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gatheringbones · 5 months

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[“It can be difficult for people raised as girls to express rage when we’ve been taught from very early on that it is in our best interest to suppress our anger. It is culturally acceptable for women to be sad, not angry. In one study on gender, anger, and the workplace, the participants conferred higher status to sad female employees than to angry ones. For men the opposite was true. Men, particularly white men, are rewarded and forgiven for their anger, while women are penalized and blamed.

Ceci, the mestiza paralegal, now lives in Los Angeles with her husband, five-year-old son, and twenty-two-year-old stepdaughter. She described herself using the exact language of a woman who was taught by the culture not to value or express her anger: “I’m a people pleaser. I don’t rock the boat. I go along with everything, do what people tell me.” This is the path of being a good girl, a good woman, and eventually a good mother. Lifelong gendered learning teaches people raised to be women to push down anger and any feelings in the “sub-anger” ballpark, such as annoyance, irritation, and frustration. I imagine this emotional push-down like the carnival game whack-a-mole. Each time an uncomfortable or unpleasant anger-related feeling pops up—whack!—women automatically bang it with a big-headed mallet, sending it back beneath the surface.

Like the rage itself, this game of anger whack-a-mole is an international phenomenon for women. In Korea, there is a culture-related anger syndrome called hwa-byung. It translates literally to “illness of fire” and mostly affects working-class middle-aged housewives, who have chronically suppressed anger stemming from strict gender roles, gender-based inequality, and patriarchal family structures. In traditional Latin American folk medicine, it is believed that holding onto certain emotions can cause physical illness. In Northeast Brazil, the term engolir sapos translates to “swallowing frogs,” and is mostly used by women to refer to the suppression of anger and irritation, and the pressure to tolerate unfair treatment without complaint.

Cheryl, the Black civil rights lawyer who internalizes her mom rage, is practiced at playing whack-a-mole with her anger: “I’m good at repressing things. So, a little problem, I repress it, and it gets packed on top of all the other things that make me mad, until there’s no way to untangle it. It’s just this huge tangle of anger that I’m trying to disassociate from all the time.” In our present-day culture of busy, intensive motherhood, stuffing down unpleasant emotions can be a matter of practicality. Minutes are a precious resource, and airing every frustration is a time expense that modern mothers cannot afford. Emails must be sent, dinner needs to get into bellies, and bodies need to snuggle under covers. But the perceived time-saver of the Emotional Whack-a-Mole phase is a mirage. Every time a mom suppresses her angry feelings, as she’s been taught to do her entire life, she is pushing them onto an ever-growing pile of anger inside her. Eventually, the pile will topple.”]

minna dubin, from mom rage: the everyday crisis of modern motherhood, 2023

#minna dubin #bi literature #gender stuff #currently reading #brainspace

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zcorners120 · 2 years

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Hii! Could I maybe request a fluff story with Charles and reader where they are in Relationship but because of Charles's carrer they are always away from each other? Kind based on James Arthur's song, Car's outside (you can add a little bit of angst too if you would like but please give me a happy ending)

of course! i literally love this song, it's so good to imagine scenarios too hehe :D <3

charles leclerc x reader MASTERLIST

synopsis; charles' career is too demanding, and causes some ripples in your relationship.

warnings; angst, swearing, mentions of sex

You and Charles have been together 6 months. 6 Months where you shared laughter, happiness, joy, intimacy and the best times together. For the past month or two, this hasn't been the case.

Sure, you might have passed the honeymoon stage a while ago with the exhilarating firsts of a new relationship, but even after that you were still madly in love. These new arguments started popping up as though you were playing whack-a-mole. Every time you thought you squashed a challenge together, another popped up.

Even though you'd love to say that these problems come from both of you, you can't lie; they only come from Charles. You both live in Monaco in your separate, respective apartments but you spend most of your time in Charles', having a key for each other's places.

You sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for his arrival from the Canadian GP. You hear the door open, and the lock click as you rise from the room.

"Charles?" You call out, seeing him in the kitchen.

"Bonsoir, Cherie." He says, his voice slightly wavering. He was tipsy.

"Charles are you drunk again?" You question him, but already know the answer.

"No. Not at all." He says, waving his finger around. "Show me some love Cheriee, in the bedroom." He slightly slurs his words, smirking.

"Charles, just go to sleep. I haven't seen you properly in two weeks and you show up drunk, asking for sex." You basically say to yourself, knowing that he wasn't listening.

"Look, I'm not drunk. I've sobered up a lot." He clears his throat, deeming himself more presentable.

"I don't want to feel like your fucktoy, and that you only come to me when you've had a hard time at a race, because otherwise I don't see you." You admit, spilling your truth.

"Look, that's my fault. Being at the races, it's demanding, you know I see you when I can." He comes forward to the counter, where you stand on the opposite side.

"I say 'Goodbye and good luck.' to you so many times, it's become my catchphrase." You argue, trying to show his lack of quality time for you.

"You know I'd rather stay and hold you than catch 3 flights, but I can't do anything to change that." He retaliated, throwing his arms up.

"You don't even unpack your bags anymore, that's how often you leave me." You whispered, feeling your voice start to crack.

"I'm here tomorrow and the day after. We have two days and that's time isn't it?" He tried to compensate, rushing towards you.

"Yeah, two days that you'll spend training in the gym, at the academy, in meetings. Charles, I am not one to complain about not receiving attention, but this is ridiculous." You listed his schedule off the bat, trying to explain yourself as you didn't want to seem too attached.

"Look, I'm sorry. Trust me when I say that I hate to think of you sleeping alone without me." He took your hand in his, pleading you with your eyes.

"Charles, I just don't think it's going to work out this way. You know I love you, but I can't take this anymore." You felt the tears well up, just as one falls down your cheek you start to walk away.

