i would have nightmares for years

Honestly, a lot of Sabine’s backstory stuff from Heroes of Mandalore makes more sense when you remember she was probably like thirteen when she was at the Imperial Academy. Thirteen year olds come up with some twisted stuff. 

“Hey, wouldn’t it be super cool if we could make a weapon that just peeled people’s skin off? Ooh! Or fried them in their armor! I used to have nightmares about that when I was a kid.”

“You said this is totally theoretical, right?”

“I’m going to name it after a noted pacifist leader, you know, to be ironic. After all, no one would pick a fight if this was real. Right?”

“I want to paint stripes of blood and fire on it.”

She was a dumb super-smart kid taken away from her parents and used. It’s really unfortunate that it happened while she was going through her 2 Edgy phase. Please stop blaming her for things. 

Sometimes John and Sherlock accidentally talk all night.

Like maybe the intention to go to sleep at a normal time was there, but then they get distracted.

11 PM: They finish the movie and it just naturally feels like time for bed. Teeth are cleaned, doors are locked, and they settle in between the sheets, and damn is the bed comfortable compared to the haphazard dog pile of limbs they had gotten into on the sofa.

“What did you think of the film?”

“Nice; very enjoyable.”

“Did I tell you it was my favorite when I was a kid?”

“No. Really?”

“Yeah. Would watch it on repeat.”

“Interesting. But it’s no longer your favorite?”

“Right. I dunno- I still love it, but not in the same way.”

“I understand. Your favorite now is that one Bond, um…Die Another Day?”

“Yeah.” John gives Sherlock a small, soft smile. He looks almost bewitched.

“What’s that look for?”

“It’s for you. ”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because it’s really nice to have someone remember things like that about me.”

1 AM: The discussion has shifted to favorites, and why they’re favorites.

“So you would rather listen to that same Rolling Stones album again and again for eternity than ever even trying something like Debussey?”

“Correct.”

“Alright, well, now I know.”

“You know what?”

“That we’re breaking up.”

They laugh.

2 AM: …and now they’re just naming things they like.

John: “Long car journeys”

Sherlock: “The smell of coffee.”

“You hate coffee.”

“I hate the taste of coffee.”

“You are a complex being.”

“Thank you.”

They laugh some more.

John: “Rainy mornings that last all day.”

“Me too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They’re lovely.”

“Why’s that?”

Sherlock fidgets with his lips, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer.

“Because you always wake me very…pleasantly… and often you continue waking me pleasantly for most of the morning…afternoon…even into the evening sometimes.”

“Do I? When it’s raining?”

“Yes. Not every time, but under a certain set of conditions I can, for the most part, look at the forecast for the morning the night before and know in advance whether or not I’ll be getting anything done the next day.”

John looks back at him, a concoction of surprise, then near embarrassment, then a sly smile.

“Interesting, see, I find that I get one thing in particular done consistently on those days.”

Sherlock snorts.

4 AM: The topic has shifted between worst hangover stories and crazy uni memories to some more difficult things, like John’s time in the service, and Sherlock’s addiction.

“We’ve sort of been dealt a few tough hands eh?”

“Truly.”

“Makes me want to take you away somewhere and just be relaxed for a bit.”

“I would agree to that in an instant.”

“Yeah? Let’s do that, then.”

“Fantastic idea!”

“I do get them on occasion.”

More laughter.

5 AM:

John is trying to work in to the concersation something he’s been wanting Sherlock to know for a long time. It’s difficult, though- he’s never really said anything like this- anything so personal.

“It says a lot about you, I think, that I can do things like this- stay awake all night, not having to be overwhelmed or rampant. You balance me, John.”

“Yeah..yeah I- I know what you mean. You also- I mean, you sort of…I don’t dread…my life to come…anymore. I used to think of all the days and years I had left to endure, wonder how I would fill them, hoping I could find something that wouldn’t feel so miserable, something to settle for, but you- fuck, Sherlock, I think back to that now and it feels like a horrible nightmare. I’m…more than just glad, to have found you. You- damn, this is hard, I-”

Sherlock ties his fingers with John’s and moves even closer.

"Take your time. No rush. No pressure. Anything you want to tell me, you can. You’re safe here.”

"I suppose…You umm…you made me rethink- my plans, for me, yes. But not only that, you also showed me a way of living so different from what I had known, so much better and full of richness, I look back at those days where I no longer wanted to be alive and think -it’s probably because I wasn’t alive. I had every responsibility and felt every drawback of life but was denied any of the good stuff. You showed me so much more than I ever knew was out there- you sort of saved my life by…showing me how to live it? That’s so cheesy, I-”

And now Sherlock is crying. So John starts crying.

6 AM: they’ve got themselves together by now and moved on to something a little lighter.

"Right…so, you mean to tell me that James Moriarty, criminal mastermind, scary man with an affinity for the latest in explosive fashion, still sleeps with a teddy bear?”

"Precisely.”

"How did you figure that one out?”

"It took a few-visits- to piece it together, mostly because I was in disbelief myself, but he shows signs of a stiff neck as if he sleeps in an extremely bent position with one arm hooked partially under himself, likely around a small item. Persistence of this soreness shows that he didn’t just sleep wrong once, he makes a habit of this position. But what really sealed the realization was the right thumbnail. Much shorter than all the others, wrinkled texture, dry skin around the edges where the rest of his finers are immaculately manicured. Exposed to moisture for long periods of time.”

"No fuckin way!”

"Oh yes. He sucks his thumb. What a terrifying creature.”

Hysterical laughter.

"I’m always curious what you could tell about me right away and what took you a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous path John- not everyone wants to know what others can tell about them.”

"Yeah but I’m just tired enough to ask anyway.”

"Well, all the things I pointed out at Bart’s…then more and more about your childhood based on your dating habits…around a month after we moved in I had narrowed down the approximate size of your…tyre lever…”

"Really?”

"Well…I had underestimated, to be honest. Your stature is misleading, as I’m sure you know.”-

"So, that is to say, you were-”

"Incredibly anxious and then surprised in the best possible way.”

"I was going for ‘not disappointed’, but alright.”

"Not in the slightest. My God, not even a little. In fact, what’s the opposite of disappointed?”

"Satisfied?”

"More than.”

"Sated?”

"Never.”

7 AM: Talking has ceased. The sun seeps in at the sides of the drapes, pale and gray. It’s a bit chilly, but neither know- it’s aafe and warm in the bubble of their room.

Neither sleep until around noon, after tea and toast in bed- the rain hits the roof in steady droves, tapping occasionally at the window if the wind blows a certain way.

Sherlock gets absolutely no work done.
2

I lost my best friend today. I haven’t stopped crying. I collapsed to the floor at work when I heard the news. There’s so much I want to say but I’m currently very, very broken and distraught. Breathing is hard. Tears are streaming down my face that I can’t control. I got sent home from work early and passed out when I got home. I hoped that when I would wake up that it would all have been a nightmare, but here we are. I was supposed to be fulfilling my #1 item on my bucket list in ten days: meet linkin park. The first time I saw them was August 27th 2007 and it changed my life, actually. I was finally going to be able to tell them how I would not be here today if it weren’t for them. And that’s no exaggeration. They were/they are my everything. My favorite band since I was 8 years old. Chester has been my hero since I was 8 goddamn years old. My first tattoo was dedicated to them, lyrics that are from a song Chester wrote to his kids. I took guitar lessons as a kid for only a week or two, just so I could learn the chords to “Faint” and feel cool for a minute of my shy, dorky life. LP was one of the only music I was even allowed to listen to during a very critical and traumatizing time of my life. I spent roughly a thousand dollars to go see them twice and meet them within the coming weeks, and tbh, no amount of money coming back to me now will ever makeup for it. It’s not just a band, it’s not just music, they’ve been my lifeline. And Chester was the brother I never had, my mentor, he was my best friend. I can’t explain how deeply this is affecting me and I can’t imagine how it’s affecting his family and loved ones. The one thing I am happy about in this moment is that the very last time I saw Chester in person, it was August 16th, 2014. During the last song he came down and shook fans hands, took photos with everyone in the front row, etc. when he got to me I was sobbing and he gave me the biggest hug, and I didn’t know what to do, so I right in his ear I said “thank you for everything.” He put his hand on the back of my head into his shoulder and said “no, thank you.” He smiled at me, and walked off. (Picture above is moments before that happened) I may not have officially met him, and can’t believe that I never will in this life, but deep in my heart I’ll have comfort telling myself that he knows. How important he was/is to me and everyone who listened to LP, his family, friends, everyone. I don’t know how to handle this tbh and thank you to everyone who has reached out and thought of me, that means a lot. I don’t even know if any of this makes sense. All I know is, I miss you Chester. And I’ll be thinking of you every single day until I see you on the other side.

