call, and press it to your ear. “What?”

Tomura sounds unfathomably sulky when he answers. “You got me the phone so we can talk while you aren’t here. Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I’m having dinner with my parents. It’s rude to pick up the phone at dinner.” You’re conscious of your parents staring at you with identical gleeful looks on their faces. “Just like it’s rude to call somebody three times in a row. What was so important?”

“You didn’t call me all day.”

“You didn’t call me, either,” you point out, trying not to lose your temper. If he had called you, you’d have noticed his little edit to his contact and gotten rid of it. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Phantom ate and everything.” Tomura’s quiet for a second. “You have parents?”

“Yesh,” you say. Did you tell him that’s who you were staying with? You don’t remember. “I’m staying with them, not at the hotel. They invited me.”

Tomura swears under his breath. You can hear him rustling around, but you’re not sure what he’s doing, and the longer you give your parents to prep for their interrogation, the worse it’s going to be for you. “Can I call you back in a little bit? I do want to talk to you. I just – can’t right now.”

“How long is a little bit?”

“I don’t know,” you say hopelessly. Why does it matter? It’s not like he’s going to fall asleep. “I will, though. I promise. I miss you.”

The words leave your mouth before you can really think them through, but it’s the truth. You do miss Tomura. You miss him extra right now, and you’re not looking forward to falling asleep without his presence lurking somewhere in the room. When you wake up from nightmares of the world between, he and Phantom are the only things that make you feel better. “I miss you, too,” Tomura says. Then he hangs up the phone.

You set it aside, then turn back to face your parents. “So,” your mother says, grinning, “who’s Tomura?”

Your ghost. The reason why you don’t date anymore. The reason why you’re as settled as you’re ever going to be and the reason why your parents aren’t getting grandkids and the reason you’re here at all in the first place. There’s no way to explain him that your parents will understand, so you pick the one thing they will understand, even if it’s sort of wrong. “My boyfriend.”

You stagger off to bed forty-five minutes later, feeling like you’ve been run over by a train. Your mom had lots of questions – about where you met Tomura, how long you’ve been seeing him, what he looks like, what he does for a living – almost all of which you had to lie about. You’re going to have to remember all those lies later, too. Your dad was more concerned about why you’d lie about having a boyfriend, at which point you lost patience a little bit and said that the conversation the three of you just had about it was all the reason you needed. Then your mom said she wanted to meet him, and you decided it was time to start clearing the table.

They have a guest room, which is where you’re staying. You get ready for bed, go inside, and shut the door before checking your phone again. You’ve got messages from Tomura – and from Keigo. You open Keigo’s first and grimace when you see what it says. The lights in your house are going berserk right now. If he’s trying to get ahold of you, you should pick up the phone.

Keigo sent a video, too. In it, the lights inside your house are flickering wildly, and the entire property seems to be surrounded by some kind of weird, wavering forcefield. Great. You check Tomura’s texts next. He wants to know where you are. Why you haven’t called him. Then there are a few texts of him winding himself up over reasons why you haven’t called him, externalizing a thought process you would have kept to yourself if it killed you, before it occurs to him that something might have happened to you. At which point the phone calls started. You dig your headphones out of your backpack, put them on, plug them in, and call Tomura back.

He picks up halfway through the first ring, and you start talking first. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just wasn’t planning to tell my parents about you, and because you called me when you did – and because you put that emoji in your display name – they found out.”

“Why does it matter if they found out?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you want to tell them about me?”

You almost point out that you said you weren’t planning to, not that you didn’t want to, but Tomura knows what you really meant. He knows you better than you think he does. “You’re hard to explain,” you say. “To people who don’t know about ghosts. It wouldn’t make sense to them.”

“Why not?” Tomura’s climbing the stairs. You can hear them creaking under his feet. “You’re my human. Not the kind of human Spinner and Jin are. The kind Aizawa is.”

“The kind Keigo is,” you correct. Tomura makes an irritated sound. “Aizawa and Hizashi are married.”

“So what? You’re that kind of human. That’s not hard to explain.”

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe you’re making this more complicated than it needs to be. “I told my parents you’re my boyfriend. I hope that’s okay.”

“Boyfriend,” Tomura repeats, like he’s never heard it before – but when he speaks up again, it’s clear he’s got a handle on what it means. “If that’s what you have to call it so people understand, fine. As long as they know you’re my human.”

You could probably play off Tomura calling you his human as a cute nickname or something, but you’d really prefer not to have to do that. “If I tell people you’re my boyfriend, they’ll understand for sure.”

“Good.”