"Y/N, don't. We can work this out." He begs, as you hear him call out from behind you.

"No, Charles. You can work this out. I'm finished, and I'm sorry. Je t'aime." You stood your ground, opening the door and leaving. The final words are what stung you both the most, as you walk into the elevator the tears didn't stop.

He had called, texted, and even came to your apartment. You ignored him, knowing that you both need some space and time to process everything. It hurt, and hurt bad. Like a knife being twisted around in your stomach as you stayed in bed, crying.

Charles had given up trying to contact you as he was leaving for the airport. He was officially numb, and knew you needed time. He was no longer excited and jittery about the race, but just felt detached from reality, inside and out.

He stared at the four corners of the hotel room, it's bland interior setting the usual dull mood on him. He sat on the bed, thinking of the times he would run his phone bill up, just from talking to you all the time. It was a unfamiliar feeling, not talking to you for so long.

He had two days for the race, and thought; 'Fuck it.' He went back to the airport and booked a flight back to Monaco. He finally came to his senses, and decided he didn't want to leave you anymore.

"Ma belle, are you home?" Rushing from the airport into a taxi, he spent no time by opening your door straight away into your bedroom.

You sat up from the cocoon you had made with your blankets, and looked to see a relieved Charles in the doorway.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a race-" You looked at him astonished, before he cut you off and sat down next to you on the bed.

"I'm not going unless you pack your bags and come with me. I'm tired of loving you so much from far away. Close the windows and lock the doors, don't wanna leave you anymore." He rambled, not caring that his decision was irrational.

"I'm coming. I love you Charles." You pull him into a hug straight away, knowing you'll no longer have to argue, but be right by his side at all his races.

"I love you too, mon ange." He breathed out, relieved as he pulled you in for a kiss.

From then on the silly arguments stopped, as he learnt to split his time from working and being with you. And the media of course loved seeing you with Charles at his races, hand in hand.

A/N; hope i did alright eeek, keep the requests coming :P

#cl #cl16 #charles leclerc #formula 1 #fanfic #imagines #f1 fandom #ferrari #imagine #ferrari f1 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble #leclerc

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thesaturn1nez · 8 months

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You should share ALL your Ray HCs NOW

/vsilly

this particular ask got sent to me thrice so i had to see that blurred picture in a row 😭😭 but gladly jgjvn

Ray 🔧

• first off, what is he? no one really knows anymore, but there was some evidence in all the studio’s archives that ray was some sort of centipede-salamander-dog-mudskipper. they just stick to ‘monster’ since it has all those letters.

• he was made sometime after Ricky and maybe a few episodes before Gobblette, meaning he’s one of the ‘og’ puppets. he was there when Norman actually had time in front of the camera and Junebug wasn’t even a blueprint.

• do not let the growling intimidate you, this dude is a big fuzzy softie. he’s just so good at acting like he isn’t that the whole lawnmower act seems very genuine. if he ever found a sad little kitten that was born in a wet cardboard box all alone oh believe me when i say nothing else will matter to him until he’s sure it’s safe. why was there a cat in the sewer. what did That have to do with the headcanon.

• unfortunately, it was his segments on the show where the special effects guns were often used. Ray was too intimidating for the workers to even think about pointing them in his directions but he was still there to see them being used on others for slapstick. it heavily effected how he does his job, since the only lesson he got from those bits were ‘it’s not working properly? hit it.’ no one intervened since it would make kids laugh, how he seemed to flatten metal with his wrench in just mere minutes.

• hates having to ask for help, never really having the option to do so in the past unless he wanted to be met with disbelief and something along the lines of ‘are you kidding me? you should already know how to do that, are you saying you can’t even do something as simple as this?”

• had a deep sense of respect for Al, not just because of his position but just from seeing and hearing about what Al went through to get the show on it’s feet as well as keeping it there. he could never really figure out how to show his appreciation other than silent obedience and maybe throwing a hot iron at anyone who dared to show disrespect towards what Ray understood was his literal creator.

• after that incident, Ray was taken to carry out his permanent stay at basement under Al’s orders. there was no malicious intent behind it, they thought Ray could benefit from being on his own. they didn’t take into account that all the grime and machinery would still serve as a stress factor.

• his assaults weren’t limited to just Gordon. Ray was pretty much playing reverse whack-a-mole where he popped out of pipes and thwacked any puppet he deemed too noisy. it was one thing to be banished to a sewer, but now Ray had all these little gabbers running around just when he got accustomed to being all alone. That’s why some of the puppets are so hard to take down, Ray was unintentionally building up their resistance over the years 😭

• the puppets you find stuffed into lockers, pipes, and stalls are all Ray’s doing.

• helps Gordon fix up all the sets and previously unusable areas, mostly with Gordon’s guidance. they spent most of the time working, just going hours without speaking. Gordon wasn’t sure what to think about it until he felt a tap on his shoulder and quickly caught on that Ray was asking for help. Ray’s still unsure about a lot, but he’s in better hands.

• if you took a photograph of him, no matter the time or place, it will always come out looking like this:

#i hope these suffice :]#my friendly neighborhood #mfn #mfn game #mfn ray #mfn headcanons #headcanons #lottie sucks at headcanons #the mail comes everyday

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themonotonysyndrome · 1 year

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"Hey guys, it's 8r19h7 eYE2 here. Welcome to my first boss battle - a woman."

If you ask Bright Eyes - which no one is doing nowadays. Or talk to. So rude. - their ultimate weakness has always been hot women. Now you might be asking "Oh, does that mean you're Bi?" or "What's your body count?" or even "Holy fuck, Bright Eyes! When did you get in the shower with me!?" but that's not important. What you should be asking is what type of women Bright's heart explodes for like a car crash.

