#Anyways yeah I’m hoping I’m coherent but this is just my thoughts

[cassandralexxx]

I remember in my high school World Religions class we learned about genocide. Of course we had all heard of genocide prior to this, but we learned of the stages of genocide and its impacts. We focused on the Rwandan genocide and read and learned all about it. Nearing the end of the unit my teacher began to emphasize just how important learning about genocide and it stages is. To understand genocide matters so that we can prevent future genocides he said. This is not a future we can let repeat itself.

and then… it happened again.

Since my class there have been multiple genocides, in our current times there’s genocide. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but it feels like in the end history truly does repeat itself. We stand against genocide and the world cares, but only for a moment. It’s monumental! until it’s not. With the next news cycle all that pain suffering and need of aid is passed by and forgotten. We say never again never forget but the collective often ceases to care. The world can forget but the people who suffered and lost never will, the survivors bear that forever.

[teecupangel]

Hi teecup, I hope ur having a great day/noon/night!

Forgive me if the things i'm about to say don't make much sense. It's been a vey, very, very, difficult time for me and my countrymen here, and my ability to make coherent sentences have declined drastically. So, yeah... BUT! That doesn't matter haha.

Anyways, I had a thought. And i'm not even sure how or why i got it but.... hear me out now...

Our boy, Desmond, gets thrown back in time as usual, same old same old, right? Exept, this time he doesn't end up in the Big Three™'s time-line. He ends up in Al-Mualim's time. *insert mind-blown emoji here cuz i can't find it rn*

And ik that i'm not a certified AC Expert like u and many others, and i haven't really finished any of the AC games yet (i've only seen bits of AC III and have only started AC 2, I also haven't finished AC 1)

But I do know that he wasn't really that creepy and evil in his youth/ b4 he became The Old Man of the Moutain, so i was thinking maybe Desmond ends up in that era of Al Mualim or is it Rashid al-Din Sinan? I know that he's based on a real historical figure but i'm not so sure if he's called that in-game?

And knowing Desmond, he'd probably get the urge to kill Rashid (i hope i'm using the name correctly) the time he figures shit out and connect that dots. But he would end up not doing that, cuz u know, it might fuck up the time-line and Altaïr might end up not being born, creating a domino-effect.

I want Desmond to meet Rashid before he starts to becom the Al Mualim we know today, so that Desmond can see how he was b4 the evants of AC 1.

Maybe Rashid's an arrogant ass, or a nerdy loser, or a popular assassin- who knows! The possibilites are endless!! (or maybe he's an obsessive bastard who gets obsessed with Desmond cuz he's just full of mysteries and wonders :Dc )

And blah blah blah, plot here, plot there, Isu-bullshit this, time shenanigans that, and BOOM they meet.

And romance ensues? :3 (romace wil absolutely ensue :}}} )

NOW, BEFORE- BEFORE YOU TIE ME TO A STAKE AND BURN ME ALIVE FOR THIS- i think it'd be a cute idea, and who knows? maybe Rashid was hot in his prime *insert lenny face cuz even after all these years i still don't know how to type it and is too lazy to cop paste it* and maybe he liked to solve mysteries and had a thing for the unexplainable. And Desmond is the most unexplainable, most bizarre thing to have graced the earth :33333.

Now that i've got this idea out of my system i'm gonna go pray for the down fall of my coutry's shit for brain, good for nothing military government/hj.

bye! *evaporates*

I hope you’re doing alright and I’m sorry that it took two months before I could answer your ask TTATT

As far as I know, he was only called Al Mualim because of legal reasons but Rashid ad-Din Sinan was the leader of the Assassins in Masyaf during 1191 so it’s safe to assume Al Mualim is AC’s version of Rashid (historically he died in 1193, not 1191.

.

Okay. We can make this work.

We put Desmond at around the same time he’s the recruit and we make it hard for him to realize he’s Al Mualim until it’s too late by doing one simple thing:

Desmond doesn’t know Al Mualim’s real name.

He always knew it as Al Mualim. As far as he knew, Al Mualim was his actual name.

Then he remembered that Al Mualim can mean mentor and bangs his head on the nearest flat surface.

His mission has been clear from the start.

Become an Assassin, take out Al Mualim before he does shit, find Umar and adopt him then play matchmaker so Altaïr would be born.

And no.

Desmond wasn’t going to think about the whole “can you truly be sure that the person who will be born will be Altaïr if you change the circumstances of his conception?”

Yeah.

His head hurts just thinking about it so he won’t.

For now, he’ll focus on his training while keeping a look out for anyone who gives of Al Mualim vibes.

What’s the Al Mualim vibes?

Manipulative old man vibes.

The problem is…

Rashid is one of the recruits in the same batch as Desmond and he becomes Desmond’s closest friend.

And there was no way Desmond would ever be friends with a future power hungry asshole like Al Mualim.

No way.

.

The way their relationship becomes romantic really depends on the kind of personality young Rashid would have.

A nerdy loser who starts making a name for himself because of his intelligence and tactical mind would start off as the kid Desmond sorta looks after. When he starts to show that his strength lies in making plans and quick judgments, he becomes the man whispering on Desmond’s ear. Providing plans and suggestions while giving Desmond a heads up on the less savory words people say about him. Desmond would never think this Rashid is Al Mualim because he’s nice and truly do want to help Desmond. This is also how Rashid would show his love for Desmond and, really, Desmond would think they’re bros and when he realizes that Rashid actually loves him, he’d think “oh, I am Ezio’s descendant”

An arrogant ass Rashid would butt heads with Desmond but Desmond would find himself fond of the man because he reminds him of AC1 Altaïr. This is the Rashid who would definitely be counted as a tsundere and their relationship would start when Rashid just flatout tells Desmond that he wants to do unspeakable things to him while they’re arguing. Desmond is offended because “tugging on my pigtails doesn’t work in real life, dumbass!” and Rashid is just “???” because what the fuck are pigtails??? Lots of awkwardness until Desmond realize that butting heads with Rashid is really how they flirt.

Now. Popular Assassin Rashid is more on the side of polite but is absolutely Desmond’s rival. Whatever it is, the two of them are always competing. Unlike the arrogant ass version, this Rashid is always nice to Desmond. The whole “no hard feelings” and pure competitiveness are what drives their relationship. This is the one where the two of them spar privately one time and things happen. They would try to distant themselves from one another for a bit until they finally talk it out. Rashid honestly didn’t think he loved Desmond until the whole ‘after-sparring’ thing.

Whichever you pick as Rashid’s background, he will become obsessed with Desmond but it’s more on the side of “I will do everything to make Desmond happy” which is good for Desmond but not really good for anyone against him.

.

Desmond is the one who adopts Umar in this one and Umar imprints on him like a baby duckling to a mama duckling. Everyone actually assumed Umar is his bastard son. Desmond ignores it even though he’s only like… a decade and a half older than Umar.

Rashid definitely treats him like Desmond’s son. He’s Umar’s favorite of all of Desmond’s friends.

And really, Desmond should have seen that as a hint of Rashid’s ‘future’.

Speaking of the future.

He’s been looking for Al Mualim this entire time and he has his suspects (Rashid, however, is not on the list) but honestly?

He’s just waiting for the person who would be picked as the one to lead the expansion to Masyaf since that would be Al Mualim.

Desmond has, unfortunately, fucked up the timeline so badly that the person chosen to lead the expansion?

It was Desmond.

.

Sidebar: Faheem would be that cute younger brother who turns grumpy when he grows up. Desmond will forever grieve the lost of little cute Faheem. Faheem is always embarrassed when Desmond talked about his ‘past’.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

I need more Ville Valo fics 😩 no one seems to do them anymore! I need another part to Love You To Death! 😍

Love You To Death (Pt. 2)

Y/N makes the painful decision to leave the romance she found in Finland behind, but fate has different plans in mind. By fate, I mean Bam and Ville.

Ville Valo X Fem!Reader, (slight Bam Margera X Ville Valo if you squint?)

(Fluff, angst)

2.5k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, alcohol, manipulation, power imbalance, toxic relationships, unwelcome flirting, creepy guys,

An: Thank you so much for the request!! I had a ball writing this and I’m sure you’ll enjoy t as well :) This was the first fic I wrote after finishing finals, so I hope this is up to par with my usual work! I really wanted to explore how Bam was affected by what was going on with Ville and how Ville feels almost protective of Y/N. As a note, there’s a painting referenced in this fic that was based off of a real piece in the Philadelphia Museaum of art! Anyways, thank you so much for the request and please keep sending them in!

“You’re not actually gonna stay with him, are you?” Bam raised an eyebrow at you from where he was laying against the hotel room mattress. Continuing to fill him in on what happened that night, you cracked open your own tiny mini bar liquor with a sigh, “No, I mean- I can’t.” Bending down to pick up the steadily growing pile of bottles at his bedside, you rolled your eyes, “I mean- it’s not like I could just pack up all my shit and move to Finland!” Trying to ignore your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, you went over the same thing you had been rolling around in your mind since you left Ville’s flat no more than an hour ago.

Tomorrow, you would be flying back home to Philly, away from Finland and away from him, and as well as you knew you couldn’t stay, you didn’t want to go. But as unobservant as he usually was, Bam’s liquor-addled mind made a connection there. He respected Ville. Ville was in love with you. You were friends with Bam. It would be so easy to earn himself a little easy cred with him if he set the two of you up- you know, play Cupid. “So, you got his number?”