“When life leaves us blind, love keeps us kind.”

“i don’t have friends…i’ve just got one” like seriously if someone said that to you in real life and they just happened to be the same someone you had spent the last year-ish trying not to wank yourself to death over in a stew of hormones that has you google searching whether soulmates are real at 3 a.m. while he plays you a lullaby downstairs on his fucking violin bc you had ninety seconds of a nightmare, what would you even do. what do you even do with that. implode on the spot? spontaneously combust? honestly by the fact that he got through that alive, john watson is a powerful man and deserves to be feared 

Animated media that traumatised me as a kid:

I saw a lot of stuff in my youth that I found to be scary, but these are things that will to this day give me goose bumps if I think about them in the middle of the night. So here we go; here are my personal top 4 animated movies/shows that scarred me as a child. 8D

Moomin (1991-1992)

The Groke - UGH!! The scene below in particular scared the shEATTT out of me as a child!! And Sniff´s Finnish screams did not make the thing any less terrifying. But today, having read the Moomin books and all, I think the Groke as a character is more tragic than scary. (ノдヽ)

 The ghost in the light house - The mere memory of this scene can make me cry. Not those “I’m so scared” tears, but those “Just thinking about ghosts” tears, if you know what I mean. If anybody knows what that phenomenon is called then send me a PM, I would love to know. 

The Simpsons (1989-present)

More specifically these two:

Nightmare Cafeteria” - I loved the Halloween specials as a kid, eve though I might have been to young for them. But the story about the teachers eating the students left a very big (negative) impression in little me.

Terror at 5 ½ Feet”. There was simply something absolutely horrifying about this little monster to me. I was genuinely afraid of it. But what made the whole episode worse was how nobody would believe Bart when he tried to warn everybody about it. This story gave me nightmares for years.ヽ ( ꒪д꒪ )ノ

The Great Mouse Detective (1986)  

In this case it´s the opening scene that really got to be when I saw this back in the day. The creepy atmosphere, the music, the shadow fight, the silence after the battle, the little mouse girl’s cries for her dad, and of course, this mothafukka. I would always hide under my blankest when the movie started. (O_Q)

Pagemaster (1994)

I saw this movie very few times when it came out, but the scene when Dr Jekyl transforms into Mr Hyde never left my mind. It was brilliantly animated and storyboarded, but maybe too well because I lost my shit whenever the movie got to this point. UVÄ!! Still gives me shivers!! DX

From what I can gather apparently my main fear as a kid was monsters of different kinds. That explians very well why I also hated “The Gremlins”. :o But today I would say that the paranormal (and fish) are the things I’m the most afraid of. :P

If you have your own horror stories to share then feel free to do so in the comments or make post yourself. Don´t forget to tag me in it so I can join the crying. ;D

“Where did the coffee table go ?”- Bruce Wayne x Reader

Just something short and stupid written in 5 minutes during my lunch break.  Didn’t proof read (I never do, I never can re-read anything I wrote so like meh) so sorry about any awful mistakes. Sometimes, I have really shitty ideas haha, hope you’ll still kinda like it though ^^’ :

My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com

_________________________________________________

“The mysterious case of the disappearing furnitures by detective/Batman’s partner Richard John Grayson, 8 and a half years old : 

Recently noticed that furnitures around Wayne Manor have gone missing.

_Suspects : Bruce Wayne, (Y/N) Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth or a stranger. 
_Motive for Bruce Wayne : reminds him of his parents so he’s changing them ? But that wouldn’t explain why they’re changed on a regular basis.
_Motive for (Y/N) Wayne : …I don’t know yet, but will find one, she’s too nice to me and maybe it’s a trick so we DON’T suspect her ? Maybe she has a huge furniture dealing web out there in Gotham ! 
_Motive for Alfred Pennyworth : Less to clean.
_Motive for “stranger” : Those furnitures must be expensive, selling them might be good, but then why does Bruce not react ? Maybe it’s a mind trick that stranger is playing on Bruce, getting rid of every pieces of furniture his parents bought ? 

All of the suspect have a motive, and a good one if I might say, and I will find what is happening to all those poor furnitures ! 

09/08/01, chest of drawers disappeared.
10/08/01, new chest of drawers arrived, Alfred rolled his eyes at it.
14/08/01, lawn table gone.
14/08/01, a bit later, saw Alfred took down a few pieces of Bruce and (Y/N)’s bed, the headboard I think.
18/08/01, started my interrogation : when I asked Bruce he became very pale and looked “horrified” (according to (Y/N) who entered, she said : “what’s that horrified face my heart ?”). I’m not sure what horrified means, but it doesn’t sound nice…maybe he feels guilty ? When I asked my questions about the broken and missing pieces of furniture to (Y/N), she just burst out laughing.
26/08/01, today, almost the entire living room was empty, I asked Alfred and he said he was remodeling…I think he doesn’t want to worries me about our furnitures being stolen.
01/09/01, Saw da Bruc Dad Bruce sneaking out with the a plank that I believe is from the coffee table in the living room…very suspicious”.

Smiling, Dick stops reading the clumsy handwriting he had when he was eight and puts down his old “very important cases” notebook back on his deck, sighing, nostalgic. 

Oh the good old days when he was the only “Batboy” (who was he kidding ? Dick knew that without little brothers his life would be boring. He makes a mental note though, to hide this forever from his brother’s sight, they would mock him too much for almost everything written in that thing).

“Where do all the furniture go ?” was his actual first case, and…oh ew, just thinking about what he discovered, a few years after he “opened the case”, where those furnitures went, was grossing him out. 

But he still couldn’t help but smile at his younger self. 

He was a rather cute kid wasn’t it ? His mom would agree.

His mom. 

“(Y/N) Wayne”, the woman who was “too nice, must be a trick”…Oh he was so wrong about that. You were nice because you were the best woman in the World. You were more than nice. You were…Oh man you were the best in everything ! Your hugs and soothing wordsgot him through so many difficult moments…

One of the only thing “bothering” him about you, was still kind of awesome.

It was so damn disgusting sometimes. But also overly adorable.

Your only “flaw” was to be too in love with Bruce, and vice versa. 

You two could be so gross when together, forgetting the world around you, kissing and embracing and EWWW ! 

Sometimes, your sons had to make sure you both knew they were here by making loud noises, and even then, more often than not, they’d be the one leaving the room rather than you two stopping being so goddamn in love. 

Keep reading

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Twenty-Five

Summary: Jared gets over-exited ordering baby things online, which allows to you let him and Jensen into a story from your past. Gen and the boys join you at a 32 week scan.
Words: 2.7k
Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, Tom, Shep, James (OC, mentioned)
Warnings: mild angst, Ditto backstory
Beta: @blacksiren

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

Your name: submit What is this?

Jensen moved up to Vancouver the first week in August; living back in his trailer until his room at your place had been fully decorated.

It was the first time you’d ever been back for a second season of the same show, so you were eager to get back to filming.

When the first script came through, however, you were entirely unsurprised that you had barely any lines.

Keep reading

Happy Thoughts for a Bad Night
  • McGonagall comforting all of the little first years when they have had a nightmare, assuring them that even brave lions depend on the pride for strength. 
  • Sirius Black was one of these scared little lions after he was sorted into Gryffindor 

  • He had a nightmare about returning home and McGonagall would not hear of one of her lion cubs calling himself a disappointment, assuring him that he was too “what do the muggles call it these days? I believe I have heard one of my students refer to it as Punk Rock” to be anything other than spectacular. 

  • Sirius Black making it his mission from then on to aid every young student who had a nightmare.

  • He would stay up for hours telling them stories of Dumbledore and McGonagall and all of the amazing things they had accomplished and adventures they had been on while they snuggled into the little nest Sirius had built for them on the floor out of pillows and blankets. 

  • He would act out grand tales of Godric Gryffindor slaying magnificent beasts, fantastically illustrating his death defying maneuvers with over exaggerated movements and faces.