The answer? Preferably boss-ass bitches that can crush them with a pair of fuck-me-heels with daddy issues of the Frank Ocean level. Google it.

Oh and look! There's one here in Wonderworld! Shoes? Check. A scowl that can only mean the barista got her Starbucks order wrong again? Check. And when she steps away from the shadows, we hit the bonus round.

She's tall and her crown is pure platinum blonde. But like every white woman, she's hard to read but fortunately, Bright Eyes can so they check their text on Whatsapp (boomer apps gave them the hives) for any goddesses that are supposed to be on shift tonight.

Actually, let's go back a bit. Back to this morning when Sam accomplished the impossible and made Bright Eyes go 🕶️outside🌳.

"You know, I was counting down the days when you would finally kill me. I bet sometime this year. Vincent now owes me one of his Lambos. You think he'll be mad if I put some Barbie-friendly decals on it?"

"Bright, I don't mean now. I meant tonight at Wonderworld. Vamps in the Solaire Clan take turns patrolling the area."

Frederick pops into their head like an adorably fat mole. The Bright Eyes in their mind palace (it's actually more of a crack den but whatever) whack it with away because they know the unspoken reason why Sam approached them instead of his Progeny. And why he did so when Frederick was asleep.

But anyway, back to the present!

No hot white women were written in the text. Just a bunch of Vampires who form an anti-Bright Eyes committee™ as soon as they arrive. They ignore Bright for the most part which eventually leads the not-so-Newborn-anymore to the farthest end of Wonderworld where a babe is just chilling beside the vegetation-conquered carousel. Score one for the plants.

And the first thing that escapes from Bright's mouth is, "Good evening. May I inquire if you're a quirked up white woman that can bust it down sexual style so that I can get lost in the sauce?"

The scowl vanishes instantly. Like a father who went out to buy milk.

"Excuse me?"

Giddiness blooms like a weed (you know which ones) in Bright Eyes. She even has a Karen-patent tone! Could this night get any better -

Nevermind. Please wait for Bright's brain to reboot as an impressive set of badonkas-donkas is thrust in their face.

"Are you one of Sam's Progeny?" She didn't ask so much as demands. Like Bright and the world owes her something, everything. They wondered if they started panting because that's seriously hawt.

"I'm what you call a bastard of the magical kind meets with death via Vampiric jumpscare. And that's not a sentence I thought was possible."

Bright has to give blondie some credit; she takes their nonsensical answer in stride and with an eyebrow raised.

"I'll take that as a yes. You fit the rumours at least."

"You heard of me but I don't know who you are. You're hot but... sus. Do I need to eject you?"

"No surprise there. I bet Sammy did everything he could to hide you from me. He thinks he's protecting you, but all he did was made me curious."

"Aww shit, did the clapping of my ass cheeks give me away?"

"...Are you fucking high?"

"Probably. I had a shot of vodka with my honey milk boba tea with extra pudding and 100% sugar before I left. Fuck coffee when you can just meet god, amirite?"

The woman closes her pretty gold-ruby eyes. She exhaled and Bright could literally hear her mentally counting down.

"You're unlike any creature that I ever have the misfortune to come across."

"Uh, correction: you found me. And I still don't know if you're a quirked up white woman that can - "

"Enough. I get it. Are you usually like this when it comes to women?"

"Hey, I thought I would be holding in my rizz 'till the heat death of the universe! So who are you o' beautiful sour cream?"

"Careful, I can't tell whether that's an insult or a compliment."

"Sounds like a you problem, chief."

Apparently, magic does exist because despite the non-stop verbal trainwreck that's coming out of Bright's mouth, the woman's lips nearly twitch a smile.

"You're ballsy and stupid. I like that. The name's Alexis. A pleasure for you to meet."

Yes! Bright made it to Phase 2, bitch!

"They call me Bright Eyes, my IQ is the highest among the Redditors on the 'Am I The Asshole' subpage - "

"That isn't saying much."

" - And welcome to the ruins of Vincent's hopes and dreams."

Now that made Alexis burst out a gut. Seriously, she's clutching her stomach with tears in her eyes. It boosts Bright's confidence as a future stand-up comedian. Their 'flirting?' went well but Bright didn't sense the spark of interest within the older Vampire. Boo.

"Right. I've decided to kidnap you now. How accurately can you predict your... Grandmaker's reaction?"

"As accurate as my opinion on the Internet."

"Wonderful. I hope you like shopping and breaking the fabric of time and space on the highway."

And that, readers, is how Bright Eyes won against Alexis Getty-Solaire without getting Miyazaki'd.

#monotony's rambling #redacted asmr #redacted audio #fanfic #redacted bright eyes #redacted alexis #i have no idea what this is #think i watched too many max0r videos #wrote this shit in half an hour and now i'm gonna pass out

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gendiebrainrotreceipts · 7 months

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I found you through a comment section, and this is such a sad blog.

I’ve always had problems with how “gender critical” and terfs say what is and isn’t acceptable.

literally only hypocrisy, you say that everyone is pressuring kids to have hormones and stuff. But when they don’t you call them fakers and degenerates.

you call medically transitioned trans people “damaged” and such, but you call trans people who don’t medically transition evil and perverts.

you say socially transition and you’ll accept trans kids then, but turn around and call them fakers and attention seekers.

you try to get people on your side while being so hypocritical, so nonchalant with how you truly think of trans people and queer people.

I know you’ll say no, and say I’m wrong. That’s okay, I’m not trying to change your mind. I’m just pointing it out.

nothing will ever be enough for you, nothing will be “correct” nothing will be palatable for you. Because being queer and trans will be disgusting for you, it will always be wrong and bad.

thanks for being so outspoken with your hateful rhetoric <B

it makes it wayyyyy easier to find and block out people like you.

though it never matters, there’s more hatred and violence with every blog that pops up.