There’s some rustling around on Tomura’s end of the line. “What are you doing?” you ask. “Where are you?”

There’s a prolonged silence, which means Tomura’s somewhere he thinks he’s not supposed to be. There aren’t many options left these days. “You’re on the bed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. So what?” More rustling. “It’s weird that you’re not here. I hate it.”

“I don’t like it, either,” you admit. When you close your eyes, it’s easy to picture Tomura stretched out on your side of the bed, taking up the space you usually would, head resting on your pillow. “Maybe there won’t be as much to go through tomorrow as I thought and I can get home tomorrow night instead.”

“The sooner you come back, the better.” Phantom’s collar rattles in the background of the call, and you know she’s jumped up on the bed with Tomura. “Spinner came over. He said I needed a game that wasn’t Rainbow Fish, so he gave me one and taught me how to play it. It’s – Pokémon?”

“He gave you something to play it on, too, right?” You need to thank Spinner. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s okay. The music is weird.” Tomura’s voice fades for a second, and you can hear Phantom slobbering into the microphone. “It was more fun before he left. I don’t like playing games alone.”

“You can ask him back over. I bet he wouldn’t mind,” you say. “Which starter did you pick? Fire, water, or grass?”

“Fire,” Tomura says. You could have guessed that. “My rival had water, though. I should have picked grass.”

“If you picked grass, your rival would have picked fire.”

“So they always pick the one that can beat yours?” Tomura sounds honestly pissed at the unfairness, and it makes you smile. “That’s stupid.”

“It would be boring if it was too easy,” you say. Tomura complains under his breath. “And they can’t beat you if you build a good team. I used to play that a lot as a kid. I can help if you want.”

“I don’t need help,” Tomura says. “You can watch if you want.”

“That sounds nice.” You imagine sitting next to Tomura with your head on his shoulder, letting the goofy Pokémon music lull you into a doze. It’s a weirdly relaxing image. You find yourself swallowing a yawn. “Sorry –”

“Go to sleep. If you don’t you’ll be slow, and then you’ll have to stay the extra day.” Tomura sounds annoyed, but he sounds annoyed any time you have to end an interaction before he wants it to end, so you’re used to it. What you’re not used to is what he says next. “If you have one of your nightmares, don’t just lay there doing that weird shivering thing. Call me.”

You lie there for a moment, stunned. You’ve never mentioned the nightmares to him. You never breathed a word. “How did you know?”

“I know what sounds you make in your sleep. When you’re having a nightmare they’re wrong.” Tomura’s quiet for a moment. “Don’t just lay there. Call.”

Your throat feels tight. “Okay.”

Tomura hangs up. You pull your headphones out of your ears, set your phone down on the nightstand, and squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t need to cry. There’s no reason why your eyes should well up.

You’re in your parents’ house. It’s a new house, but it feels the same as the old house. Even though your parents listen now. Even though they care about what’s going on in your life – for their own reasons, sure, but they care – your family is still the same way it’s always been. Quiet. Distant. Sterile. Your parents have seemed happier the last few times you’ve seen them. You’ve never admitted it out loud, to anyone, but you think they’ve been happier since you moved out, because you moved out. And that was okay with you. The last time you went back to visit, it was fine.

It’s not fine anymore – not because they’re different, but because you are. You remember Tomura saying once that he didn’t care about being alone before, but he does now. You didn’t let yourself care about the way your family was before, but you can’t stop yourself from caring now, because now you know how it feels to actually belong somewhere. You belong at your house. You’re wanted at your house. You make someone happy by being there. Somebody misses you when you’re gone, tells you to hurry back, tells you to call if you’ve had a nightmare. There’s probably something fucked up about the fact that the only person you’ve ever felt at home with isn’t even human. But you know what it means to feel at home now. Being away from that is hard. Harder than you want to handle.

You scramble for your phone, and it starts ringing in your hand. Tomura’s contact, with its stupid heart. You jam your headphones into your ears and accept the call, and for a moment you and Tomura are just talking over each other. The gist of it is pretty clear, though. You were about to call him, just when he decided to call you. “Um –”

“Stay on the phone while you’re sleeping. That way I’ll hear. And I can wake you up.”

Your heart lifts even though it shouldn’t. “How are you going to wake me up?”

You picture Tomura shrugging. “I’ll just yell.”

“Don’t yell.” The only thing that would be worse than having one of your nightmares is waking up from one to the sound of Tomura hollering in your ear. “If you hear me start to have one, hang up the phone and call me back. I’ll hear it ringing and it’ll wake me up.”

“Yelling is faster.”

“And it’s scarier,” you say. “You’d know if you slept.”