  • Any child who was frightened, no matter how old they were, always knew that they could quietly rap on his door and hop on his bed for a good story and a feeling of warmth and security. 

  • Eventually, after the first month of rapping on their bedroom door, the other marauders started to pitch in.

  • Peter would gather the blankets, because he was the best at fort building, and would settle all of the kids in to get ready for the story.

  • Remus would pass out sweet treats and hot chocolate before tucking in closer to the younger ones, because Moony’s hot chocolate is the best and no one would dare drink the stuff if anyone else made it. 

  • James would help Sirius with his epic skits and would cast dancing shadows on the walls in the shapes of hippogriffs and lions so that the younger ones felt protected and safe inside of the haven these four boys built for them.

  • Eventually, because it’s Hogwarts, word spread and Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas decided that the girls needed the same type of system.

  • In the event of a thunderstorm, Lily and Sirius made a plan to bring all the kids downstairs to the common room where they would all sit together in a giant nest of love and comfort, until they either fell asleep again, or the bad feelings passed enough for them to climb back into their own beds.   

  • Lily would braid hair so the little lions could have a mane when they woke up in the morning.

  • Dorcas would bring her guitar and sing softly when the mood required a more relaxed form of soothing 

  • Marlene would charm night-light stars on the ceiling so that the room would never get too dark and scary. 

  • One evening, after a very very violent storm, McGonagall decided to go up and check to see if her little lions were okay. 

  • She found everyone curled up in the common room, in front of the fireplace with thousands of charmed stars and shadow protectors on the walls. and 7 very gangly 7th years sleeping in a circle on the outside of the little ones. 

  • Instead of interrupting the peace, she walked to a sleeping Sirius Black, smoothed back his hair from his face and whispered “10 points to Gryffindor for finding courage and love in the heart of a storm” 

JACK THE PUMPKIN KING: NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS MOODBOARD

Everyone’s waiting for the next surprise, Skeleton Jack might catch you in the back, and scream like banshee…Our man Jack is King of the Pumpkin Patch! Everyone hail to the Pumpkin King!

I’ve had this idea for so long and with Fall just around the corner I couldn’t help myself. My idea is that in this AU, JACK would be Skeleton Jack during the year, but on Halloween ANTI would take over becoming the PUMPKIN KING. WIISHU would be Sally, and SEPTIC SAM would be Zero. I also thought MARK/DARK would be the mayor character who changed faces. The rest of the egos would be spread throughout, but for some reason I have it in my head that WILFORD would be Oogie Boogie the guy who kills people and says its not his fault because its all up to “chance”.

The key to love, my father told me, was to never love someone more than they love you. So when, after dating for five months, Christopher Moore was the first to say “I Love You”, I thought I had hit the “Love Jackpot”. I say this because, prior to him saying it at that very moment, I had never given thought to the possibility that I could love him in return. Standing in front of my apartment building, nervous and excited, facing him and his smile, I questioned whether love was the word to describe what I was feeling. High school love, after all, is quite trivial with it’s ins and outs. Nevertheless after weighing the theoretical pros and cons of love, I decided that I was in love, at least in some respects. He was handsome, smart, sweet, and I enjoyed his company. This is what I believed love boiled down to; four factors. Honesty, clearly, was something I overlooked. About a year and 7 months into our blissful love affair, after graduation had passed and we had spent the summer taking all the cliché couple pictures, Chris decided that he “just couldn’t go on lying to me anymore. “Jenine” he told me “this guilt is eating me alive!”. I imagine there wasn’t much of him left, as it had been “eating away at him” for 6 months. This is when I learned that there is no “key” to love; no guide, no tips, no 101 course, because love is lived and learned; never taught. Try as you may, to forgo the pain of love, you’ll find joy in knowing that it’s survive-able and moreover, sometimes the good outweighs the bad. No, Chris wasn’t the love of my life, but he gave life to my ability to love.

“Never” my father said “let love override your faculty of reason.” Easier said, than done. My next love was Jeremy Bishop. Before you ask, of course there were others between Chris and Jeremy. But this is a story about love; not “almost loves”,“semi loves”, and “could’ve beens”. Jeremy’s love was the worst kind of love. The kind that doesn’t have a reason to exist but somehow it does and you’re glad. Its sole purpose is to debilitate your mind, forcing you to follow only your emotions. While Jeremy was dreamy, I learned that the man of your dreams can sometimes be the root of your nightmares.

I met Jeremy my junior year at _________ University. It was a Sunday and I had been studying in the library for an anthropology midterm and decided that I would take a break. Putting my highlighter down & flexing my hand I stood up & headed towards the bathroom. As I walked through the stacks, passing my hand across the rows of books I’d never read, my friend Denise spotted me and waved me over. Walking swiftly I made my way to the table she was stationed it & gathered that she had been studying all day as all. Splayed papers, open textbooks, two highlighters, & her laptop with several window open screamed “cram session” to me. After having sat & talked for some time about school & it’s “scammagry”, I noticed that someone had taken a seat at the end of the table. You know those typical movies where two people look up at the same time & smile coyly at one another? Well that’s what happened with us…….minus the smiling. When Jeremy & I caught eyes it was more of an inquisitive stare down. I relented because who really stares at a stranger for lengths at a time? Apparently Jeremy does because every time I looked up he was looking at me or perhaps through me. Whatever the case was I asked Denise if she could “Excuse me for one second?” as I got up from my seat and sauntered over to Jeremy, running my fingernails along the wooden table that both separated and joined us.

He was brown skinned but it was a rich brown that I often found myself lost in. He had brown hair that was cut low to avoid maintenance & also to spite his mother who so much loved it longer. His eyes were almost black they were so dark, yet you never asked someone to hit the lights when staring into them. He had a slight dimple on the right side of face that only presented itself in the presence of his mother, its creator.

“I know you or something?” I said, to which he looked up & responded “No you don’t. But since you’re already here, I’m Jeremy. Nice to meet you….” he said moving his hand in that circular waiting motion “this is usually the part where you tell me your name”. He was sarcastic & forthcoming and I liked it. “This is usually the part when I’d say Jenine. My name is Jenine. Though I’m not sure it’s nice to meet you.” “Well Jenine, do you have HIST 256 on Mondays & Thursdays? I think that’s where I’ve seen you before.” “Well Jeremy, had I known you were a stalker I would’ve stayed at the other end of the table” “A stalker Jenine? Really? I think you’re mistaking my keen eye for details.” “I stand corrected then. I just had no idea I was noticeable to your "keen eye”, I said, making air quotes. He leaned in & said, “Maybe Jenine, just maybe there’s a lot of things you don’t know. I’d be happy to fill you in though. If you were ever free.” “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me, Jeremy, that you’re asking me out.” “It seems that way, because it is that way. But enough with this, would you be interested in going out?” “I’ll contemplate it.”

A week later Jeremy picked me up in his beat up silver 2010 Toyota Corolla. Got out & offered to close the door for me not because he was a gentleman but because I literally couldn’t close it myself. He told me he wanted to show me his favorite place in all of Brooklyn. We drove for about 15 mins and parked in DUMBO; my favorite place. As we walked to the pier he barraged me with every menial question from favorite color to top five movies. I stopped his questioning because I realized I knew nothing about him. “What about you?” I said. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” “I’m a Taurus. Now back to you.” “Your sign. You gave me the third degree and in return you tell me your astrological sign??” “I’m really not that interesting. I kind of just go with the flow nothing special really.” “I could say the same about myself but you don’t see me spewing monotonous facts about myself” “That’s just it though. You’re very interesting. I see you twice a week & you never look the same to me. Always a different hairstyle, new lipstick, different outfit. You keep me guessing & well…I like that.” “Different outfit…Did you expect me to have the same clothes on like a cartoon character?”