Too distracted with stress packing, you didn’t give Bam’s question a second thought, “Of course I did. Why do you care?” Good. He gave you some BS about how Ville is his friend, and if you hadn't gotten his number, he would say you’re stupid, “I know he’s really hot, but I get it- he’s moving a little fast. I mean, you guys just met!” The lip service continued and you were lucky you couldn’t see that smirk of his he was so not hiding. But Bam’s words hit a little closer to home than you expected and made you pause a bit. “Yeah, yeah- I hear ya…”

Bam was getting a thrill out of playing double agent- maybe more than he should. That night, far after he was sure you were out cold, guess who he was calling up? “Ville, man- I got just the idea for you to win over Y/N!” His giddiness was a contrast to Ville’s half-drunk stupor he dove into after you left, still somehow as smooth as ever, “Hmm?” Cupping his hand around the receiver in the dark, Bam went on a rambling, half coherent rant about this master plan of his, which Ville periodically hummed in agreement to. In both of their minds, it sounded pretty foolproof. And there you were, fast asleep about five feet away from where this whole trap intended for you was unfolding.

☆彡

Months later, once the initial flames of desire died down, you kept in touch with Ville in the form of constant phone calls that seemed to stretch on for eternities. Even if he didnt go on and on about this romanticized, poetic vision he had of the two of you together in the future, you couldn’t help but find his voice so pleasant to listen to. It was hypnotic, the way he detailed something as mundane as how stunning the countryside in Finland was in the springtime, how plentiful and beautiful the wildflowers are there. “Of course, they couldn’t compare to your beauty, my dear.” Ville purred his words in a way that almost made you blush and giggle.

Based on the low chuckle he let out at your reaction, you were sure he picked up on it. “There is, however, something I’d like to discuss with you, Y/N.” His voice took on a conspiratorial tone that made you listen a bit closer. “I’ll be going on tour in a few weeks- and seeing as I’ll have a day off in Philadelphia, I was wondering if you would be interested in going out together?” Holy shit. You would be seeing him face to face- like, actually in person. “Oh- of course I’d be interested! That would be amazing!” A disbelieving grin spread across your face, your heart fluttering a little at the prospect, “I can’t wait.” Ville seemed content with your enthusiasm and the way this was trending, letting out a hum of satisfaction, “Neither can I, darling.”

★彡

Bam seemed pretty eager to get your ass out of the house the night before Ville was set to arrive in town. While you were perfectly content with spending the evening fucking around with him and the rest of the guys (because that’s you usually did on a Friday night), for some reason he couldn’t let that happen. “Y’know what? I’m really not feelin’ like going out tonight.” Excuses like this were uncharacteristic of Bam, but you suspended your dislebeleif as he got up from where the two of you were watching tv on the couch, grabbing something off the kitchen table, “It’s lady’s night at 15 North! I think you should go hang out with your girlfriends, have a few drinks, here-”

Turning around to where you had been following behind him, Bam shoved a handful of twenties into your hand and grinned, trying to sound nonchalant, “It's on me!” Part of you wanted to question why the hell he did this big three sixty from how cold he was acting towards you in Finland. But another part of you, a part with a little less shame, knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when said horse was buying you and your friends drinks. Considering your options for a moment, you nodded, “You know what? I will go out!”

☆彡

That whole thing with Ville just happening to have that time off in Philly wasn't nearly as coincidental as he made it out to be, but that wasn’t the only dishonesty here. Even though they were more than capable of discussing it over the phone, Bam urged him to stop by the castle so they would have the opportunity to ‘talk about it more’. Really, the whole thing was a ploy to keep Ville in one place with him and to show off the castle in one big effort to impress him. Though he was unaffected by his childish attempts to win his favor, Ville decided not to say anything on his thinly veiled intentions or tacky choices in interior design. Bam was giving him some pretty useful information, so it wouldn’t be wise to write him off just yet.

Bam had told Ryan and the other guys the same excuse he told you, which they questioned even less. Adding to this web of lies was the fact Ville got in town a day earlier than he told you he would. You decided to stop by Bam’s to pick something up that you left there the previous night before retiring to your place, so you would only discover this fact when you stumbled through the door around the early AM’s to a figure in the darkness of the living room, lounging on the couch with a glass of something dark that he sat down on a table as you walked in. It was silent as you peered around a corner, still pretty tipsy. The light from the entryway illuminated this person’s silhouette enough for you to see a sliver of a swirling tattoo peek out from under a sleeve- one you instantly recognized. “Ville…?”

☆彡

You should’ve known; who else would look that good in the dark? Of course, you had a lot of questions for Ville, but he gave you the rundown after you nearly pounced on him, “We arrived at a hotel around an hour ago, and while Midge and Linde- and the rest of the fellows were getting settled,” Ville ran his fingers through your hair idly while you pretty much sat on his lap, ”Bam rang me to ask if I would mind staying at his place for a night or two. Who am I to say no to that?” Gently taking your chin to tilt your head up, he pressed a kiss to your cheekbone, “All the more time I get to spend with you, my love.” A hummingbird couldn’t have caught Ville at work, the way he was playing you, and judging by the way you were blushing and melting onto his lap like warm butter, his charms were working their magic on you.

“Anyways,” Glancing down at you, he quickly brushed it off as if he wasn’t just thrilled by how flustered he could make you with such a simple gesture, “I was wondering if you’d care to go out for drinks sometime?” Well, Bam had asked him if he wanted to continue their conversation tomorrow night over a few beers at Rex’s, which gave him the idea to ask you. Close enough. “Oh, I’d love to!” You giggled, laying back against his chest.

★彡

There was pretty obvious confusion in Bam’s half awake gaze the next morning when he saw first you in the kitchen making yourself some toast, then Ville at the coffee maker. Why the hell were you here? Wait, did the two of you…? “Y/N?” He thought he was having some kind of weird dream- some nightmare, but nope, this was reality. “Oh, hey Bam!” Turning around, you took a bite from your toast, “What’s up?” If the smirk on your face wasn’t telling enough, the fact that the two of you were half dressed certainly was. “You stayed here last night?” You could practically see Bam’s train of thought on his face as he looked between you and him, “Ohhhh…” Ville quietly chuckled at his reaction, not seeming to notice the traces of jealousy in his gaze.

☆彡

You were completely oblivious to the fact that there were serious art museums in Pennsylvania until Ville took you to one. Well, you knew there probably were some out there, but the thought never really crossed your mind that people actually go to these places. But there the two of you were, strolling through the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The only sounds that echoed off the tall ceilings of the exhibit hall were the clacking of rubber soles on marble and the hushed whispers among people who actually had opinions on this kind of art.

Sure, you appreciated the stuff, but Ville understood the meaning in seemingly any kind of art that you couldn’t even begin to grasp. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to gaze at a painting that caught his eye: this Christophe Guérin piece titled L'Amour Désarmé. You looked at it as well, trying to gather any meaning from what appeared to be a pretty straightforward subject: a woman holding a bow and arrow away from Cupid, who was reaching to grab it. Standing there a moment next to you, Ville spoke up in a low murmur, “Even though I feel the Metamorphoses is a bit overdone, I’ve always found paintings depicting them impactful...” He didn’t even need to see you to visualize the confused look in your face from his words, so he explained. “See, the woman, Venus, is disarming her son, Cupid- but what she doesn’t know is that she’s already been pierced by his arrow.”

Well, you gathered some of that on your own. “So, now she’s going to fall in love with someone?” Eyes no longer fixed on the painting, he turned to you as you still admired the art, completely oblivious, “Yes. In the myth, it’s a mortal: Adonis. It’s symbolic of love as an uncontrollable force-“ In awe of the way he could just think so deeply about things, the double meaning of his words went completely over your head. “One that binds people together beyond what can be grappled with or comprehended by you or I…”

☆彡

You didn’t really mind that Bam tagged along with the two of you to the bar after Ville finished the show that night, but you were starting to get an inkling that he did. Honestly, at this point, you didn’t really care. Sure, you had known him for way longer than you knew Ville, but not in a million years could he hope to compare to him in your eyes- not now. It was like Bam was some child, constantly vying for attention, and it was starting to get on your nerves. Almost as much as that guy who had been flirting with you since Ville left to use the men's.

“Y’know, I saw you from across the bar over there …Can I buy you a drink?” Looking over to Bam for any hope of getting out of this situation, the only response you got from him was the cold shoulder as he glanced away, pretending not to know you. Asshole. Glancing away, now both angry at him and the guy, you replied flatly, “I’m with someone.” Still, he kept pressing, not getting the hint in the slightest, “I didn’t ask who you were with- I wanted to buy you a drink.”

The aggression in his voice would’ve put you on edge a little if it weren’t for Ville’s return with incredible timing, sliding between you and the creep. “Hope you weren't too lonely without me, love.” Having seen everything, he still paid the guy no mind, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. Too preoccupied with your little victory, you didn’t notice that, barely out of your line of sight, this bitter look crossed Bam’s face as he took another swig of his drink.

★彡

Ville had to leave the next morning. You knew that when he showed up, he would have to leave- you would be an idiot for thinking this could end in any other way, but you didn’t want him to. There was no logic to how you felt, but yet again when did logic have anything to do with love? Bam wasn't awake, but even if he was he’d probably still be sulking in his room. He probably hated you now. But there you and Ville stood, in the living room at Castle Bam among all the dark velvet, the dim light of early day flooding in through the back window. “My heart aches for you, Y/N.” Delicate features bathed in cool blue, he took your hand in his and his words came to you, deliberate and earnest. “But you have a life to live. I have a tour to finish.” Your heart wept at his words. This whole situation with Ville- it was killing you. In three months, your life was turned upside down by a complete stranger, and you were helpless to do anything about it.