“Ghosts can’t.” Tomura’s quiet for a moment. “I wish we could.”

That strikes you as weird. It strikes you as weird any time Tomura talks about wanting to do one of the few human things materialized ghosts can’t do. “Why?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. “Fine. I won’t yell. Go to sleep.”

“Tomura –”

“Go to sleep,” Tomura says again. If you try to talk anymore, he’ll just ignore you. You hear Phantom snoring in the background and tell yourself that it’s time to sleep. You shut your eyes.

Somehow knowing that Tomura’s there on the other end of the line, knowing that he’ll wake you up if you start having one of your nightmares of the world between, helps you fall asleep. You think you hear Tomura whisper something as you drift off, but there’s no way you heard him right. It has to be a dream. At least it’s a better dream than the ones you’ve been having lately.

#lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #reader insert #x reader #shigaraki tomura #ghost story #loser nerd ghost boyfriend

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jaimistoryteller · 2 years

Text

Why Help is Needed 2.0

Hiya All

I hope you are all well. The vast majority of this will be under a read more simply cause it is long and covers the last few years for those who don’t know me and may wonder why I am in need of help so bloody often.

I want you all to know I appreciate all of it, whether it is share, donating, buying one of my books, commissions, or any other way it may be. Thank you all.

Jaimi

$0/902

as of 12/27/2022 10 pm

Post info on current situation

Share this post; my venmo, paypal, or cash app with a note about how it can help.

Paypal: cosmosbusinessventures@gmail .com or Paypal Me

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venmo @JaimiST

Cash app $jaimist

GoFundMe: Help Jaimi Catch Up the Bills & Fix the Roof

Why 2.0? Cause half asleep me managed to delete it again. So gotta rebuild again.

Redo Timeline since I sort of deleted it, again, while half asleep. really shouldn't try cleaning my tumblr up while half asleep.

Still need to finish, but here’s a starting point!

Current Situation

Hiya All

Happy winter holidays or season, as you prefer.

It's been a long month between:

internet outages cause of snow storms

being trapped in the house cause a blizzard

sleeping more than I care to admit cause of a sinus infection, pain, and migraines [though I sometimes think it was just one long one with times it started to fade before something triggered it once more]

9 hour trip to hospital cause dad coughed so much it made his throat swell and caused breathing issues

vet appointments

doctors appointments

food stamps getting cut back for a few really stupid reasons

having to argue with the insurance multiple times

So, with all that being said, between mine and dad's account, we're $902 in the hole. While I am not as worried about his, he'll get his VA pension, I am worried about mine, as it came from getting meds, getting food, and paying a few bills. I need to get them out of the hole before the next round of bills, meds, and food is needs.

Any and all help would be appreciated! Thank you for taking the time to read this.

$0/902

Money Needed History

6/16/2022 - $721

6/1/2022 - $656 [got $144 of that]

6/25/2022 - $540 electric

7/14/2022 3 pm - $36/480

8/4/2022 - $472

8/31/2022 - $1147

9/6/2022 - $50 of 1147

9/22/2022 - $1796

10/1/2022 - $1181

11/15/2022 - $981 of which $750 was thankfully covered

12/17/2022 - $232

12/27/2022 - $902

House Stuff Needed

I may hate amazon, but right now I’ll deal with them if anyone wants to send stuff from the list:

Stressful Times Needs & Wish List

The list has two parts, or three, depending on how you look at it, as the first and second can technically be merged.

1. Necessities

Happybuy PEX Tubing Pipe 2 Rolls of 1/2 Inch X 100 Feet PEX Tubing

Gerber Plumbing Tub & Shower Set Three Handle Chrome

SharkBite 1/2 Inch Ball Valve, Push to Connect Brass Plumbing Fitting, Water Shut Off

Thomas & Betts B120AUPC 1G 20 CU in Zip Box W/N (Pack of 100) WIRE 12/3 NMWG 250' REEL

SOUTHWIRE COMPANY #28827455 250' 14/2 W/G NM Cable

14/2 UF-B Wire, Underground Feeder and Direct Earth Burial Cable (100ft)

I recently had to replace two of my three breaker boxes, which set me behind on bills. Why? Cause they had breakers melted and shorting, some that would be in the off position but still have power going through them, others that would say they were on and not have power. But the one melted to the breaker box? That was the really terrifying one. So I need to replace the wiring, as I discovered a lot of my wiring is 30+ years old. There are sections of my house without power. Hence the reason any help there is wonderful.