But I like playing whack-a-mole

thank you for reading! I hope you loved it !

I had a great time writing this, and I’ll be excited to hear from you!

It’s funny cause I’ve never said any of those things(apart from kids being pressured into hormones)….are you confusing me with someone else or do you have a version of me that you’ve created inside your own head?

#radfem safe #gender critical

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maoam · 2 years

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man, i'm sorry you gotta put up with nh spammers like that. and obnoxious folks in general. they pop up like whack-a-moles no matter how many times you bonk them with the block button it seems.

also i find it funny how they included a bunch of family photos in their collage and neglected to show this damning one:

naruto not only missed out on himawari's birthday, but it's strongly hinted he's missed out on at least one of boruto's too. damn.

like i can't stand nh but boy do i feel bad that the kids gotta experience the fallout of these hollow, loveless marriages. and it's not helped at all by the fact that instead of comforting her child, hinata belittles boruto's problems and throws a blanket over his issues in order to make sure n-n-naruto-k-kun is comfortable.

bizzaro-world stuff. crap parent and crap spouse and it's all informed by canonic text.

Thanks. They are indeed annoying, and disturbing as well. They really think they are supporting a great romance or something lol. Meanwhile the writer doesn't even like one half of their ship.

Hinata is such an empty head. One reason why fix it fics and comics don't tend to work for me is because the creators often make Sakura and Hinata too understanding and too caring. Sakura is literally jealous of how much Sasuke cares about Naruto and pestered Sasuke their whole life despite his disinterest. As for Hinata, she literally almost killed herself in front of Naruto and put him in danger because she wanted to confess. Yet people make her so caring and selfless in their divorce aus. Hah.

#dinojisan #ask #anti nh

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winkle-pickers · 6 months

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stubbornnnnn!!!! for the WIP game, obvi

I'm laughing because you're going to LOVE the last line of this snippet:

You know when you can feel something starting to percolate in your brain - something stupid - bad news - not a good idea - horrible - but there’s nothing you can do other than just trying to hammer it back down every time it pops up, like some kind of incredibly frustrating whack-a-mole game where the only prize is not ruining your own life? Yeah. Honda Hiroto was in the blissful beginning stages of one such whack-a-mole game, the bit where you have no idea there are any moles at all, but later you’d look back and be able to pinpoint exactly where things started going to hell on a one-way bus. Quite literally on a bus. A private tour bus travelling through the Canadian Rockies.

#asks #it is stubbornshipping because i say so and they are in Canada BECAUSE I SAY SO!!!#100% pure homegrown catered-to-only-me nonsense <3 #stubbornshipping #my fics #ask game

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moonlit-han · 2 years

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hihi!! i saw that your requests were open and was wondering if i could request a bangchan x reader (preferably afab/fem) where the reader and bangchan literally loathe eachother but are forced to be friends because they’re in the same friend group? (straykids ofc). and one night they find themselves alone and talk about why they hate eachother and it actually turns out to be a misunderstanding? sorry if this is confusing, english isn’t my first language. you don’t have to do the request of course!

round and round they go

genre: fluff pairing: bang chan x femme reader word count: 1.7k warnings: swearing, miscommunication request: yes a/n: hi anon! thanks for requesting~ this is a little rough, but i hope you enjoy :)

↠ masterlist & tag list info in bio ↞

↠↞

Carnival night. Your friends had been talking of it incessantly for the past week, and now you were finally there.

You hated it.

It was loud and there were way too many people. To make matters worse, mud, popcorn, sugar, fried batter, and fruit just beginning to think of spoiling combined into a sickening scent that made your head swim a bit.

Oh, and there was Chan. Bang fucking Chan. You hated him, too.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t escape him, since he was part of your extended friend group and best friends with Felix. Mere days after joining the group of you, he was friends with everyone: Jeongin, Changbin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Jisung, Minho. They didn’t seem to find anything objectionable about Chan, either, which annoyed you.

He’d given you a sneering look the first time he’d seen you—you’d been eating a plate of nachos, much to your chagrin—and that look alone had caused you to spit, “Fuck off, man. What the hell?” Chan had just shrugged and walked away, aloof as any cat.

From then on, you avoided Chan like the plague and, thankfully, he seemed to do the same with you. But you still couldn’t completely avoid each other. You both liked your mutual friends too much to stop spending time with them just because of each other. And it wasn’t as if he was horrible all of the time...

So here you were, wandering around the fairgrounds with your friends. And Chan. What irked you tonight was the way Chan kept looking at you, sneaking glances here and there. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was checking you out—but that was both impossible and unwanted. For sure.

You tried your hand at whack-a-mole—imagining Chan’s head popping out of the hole—you tried the ring toss—and you rode the carousel. You didn’t particularly care that you were an adult, either, since you adored carousels. While you rode round and round, you again noticed Chan watching you. You threw a dirty look in his direction, hoping it would stick to him like the stinking mud stuck to the soles of your boots.

As usual, Chan just shrugged.

Then, Felix decided that you all had to ride the ferris wheel. Minho immediately shook his head and backed away, muttering something about Just standing over here. Jisung bounced slightly as he clung to Felix’s shoulders, excited as anything.

As the line shuffled forward, your group naturally split into pairs: Felix and Jisung, Jeongin with Changbin, and Hyunjin tagging along with Seungmin. Which left...

You sighed as you stepped up to the ticket barrier, and it sounded in stereo because Chan had just stepped up beside you. “You’re not any happier about this than I am, are you,” you said, a statement rather than a question.

As usual, Chan just shrugged, then handed the woman taking tickets one for himself and—

“I have my own,” you insisted, trying to hand over a ticket of your own before Chan could.