Jeremy took my clothes off the way he took down my walls; slowly & intently. I never felt exposed or vulnerable. It was easy with him & who doesn’t like easy? The first time we had sex he kissed every scar and stretch mark on my body while he whispered beautiful and for the first time I believed it. This is when I knew I loved him; this is when I knew he loved me. We fell into a routine & inevitably, that’s how we fell apart. We saw each other four-five times a week in between work, school & our respective friends. I’d meet him after work or he’d meet me after class, we’d get some food or I’d cook, we’d talk, then go back to his dorm room or my house & somewhere in between there we’d fuck once or twice & that would be that. Talk, Eat, Fuck, Repeat. This, I should inform you, was the foundation for our dismantling. Jeremy grew tired of our monotony, I suppose, & because of that he started talking to a female customer who had “just so happened” to frequent his job. In talking they “just so happened” to find they had “so much in common” & somehow Jeremy’s dick “just so happened” to be in her mouth when I walked into his dorm room to get the spare phone charger I left there just in case. “Oh Mahh Gahhhh” is what Celeste said with his dick slighty tucked to the left side of her mouth because it wouldn’t have been polite to pull it out all together; though I’m sure there was no God she could ever call her own. Startled yet surprisingly indifferent I found my charger in the first drawer of his night stand now decoratively arrayed with ripped condom wrappers and I closed the door behind me.

Walking out of the apartment I didn’t feel anything but when I reached the stairs it hit me and when Jeremy came running out of his room, pulling his boxers up I looked up at him from the top stair I was sitting on & hit him right in the groin. “Shit! Ahh! Damn, J! Come on!” he winced . “Come on?? Excuse me?!? You’re such a fucking dickhead. Like what the fuck?” “I know. I know. I’m sorry babe. You gotta believe me! I swear it’ll never happen again.” & that’s what I wanted to believe after all; that this was just a bump along our road; that we could get through this because we could get through anything. So when Jeremy crouched down in front of me, put his hand under my chin, looked me right in the eye and told me he was “so sorry”, that he “really loved me”, that he was “mad stupid for doing that” I believed him & gave us another chance because I wasn’t ready to admit failure.

Celeste Soto was the average full figured broad who just “couldn’t help” falling for other women’s boyfriends, husbands, fiancés, you name it. Walking back into his room, I found her putting her left shoe on with one hand on his desk for balance. “You gotta believe mama” she said “I didn’t know he even had a girl. You feel me? I wouldn’t have done anything with him. Thas crazy disrespectful. My bad.” as she adjusted her bra strap and pulled her hair into a messy bun. Turning slighty towards Jeremy, I looked at him as if to say “really?!? THIS was the best you could do??” and he lowered his head, and stared at this one spot on the carpet that he could never get out. Not only had Jeremy cheated but he chose the lowest of women to do it with. “First of all, I’m not one of your friends so I don’t know why you’re calling me "mama” & no I don’t “feel” you nor do I intend to. Get your shit and get out!“ When she was gone I searched the apartment for remnants of her presence, prior to that days visit. An earring, a hair tie, maybe a lip balm. I found nothing or maybe I wasn’t really looking.

For eight months straight Jeremy was on his BEST behavior. He’d let me know where he was at all times as to ensure that he wasn’t out cheating; send pictures as proof on some occasions. I have to admit, though I was secure in his whereabouts, I was also sure that this was not how healthy relationships works. Nevertheless I looked forward to each notification because afterall "once a cheater……"you know the rest. One night I went over to his place to cook dinner, partially to ensure he wouldn’t be feeding Celeste or any other girl his penis but also because this is what I missed most about us. I had become so preoccupied with deciding whether or not I could trust him that I wasn’t concerned with trying to make us seem normal. After dinner we were in his bed tearing at each other’s clothes & after switching positions five times he looked down at me & said "I can’t do this”. Looking back at him I said “it’s cool I wasn’t feeling it either honestly”. “Not this” he said falling to my side, facing the ceiling “I mean like this….us”. Somehow though I knew that was what he had meant. This ball of something akin to both fear & anger welled up in my throat & grew until finally all I could say was “oh”. One tear fell from my eye & couldn’t allow myself to shed another. “This whole time” he said getting up from the bed “I wasn’t with you because I wanted to be. I was with you because I didn’t want to let you down.” He was pacing back & front at the foot of the bed, lifting his hands to his head then retracting them, looking over at me occasionally for assurance of my understanding. So he continued "I couldn’t let your last image of me be somebody who betrayed you. I had to prove you wrong & that’s selfish. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be in a relationship I’m not fully committed to. It isn’t fair to either of us J & you can hate me but I’d rather you hate me for being honest.” “Is this a joke? Please tell me you’re kidding right now” I said, half laughing half crying. “Let me get this straight” I said, sitting upright in his bed, pulling my shirt over my head “You cheated…..You lied…..YOU fucked up….You begged for another chance!…and my stupid ass gave you one. I’m just so lost right now.” This is when I realized I never should have sat on those steps & cried. I should’ve ran out of that building like it was on fire because guys like him will always burn you.

Some nights I could still hear his footsteps pacing the floor & I’d wonder when in the hell it would be over. When I’d stop crying; when I’d realize I was better off without him. But there’s this moment & I know it sounds cliche but you just wake up & you feel different you feel like you can begin again. One morning I woke up and knew Jeremy would never have a hold on me the way he did before, but more importantly I didn’t want him to.

The thing about baggage is that you never realize how much of it you carry around. In fact you assume that more often than not you don’t carry any at all because you’re “over it” or you’ve “moved on”. You’ll find yourself compromising because you just want someone to call at night; that wants only you. “Trust me.” my mother said “There will be others and don’t think that you have to look for them or that you have to settle.” My mother had a way with words. I’m not sure if that’s necessarily a good thing but the fact remains that when she said those words to me I wished she had kept her opinion to herself. I would never settle…..or at least I didn’t think I would.

I knew I didn’t love Benjamin the first time he came inside me & I wished I had never come to his apartment, let alone into his room splayed with dirty laundry that he was “gonna get to”. More importantly I knew I couldn’t love Benjamin, not the way I wanted to at least, when he told me I’m just like my mother. This sounds stupid I know, but let me explain.

After a week of working overtime, my best friend Selene dragged me out of my apartment for a night of bar hopping. Upon walking into our third stop, Benjamin grabbed my hand & told me I was pretty. That was it. There was no drawn out conversation, no playing hard to get, it was very low stakes. I gave him my number & before I got to the next bar he had called & asked when he could see me again. “Tomorrow” I said.

The next evening Benjamin showed up at my apartment with no plan other than to show up. We decided to see a movie.

The movie we saw doesn’t matter. Neither does the fact that we went to the movies. What matters is that after we left the movies, Benjamin grabbed both my hands & kissed me. When he stopped & I looked up at him he said “You taste like stale popcorn”. I thought “what the fuck?” & then he reminded me that we shared a popcorn. Our entirely relationship was like this; constant reminders of things I should have been aware of.

Ben was different from Jeremy because he never lied to me. That doesn’t necessarily mean that’s a good thing though. His honesty was one that I had to grow accustomed to. We had been dating for about two months, when I called him asking if he wanted to get dinner later & he simply replied “no”. No explanation, no rain check, no apology; he just hung up. Later he’d text me & say that we should get breakfast instead the next day because he liked being the first person I talked to in the morning. He never hid anything from me. Girls would text him, telling him how much they “missed him” how much “fun” they used to have & he’d show me his phone while laughing & ask what I thought he should say in his reply. It was almost inconceivable, how much he included me in his decisions when it came to other women. Co-workers would invite him out to dinner & drinks after work, over to their apartments, concerts & he would ask me, not if he could go (because he was going to do what he wanted regardless) or if I wanted to come with, but how I’d feel if he went it with them. We’d be waiting for our heart rates to drop back to normal after sex; our skin still dewy and tingling and he’d say “the last time was better” or “you faked it, but that’s cool” as he got up and ambled to the bathroom & I’d wonder if he had to be so honest with me all the time.

I woke up one day to him sitting at my kitchen table in just some sweatpants, signing a card. Next to him there was a huge bouquet of sunflowers. I walked over to him, fixing my bed hair into a bed bun & when I sat down he was startled. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early” he said & I looked over at the clock on microwave. “It’s after 11……does that even count as early?” I said. He looked up at me, then at the clock, then back at me & shrugged “I guess not”. I asked “Who’s the card for?” & as he sealed it, he handed to me & said “Happy Anniversary Sweetness” with no inflection. My face dropped to the floor, along with the card. “An anniversary?” I thought “have we really been dating a year? Maybe it’s like a six month anniversary? But that’s not even an anniversary!” After a few mental “Fuck!!”’s, I pulled myself together, awkwardly smiled as I picked up the card & opened it. It had been a year since I moved into my own place. In the card he wrote about how happy he was for me; that he knew how big of a deal it was for me to live on my own & he wanted me to know that it was just as important to him. I cried out of relief. He thought I was overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, primarily because as I closed the card, hugged him, wiped my tears and sniffled into his neck, I whispered “Thank you. This means a lot.”. One year of independence; something I should have been aware of.