“No more of what’s keeping you here, and no more of what’s pulling me away from you. If not today then some day, my dear…You will be mine.” Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to your knuckle. “Only mine.”

[james-spooky]

DONT LOOK ⚠️ MAJOR TMAGP EPILOGUE SPOILERS BELOW I JUST NEED TO SCREAM

IS LENA DEAD???? probably not but we know what happens to head of departments…

POOR ALICE 😭❤️❤️❤️ hearing her cry actually made me wanna die

i’m glad celia is back with jack but also! what the flip! complex characters my beloved

WE HEARD SAM GO THROUGH THE FUCKING PORTAL???????!!! and on the transcripts it was described as a “london exclusion zone”… very reminiscent of the institute ruins from the tmaverse… ALSO! “the movement of unnatural things” ??? implications??? tma universe or??? if it was tma then surely the entities would be gone ? I DONT KNOW TOO MANY THOUGHTS!

I WAS RIGHT! I KNEW WE’D HEAR FROM SAM AGAIN! HELL YEAH!!!! he’s alive so that’s good… we didn’t hear anything of the archivist though??? i don’t think so that’s odd… would be crazy if he interacted with other tma characters omg!!! (PLS MELANIE PLS)

gwens scream was absolutely CHILLING MY GOD!

ok… so i think it’s safe to assume colin is dead ❤️ or in the computer ??? or is just dead in the server or smth???? (this is jonah’s fault im telling u)

jmart (and jonah) are still in the computers i’m guessing???! but if colin’s dead then we’ll never know what he had discovered!!!! i really hope they find out! i was half expecting him to start reading a statement/case…

anyways! that was a crazy amount to put into eight minutes and i lost my mind…

ok bye

will put these thoughts into coherent posts for thursday!

[bookshelf-dust]

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,686

warnings: swearing, reader has a shitty mom, a few uses of y/n, anxiety, fluff and angst

a/n: hi! listen, i know, i know, it’s been more than a month since i published part two and i’m sorry. but i promise it won’t take as long anymore. i hope you like this part! there’s a lot going on. it’s getting messy, my dudes. love you! <333

————

Your room is small. And you don’t mind that one bit. Hell, you’re lucky your parents snagged one of the few single-wide’s with a layout nice enough that there even are two bedrooms. 

But sometimes the small space can seem confining, like right now. 

You’ve been staring at college-ruled paper for what seems like forever now, and…you’ve got nothing. You spent all day brainstorming for this essay, and now that you’ve sat down, you’ve lost it all. It’s as if there isn’t a single coherent thought left in your brain. 

You hop up from your seat, thinking that if you get a drink, maybe listen to some music, then you’ll be able to get a hold on your concentration. 

And it works, for a while. You’ve been at your desk for well over an hour, and you’ve put a hell of a dent in your paper. 

But having your headphones on means you don’t hear your parents come home, not until your mother is smacking her fist against your door frame to get your attention. 

“Hello?”

You’re quick to push the pause button in on your walkman and put your headphones on the tabletop in front of you. The amount of eraser shavings you’ve accumulated is unsettling. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Your mother lets out what you're sure is the most dramatic sigh known to man. “Of course you didn’t, not with those things on your ears.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better about it, okay?”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the wall just inside your room. “Mhm. How’s your paper going?”

“It’s fine. Not due for a week.”

“So you’ve said. Anyways, I came in here because I was at the store yesterday, and Sherri caught up with me.”

“Oh, yeah? How is she?”

Sherri Henson is a bitch. She’s the kind of woman who peaked in high school and can’t seem to grasp that—even if she is well into her fifties by now—spending all her time corralling the neighborhood gossip. She’s lived a couple trailers down from you your whole life. And she’s yet another reason why you need to get the fuck out of dodge. 

“Oh, she’s fine. She just wanted to tell me that she’s seen you hanging out with that Eddie Munson boy. And I haven’t heard good things about him. I just wanted to know what you were up to.”

Your stomach drops. Of course she’d say some shit like that. “We’re friends. I’m allowed to have those, aren’t I?”

“Yes. But don’t you think it would be wise to make good friends?”

You rub at your forehead, already sick of this. There’s a reason you don’t tell your mother anything about your life. 

“You don’t know anything about him, do you?”

Your mother pushes her glasses up into her mess of hair. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand how you can be judgmental of a guy you don’t even know. You’re always whining about how I don’t have friends, and now that I’ve made one, he’s not good enough?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I just don’t want you to harm your education by hanging around some good-for-nothing boy.”

“I think I can make my own decisions.”

“Clearly not. Look at you.” She doesn’t say anything more, but leaves the room instead. 

You should be used to this. You should know that your mother doesn’t like that you aren’t a carbon copy of her. But it still stings. The feeling is drowning you; the feeling of being pathetic, unsuccessful, embarrassing. 

You need a minute. It’s not like you can concentrate on your paper here anyways. Your mother has already shut herself up in her own bedroom, and you know she won’t miss you if you’re not around. 

A lift of the blinds in your bedroom tells you that Eddie’s van is parked outside his trailer, but you don’t feel right just running over, so you call. 

Of course he picks up.

He hasn’t even said his name yet and you’ve already started talking. “Eddie?”

“Hey, yeah, something wrong?”

You sound frazzled. If Eddie’s being totally straight with himself, he might even say you sound a little panicky. Claustrophobic, maybe.

He doesn’t like hearing you sound like this. 

“Would it be okay if I came over for a bit? You can say no, I just…your company might help.”

You can feel that cocky ass grin from over the phone. The way your words register in his brain and he comes up with a response he knows will get you riled up.

“Oh, my company? That what you need?”

“Eddie,” he can practically see you waving him off, “nevermind.”

He laughs. “Okay, sorry. Yeah, you can come over. You didn’t have to ask. Could’ve just busted in.”

“That seems like a horrendous idea. And isn’t Wayne home?”

“Yeah, but he sleeps like the dead. He wouldn’t even notice. That’s what he gets for having me around after all this time.”

“Poor Wayne.”

He scoffs and stumbles over his words. “Poor Wayne? 

“Yeah, I feel for him, having to put up with you all these years. Anyways, I’ll be there in a second.”

“You little shit–” he starts, but you’re already hanging up. 

Eddie opens the door closest to his room to watch for you. You bound across the road and up the concrete step, clearly pleased with yourself. He backs up, that stupid ass grin on his face, and gestures with his arm for you to go inside. 

He notices you’ve brought your bag with you. “Plotting my murder?” he inquires, eyes dancing over the corduroy. 

“Absolutely. Any sort of preference?”

He sits down on his bed, back to the wall. “Maybe the candlestick? Rope could be fun. Or if you’re feeling particularly malicious: poison.”

“Remind me to never play Clue with you.”

He laughs and it’s low and drawn out like he knows he’s being annoying. Like he knows you enjoy it. 

“Why, because you know I’ll kick your ass?”

You smile at him, and it feels like he’s won the lottery. “Precisely.” 

“I’d go easy on you,” he argues. 

“Bullshit.”

Eddie watches you fiddle with the zipper on your bag and then pull out a piece of paper. You flop down in his desk chair, making yourself at home. He’s told you to do that more than once, so he’s glad to see you act on it. 

“What are we working on?”

“I’m supposed to be finishing a paper, and that’s what I was doing, but being berated doesn’t really help my focus.”

He chuckles, opening a bag of Skittles you didn’t even know he had. “I wouldn’t think so. You wanna talk about it?”

“No, that’s okay.” 

Eddie nods, hoping you’ll open up to him sooner than later. 

“Would you prefer if I just went about my business while you worked?”

“I really would, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Anything you need, sweetheart.”

He hops up, and his fingers go to mess with the radio, but he stops himself short. “Will this bother you? If I keep it low?”

You shake your head, tapping your eraser on the desk. He gives you a frantic thumbs up before trying to make sure the music doesn’t murder your hearing. 

It’s on some rock station, where some of the songs are ones you’re familiar with, others not so much.

“Good?” he asks, and you return his earlier thumbs up. It makes him grin.

He settles back on his mattress, though it groans in protest as he does. He scratches away at a notebook for a while, and the room stays quiet. Just being in the same room as him is enough to keep you calm and give you time to focus.

You make more progress on the paper now then you had at home, and start to think maybe you should do all your work in Eddie’s company.

Eventually Eddie gets bored and pushes up, his hands coming to rest against the desk on either side of you, caging you in. He kisses the top of your head before resting his chin on it, peering down at your paper.

“Damn. Almost done?”

“Yeah. Should probably quit and come back to it later anyway.” 

“Wanna see something fun?” You look up at him and he’s got a wild look in his eyes, a wide smile on his face. 

“I don’t know if I trust that.”

“Oh, come on. Take a break. For me?” Eddie bats his eyelashes and you smack him on the arm. He stands and stumbles backwards as if you’ve brutally wounded him, though the smile stays and really ruins the act. 

“Fine. Let’s see.”

He’s got this brilliant, boyish look on his face. You can tell he’s excited. It’s the kind of excitement that rubs off on you, that makes you anxious to know what it’s for, even if it is something small. 

He moves to the corner of his room and opens this big chest that you might not have even noticed because of how much surrounds it. You realize, though, that there’s a handful of Dungeons and Dragons handbooks, a binder covered in stickers, other things you don’t entirely understand.

Eddie digs around for a second, and then he pulls out a little velvet bag. He brandishes it to you, shaking it a little. Whatever’s inside makes noise.

“I got new dice. And I know what you’re thinking, ‘Eddie that’s so amazing, I can’t believe you’d share this with me,’ but believe it, because they’re cool, okay? Prepare yourself.”