“Y/N, really. Allow me,” Chan said, practically shoving the two tickets into the woman’s hand. She gave the two of you a knowing glance, one you were sure she gave young couples.

Hah, as if.

Chan clambered into his seat first, placing his leather jacket over his knees, then waited to pull down the safety bar until you had taken a seat, too. Before you could so much as put your hands on the safety bar, though, the ferris wheel jolted into motion. It was all you could do not to fall into Chan.

Higher and higher it climbed and you immediately regretted not bringing a sweater that night. You tried to distract yourself by watching the lights of the city in the distance, but couldn’t fully ignore the fact that goosebumps had broken out all over your skin. A shiver ran from the top of your head to your knees.

“Ugh, just take my jacket already,” Chan grumbled after several minutes. “I can’t stand listening to your teeth chatter.”

You stared at Chan for a moment, then snatched the supple leather jacket from his outstretched hand. Warmth was warmth and you weren’t picky, even if it was Chan. Slipping your arms into the jacket, you felt yourself relax immediately. Not only was it warm but it smelled...

Fuck, it smelled delicious—like beeswax and cocoa and just a hint of muskiness that you knew was Chan’s alone. You did not like the fact that you had practically melted at the scent.

“Y/N...” Chan began. You didn’t look over at him, not trusting the confused emotions that had just begun swirling inside you. “Y/N, you know I don’t hate you, right?”

Had you not already been in a swinging bucket on a ferris wheel high up in the air, you would have thought the world was dropping away from you at Chan’s words. You swallowed.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you grumbled.

“Y/N, come on,” Chan wheedled. “I’m serious.”

“Chan,” you snapped. “Stop.”

You looked at the sky, just beginning to turn pink around the edges as the sun set, and wondered. You wondered why Chan was telling you, after months and months and months of clear disdain, that he didn’t hate you.

Had you read this all wrong? The same part of you that noticed just how delightful Chan’s jacket smelled, how handsome he looked in deep purple, how his eyes twinkled when he laughed, how that laugh—that giggle—sounded like water trickling over wind chimes…. That part of you that, really, felt perfectly fine with Chan sitting there beside you… It was screaming at you, telling you to just shut up and shut down for a moment, and look at what—who—was in front of you.

“Fine,” you managed to choke out, still not turning to Chan, “tell me all about it.”

Chan gave you a quizzical look, then spoke. “Y/N, like I said, I don’t hate you. I think we’ve had a significant misunderstanding.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know why you seem to dislike me, but I’ve never felt anything like that toward. Quite the opposite.”

The opposite? Was Chan telling you he…

“Chan,” you said, still looking at the sky because you didn’t trust yourself to look at him, “the first time we met, I was eating a plate of nachos. You came over and gave me this sneery little look, like you thought I was disgusting or something, then walked off.” You hadn’t meant to sound so hurt, but as the words left your mouth, you found that he had hurt you in some small way.

Chan let out a chuckle. “Did you really—”

“Don’t mock me, you asshole!”

“I’m not mocking you,” Chan intoned. “Like I said, quite the opposite.”

You remained silent, focusing on not letting your eyes nor head swivel in his direction. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting your full attention.

Chan spoke again, “Look, was it this face?”

You were forced by the question to look at him now, and indeed saw that sneering look you hated so much. The one you saw on his face whenever you were enjoying something particularly wonderful.

“Yes,” you hissed.

“Would you believe me if I told you that was the face I make when Im really into something? Or really like something? Or think whatever’s happening in front of me is rad?”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you groaned.

“No joke!”

“So, what… You’re telling me you were into seeing me messily eat a plate of nachos?” you said incredulously.

“Well, more like I was impressed by the fact that you honestly didn’t give a shit what anyone thought.” Chan passed and blushed faintly. “And you were super pretty, even with cheese on your nose.’

“You little shit,” you muttered. You took the opportunity to hunker down into his jacket that much further. It really was cozy.

“Yep, that’s me!” Chan grinned.

What he’d just said finally caught up to you then. “Wait, you think I’m pretty?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Good. I think you’re pretty fucking handsome, too,” you said, pleased to be able to surprise him now.

“So,” chan said hesitantly, “does this count as a date?”

You burst out laughing. “I’m not so sure about that, but you might get lucky.”

Chan clearly didn’t miss the double meaning of your words and you saw his ears flame red, even in the dusk.

The two of you had been so caught up in talking and finally sorting out what truly had been a complete misunderstanding that you didn’t notice the ferris wheel slowly coming to a halt until you felt a little bump.

You looked up to see Chan staring past you to where Felix stood beside the ticket line.

“You wanna really shock Felix?” Chan asked with a mischievous glint in his eye, holding out his hand to help you down.

You took his hand without thinking. “What do you—”

Chan abruptly pulled you into his arms. At your astonished expression, he whispered, “May I kiss you?”

And just like that, every wall you’d constructed against him came crashing down. “Yes,” you breathed.

The next thing you knew, you were held in a dramatic dip with Chan’s mouth meeting yours in what had to be the sweetest, most satisfying kiss you’d ever had. Faintly, you could swear you heard Felix exclaiming. Someone wolf-whistled.

Chan carefully brought you back to standing, an utterly smug grin on his face. “See? That’s what you’ve been missing,” he said before letting you go.

You wanted to bury your face in your hands, but opted for burying your face in Chan’s chest instead. That was definitely the better option. After all, now you could actually do that! As you got over your fit of embarrassment, you felt Chan drape his jacket around you more securely and ruffle your hair. Somehow, it all felt easy.

Maybe you didn’t hate carnival night anymore…

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melancholy-ember · 1 year

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hands in marriage for your writing 💍

On behalf of my writing, I accept! XD

But seriously, you are still far too kind to me, and I appreciate the support more than you know.