The first time he told me he loved me, I opened my mouth to respond & he placed his index finger on my parted lips. “Stop” he said. “Not everything I say deserves or should be met with a response Jenine. I love you. That’s it.” I of course flew into defense. “So I can’t say it back? I can’t love you in return? What kind of bullshit is that Ben? You can’t just say something like that & expect me not to say anything back.” “I never said you can’t say anything back. But think about it baby, I said I love you & your first instinct was to respond. You didn’t even really take the moment in. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t want you to love me back because I love you. I want you to love me because you actually love me.” I felt little, like a child, like I had been put in my place, handled, dealt with, but I wouldn’t let him know. “You’re such an asshole sometimes” I said “but that Benjamin, for your information, is why I love you. Because you’re only an asshole sometimes”.

There are two important things I remember from when I broke up with Ben:

1. It was raining.
2. He told me I should’ve ended us a long time ago.

I came back to the apartment from the gym. As I shook my umbrella walking through the door, Ben sauntered by in his usual attire, house sweats and no shirt, saying “You must love mopping.” in a condescending tone. I happily returned the tone saying “Definitely. I just love it! Can’t get enough.” as I rolled my eyes and the umbrella up, fastening it shut. I walked over to the kitchen & checked the fridge. All that was left was this chicken Parmesan “thing” I had attempted to make three days earlier & it looked like a big pile of mush at that point. I chucked it & decided that take out sounded good. I had a taste for some pad thai so the choice was easy. Picking up my phone & dialing the number I thought it might be a good idea to ask Ben what he wanted but I figured he’d eat whatever I ordered him. So I made the call, ordered Chicken Pad Thai and another peanut sauce dish with shrimp, and hung up. As soon as my phone had ended the call, Benjamin started an argument. “Why would you order food without asking me what I wanted?” he asked me walking out of the bedroom and I replied “I ordered food for us both. No need to say thank you”. He walked towards the window to look out but really it was all dramatics because our window looks directly at the alley behind our building that holds nothing but two dumpsters and a few forgotten cats. “Why would I say thank you to you for doing something I never asked you to do?” he said with his back turned to me “Sometimes” he scoffed, almost laughing, as he looked at the rain collect in the window sill. “Sometimes I don’t get you. Like after all this time you still do shit that irritates me and I wonder why the fuck I still want to lay next to you at night or wake up with you in the morning.” I was sitting on the sofa, absentmindedly playing with the tag on this pillow I bought two years before when he & I had just started dating. He told me the pattern on it reminded him of us; that the lines never intersected. They just changed direction. “Nobody is holding you here Ben. You can leave anytime you’d like.” I said as I picked up the remote & turned on the television.

Thirty-five minutes later I was annoyed that the food hadn’t arrived but also because Ben never left the window. He just stayed there staring at the rain while it sheeted down the window screen and when thunder roared he’d just sigh. “What could be taking this food so long? The place isn’t even that far.” I complained. “It’s the rain Jenine. Everything slows when it rains. People, cars, buses, trains, bikes, they all slow.” He paused “You also might want to factor in the idea that a bunch of people order take out on a night like this.” I answered back “I knew that!……why are you always telling me things as if I don’t know them? As if I’m not aware? It’s just annoying. You’re annoying.” Ben walked away from the window & towards the kitchen counter. He planted his two hands palm down on the counter, hoisted himself up to sit on it, looked at me & said “Maybe it’s not me that annoys you Jenine. Maybe you can’t admit that I’m ever fucking right! I can’t ever make a point without you saying “I knew that!”. If you knew it Jenine…..then why would you say half the shit you say or do half the shit you do.“ I paused the lifetime movie I had been somehow become invested in and pressed a metaphorical "play” on the scene that was unfolding in our living room. “I don’t know Ben. Maybe you’re right” I replied as I sat up, crossed my legs and interlaced my fingers over my knee. “Maybe I can’t handle the fact that you make valid points. Or perhaps it’s the fact that you can’t ever let me be wrong without making me look like a complete ass. You’re always so philosophical. "Oh thee "all knowing Ben!” Ohh he who knows more than anyone!“ I mocked. "It’s insulting. For someone who is just so wise you damn sure don’t know how to do your own fucking laundry, or wash a dish, or aim your penis directly into the bowl when you pee. Stop with the bullshit. We both have our faults.” My phone rang. The food was downstairs.

I threw on my worn out flip flops and shuffled down the 3 flights of stairs. Walking back into the apartment with food in hand, I saw that Ben had returned to the window. He walked over to the kitchen counter where I was standing, taking the food out of the brown paper bag & said “You said your ordered me food.” “I just ordered two things off the menu. I figured we’d just share.” I reasoned. “Right I get that but I don’t like peanuts. You know that. Don’t you? I’ve told you this. I’m sure I have as we’ve been together give or take I don’t know 2 & half years!” “Dammit! I whispered to myself. "I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking & I was hungry & I’m…..sorry. I’m just sorry.” “It’s fine” he said. “I should’ve just picked something up on the way home. It isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this. You’re like your mother in that way.” “Like my mother? All of this over some take out? Listen, good luck with dinner.” I said as I grabbed a plastic fork at the bottom of the bag & headed back to the sofa. “Yeah, like your mother.” he continued, following me. “You’re always complaining that she never listens to you; that you have to remind her of things you’ve already told her. Yet, here you are never listening to me. It’s not even about the apology. It’s that I just don’t think you’re really sorry at all.” he retorted. “Fair enough.” I said, putting my food down on the coffee table. “You wanna know what I’m really sorry about Ben? Huh? Fine. I’m sorry I moved in with you. I’m sorry I’ve been in this relationship for this long because we’ll never be good enough for one another. You know that right? We’re always going to be like this Ben.” I said, pointing at the pace between with both hands. “It’s never going to be enough that we love each other. There’s gotta be more to love than whatever the fuck we’re doing. I just don’t think this is healthy. I don’t think we’re growing here. Do you?”. “Now that J…that’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me. You’re always saying what you think I want to hear and that’s my problem with you. You never say what the hell you want because you think too much about it. We are growing, it’s just apart from one another.” He sighed, finally saying “Look, I’m tired.” as he walked exhaustedly back towards the bedroom, on an empty stomach & closed the door behind him. I couldn’t figure out if he meant he was tired of us, of the arguing, of never really getting back to how we were or if he was honestly tired.

I slept on the sofa & I use the term “slept” very lightly. What I really did was stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out if this was really it for Ben & I. If that was our last real conversation; if that even counted as a conversation. I planned out what I’d say in the morning after we’d both had time to think & reflect. I’d tell him I was sorry about going off & that it’s not that I don’t want to try to make it work but that I don’t even think trying is worth an actual try. I thought about it & felt like the whole relationship was a perpetual “try”. We’d just kept getting up, dusting each other off, & holding hands until we’d fall again thinking it didn’t matter because we’d fallen together. How many times do you have to fall before you realize that perhaps it isn’t the ground that’s tripping you up? That it might just be you. Do you have to scrape your knees a few times or fall flat on your face? How do you know when you’ve had enough?

I laid there falling in & out of sleep. I had this weird dream that I was baking a cake. I kept checking on it. Ben was there but he didn’t really say much. Finally I took it out of the oven & it was burnt around the edges. He shuffled over to the stovetop & looked at the cake with a somber face. “I told you it was done 10 minutes ago. You should’ve taken it out.” he said & I just stared at him blankly because he was right. I turned the pan over and the cake popped out. I let it cool, frosted it and cut a piece. Jeremy hunched over the counter top and watched me put the cake on a plate with confusion. “You’re just going to eat a burnt cake?” he questioned me. I had just taken my first bite and was going in for a second when I looked up at him and said “It still tastes good so what’s the difference?”. “The difference, Jenine, is that you know the whole cake doesn’t taste good. Only certain parts do. Why don’t you just throw it out and make another one?” he said walking over to the cake, lifting the plate up at different points and angles to get a good look at it. It was as though he was wondering how the frosting did anything but make the cake look even sadder. I licked the last bit of frosting off my fork and said “Because, burnt or not burnt, I still love cake.”