You take a dramatically over exaggerated deep breath, gearing yourself up. “Ready, Eddie.”

He snorts. He can’t believe you. 

He dumps them out next to you on his bed. “Ta-da!”

You pick one up, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t squeal. The dice are a translucent red color, with black numbers, and they’ve got little bats set into them. 

Fucking bats. 

You look up and Eddie’s big brown eyes are shining down at you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to contain himself.

“Eddie, these are so cool!”

He throws himself on the bed beside you. “They’re sick, right?” 

You pick up a handful, looking at all of the different ones as they roll around between your fingers. “Yeah. These are fucking cool, dude.”

Eddie giggles. He giggles. His glee is palpable. 

“I’m honored that you wanted to share this with me, Mr. Munson.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, scooping them up and putting them back in the bag. “I don’t just go showing my dice to anyone, you know.”

You laugh, hard, and it’s the first time Eddie’s heard you laugh like that. He thinks he could live off of the sound. He wouldn’t need anything else. 

“Well I’m glad you showed them to me.”

Eddie winks at you. “Me too.”

————

Eddie doesn’t hear from you for a few days, but it doesn’t worry him really. He knows you're busy with school, and he is too, now that he’s trying to get the hell out of there for real this time. He’s also working on a big ass campaign. He thinks this might be the one where Dustin’s character finally dies, the little fucker. He’s managed to kill off everyone else’s characters at least once (Gareth a few more), but never Dustin.

He does miss you, though.

Eddie is finding that he doesn’t like being without you as much as he likes being with you. 

He’s starting to show you parts of himself that he hasn’t shown other people before. He usually doesn’t have the ability to sit quietly in a room with someone else. Or watch for fucking bats. Hell, he built a fort for you. 

And he’s laying in bed, well past the time he should be asleep, thinking about how he doesn’t feel like you’re letting him get to know you like he is you. 

Eddie’s room is dark except for the light coming in through the window. He goes to rest his hand on his chest, but cold metal meets his bare skin and he’s quick to unsnap the bracelet he left on his wrist. 

He knows what you’re in school for. He knows you’re into bats. That you laugh at stupid, immature shit just like he does. Shit you’d get in trouble for laughing at. 

But if what he’s feeling, deep down, is what he thinks it is, he wants to give all of himself to you. And he wants all of you. 

He really does. 

And something about the way you held him that night that you stayed over told him you felt more. He can see you letting go sometimes. But more often it feels reluctant. 

Eddie just wants you to know that he’s not going anywhere. That he wants you safe. Happy.

He wants you for you.

Not for whatever else anyone tells you.

You are everything he’s ever wanted.

You.

————

“How’d you do on your paper?” Eddie asks. You’d told him when it was due, and just now that you’d gotten it back.

“Fine.”

“Fine? That’s all I get?”

Something’s wrong with you today. He’d invited you over for lunch, and you’d come, but the smile you gave him at the door wasn’t genuine. Something is hurting you, and you haven’t told him what. 

And it’s killing him.

He can’t help you if you won’t let him. 

You set down your drink, a little harder than you’d meant to, and sigh. 

Fuck, Eddie thinks. The last thing he wants to do is frustrate you. 

“I got a B.”

His eyebrows raise over the enormous bite of sandwich he’s just taken. He decides to behave and chew it all before he speaks. Wayne might not get the same treatment.

“Oh yeah? That’s so good! I’m proud of you.”

You nod your head, but you don’t look at him. If he’s being honest, it kind of hurts his feelings.

“You might be the only one,” you mumble. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s���it’s nothing, Eddie. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He grabs the bag of chips out of your hand before you can shove your mouth full of them, and you look incredibly offended. 

“Don’t do that. Tell me what you meant.” Eddie’s voice is serious. He’s never spoken to you like this before. 

You run your hands over your face. “My mom. She told me I could’ve done better than that.” You don’t say that she also said it was probably a result of spending so much time with Eddie. 

Eddie sets your bag of chips back down. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“You’re a total badass, and I know you’re hard working as shit. If she can’t see that, then fuck her man.” 

You won’t look at him. 

You won’t look at him. 

“You can’t listen to that shit, man. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this, Eddie.” He cocks his head at you, brown eyes boring into yours. “And it’s not exactly easy, just ignoring it. I’ve heard it for years, that I could be trying harder or doing something differently or anything, so it’s like fuckin’ ingrained in my brain. And sometimes I think it’s true.”

Eddie reaches across the table for your hand, his laying palm-up, waiting for you to accept it. You limply supply your hand to him, and he pushes his thumb into the center, rubbing in slow circles. He’s hoping the contact might be enough to pull you out of your head some. 

“Look at me,” Eddie says. 

You're quick to think about the night he found you moping on the bench. He’d said that then too. 

“Look at me.”

You shake your head again. 

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says, and you believe him, though really looking at him and his big brown eyes is enough to wash a surge of sadness over you. 

Eddie uses his thumb to wipe the fresh tears from under your lashes, grazing the tip of your now stuffy nose with his knuckle. You wrinkle it and he grins. 

Eddie’s thinking about it too. How upset you’d looked. How upset you look now. But he also remembers something else. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really, no.”

You hadn’t wanted to talk about your feelings then, and that was understandable because you hadn’t seen the guy in forever. But it’s different now. Isn’t it? Eddie feels differently for you. And he can see that you care about him, obviously, but what if he’s reading this wrong? What if you don’t want him as anything other than a friend?

This time though, you do look up at him. “It’s not true. I know your brain is telling you that, and maybe you even hear your parents saying that shit, and if your mind works anything like mine does–and I think it does–then I know it’s so fucking annoying, and you can’t do anything without hearing some negative response.”

“But it isn’t true. You work your ass off, and you’re kind and caring, and I’m sorry, but I can’t have you thinking otherwise, you hear me?”

You nod your head, and Eddie’s quick to swipe up the tear he sees fall, before you even know you’re crying. 

He gets up, coming over to where you're sitting and crouching in front of you. He puts his hands on your knees, but you push them off and stand, forcing him to follow so that he doesn’t bust his ass. 

You wipe your face off, drag your hands across your jeans, the feeling of Eddie’s hand on yours still burning through your nerves. 

“Eddie, I think I’m gonna go home.”

Something about this, about the tone in your voice, how resigned you sound, makes Eddie frustrated. 

He doesn’t move from his place in front of you. He can’t just let this go. He isn’t wired that way. 

“So this is how it’s gonna go, huh?”

You blink at him. “What are you talking about?”

He puts his hands on his hips, and he knows he looks like Wayne, he knows it, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. 

“You come over, you’re upset, but you won’t talk to me about it, and when you do start to talk about it, you give me vague answers and you shrug it off. That’s not talking, Y/N.”

“This is hard for me, Eddie! I don’t know what to do with myself when someone wants to listen to me, okay?”

“I understand that, but you’ve gotta at least try.”

“Try what?”

“Letting me in, for fucks sake! I can’t fucking help you, if you won’t let me in!”

Eddie sounds exasperated. And now you’re both shouting at each other. Shouting.

“Eddie, I–”

“Listen, just give me a second. You wouldn’t talk about what happened that night you stayed over except vaguely–and that’s okay with me–but then you wouldn't talk to me the other day, either. And now you’re just…I feel like you’re shutting me out.”

“I want to help you, and I know it takes time to open up, but I know that you know you’re safe with me. And I want to help make it better. I want you, Y/N, and I just–why won’t you let me in?”

It feels like your heart has stopped. Like he’s messing with you. But you know better than that. And you should’ve known that was coming at some point. 

“Eddie, don’t say that.”

“Say what?” He wants to hear the words leave your mouth. 

You mess with your fingers, and he grabs your hands to get you to quit. “That you want me, Eddie. You can’t just say that.”

“And why can’t I, huh? Because it involves feelings? Y’know those things that you won’t share with me?”

You step a little ways back from him, but you’re still cornered. He knows that stung, but if he hadn’t said it now, he might never have at all. 

“Eddie, you can’t actually want me. You’ve said it yourself, I’m incapable of being open and not fucking things up! Look at what we’re doing!”

“And what if I do want you? What then?”

“Then I don’t know!” you yell, louder than you’d intended. 

Eddie moves away from you then, sitting back down, and crossing his arms. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, despite the fact that you’re arguing. 

“I never said you were fucking things up. And I didn’t say you were incapable of being open,” he breathes. “That’s all I want, for you to be open with me. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me, like you have to let that shit eat you alive.”

“But aren’t I? Fucking it up? Eddie, you’re the only friend I’ve got and you’re being honest with me and all I’ve done is fuss at you. That’s like, the definition of fucking things up.”

“You’re not. I just want you to let me in.”

You’re both quiet for a minute. You walk around the trailer, cleaning up your lunch and grabbing your things. It’s mindless, and you’re not even sure you want to go home. 

“I meant what I said,” Eddie starts. “I do want you. And I mean as more than just a friend. I’m—” I’m falling in love with you. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say that he wishes he’d said so sooner. That he’d told you in high school. None of that matters now. He wants you, and he thinks he always will. 

“I would never lie to you about that,” he says. 

You take a shaky breath. “I know that you wouldn’t, Eddie. I just…I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me. You do know.”

“I think maybe you should want someone who’s not so much trouble.”