Fun fact, I have a few scenes from Faster Than A Hairpin Trigger that I saved onto a document because I liked them, but they didn't fit in the story. I'm thinking about releasing them as "Missing Moments" when FTAHT is finished, but for now...

This one was one of my favorites, and I was super disappointed when I couldn't make it work, but I hope you enjoy reading it!

(Chapter 9 was originally going to be in Lucy's POV, with this scene being the end of Chapter 8.)

Lucy hummed quietly to herself as the door to the elevator slid open, waiting patiently for an elderly woman and her husband to shuffle out of the sliding doors and grinning at them as they did. The wife had her hand wrapped firmly around his bicep, frail-looking fingers clenching onto the fabric of a dark gray overcoat that was still lightly speckled with raindrops from the afternoon’s unexpected drizzle. The husband had his own worn hand covering his wife’s, seemingly uncaring about how much harder their positioning made the act of moving forward.

It was love, the brunette thought, that made the slight struggle worth it. The desire to be closer, even if it came with a cost.

Unbidden, the memory of Kate’s borderline desperate tugging at the back of her shirt and Lucy’s own less than subtle fall into their embrace from days ago flashed in her mind, and the soft humming abruptly stopped.

Lucy couldn’t afford to let herself fall down that particular rabbit hole, not when she was literally on her way to the blonde’s hospital room. Thoughts and memories like that were best left under lock and key when she was anywhere near Kate’s general vicinity, if only because she didn’t know how to properly balance the twisted, sour mess of anger with the deep, all-consuming feeling of relief and...

Something.

Something Lucy knew was love but didn’t want to acknowledge it—not right now, not when there wasn’t anything she could do with the feeling. It just sat like a brick in her chest, because it was love, but the emotion itself was weighed down with so much resentment and betrayal and pain that it felt poisonous.

It felt… dangerous.

And as angry as Lucy may have been, she was still aware enough to recognize that not all of her rage belonged solely to the blonde. A good portion of it yes, but thoughts of Pruitt, Spencer and Adam still reared their heads at the most untimely of moments, like a fucked-up game of whack-a-mole. Kate didn’t deserve the full wrath of that anger. Not when it didn’t all belong to her and certainly not right now, when she was in a hospital bed, trying to recover from a literal gunshot wound.

So lock and key was the best solution for the time being, but sometimes Lucy would see something that made her traitorous, aching heart trip in her chest and thoughts of that could have been us pop into her head and the carefully crafted mask of control would crack clean down the middle.

“Enough,” Lucy whispered sharply to herself, tightening her jaw in an effort to regain control of her mind. In front of her, the elder couple both turned to look back with varying degrees of concern, and the brunette did her best to smile through clenched teeth. “I cannot get enough of this weather, I'm loving the random drizzles and cool temperatures. It’s a lovely break from the heat.”

The husband nodded in agreement, while the wife offered a kind grin. “I do so love it too, dear. Reminds me of, well… there’s no time for stories just now, is there? You have a nice day.”

With that last parting message, they shuffled together around the corner, hands now intertwined.

Tears burned behind her eyes, and Lucy forced herself to blink them away, before plastering on a smile and making her way into Kate’s room.

The blonde was fast asleep, breathing deep and even like she had been for a little while at least. It wasn’t too unexpected, but the little boy whose shoulder her head was resting against was—if only because he was awake. Lucy grinned softly when Holden’s eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he twitched forward just the slightest bit—like he was going to rush down from the bed—before freezing and throwing a wide-eyed look at a still sleeping Kate, then flicking his gaze back to Lucy.

“Hi Miss Lucy,” he whispered ineffectively, carefully attempting to adjust his shoulder in a clear effort to ease the strain on Kate’s neck. There was a single, tense moment where Kate’s brow furrowed slightly at the movement. Holden sucked in an audible breath, holding perfectly still until the crease once again smoothed out. The little boy sighed in relief. “She fell asleep during story time. Probably because she had to see Doctor Dillion yesterday, mama sleeps a lot after that too. I'm trying not to move, or else I would give you a hug.”

Lucy’s heart melted. “Hi bud. That’s okay, I can give you a hug later.”

“I like that plan,” Holden murmured, seemingly taking the words very seriously. His attempt at whispering was no more successful than it had been earlier, but Kate stayed asleep. She must have been exhausted. Lucy settled herself in the chair by the bed as Holden clearly contemplated over something, raising an eyebrow and grinning in encouragement when curious green eyes met her own. “Do you remember the time you saved that journalist from the evil spies? And-And his wife had to help you find out where he had been taken?”

It took Lucy a moment to parse through all of the sugar-coating, but the case sounded familiar. Of course it did, because she and Kate had shared one of the most intimate moments of their entire relationship following its conclusion. The most genuine she had ever seen the blonde—

Kayla Barlow.

I don’t think you’re bad, in fact… I think you’re amazing.

That had been the start of everything changing.

In that moment, the line they had been so carefully walking had been crossed, and Lucy had tumbled willingly into the unknown, propelled by nothing more than the feeling of Kate’s lips on her own. At the time, her heart had been pounding with excited, exultant thrill. At the time, she had been so ready to see where things would progress, terrified by the strength of her emotions but ready to face them head on. At the time, she had been chasing the phantom-feelings that had developed over a span of two days and three nights, a kind of rush that no one else had ever managed to recreate.

Their goodbye kiss from all that time ago still smoldered like ash on her tongue, hot like a brand and stinging like her tears. The taste of salt from those tears had lingered for hours on her lips after their reluctant parting.

It had been the very first time Lucy had ever cried over Kate Whistler.

Now, crying over the blonde was common.

Stop.