I woke up to a sliver of sunlight shining through the living room across the floor & stopping right at the front door. I sat up & checked the time. It was 7:06. I decided I’d go to the bedroom and get some real rest. I stood up & stumbled towards the bedroom. As soon as I reached the door, Ben was coming out of the room. He was dressed & had 2 bags with him not including the backpack he’d never leave the house without. All of the things I had planned on saying were forgotten. I could barely see straight, let alone gather the words I wanted to say. He looked at me then said “Sorry. Can I just get by?”. “Sure!” I blurted out as I moved to the left, almost jumping. He walked towards the front door & I asked “Umm can at least ask where you’re going?”. He stopped moving and turned, telling me “I thought about what you said J. About us not being enough for one another. I guess I just always thought it would work itself out. But I see what you mean. I don’t know the exact moment when you came to that conclusion, or maybe you decided it, but you should’ve ended us then instead of now. So I’m leaving. I guess I’ll pick up the rest of my stuff over the next couple of weeks.”. That’s it. He was gone. Whatever he had left, the “stuff” he mentioned, was never picked up. They were minuscule items really; a toothbrush, some body wash, a value pack of razors. Things that made you think of him, even though they were all replaceable. It didn’t take long for me to realize that much like the burnt cake, I still loved Ben.

To be continued or whatever…….

Lance is a Boy #4

Lance wasn’t asleep. He didn’t fall asleep in the hallway while being soothed by Hunk. He closed his eyes and sat there silently. Hunk was a source of comfort. He had always been. He remembers the day he came out to Hunk. It was unintentional and Lance wished it never happened but in this second he was so glad it did. He was forever grateful to the gods that Hunk knew.

Hunk and Lance had been paired up by fate, they were on the same crew AND had managed to somehow be room mates. Lance liked Hunk right from the get go, their first greeting and Hunk and Lance both shared an instant connection. They figured they’d be friends but never anticipated their bond to be near-blood. Lance remembered Hunk being sheepish at first, a little shy, nothing Lance couldn’t use his charisma to work past. It had been 2 days they were roommates, they were settled down after a long day, still getting introduced to teachers and classes, they had decided to watch a movie. Hunk chose the Princess Bride and Lance scoffed but didn’t refuse, it was a guilty pleasure. They started talking and the movie turned more into a source of background noise than a source of entertainment, but every single time Inigo Montoya came in screen the conversation dropped and they both recited his lines almost in sync with the actor, giggling like school girls when they finished and returning to their conversation. A silence fell upon them as if they were out of topics and Lance glanced up, Hunk looked uneasy and Lance suddenly turned into the protective uncle he grew to be as his older siblings had kids. A gentle hand was placed on Hunks arm and Hunk looked up, eyes uncertain and shoulders hunched.

“Buddy? You ok?” Lances voice cooed and Hunk decided that moment that he was going to say what he needed to say. “Hunk?”

“Lance I need to tell you something.” Lances face flashed fearful curiosity. “I… I’m.” His voice faded and his eyes dropped.

“Hunk you can tell me anything it won’t change how I look at you or make me like hanging out with you any less.” Lance gave a reassuring squeeze on Hunks bicep and Hunk smiled.

“Lance, I’m Not straight.” There was a silence, but Lances hand didn’t move and it wasn’t uncomfortable. “I don’t know what label I fall under but…. I just” he pulled away from Lance slightly, as if to tell the smaller man it was ok if he didn’t want to be there anymore. “I figured I should tell you so that you know… I know a lot of people are uncomfortable with having a roommate who’s…” for once in his life Hunk couldn’t find words, but a faint voice brought him out of his anxious thoughts.

“…awesome?” Lance had a gentle, supportive smile on his face and hunk felt his chest grow and fill with a sense of worth and love. A brotherly love, a love that he would easily let go of. “Just try and resist me, I know it’s hard but I’d hate to ruin our friendship by sleeping with you.” Lances gentle face melted away to a shit eating grin as he teased at Hunk who laughed and pulled Lance in for a hug. Hunk could feel him tense slightly but soon accepted it and hugged back.

The next couple of weeks made Hunk realize a couple of things

1) Lance was a liar.

2)Lance felt uncomfortable.

3)Lance didn’t like sharing a room with a not-straight roommate.

Lance would always change in the bathroom or his bedroom behind closed doors. Hunk shrugged it off as him being slightly self conscious or because he grew up in a big family where if you wanted privacy you needed to have your doors closed.

It turned into more than that, Lance was never shirtless, even when he went to shower he brought clothes with him so he didn’t have to traverse back to his room in a towel.

Lance would shy away whenever hunk appeared shirtless, Hunk would come out of the shower with a towel around his waist and walk to his room and Lance always avidly avoided eye contact.

Lance would compliment Hunk, then back-peddle, there was a night Hunk made supper and Lance joked “y'know if we were a married couple I would still feel the need to pay you for this cooking. It is Five star.” Hunk had liked that compliment, but only for the praise of his cooking, of course Lance had to backpeddle. “I-I mean not that we would ever be married” then there was silence and the warm feeling seeped into cold. Hunk had had enough.

“Lance I’m getting a new roommate.” There was a heavy sigh after he muttered those words and he realized it came from himself. He had decided this in the past two days, he enjoyed having Lance as a roommate but if it made him uncomfortable… Hunk was willing to let go.He was looking at the counter, not daring to look at his friend, bracing himself for any kind of anger or question that the small pilot had for him. He heard a fork clang on the counter and glanced up.

Lance was sitting upright as if he had been struck in the back. His hand was frozen in the position where he once held said dropped fork. His eyes followed Hunk and watched every action he made, every slight movement in his face and Lances eyes would dart in panic to study what Hunk was thinking. His face was a form of sad that Hunk had never seen before, his eyes were wide and desperate, his mouth fell open, just slightly, like he wanted to ask why but couldn’t remember the word. He sat there for a few seconds before standing up and pushing the stool away from the island he was seated at. He stiffened his face and purses his lips. Holding back tears. Hunk thought he was going to scream and cry and ask why in that wet anger sort of way. When you want answers but your voice keeps cracking and your throat can’t cooperate and your eyes for fucks sake why won’t they stop crying. But no. Lance just inhaled like he was going to say something, but his lip, then turned and headed for his bedroom as fast as he could without running.

The next couple of seconds made Hunk realize a couple of things

1) Lance wasn’t a liar, he did accept Hunk and loved him dearly as a friend

2)Hunk made Lance cry and he needed to fix it as soon as possible

3)Hunk loved Lance in a way he couldn’t explain.

He didn’t want to be Lances boyfriend, he didn’t want to sleep with Lance, he just wanted to experience life with Lance. He wanted to be his roommate and his engineer. He wanted to rely on Lance and have Lance rely on him. He wanted to be brothers with Lance. He loved Lance more than anything in this life in the most platonic way possible. And he had just somehow managed to break him. Lance was in his bedroom crying and it was Hunks fault and he needed to fix it as soon as possible.

Hunk walked over to the bedroom hesitantly, his hand shaking, ready to knock. He pulled it down to the doorknob, he couldn’t give Lance an option to say no to him coming in, if he did then Lance would take it and it would all be over. He opened it and right as he was about to say Lances name, Lance screamed.

It wasn’t a scared scream. It wasn’t an ‘I’ve just been caught doing something I shouldn’t have’ scream.

It was wet anger.

It wasn’t wet anger. It was wet despair. It was Lance crying and someone finding him and him getting defensive and putting up walls as quickly as possible. It was the kind of scream that sounded like a wail and made his voice crack and Hunks heart clench. Who had made him like this. Nothing Hunk could have done would have made him this broken, not in just a week of knowing each other. This is built up. This was years of terrible nightmares and Hunk blowing over the house of cards, making it all crash down. There was one thing that caught Hunks eye. Hunk saw scars.

Lance was shirtless.

…to be continued…
Sick and Sleepless

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night feeling sick. Luckily Steve is there to help you.

Words: 1160

Paring: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Just fluffy 

Thank you @amrita31199 for beat this;

credits to the gif owners

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? You are a workaholic, Steve.” You woke up half hour ago feeling awful, you felt dehydrated and your throat hurts. You hate being sick, all you want is to sleep and get better.

You didn’t expect to find your best friend on the couch, working on some reports looking tired and angry at the same time.