Why not go to DHS and get an electrician to help? A couple of reasons - there is a lifetime limit on how much they will help with a house if you ain’t dying. I’d be expected to pay at least half, which cost more than me getting the stuff and doing it myself. Not a fan of strangers in my house and would be worrying my service dog [and probably them since Winston is a rottie] the entire time.

The other section of the necessities list is for plumbing stuff. My pipes are a disaster, I have exactly one working sink in the house, the kitchen sink. To turn my tub/shower on/off I have to go in Dad’s room and use the access panel on/off valves since the handles don’t actually turn off, and when I was going to take them apart to see if replacing the washer would do the trick, the wall started crumbling, so I was unable to actually do so.

2. Would be Nice

Highcraft ID234x50 Half Clamp J-Hook with Nail For Pex Tubing Pipe Support, 1/2 in, Black

Owens Corning "EcoTouch" PINK FIBERGLAS Insulation for Attic 15"x25', Unfaced

Pink Insulation Foam 1/2" Thick (6 sq ft)

(30) 1/2" Brass PEX Fittings 10 Each Elbow TEE Coupler Reducer Lead Free Crimp Cinch PEX GUY

Sterilite ClearView 3 Storage Drawer Organizer

Harris Diatomaceous Earth Food Grade, 5lb

Each would make my life easier in some way while I am working on things or to lower the bills long term.

3. Things to Help with Relaxing and Dealing with Stress

Derwent Colored Pencils, Drawing, Art, Metal Tin, Metallic, 12 Count (2305599)

Black Widow Skin Tone Colored Pencils for Adult Coloring - Color Pencils for Portraits and Skintone Artists

Fuck This Shit: A Motivational Swear Word Coloring Book

You Fucking Got This : Motivational Swear Words Coloring Book

Butts, Bleps, and Beans Cat Coloring Book

Adult Coloring Book : 60 Stress Relieving Animals Designs

Mindfulness Coloring Book For Adults: Zen Coloring Book For Mindful People

Mandala Art

Mindfulness Coloring Book for Teens

Xyron Create-a-Sticker, 5", Sticker Maker, Machine, Permanent Adhesive

Markin Arts Stretched Canvas 8x10" 10 Pack Blank Canvas Board

I try to spend a little bit of time every day coloring, partially cause my therapist suggested it after I mentioned it can be soothing, and partly because it gives me some time not looking at a computer screen and still relaxing.

Last but not least on the list is the Lowe's Gift Cards, they make it easy for me to go buy the supplies needed for the project I am most focused on or would be easiest. Considering my list doesn’t include any of the wood, screws,

History & Timeline

There is a lot of things that have happened to cause a large part of this current situation. This list has some but not all of the event that have happened in the last few years. If I covered all of it, we’d be here forever it feels like.

2009 July 7th - car accident that started my life downwards, I was passenger, had my ankle smashed requiring surgery. The reason I now have nerve damage.

2011 - had to have the metal that rebuilt my ankle removed as I developed an allergy to it after one of the screws shifted out of position, damaging a tendon and nerve as it did so.

2012 December - stopped working full time, as I kept ending up in the hospital from simple injuries that could have been avoided if not always pushing through the pain. My right leg likes giving out cause the nerve damage.

2013 January to current - filed for disability, still fighting for it.

2018 February - my seventh concussion, screwed up my ability to use the computer or other digital devices for a long while.

2022 April 1 to June 14 - nine trips to the hospital, totaling 21 days in total, plus another 11 days dedicated to doctors visits. When not going back and forth to the doctors/hospitals was dealing with pain and sleeping a lot.

2022 June 18 to 21 - several days with migraine and migraine aura

2022 July - lots of storming, when not storming working on roof or sleeping off pain.

2022 August & September - seven hospital trips, including one over night, and nine doctors appointments later, means I spent a lot of time exhausted when not working on finishing my damned roof up so it would not leak in the house. Two cats I hand nursed passed away as well, which was emotionally painful.

2022 October to November 14 - so much shit: doctor appointments, emergency vet appointment, dealing with migraines, power outage

2022 November 15 to December 10 - more migraines and pain, finally ended up at the clinic, had a major sinus infection, got put on antibiotics which knocked me out for the next week

2022 December 18 - spent my legal day at the hospital with dad after he coughed so much his throat started closing up.

2022 December - that blizzard was fun

Proofs

[ID: screenshot of dad’s checking account -$571.83, my checking account -$211.90, and my savings -$119]

[ID: screenshot of my paypal $0]

#signal boost #boost #bump #help please #even a little bit helps #thank you #please reblog #Jaimi's GFM #finally doing some updates and explaining here #there is more info about why i need help

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