Lucy grinned through the bittersweet pain the memories brought, forcefully shoving all of the twisted feelings back into their locked boxes. She was absolutely not going to be ruining whatever semblance of comfort Holden got from these stories by tainting them with her own grief-smeared hold. No, she’d sooner stand up and walk right out of the hospital altogether than ever risk doing that. “I do remember that one. Is that the story she was…?”

Holden beamed happily, carefully nodding his head. “Yes! I think—” Kate made a quiet, huffing noise. The little boy froze. After another moment of pause, Holden started speaking again, notably much quieter. “I think maybe that’s my favorite one so far.”

“Hmm,” Lucy hummed softly, giving her emotions a chance to finish settling. Once she no longer felt like she was liable to burst into tears, the brunette let her eyes flick over to a still smiling Holden. His right arm was lost under the waterfall of Kate’s hair, but he didn’t seem to mind. “That day was a bit crazy. And actually, Kate was… Kate helped a lot. We saved him, but she saved us.”

The little boy tilted his head. “Really? She didn’t say anything about that…” Green eyes flickered over to Kate, searching, before again meeting Lucy’s own. “Does she do that a lot?”

“Save us?” Lucy clarified.

Holden nodded.

“Sometimes,” Lucy answered softly, letting her gaze linger on Kate now. She remembered the bus full of FBI agents, remembered a pale purple sweater and fingers that were still vaguely tensed from rapid typing. Remembered the feeling of the cool ambulance floor, the ache in every part of her body, Tennant’s voice saying Curtis had to grab her, she was heading inside. She was heading to you. “Yes, she saves us a lot. Saves… me, a lot.”

And hurts me too. Hurts me more than I've ever been hurt before, more hurt than I knew I could feel. It shouldn’t be possible for my heart to hurt this badly, shouldn’t be possible for—

“Yeah,” Holden agreed, something dark flashing in his eyes. There was a subtle frown pulling at his lips, but he blinked it away and glanced over at Kate. His expression was nothing sort of reverent, a thoughtless kind of adoration that made Lucy’s heart clench. “Yeah, she saves me a lot too.”

#cabotwhistler #my writing #faster than a hairpin trigger #sort of?#I think I'll just tag this as “missing moments” unless I think of something better #but anyway #I hope you enjoyed reading this!#thanks for all of the support

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 6 months

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Hey bit of an off beat question really. But have you ever got a stupid-silly-obsessive-thinkingaboutthemallday sorta crush on some celeb, and not a fictional character?

If you did, how did you get over it and got on with your day? Kinda going through the same phase now and I could do with a lot less distraction really. But David Tennant is so awesome it's literally very VERY difficult to get a grip on myself 🤦🏻‍♀

Also, love your writing!

Hey nonnie! I mean, I'll be honest, I don't think I've been in this situation? But I would treat those thoughts the way I treat intrusive thoughts. When one pops up, I mentally picture hitting it with a whack-a-mole mallet ¯_(ツ)_/¯ like

Out, damned Thot™

#asks #replies #anon

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butwhatifidothis · 1 year

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Is it bad that when I got to the last point on your Ch 58 about Cornelia showing up and stabbing Dimitri, I honestly thought for a second you were joking? And I had to go to the chapter to confirm it?

I mean, I’m fine with the idea of what Cornelia says (it would make a neat AU or twist on canon in a vacuum) but she just… shows up, in the middle of two enemy armies, just to… brag? And then kill Demitri so once again, a main character can be killed by someone else besides the ‘heroes’? I. Wow. Jeralt was one thing, but he was at least killed by the same faction if I remember right-

LMAO YOU THOUGHT I WAS PULLING Y'ALL'S LEG

No, it's definitely true - Cornelia does in fact pop up at the conclusion of the fight just to alleviate from Woobiegard the act of killing Dimitri herself.

Now, mind, Dimitri is still alive by the end of that chapter, but spoiler alert Cornelia does kill him in the next one. And Cornelia and Thales themselves just kinda... exist to be threats? But not threatening.

Thales is lauded as this mastermind giga genius who has spies and and eyes and ears any and everywhere and that's why Woobiegard just totally couldn't tell anyone anything about what he was doing... but also she'll just, like, punch him in the face. And face no repercussions for doing so. More than once. He has spies everywhere that can look like anyone, but apparently, um... doesn't know that his spies can shape-shift? According to Kronya? He brainwashes his spies for all of their lives to do what he wants, but also the brainwashing can be completely erased from one singular conversation. He's the leader of Agartha and rules it with an iron fist and the culture is rife with ideas of hatred and vengeance and it's been like this for (presumably) centuries, but also literally everyone not a bigwig can completely reject everything they ever knew because One (1) resident told them that Thales is Cringe. He's the one wearing the pants of his and Woobiegard's partnership and Woobiegard has to act submissive towards him... as he has to ask her to use the Death Knight... and needs her okay to use his men alongside hers... and needs her to consent to using Aymr instead of, like, I dunno, blackmailing her into using it by force or something? Y'know something a bad guy that's threatening would and could do?

Cornelia, in a double-edged sword kinda way, both benefits and loses from not ever being really a thing before the later chapters - there's literally no build-up for her being the one to end up being the bigger threat than Thales so it comes out of nowhere, but there's also nothing to contradict to "make up" for that. But even then she still somehow manages to be contradictory - she was distraught at the death of Thales, but did literally nothing to try and stop it despite her escaping Woobiegard's side from a slight distraction doing more than enough to show off that she very much could have helped Thales during that moment. She has all these golems and all this magic, but then kinda just... gets captured? Somehow?