“I should say the same to you, what are you doing up? It’s almost four in the morning.” You sit by his side on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder “I was going to make some tea… I feel sick. I wasn’t expecting to find you here. What is happening in this pretty little head of yours?”

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Never Mess with the Cul-De-Sac Kids (Dream Daddy One-Shot)

               AN: I made a post about this idea and decided to write it. Also I just used my Dadsona’s name.

Pairing: None except a little DamienXDadsona
Words: 2705

               It was a normal, boring day in Trig for Lucien. He was staring out the window at the trees while his teacher droned on about cosines. Riveting. When suddenly a conversation behind him caught his attention.
               “Did you hear what Emma R. did to Amanda Ross?” Someone asked another person, Lucien shifted to listen, hearing all about how Amanda’s friend group completely betrayed her.

               “So that’s why she’s been hanging around…” Nothing was said but he knew they pointed to him. Ever since his dad started seeing Michael, Amanda’s dad, she had been trying to spend more time with him. He assumed it was because of the possibility of them becoming step siblings but know it made a lot more sense. She had been spending more time with all of the kids in the cul-de-sac, actually. He didn’t really see her with anyone that didn’t live there. Lucien felt the blood in his veins boiling. Amanda had become like an older sister to everyone but especially him. His dad loved her, in part due to her helping him channel his teen angst into better things than Cask of Amontillado-ing his classmates. The bell rang and Lucien headed straight for Ernest’s locker.

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There are kids who really suffer mentally and feel under such intense pressure because of the bottleneck of a points system we’ve developed.
I’m lucky in that I was never prone to depression or panic attacks, but that year was a dark year. I still have nightmares about it, even more so than walking on stage. I just felt as if it was going to be the defining moment in my life and if I didn’t succeed in my exams, I would never succeed at anything.
It [the Leaving Cert] was of no use to me, other than putting me in a spin…it works for some kids really, really well: those who can absorb facts, regurgitate them and are hugely academic. I don’t want to be a preachy actor on this, but I just know that my experience was one thing; others may have experienced other things.

Dating Cassian Andor Would Include
  • Cassian not directly confessing to you
  • In fact, for a good while you didn’t have any inkling of an idea that he even liked you in the first place
    • He chided at you for not shooting straight enough at practice targets and scolded you about being safe whenever you did anything even remotely reckless during a training exercise
    • Wasn’t he like this with everyone else?
      • Actually, apparently not: according to K2, there was just enough recognition of difference in his actions for him to be confident that Cassian did, indeed, have feelings for you
      • This was only furthered by the fact that K2 would catch Cassian glancing at you “57% more than he did with any other person on base.“

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famous falsettos au

prepare yourself for farfetched concepts and my lack of showbiz knowledge

  • whizzer and cordelia are famous broadway/stage actors
  • everyone thinks they’re dating and they go along with it while never explicitly saying it
  • they are the two gayest people alive literally how

  • marvin is a “proper actor” as he calls it, meaning he does tv and film acting
  • marvin is, of course, an acting elitist. “ugh… broadway?”
  • can’t believe that his son loves musicals but “hey, that whizzer brown guy is pretty cute?”

  • charlotte is a director
  • she’s only done tv and film but is making the move towards stage things
  • it’s hard but she’s brilliant and i trust her
  • she meets cordelia on a set as cordelia was making a short tv appearance

  • trina is marvin’s ex and also an actress
  • she’s currently more into making a home now with her new husband, mendel
  • she’s taken up writing again during her slight acting hiatus
  • she wanted to be a writer long before she got into acting but she got her first role and got bit by the showbiz bug tbh
  • she has co-written things before but wants her own creation
  • she’s done both tv/film roles and broadway roles – truly a multi-talented machine

  • mendel is still a psychiatrist (and he was marvin’s prior to mendel & trina’s engagement)
  • he’s so loved on social media because of trina
  • imagine shitty buzzfeed articles about how trina and mendel are Relationship Goals
  • mendel was plastered all over trina’s instagram, photobombing and taking cute selfies
  • trina’s fans insisted he got his own instagram
  • he even got snapchat and honestly if you’re not following it, are you really a True Fan?

  • jason is keeping with his school studies but he’s an aspiring kid actor
  • jason is often between parents with added stress since they’re both famous

  • rumours fly when whizzer and marvin both publicly come out on the same day
  • PR had a field day and the media was going nuts
  • whizzer didn’t really care but marvin was Outraged for no goddamn reason
  • that didn’t stop whizzer from being petty in interviews
    (”i heard that marvin is a nightmare on set, god forbid I ever work with him”)
  • marvin: he did it on purpOSE
    charlotte, exasperated: why the hell would he do that, marvin
  • marvin literally throws the best fit of the year (haha, nice in trousers reference)
  • whizzer is happy to have finally dispelled the rumours that he and cordelia were a thing

  • cordelia has an interview shortly after
    interviewer: so how is your relationship with whizzer faring after the big reveal? how is whizzer?
    cordelia: gayest man i know
  • cordelia is spotted kissing a girl (it’s charlotte but it was a shitty picture)
  • cordelia’s agent is flying off the handle and cordelia just tweets like “i never said i was straight [insert 20 emojis of hearts, rainbows & girls]”

  • whizzer and cordelia are each given a new script to read through for a new musical – both of them love it
  • trina wrote it!! she’s so ecstatic that they like it
  • she wrote a role with marvin in mind and is desperate for him to accept despite his apparent hate for musicals
  • trina went to school with him and knows that he performed in the school musicals, the fucking hypocrite

  • marvin: this is the worst possible thing you could make me do
    trina: i walked in on you having sex with a guy in our home, you insensitive bastard. now read it, asshole
  • guess who loves it?? that’s right, it’s marvin… then he finds out that so does whizzer brown.
  • marvin: i’ll do it-
    trina: yay, thank you thank yo-
    marvin: on one condition: whizzer brown does not
    trina: marvin!!

  • through trina’s flawless persuasion, he finally agrees but he’s not happy about it
  • on their first meetup, marvin is nervous as hell. i mean he hasn’t performed in… years? he’s praying those high school singing lessons do him well.
  • charlotte is pulled in as director because of cordelia’s high recommendation
  • she walks in and cordelia stands up to hug her
  • cordelia: look, look, look, it’s my girlfriend!!
    whizzer: *gasps* nepotism
    cordelia: is it nepotism if she’s not technically my family?

  • cordelia is the lead and performs her Big Emotional Number. the whole room is silent, basically everyone is crying.
  • marvin starts a slow clap that erupts into applause
  • cordelia rushes over to kiss her girlfriend.
  • whizzer, nudging marvin: still hate musical theatre?
    marvin: how di-
    whizzer, turning away: i did my reading
    marvin: hmph
  • he’s a stubborn fuck

  • marvin and whizzer have a duet and the whole room can practically feel the sparks and “god, is it hot in here?” or is marvin just blushing up a storm
  • whizzer is also in disbelief. this arrogant prick gets talent as well?? sure, marvin’s voice is sort of wobbly but there’s heaps of promise.

  • whizzer: wow… didn’t know you could sing. i thought you were the result of further nepotism *eyes trina*
    marvin, smirking smugly: i didn’t know you could sing either and she literally divorced me, whizzer brown
    whizzer, deadpan: ha ha
    marvin: well then, how do i compare to caroline? [co-worker that whizzer once praised]
    whizzer: how did y-
    marvin, grinning: i did my reading

  • marvin & whizzer both had their “oh god, i kind of like this guy” moments

  • they have their first group run through to see if the cast actually has any chemistry and of course they do
  • it’s a huge cast and they do a big upbeat number and everyone is beaming, practically glowing.
  • this is the moment everyone realises this show is going to be a hit

i’m gonna stop here but i have lots of ideas. feel free to send me asks about certain aspects or any ideas you may have!! i’m happy to share more if there’s any actual interest in this. this is super self-indulgent.

“Write novels.”

I have a friend who’s a journalist. She’s ridiculously awesome and I really want to name her because everyone should know just how awesome she is, but this isn’t a time where it feels wise to reveal the political thoughts expressed by a journalist in private, at least not without her permission.