And Eddie can’t say anything, because you’ve already turned and rushed down the stairs, the door slamming shut behind you. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @ajkamins @golddustwitches @copycatkillerfics @prestinalove @zaypay @clovermunson @kelsiegrin @storiesbyrhi @avalon-wolf

[rinnelovebot]

A/N: I KNOW THE BANNER LOOKS FUCKED UP but it’s bc I don’t have access to the full cg yet.. anyway I had to get it out of my system. I’m so fucking in love with him

*ೃ༄ dressing room angel

“I quite like it; it suits me, I think.”

You’d been staring at Hiiro’s new personalized outfit within one of the various ES dressing rooms for at least an hour now — fiddling with the beads adorning his neck, the earrings that complimented his eyes almost devilishly well — just about everything, and you still wouldn’t say you were even close to being done yet. Hiiro wore a relaxed grin on his face, as if proud, but still waiting on your fully fleshed out input.

“It does,” you added, “It really, really does. It’s different from your first personalized outfit, but that’s the best part.”

The redheads grin grew wider at your words, sighing contently as one of your hands wandered up from his chest to his cheek, stroking soft skin with a gentle palm. “Ah, I’m happy to hear that… Anzu-san did an amazing job encapsulating my ideas, better than I ever could’ve.”

She did do an amazing job. You’d say that Hiiro’s always been a handsome young man, but this outfit in particular accentuated all of his finest qualities and amplified them to the point where you didn’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye for longer than five seconds without melting into a pathetic pile of goop.

Knowing that your initial inspection had passed, he stepped forward, allowing his hands to rest on your hips. Perhaps reflexively, yours wrapped around his shoulders in turn; In attempts to avoid growing too flustered at the closeness — and the overall sight of him — you filled the silence. “What do your friends think? Your brother?”

Hiiro chuckled under his breath. “Well, Mayoi-senpai and Aira reacted with a series of excited squeals, which I’d hope to be positive.” The way his lips grew closer wasn’t lost on you. “Tatsumi-senpai and Nii-san had more coherent things to say, though. I was relieved to hear that they liked it as much as I do.”

Yeah, that sounded accurate enough. You had no doubts that his colleagues would be just as insane about this as you had been. “Ah, also, the garters were Aira’s idea. He thought they’d bring an ‘air of hotness’ to my otherwise ‘handsome and pure’ image.” The amused lilt in his voice suggested that he noticed your affliction, but he didn’t want to tease you about it. He’d always been too kind for that.

You’d have to thank his little blonde peer later. “I see…” you whispered, feeling his breath upon your lips as the two of you gently swayed, gazing at one another intently.

The vast blue ocean of his eyes always seemed to draw you in, almost hypnotically so — no matter how great your efforts to avoid them. No one could ever look at you as fondly as Hiiro.

“Did it work?”

And just as he dipped down to finally give you what you wanted, you offered him a response. “You know it did.”

[saphira-approves]

Okay so I finished Murtagh last night and I think I’m just going to put a lot of my slightly more coherent general thoughts here under a readmore. Spoilers ahead! Beware!

Right off the bat I want to bring us back to The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm. Not to Essie (although reliving that encounter from Murtagh’s perspective was EXQUISITE), but to Eragon, because the thing I love most about that story is that Eragon is glad to see his brother, even from afar, and is glad to see he’s alright, and hopes that Murtagh will one day join him at Mt. Arngor. We’ve talked recently on the blog about ill feelings and condemnation towards Murtagh during the war, especially on Eragon’s part, but the ending of The Fork makes it clear that—while I would love to see Eragon acknowledge and work through them—Eragon no longer holds those feelings, and in fact really wants the chance to reconnect with his brother and his friend, because he loved him like a brother before he even knew they were related, and after everything that’s happened, he loves him still—even if Murtagh is going to have some trouble believing or internalizing it.

And so I present the theme of this initial reading response: Murtagh is so, so loved, to an extent that he does not fully realize. He knows that Thorn loves him, obviously, but I believe it’s significant that—even though he has some Complicated™️ thoughts about Selena and harbors resentment towards her for, in his mind, choosing Eragon over himself—the memories of her that we actually get to see/“hear” (page 90 my beloved) are fully memories of Selena’s love for him. “…beautiful boy” anyone? “My strong boy?” That is her BABY and she LOVES HIM. Also, again, DESPITE HIS RESENTMENT, Selena’s love is the REASON HE KEEPS HIS SCAR! Scar lore alert! Scar lore alert! SELENA WAS THERE AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO HEALED HIM! (though I am still partial to thinking Brom was involved. I’ll write about that later it doesn’t matter right now)

(Also, on a bit of a lighter note, HIS HORSE TOY?????? Horse girl Murtagh CONFIRMED!!!! Little me would have been so jealous. …on a completely different note, I have woodworking connections and access to real horse hair. Hm. The Ideas.)

And then Tornac, son of Tereth, may your name live on forever. THE FIRST MEMORY WE GET OF TORNAC IS A HUG. THE FIRST TIME HE HUGS MURTAGH. MURTAGH HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH DO YOU KNOW??? I KNOW YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT BUT DO YOU KNOW????? And the way he LEAPS to Murtagh’s defense when he falls in their escape, he REFUSES to let Murtagh languish in Urû’baen, that’s his BOY, his BEAUTIFUL STRONG BOY, that’s HIS SON, NO TAKE BACKSIES, MORZAN! He sees Murtagh’s darkness, yes, but more importantly he sees Murtagh’s goodness, and he knows Galbatorix will do everything in his power to destroy it, and that is something that Tornac simply cannot abide. You remember how I posted about Brom saying it’s easy to die for what you believe in, and then like ten pages later he dies for Eragon? Yeah. Yeah that one. That post. Do you see the point I’m making?

Tornac died for Murtagh. Selena did too, I’m pretty sure—it’s never been explicitly stated, in this book or the rest of the Cycle, but we know Selena was anxious to leave Carvahall as soon as Eragon was born, and that she died shortly after returning to Murtagh. I think Murtagh knows, on some level, but I also think that actually acknowledging it is going to break him just a little bit. Selena left Eragon and returned to him, presumably to spirit Murtagh to Carvahall as well, but she left too early. She wasn’t recovered. The real tragedy of this is that, if she’d left any later, she might truly have been too late—Morzan had been killed, and Murtagh would have been collected to Urû’baen before she reached him. Depending on how much she was coordinating with Brom, she might have known this, and made the choice to return to Murtagh anyway, because it was the easiest choice in the world. Eragon and Murtagh both believe that Selena left them. As Murtagh believes Selena chose Eragon over him, I’m pretty sure Eragon believes the inverse. In truth, Selena was trying to choose both of them, to save both of them. It’s a tragedy that she failed, but the most important thing about such a tragedy is that the love is there. It didn’t save them, not at first, not until much later, but the love is there and it matters because those are her babies, those are her sons, and she would gladly die for them. She did die for them. It was easy; she believed in them.

So yeah, I think eventually Eragon and Murtagh are gonna have a talk, and some revelations are going to be made, and a good long cry is going to be had all around. Catharsis! They need it!

But that’s not all! Murtagh is loved not only by the dead and the distant, but by the living and the near, too. Up to this point, the werecats we’ve met have been aloof, proud, intentionally distant. I always got the sense that Solembum likes Eragon and Saphira, but I don’t know that he would call them friends, even if Eragon and Saphira would, and he’s the most in-depth werecat we’ve met. But now we also have Carabel.

Carabel, who, from her position within Gil'ead, watches the people around them, and discerns their character: this is a skill I would say she has honed to near-perfection. When we meet her, she is desperate, though she hides it well. She sees Murtagh, and she measures his character, and what she sees is enough to make her take a chance on him, and she's right. Murtagh saves Silna, compromising his own principles to do so—swearing an oath he knows he'll have to break—and is so clearly relieved to see Silna safe with Carabel, despite the deceptions. We know, also, that Selena had been liked enough by Solembum for him to speak with her, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that Selena was at least respected by werecats, if not outright known as a friend; it's possible that this, too, helped push Carabel to take a chance on Murtagh, though she makes no comment about it. Whatever the case, ultimately it is Murtagh's character that she gambles on, and Murtagh being simply who he is fulfills her hopes—not only in saving Silna, but his kindness towards her even when she was difficult, carrying her only when it was necessary and setting her on her own paws when he deemed it safe. Just in being himself, he earns love from two strangers, and the respect of an entire race.

(This echoes throughout the book, in all of Murtagh's interactions with children—he cares so much about kids. Not just as an abstract moral stance: he truly, genuinely cares for children on a deeply personal level. Essie in Ceunon; the two boys in Gil'ead he gives coins to, twice, and reprimanding their father for using them to pick marks; Silna; the children in Nal Gorgoth. In telling his story to Nasuada, he broke when he reached the children he slaughtered under Bachel's control.)

And Alín! Alín, who was raised to revere dragons, who cannot help but idolize Thorn. She is terrified of Murtagh, as a stranger and a strange man, but his connection to a dragon allows her to view him in another light. I can write so many essays about Alín, I'm probably going to, but here I'll just say this: despite her circumstances, despite how she was taught, despite how thoroughly she has been programmed by the cult of the Dreamers, the simple truth of Murtagh's compassion gave her the room to question, to think for herself, to ask herself if what she has been taught and raised to believe is truly right. Murtagh doesn't make the decision for her, he physically can't—it is Alín herself who finds the strength to break herself free, inspired by Murtagh, but not wholly because of him.