They're there to suggest the idea that there is something Woobiegard ought to be wary of, but they never actually do anything in the story to prove that they're something that needs worrying about. All of their competence and fear factor that Woobiegard feels about them is left in their backgrounds; Thales conducted the experiments on Woobiegard, Cornelia helped instigate the Tragedy, and because of that they should be feared. But not for anything they're doing now - Woobiegard can Fortnite dance on their mother's graves and they still wouldn't do shit to her, because they never actually do anything to her. They wait until the very last minute to attempt to try something, and once they do Thales is immediately killed and then made into a literal joke. Cornelia only fares slightly better by Whack-A-Moling back into the story to kill Dimitri for Woobiegard, but that's about it.

So while it's HILARIOUS that you thought I was joking I honestly don't blame you for thinking that, because Thales and Cornelia are themselves jokes lmao

#ask #o captain my captain #it's the writing trap of ''I want my protagonist to look cool all the time''#Woobiegard can't be shown ACTUALLY struggling against Thales and co. and ACTUALLY losing to them #the one time ANY of TWS were ever shown to be a threat is... Myson when he successfully killed Jeralt #and then he's killed like the next chapter anyway so oops there goes the ONE person who managed to actually DO SOMETHING #like spoiler alert guys: if your protagonist can physically assault the villain multiple times and the villain doesn't do shit back to them #it's almost guaranteed that you've just severely devalued your villain's threat level #if your protagonist can thwart every single thing your villain throws at them? if your villain needs your protagonist's consent to do shit?#then i'm sorry your villain is barely better than a mob mook #sorry if this kinda drifted from your ask lmao but ye

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moodywyrm · 11 months

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idk if this is a weird question, but since you've been talking a bunch about minors being on your page and how you aren't comfortable with that (totally understandable and reasonable), how do you know there are minors on your page?

goodmorning i feel okay enough to answer asks, jury is still out on whether I’m writing today.

sometimes they literally have their ages in their bios and will still interact. yesterday I got a 14 year old interacting with some Abby posts. Some of them are ageless blogs that I’ll see have interacted with other blogs that are minors, in which case you can kinda infer. sometimes, like yesterday, they’ll come into my inbox taunting me for having MDNI on my blog or talking abojt, saying they’ll just lie about their age or “I can’t stop them” from interacting. in all cases, I try to block them, but some sneak through and then more pop up. it’s like playing fucking whack-a-mole.

#moodythoughts #rules

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katya-goncharov · 1 year

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i literally feel like i'm playing whack-a-mole with all the porn bots i've been having to block as they pop up lately

#i have NO idea if whack-a-mole is just a british thing or popular in other places too but. the analogy fits so!

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troglobite · 1 year

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i’m not in that bad of a mood but a bunch of body/health complaints below the cut bc i wanna bitch abt em

my life is basically a series of: i need to do x to help y, but that causes z, and i need to do b to help z, but then that causes or worsens c

like i’m not unique, it’s just sort of stupid and i’m Tired. lol

it’s gotten v bad thanks to the pandemic and also this house/town i think? long story

anyway

rn i’m dealing with:

my mental health sucks, i need to get out more

well i can’t get out bc of covid so : /

then i could at least exercise more, bc exercising also will help my cholesterol which isn’t great (but is stable and not getting worse, at least)

okay great except that my MCAS means my sweat is out of fucking control so exercising is miserable

well i could just take it easy then, right?

well no bc going for a walk makes me the sweatiest person in the world

well i mean that’s just an inconvenience, right?

nope, bc i have an issue that is exacerbated by excessive sweating, so i can’t sweat too much, either.

(i also have ANOTHER issue in the same area as the previous issue that is only solved by direct contact with a heating pad, which as you might imagine, CAUSES HEAT AND SWEATING which EXACERBATES THE OTHER PROBLEM so that one in particular has been super fucking fun to navigate)

okay then i exercise inside

well there’s not really anywhere to do that, everywhere is too small, and i ALSO sweat INSIDE a lot so it doesn’t matter

okay well then--aha! i’ll just exercise in the shower!

okay great!

it’s working!

wait why are my feet randomly seizing and in terrible pain while i’m walking arou--oh right. EDS. and exercising without shoes is. bad.

okay well i just need to start working on my EDS and take it easy right?

okay except i can’t do the physical therapy/muldowney method bc when i started, it caused a lot of bladder and pelvic pain that got worse w stress.

and i’m trying stress management but everything is a fucking nightmare.

i had to stop PT so that i’d stop feeling like i had the world’s worst UTI whenever i got remotely irritated.

and turns out that’s bc i have an undiagnosed autoimmune disorder

so until i figure out what that is...i can’t do anything for my EDS...or my MCAS...so i’m just stuck taking 2 zyrtec every day and topping up with benadryl hoping that i can breathe and stop getting hives

and that i can exercise and feel good and be happy, but also still manage to walk around without extreme pain

hahaha. ha.

i hate everything.

i’m literally covered in hives. all over my face neck ears and scalp. everywhere. they’re unstoppable. fucking. fuck.

oh wait one more

so i have steroid cream that works to get rid of my hives for the most part

but it’s like playing whack-a-mole bc more just pop up in place of the ones i got rid of

and then what’s more

i can’t really put them on my scalp

bc my scalp sweats so much (bc lol i also have to use dandruff shampoo) so it runs the risk of hurting me

bc i had to put some on some hives that were vaguely near but not on my eyes, and bc they were hot and/or sweaty recently before i put the cream on, my skin burned for two days straight

no relief to be had

so now i have to be careful abt what i put the steroid cream on to get rid of my hives

bc there are no antihistamines that’ll get the job done

ALSO my right wrist has recently decided to be fucked up so i keep losing circulation in my hand and fingers while i sleep, which seems to be getting slightly better, but i can no longer do one of my EDS tricks bc it seems to be pinching nerves when i do it? i’ve only tested twice to see if there had been any change.

so it’s just like

okay

i have no idea how the fuck that happened or when or why and i can’t seem to fix it by using braces, or stretching, or ANYTHING.

incredible.

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