The day before I saw her last week, I’d locked myself out of Facebook and Twitter. I’d been forced to realise the psychological harm they were doing me outweighed any political good my frantic clicktivism could possibly be accomplishing. My brother had called, on my sister-in-law’s instructions. “R. says you’re tweeting and facebooking constantly about politics,” he said. “She said ‘call your sister, I don’t think she’s doing well.’”  

“I’m okay, probably,” I’d told him.

“I don’t think you are,” he said. 

I felt a little better, though not by much, by the time I met my friend for lunch. She was shaken, she said. Democracy was falling apart. I muttered weakly that perhaps it wasn’t quite that bad. She said she’d rather act now than hope for the best.

I agreed. But act how?

She said she was getting onto the board of various charities. She was writing about the best way to report on extremism, avoiding the terrible false equivalencies of the “he said/she said” approach which has blighted our discourse with such ghastly effect.

I said I was supporting the Stop Funding Hate campaign. Giving to Planned Parenthood and ACLU over there, refugee charities over here. Writing letters. Trying to think of useful ways to get involved in local politics.

“You know what you should do,” she said.

No, I really didn’t.

“Write novels,” she said.

I told her that in the days after the election I felt as if art had been revealed as an empty joke. An indulgence we could no longer afford. As if I would never be able to justify doing it again. What we were even going to write now? Flimsy, tinselly distractions from ghastly reality? Or sharp-eyed, unflinching commentary that no one except the already-convinced would ever read? What was the point of art?

No, no!” she said. “Art is what will save us.”

“But it hasn’t,” I wanted to scream. We tried and tried. We’ve filled the world with our stories, our songs – we’ve tried so hard to make our stories better - with diverse casts and empathy and hope – and it’s not enough; no one’s saying it was perfect, or that the attempt was anywhere close to  finished. But we were trying. And now look. 

It is so important, she told me, that there is art already made and due to come out in the coming year that embodies the opposite of this. Diverse, progressive stories, that are not going to go untold whatever happens.

I’d had in my mind two quotes. Peter Cook, on Germany’s satirical clubs of the thirties “that did so much to prevent the rise of Hitler.” 

And Kurt Vonnegut:

During the Vietnam War, which lasted longer than any war we’ve ever been in - and which we lost - every respectable artist in this country was against the war. It was like a laser beam. We were all aimed in the same direction. The power of this weapon turns out to be that of a custard pie dropped from a stepladder six feet high.“

But if they hadn’t been there? I thought, looking at my friend. Who was fierce and bright-eyed and smiling. Those useless satirists and artists and musicians pouring their spirits into their art and watching it land on the floor of history like that dropped custard pie?  What if there was nothing to look back on in those times but a culture in militaristic  lockstep, or perhaps worse, slumped in dead-eyed indifference?  After those years-long nightmares, what would there have been to wake up to? Maybe it was absurd to find the thought more chilling than the reality of what had happened, to feel that it would have been an international death of the soul,  but .. still …

If artists couldn’t prevent disaster, could they at least preserve something precious from being lost while it endured? If they hadn’t stopped a single war, had they at least kept the rot from penetrating the human culture unchallenged? 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

“Write novels,” said my friend stubbornly. “Write novels.”

Ideas for NCT units

Notes: NCT is a group with infinite possibilities and whilst not everything is going to happen, I’m still going to list my unit ideas and hope you reblog your own. Units can include debuted members, smrookies or made up unrevealed trainees.

•Band Unit: NCT members that play instruments such as keyboard, drums, bass and electric guitar etc become a band unit and release alternative/rock music because I would love that so much

•Classical Unit: Many members play piano and I’m not talking about a full orchestra but maybe a small group of classical musicians from the group such as violinists will create a unit and give us some classical gone modern or something unique with their instruments. Idk, I haven’t really thought this one through but I love it.

•SEA Unit: This is a very likely unit considering Lee Sooman has spoken about it before and held auditions in Indonesia stating he wants to find an Indonesian member for NCT. Which means we may see members from Vietnam, Singapore, Philippines etc under NCT in the future as well as as some more Thai members like Ten. I love this idea as it’s very rare we see idols from these countries.

•Chinese Unit: This is another expected unit to debut soon (should have been done earlier but political issues). This means Kun, Winwin, Chenle, Renjun may debut together under this unit as well as some other non-Chinese members but I also expect a few unrevealed trainees as they’ve apparently been caught speaking Chinese. Let’s wait and see.

•NCT B: This obvious stands for Bassbot which is a unit based on a predebut dance group. Hansol, Jaehyun, Taeyong, Ten, Johnny and Yuta would be in this unit and they would focus on intense choreo and hip hop

•NCT TDJ: Unit consisting of Doyoung, Taeil and Jaehyun who are the vocal trio of NCT so far. But more letter could be added for other vocalists as the group expands.

•NCT Hip Hop: Taeyong, Mark, Johnny and Yuta end us with an all rap unit. That would be a dream come true. Johnny and Yuta would have a better chance to show off their rapping skills which we haven’t seen yet. This unit needs to happen.

•NCT CO-ED: Many fangirls hate this idea but I love it. The idea of one single unit being open for some female trainees to join and collaborate is something I love even if it was a one time unit or a rotational unit. I hope SM thinks of this because even if NCT is a boys only group, doesn’t mean they can’t have a unit based on collabs?

•Foreign Swaggers unit: Mark, Johnny, Jaehyun and Ten etc. One member from every country so not necessarily just english speaking foreigners. Idk how this unit would work but I really want to see it happen.

•NCT Latin America: Another unit SM has mentioned and shown evidence they have in the making. I remember a concert about a year ago where everyone went wild over some of the members decent Spanish.

•NCT Nightmare: People have been joking about this being where graduated dream members will graduate. But what if SM debuted this unit as a Halloween unit that came back every year. It can be a fixed or rotational unit. I just really like the idea of a Halloween unit that does a different scary concept every year.

•Japanese Unit: Yuta would obviously be there but I don’t doubt there’s at least another Japanese trainee hiding in SM’s basement. And some of the non-japanese members speak Japanese well so maybe we’ll get to see them in this unit also

Please add your ideas. They can be duos, trios, language based, music genre based but try and be as creative as possible 💕🌹

Traces of Viktor in Yuuri's Skating

Oh, my heart.

This was such a heart-warming insight! Thank you so much to the one who shared (and translated) this. I love it, too, especially because I think most of us missed this, as this is the first time I have heard of this idea. But it makes so much sense, doesn’t it? We imitate our idols, and with all those years spent watching and copying Viktor, of course Yuuri’s style would work off of Viktor Nikiforov’s. Viktor would have recognised it, too, as I think he would be sharp enough to recognise his own style, with the added bonus of being generous enough to accept that those things do happen, especially for one as high ranking in the sport as Viktor was.

Once again, too, we are made to realise that the GPF was a completely different experience for everyone else other than Yuuri.

Poor Yuuri had been looking at his first GPF experience as such a nightmare. Later though, we get insight that it probably was not as bad as he thought it was. Yuri Plisetsky was impressed by his step sequences, and even Viktor, during Yuuri’s debut of YOI, had mentioned that he was proud of Yuuri for proving him right about getting a solid PCS. Of course, he would have first had that assessment during the GPF, where he first would have seen Yuuri.

Can you imagine how it had been for Viktor? Here was a new skater, and oh, look at the way he skates. He skates beautifully. We have learnt in episode 12 that Viktor enjoys watching other skaters, so I can perfectly imagine him watching this new skater from Japan with that kind, probably even fond sort of smile (as I imagine he would be supportive of any fellow skater, especially promising newbies), critiquing here and there (those jumps could use some work), but mostly just enjoying the parts of the program that were enjoyable.

And then, oh, what’s this? Maybe it is in the way Yuuri spins, or maybe the way he moves his arms and relaxes his fingers, the way he even enters his jumps - there were recognisable hints here and there. Those were Viktor’s moves. Did he learn to do them watching Viktor? How… flattering. And how endearing. Viktor’s smile would have widened - or, if he had not been already smiling, he would have smiled then. He would have wished Yuuri well.

It must have been a shock, therefore, when Yuuri turned his back to Viktor after the GPF. Viktor was coming from a good place, having done well in his own routine, while also still at the headspace of Yuuri also having done well enough, especially in his first GPF. It would be nice to get a picture with a fellow competitor, especially one who obviously thought well of Viktor.

But Yuuri turned his back to him. Why? What happened? Viktor thought things were good. What was going through Yuuri Katsuki’s mind?