And in the dungeons of Nal Gorgoth, Murtagh meets Uvek, an Urgal shaman, and can I just say: I would kill and die for Uvek. He's got similarities to Murtagh that aren't discussed in plaintext, but are easy to draw: they both tried to be alone in the wild, thinking it would be better for them—different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion—but both have come to discover that they are better off in a pack. With friends. With brothers. With family. (As an aside, I really hope Uvek becomes one of the first Urgal riders.) I love the metaphor they share, about trust being a knife with a blade for a handle; and I love that once they decide to trust each other, they both jump in, feet first, 100% on board. That's always been Murtagh's method anyway (Eragon-era Murtagh my beloved, looking after this stupid dumb kid with his whole ass), and it is incredibly refreshing to see someone else with the exact same mindset throw their whole lot in with Murtagh. The gentle forehead bump! Uvek loves this crazy squishy Murtagh-man.

And finally, finally, Nasuada. The Guinevere to his Lancelot, and there's not even an Arthur for them to dance around, except for the Arthur of Public Opinion that would prefer to view Murtagh as dread Mordred. I couldn't keep from laughing, just a little bit, every time Murtagh was encouraged to/shown visions of taking the throne, because lol! Nah, you dumbasses, that's the love of his life for whom he broke his own shackles and turned on his tormentor and slave-master. The day he turns against her of his own volition is the day he is No Longer Murtagh. He keeps the newly-minted gold crown so that he can keep a piece of her with him—a coin!! A tiny little portrait!! An accurate tiny little portrait, to be sure, but one he'll soon be able to find in any decently full purse!! He may not want to admit it to himself, he may try to distance himself for her own good and the good of her rule, but he cannot truly deny his heart. As for Nasuada himself, she doesn't even hesitate to take him in—and she would have no reason to, having heard about Gil'ead, except that she knows him, she has seen his true being in a way only Thorn can relate to, and even in uncertainty she cannot believe evil of him. She's the one who reaches out to comfort him when he crumbles in telling his story, she supports him without a word when he struggles to stand, and she wants so badly for him to stay, Public Opinion be damned. She won't destroy what she's built, but she will move heaven and earth to be able to keep him near, for as long as he wishes to remain.

This whole book, really, was just a chorus screaming to Murtagh, "YOU ARE LOVED!! YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND YOU ARE LOVED!! IT IS THE LOVE THAT ENDS WARS, THAT DEFEATS FEAR, THAT PERSISTS IN THE FACE OF DEATH AND RUIN!! YOU ARE LOVED!!" And maybe he can't hear it yet, not with his ears, but his heart, eventually, might start to catch him up. And I absolutely cannot wait to see it.

[j2zara]

*tapping on your window* Hi I’m sitting in my car exhausted and about to drive home but I just wanted to let you know Ellie is. In my thoughts. This is a threat. And by that I mean. I am thinking so much about her and what it means to desperately want freedom and fear that if you get it you won’t know what to do next. The goal has been to fight until you die and you didn’t realize it until you got the chance to Live. It’s not that I don’t think she can’t be gentle bc she can be. She does her best to take care of Bluejay she’s kind to J3. It’s that I think when she’s. On her Own. And there’s no one to look after except for herself. And she’s forced to look inwards. She’s terrified there’s nothing there except the parts she desperately fights against becoming. Did she ever actually train her kindness for herself or does it always have to be given to someone else. Did she accidentally train herself for a purpose after all.

Anyways yeah so she’s in my thoughts and will be during my drive home that’s all hope you’re having a good night 💖

HIIII sorry it took me a sec to form coherent sentences and not to lump this in with your tags on my "Ellie was so afraid of becoming Jace she forgot to account for becoming ankarna" post but i also know (think?) that this was sent like RIGHT after that lol.

You've kinda articulated something i didn't really think about which is such a good point in that like. I think despite trying to push for personal autonomy and choice, ellie has sharpened herself into becoming very.... specific, due to her circumstances. She wants the freedom to be small and unextraordinary and messy but she can't afford that, i think she still has to be a tool of war in order to fight at all. idk if that makes any sense. She can't back out of her path—robbed of choice when choice is all she wanted, right? She needs power in order to get anything done and she doesn't particularly want it but it feels good when you have it right? At the very least when you have it nobody else can make you feel small. Maybe that's the Ankarna impulse. To learn about war to save yourself from doom even if it contorts you into something ugly and alienated from who you used to be.

But. What even are Ellie's impulses when the fight is gone. Who is she underneath that. Like. Yeah you're right in that its like the goal is survival for so long that its like who is she when she gets a chance to just LIVE? If you define yourself against something, is that really free will, is that really freedom from the determined path? Is it freedom to be an antithesis to a thesis when you're still defined in opposition to the thesis? Is it fair to have an identity defined by hardship and struggle and opposition, would that make happiness something unfamiliar, not yours? Is it fair to anyone that if you were to get better that would make you stop being you? Like. Something something gilear—there was something about the failure i could take in stride because within it i had some sense of identity or self. Except not a bit. You know what I mean? Or is it all change. Is it unfair even on my part that she had to be defined by like. Misery and the will to fight.

(And i think i do that b/c i like that she's unpalatable, i'm always so so so resistant to impulses to characterize her as secretly soft and maternal and nurturing. But is that fair to keep her all hard edges because maybe she deserves better)

She deserves. so much. She deserves a shitty, unfurnished apartment with a small portable fan and a mattress that's still the floor b/c she still hasn't gotten a bedframe. Maybe a lawn chair and an old tv. She has to start somewhere.

I don't know where the thought of the Ankarna-Ellie stuff came from—i think from working on LJ3Porter, i felt like. I think the reason why Ellie tries to put on a show about caring about other people is b/c she's scared that her real impulses are actually selfish. Power-hungry. Afraid that her objections are not because they've all been wronged, but that she's personally been denied something. That she's not just porter-coded, but she wants to transcend porter. Be even more powerful and frightening than him. Be the thing that He covets (even if he never really saw Ankarna). Jace wants to be at Porters side as equals, J2 wants to be beneath them, and J4 wants to be above even Porter. And. She does care about others its not just an act! But I think she's just. A lot like fig. But Fig's preoccupation is about being afraid of being so so so ontologically evil b/c she's infernal. But yeah. Dedicating themselves to others b/c they're afraid of interrogating themselves, asking themselves who they really are underneath it all.

[cosmokyrin]

Potential - Chevreuse/Chiori - Genshin Impact

Summary: When the captain and the seamstress have a passing talk about marriage. Ship: Chevreuse/Chiori (Genshin Impact) Rating: Teen and Up Length: 1,171 words Notes: This drabble came to me out of nowhere! It really just started with Chevreuse's line thinking she was disturbing Chiori's mind with her presence, and my introvert ass latched to that relatable thought lmao I first shared this over the Cheviori server I created, and decided, after adding and editing, to share this out as well. I hope you enjoyed them being gay as much as I did LMAO Cheviori real!!!! Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55668778

Full fic also available here! Read below:

“Chevreuse, we’ve talked about this. I don’t mind you being here at all.”

"I know, I know. I just wanted you to know that you don't need to talk with me while I’m here. But if my presence in the room is disturbing your thoughts, you can always tell me to leave. No hard feelings," Chevreuse told Chiori from across the room. It was late at night in the Chioriya Boutique, but the famous — or infamous — seamstress continued to be surrounded by colorful spools of thread delicately spun by her skilled hands. There was a deadline to be met in the next few days, and if Chiori wanted to keep her schedule in line, she had to put in a few extra hours. She enjoyed this, anyway. But a regular guest, the Captain of the Special Patrol — her current significant other, no less — seemed to think her conspicuous presence must be jarring for an introspective and artistic, brooding character like hers. In fact, it was true, Chiori did not deny, because any human presence warranted a portion of one��s attention, no matter how familiar they were.

But Chevreuse’s presence was different. It was comfortable, serene, still. Like ember in the form of water. Like the fire of the hearth, bright and encompassing yet humble and healing. Chiori was sensitive of her personal space, yet Chevreuse fit in like she was already a piece of her.

"You don't need to. I guess this is also good practice when we get married."

"Yeah, I guess..." Chevreuse then almost dropped her book, and her jaw, upon realizing something. "What did you say?"

Chiori shrugged. "When we get married, I'll be living with you often, so that means there will be times that I'm working and it's inevitable you're within the same space I am, and I have to..." Chiori looked up to Chevreuse who dumbfoundedly stared and blushed in front of her. "Just stating facts. I mean..." She softly chuckled, seemingly with a hint of nervousness. "This is not a proposal, Chevreuse. It's speculation. We might not have dated for so long but we are still dating, nonetheless. Marriage might become an option for our relationship someday."

Chevreuse’s mouth opened and closed like that of a fish, failing to create any coherence. She cleared her throat and gazed to the ground, redder than ever. "I-I mean you're right. Nothing wrong with a marriage talk once in a while."

Chiori laughed softly, but the way it reached Chevreuse, it seemed she was being egged onto something else. It was oddly inviting, the way the seamstress looked at her with a sly smile as a needle was lodged in between her teeth — a dangerous habit — much like Chiori herself. "Do you see me as a potential wife in the future, Captain?"

"I, um..." Chevreuse tried to focus on her book, attempting to allay her sudden discomfiture coupled with a fear of saying the wrong thing. She had taken off her gaze from Chiori, quickly falling quiet and reclusive. The seamstress immediately saw through it. She dropped her smirk and looked on with concern.

"You don't have to answer that one if it doesn't make you comfortable."

Chevreuse shot up a glance to Chiori, shock written in her face. She then sighed upon realizing how worked up she had become. "No, I was... I just don't want to say anything wrong."

Chiori shook her head and chuckled. "Perhaps it wasn't really a simple thing to ask. But you don't have to answer me just to please me. Or you can say whatever you want, no hard feelings. And just so you know, whatever your answer, the future always changes—"

"I want to marry you someday," Chevreuse blurted out.

Silence instantly filled up the space they occupied. The Boutique, being a peaceful and unassuming background, suddenly seemed to wake with eyes as wide as Tamoto’s and turned to the young lovers. A hot, hot blush spread to the Garde captain’s face that the thought of biting her tongue off suddenly didn’t seem stupendously irrational nor torturous. What did she just say? She wanted to slap the book on her face, the most useless thing she could try to do to hide her unfathomable embarrassment. She instead covered her mouth and squirmed uncomfortably like a worm dying in her own sweat. She hated her uniform at the moment. 

From her peripheral view, it seemed that Chiori wore a serious face. Did she say something wrong? Was this, by the gods, the wrong answer? More blood rushed to her face now. She took another deep breath. She had to face this head on. This was the most important thing she learned as a soldier. So Chevreuse took another swig of air and courage, then raised her gaze to her lady.

Chiori was holding in her laughter.

Very hard.

"It was…” Chiori said, nearly choking on her own stifled laughter. “It was just a 'yes or no' question."

Crap. Chevreuse completely turned tomato when she realized how corny she sounded, especially now that Chiori's laughter broke out. Her partner was cackling so hard she shut her eyes and had tears pooling in the sides. Captain Chevreuse wanted to go back to being a worm to die in her own sweat. "I'm sorry, okay..."

Chiori let herself giggle a bit more, head slightly bent backwards. She wiped her tears of laughter away and faced Chevreuse with an incredible softness and a beautiful smile that the captain burned in her mind. "What are you sorry for? You didn't say anything wrong." Then her gaze almost instantly shifted in intensity that the captain froze with the subtle bait and switch. But Chiori was… gentle? Happy? In love, perhaps? Chevreuse gulped at the thought.

"Okay. To be fair to you, I see you as my future wife, too, Chevreuse. Or husband. Whatever you prefer."

"So it's mutual, huh?" Chevreuse said, breaking into a grin of relief before her brain and shame could catch up. She blushed all over her face again, but at least she could properly gaze eye to eye with her significant other this time. They laughed together, shaking their heads from the things they just found about each other. Like Chiori said, even their feelings, as strong as their bond may have been now, could change somewhere down the line. Yet, Chevreuse couldn't help the excitement that swelled in her heart upon knowing that she wasn't the only one who saw such a future for the both of them.

Chiori only answered with a wide smile before she resumed her sewing work. Others would have waited, but Chevreuse didn't need the words. If there was anything she liked about their relationship, it was the miraculous ease at which they talked without saying anything. Chevreuse stood up from the sofa and walked across the room towards Chiori.

"Can I disturb you tonight just this one time?" she asked.

Chiori raised a curious brow and shrugged. Chevreuse leaned down and gave her a kiss.

[drdemonprince]

Heyyyy. I just had an unsettling thought. So I’ve been learning about the oxygen of amplification and thinking about whether I’ve been giving “free food” to bigots by paying too much attention to the wrong things.

You’ve written about being “a vault” being a benefit especially when it comes to health care, and lying to employers, and, basically, intentionally using masking to get ahead.

Over the past five or so years, I have tended to go in a different direction - being more vocal about my disabilities and the disabilities of others, in the hope that I’m being an advocate for awareness and acceptance. I’ve had a lot of people tell me I’m “brave” for behaving that way and it always confuses me, because it’s easier for me to be honest than it is for me to lie or hide the truth.

But I am reminded of being on a conference call with the California board of law examiners (the people who make the bar exam for California) at the start of the pandemic. I spoke on the call about how law school makes people (if I remember correctly) as much as three times more likely to be depressed between the time they enter and the time they leave. There’s additional context here that I could add but I’m not sure if it’s necessary.

Anyway, while I was speaking, one of the people on the board (at least, my colleagues and I were pretty sure it was) very loudly yelled at me to “FUCK OFF.”

I wonder if disabilities are something, unlike other categories of oppressed people, where the more evidence you provide that we are human and deserving of accommodations, the more bigots get pissed off and want to deny us those accommodations. Because they think our disability inherently makes us undeserving.

I think, because I’m in a position of privilege economically (and my family culture isn’t particularly tumultuous), I get into this moral headspace where I think, okay, maybe others have to lie to get ahead. But if, because of my unique set of circumstances, I don’t have to lie to get head, isn’t it my duty not to?

I actually think I wrote a paper about that in law school. Maybe I’ll try to dig that up and we what I had to say.

But now I’m wondering if I’m just making things worse by being so vocally honest. Giving ammo to judgmental people who will hold what I say against people who are not as fortunate as I am.

You’ve also spoken about how you’ve become less of an advocate and I wonder if this sort of thing factors in to that decision.

Yeah for me, it's about developing a greater sense of tactics.

Most people are not persuaded by data or objective information. Most people do not have coherent or consistent political ideologies, either (see Phillip Converse's groundbreaking work on nonattitudes -- most people, when asked about a political topic, will just make up an opinion on the spot based on what they've heard most recently, and that opinion will not remain consistent). There's a robust research literature attesting to this. I abandoned the field of political psychology because the research on fostering attitude change and open-mindedness is so dismal.

Instead, what most people find the most compelling is a combination of emotional appeals, social pressure, and their own material, economic self-interest.

What this means is that a great many people will not be moved by additional information on a topic, until it becomes economically costly or socially perilous for them not to rethink it, and even then, they might just dig in their heels if they've already incurred losses in order to justify the pain they've been in. It also means that if someone has an ignorant perspective and no desire to change it, well, you talking more isn't going to change their perspective, but they will try to shut you up so that it doesn't change anybody else's.

The liberal perspective on change is a highly individualistic one. Disabled people are supposed to share our stories, victims of sexual assault are supposed to name our abusers, fat people are supposed to just feel more positively about themselves, Black and brown people are supposed to spell out to us white people exactly what we should do to guarantee their liberation, but only in a very gentle tone, and everybody, everywhere, is on the hook for fixing the injustice of their own social position.

This is a perspective on change that employers, governments, and institutions benefit from us believing in, because it keeps us busy showing off our vulnerabilities and behaving as individuals, rather than pooling our power and demanding something better for all of us collectively.

And this individualistic approach is of course is never how change actually happens. The federal government didn't suddenly start unrestricting access to AIDS meds because some individual gays came forward and told very persuasive stories about their battles with the disease. ACT UP activists crowded federal offices and covered politicians' homes in giant condoms and marched AIDS victims' corpses down the street.

Sickle cell anemia did not become a subject of medical research because Black patients individually shared their stories of the disease. The Black Panthers created their own health clinics to test for the disease and educate the public about it, and they also gave out free childcare and food, and the federal government found this so threatening they began taking sickle cell seriously themselves so that more people wouldn't go running to a communist, anti-racist group.

The ADA didn't pass because disabled people made ourselves vulnerable, it passed because we made ourselves strong, clawing our way together up the statehouse steps and blocking traffic with wheelchairs during rush hour.

We've been propagandized by capitalist individualism and representation politics to believe the most empowering thing a marginalized person can do is stand solidly as a single person. But it's not true. In fact, some of the steps we take to broadcast our marginal status and tell our stories makes us more vulnerable in the end.

Many companies now encourage their disabled employees to come out and be proud of their status, for instance. I've given workshops at companies like that. At every single one, I've later heard from Autistic and ADHDer employees that the second they actually identified themselves publicly, it became a target on their back. They were scrutinized, denied accommodations, pushed out of the office, threatened with their boss calling 911 on them, forced to quit.

The real way to make a change happen is through organized, collective power, not through personal vulnerability, individual pride or sharing every last drop of energy that we have educating people who have a vested interest in not understanding our concerns. Winning the hearts and minds of the ones in control is not the answer. We must organize to take control.

I've done all kinds of activism all my life since I was fourteen years old, from phone banking to voter registration drives to jail support to writing my congress people and more, and much of it was a waste of my time. It was designed to waste my time, to convince me that by being a good little boy and playing within the system I would be freed, when really I needed to be joining forces with other people to dismantle it. That's the way forward, that's truly what I believe now.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case: Eddie Munson x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Chapter 4: Paranoid

Ooooh baby, this was a doozy that turned into a semi rant at the end… hold on tight lads, the mental illness is really coming in bad tonite.

Trigger warnings: MINORS DNI, homophobic comments (not from Eddie or reader, don’t worry), jealousy issues, insecurity, codependent attachment, trust issues, anxiety, implied/referenced drug use, brief mentions of intimate acts

[Masterlist] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

***

“Mira, look who it is! The Queen of the Nerds!”

Fuck…! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

You were trying to be subtle, to come in without a trace. Busting a mission to make it into the house without your family smelling you or seeing your tiny eyes. You didn’t want to deal with anyone’s bullshit tonight either. Too many overwhelming feelings and intrusive thoughts were scrambling all coherence out of your already zooted out mind. And yet fate was against you from the get go. Scruffy and Tiffany blew your cover the moment they heard the key turn in the lock of the doorknob. The dogs both came barking down the hallway to the door, and of course if the dogs were back inside and not in the dog run at four PM on a Tuesday, that meant only one thing:

Your brother Jamie hadn’t yet left for his shift working security at the Hawkins Water Utility Building…

“Shut up, huevon.” You snapped quickly. “Don’t you got work?”

“I do, smartass. I got an hour before my shift starts.”

Your brother, Jaime Luiz, anglicized for the people of Hawkins as “James” (and thence forth Jamie), was seated on your ratty mustard yellow couch in the living room. You could smell the clove cigarettes he’d been chain smoking, and you hoped the stench would drown out the smell of the pot on you. He turned away from the television to look up at you, evidently your homecoming held a little more interest than Tina Turner currently did on MTV.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked.

“School.” You immediately replied, looking away from him.

You booked it past him and heard your brother sniff.

FUCK!

You quickly made your way to your bedroom and shut the door, intending to shower off the smell of Eddie’s deodorant and the reefer before Jamie had any further suspicions. You took off your Carhartt jacket and tossed it in an inconspicuous corner of the room with your backpack, narrowly missing your milk crate of vinyls in the process. After smoothing out your hair and unlacing your chucks clumsily, you were just about to go into your connected bathroom to turn on the hot water when you heard a knock and then the creak of your door opening.

“So how was school?”

As usual. No boundaries in your own fucking house. The white kids got a polite knock and gave permission for anyone to enter. In your Hispanic house, knocking was a courtesy that only your brother adhered to, albeit briefly before he eventually just decided to walk in because he felt like he owned the place as the “man” of the house.

“Shit.” You said honestly, not looking at him. “Pure shit. Tired of dealing with people.”

“Yeah? What’re they saying?”

Jamie sat down on your bedspread, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you gather your pajamas. It was the same bullshit you always wore: a black shirt with fading patches of gray that used to be purple before you got a hold of it, and bright pink dolphin shorts.

“The usual. You know how the gringos are.” You said.

“You gotta be careful when you’re dealing with that shit.” Jamie said immediately. “You know how it is; they don’t like us here, but if you keep it cool you can coast on by. Just keep it straight and don’t make waves, esa.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping it could change though.” You said.

“I got a strong feeling that it won’t…” Jamie sighed. “Anyways, that’s not why I’m here. Whose cologne you wearing?”

“Excuse me?!”

“What? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he sniffed. “You smell like Old Spice, and mota. And you’re walking around all tirado.”

“Who the hell has you smelling me, you cochino!” You said, avoiding turning around so he wouldn’t see your red rimmed eyes.

“Ay, don’t get mad at me! You’re the one all coming home smelling like a skunk’s ass. A la ve, your eyes are redder than the devil’s pecker too!”

Jamie was so close to your face you could have slapped the grin right off of his. He had his hands on your shoulders, shaking them slightly as he tried to get you to turn around. You covered your burning cheeks.

“Get the fuck away from me, bro!” you couldn’t help the nervous pot giggles. Too high to even try and deny it.

“Come on, vieja. Whose cologne are you wearing?” He laughed.

“Oh my god…” You sighed, “If I tell you, will you leave me the fuck alone?!”

“Yes, I’ll stop bothering you.”

“… I kinda, maybe, just a little bit… might have a boyfriend now.”

“Enserio?” Jamie’s face dropped, his mouth hanging open as he searched your face for the ‘gotcha’ moment that would never come, “This isn’t like a prank, is it?”

“Nah uh, serio bro.” You laughed.

It was so worth it seeing Jamie’s smug demeanor drop into one of pure shock, almost awe.

“Oowee, and who’s the poor torcido you managed to convince?” Jamie asked.

“Not anyone you know, entrementido!” You yelled, “Jesus, you’re all fucking nosey!”

Jamie dodged the sock you threw weakly at him, laughing at your poor aim and at the way you teetered unsteadily on your feet.

“Calmase, mami! A la… Just trying to look out for you.” He laughed, “So… what… is he like a big nerd like you or what?”

How could you even deny it at this point? Eddie could pull more fantasy facts out of his ass high than you ever could sober.

“Yeah… Yeah he is. He’s into fantasy.” You replied.

“Of course he is… What’s the nerd’s name?”

“Eddie. His Name is Eddie.”

Jamie frowned slightly.

“Eddie? He’s a little gringito or what?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah. He likes Dungeons and Dragons, and the Lord of the Rings, and Dune, and music…”

“Ay dios… So my sister’s gonna turn into a nerdy pothead…”

“That’s rich coming from my marihuano ass brother!” You shot back.

“Hey, I don’t smoke pot that often!” He cried.

He wouldn’t ever admit it. Never owning up to his own mistakes like a man. Your brother could strut his shit around everyone like he was a king, but admitting his own shortcomings was not his strong suit. But that was life in your family. That was life in la raza too whether or not you wanted to admit it too. You hid the weakest points of your life under a mask of bravado whether or not you were a man or a woman, because the insults and judgement from the white community were nothing in comparison to the dressing down you got from within the confines of your own safe circle.

It pissed you off and made you angry that everyone just always wanted to hide shit to be normal.

“Bullshit! I could smell it in your room the first week we came to Hawkins, goddamn liar. I know you didn’t have any on you when we left New Mexico. So you had to have gotten it here.” You said.

“Okay, so I made a few connections here and there…” he admitted. “At least I don’t walk around the damn house reeking of it along with some dude’s cologne all mas puta like you!”

“No, you just walk around smelling like fucking Tres Flores and Tecate. Only the best for El Mas Chingon.”

Jamie’s easygoing demeanor only served to piss you off. It was like you were a tiny poodle barking at a Doberman. Immediately Jamie tried redirecting your anger.

“It could be worse, pendeja. I could smell like that weird kid on our street back in Albuquerque, remember the weird one? He always smelled like sovaco…” he put a finger to his lips, trying to remember the name that escaped him.

You knew immediately the face but not the name of who he was talking about, even high you wouldn’t forget the people back home.

“Oh fuck!” you laughed. “What the hell was his name… FUCKING RAYMOND!”

“Raymundo!” Jamie laughed. “Fucking Raymond, man… Can we at least agree that we both smell better than that torcido?”

“Whatever, bitch…” You laughed. “What the fuck made you think of him?”

“The Old Spice your vato got all over you. Raymond tried using it once to cover up the pit smell when he caught some putasos from the homegirls in Hernandez.” Jaime laughed. “Goddamn, I hope Eddie isn’t as lame as Raymond?”

“Oh hell no, bro.” You grinned, taking your clothes into the bathroom and dropping them on the countertop over your Gillette Supermax hairdryer, “Eddie’s the real deal, vato. He’s a metalhead... Puro chingon.”

Jamie mock whistled, clearly unimpressed. While your brother appreciated metal music, he still had the typical machismo mentality that long hair and tight pants were for girls, and any metathead he saw in public was branded cruelly for life by your brother. You could already hear the homophobic insults he was thinking about Eddie in his head just by the tone of voice alone.

“Eeee… So if he’s a metalhead, does he have like all the long hair like a girl, and the leather jackets and shit?” Jamie asked.

“He’s not gonna wear a fucking leather jacket in this heat you idiot.” You said, “But he does have a battle vest he made himself. And he’s got the ripped skinny jeans, the rings… He even plays in a band!”

“What’s the name of the band?” He asked.

“Corroded Coffin.”

“… Corroded Coffin?” Jamie looked genuinely confused, before he burst out laughing. “Corroded Coffin?! The hell kind of name is that joto shit?”

“Shut up asshole!” You hiss, “You just don’t get the genius behind the name; it’s metal as fuck! Dare I say gothic as hell too! Just perfect for me, you know how I’ve always wanted to be all goth.”

Jamie laughs even harder. It’s just like him. Typical bullshit sibling banter, but the way he’s so dismissive of you and of Eddie… it makes you angry and defensive.

“Dios mio… you’re probably his wet dream then, all dressed in your black clothes like you’re going to a fucking funeral.” He laughs.

“Simón! He’s my Paul, I’m his Chani. I’m his Leia, he’s my Han. He’s my Alan, I’m his Madison…” you rattled off names of every couple you could think of in the media you consumed.

After a while, when the reefer made you forget what you were even saying, you turned to see Jamie with his cheeks puffed out. Clearly trying not to just burst out again laughing in your face.

“… You’re such a fucking weirdo, esa.” He said, voice strained.

“Oh shut up and leave me alone!”

He did laugh at that, and it took everything in you not to beat the crap out of him.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry.” He wheezed.

There was silence for a beat. You didn’t know what to say anymore, and neither did he. You were about to just kick him out of your room when he finally spoke up again.

“You sure you’re not rushing into this?” He asked gently. “Because if you’re already comparing yourself to stupid ass movie relationships, it sounds like you’re already falling for the guy…”

“Hey, I can go as fast or slow as I want.” You snapped, “Eddie said relationships don’t have rules. We can go at our own pace. Whatever feels right to us. And it feels right to jump on the chance before someone else gets to him.”

“Just so long as you promise me that you won’t rush to do anything stupid. I don’t want you getting hurt, and I don’t want you getting pregnant either.” He said.

“A la maquinas bro! What the hell do you think? I know I sound desperate, but I’m not that goddamn desperate to get knocked up to keep him.” You whined.

“You’re already jumping into this way too fast. You’ve known him what, like a day or two? I don’t know how many times I’ve seen this shit happen: girls meeting guys and falling in love, then the next thing, sas, she’s popping out a kid in nine months. Don’t think you’re any different from other girls, mami.”

“I know I’m different.” You growled, the irritation coming back full force. “I know it… Eddie said I was, and everyone else knows I’m different too...”

“Yeah but… You’re still just as vulnerable as any other girl. You’re already falling for it now. If you fall so easily, you’ll end up all fucked up in the end. I’m just trying to look out for you, just be careful with this Eddie guy, okay? He’s some virgin nerd. You don’t know what he’s after-…”

“… he’s not a virgin…” you said softly.

Jamie paused his rant, looking up at you wide eyed.

“What?! You… how the hell do you know that?!” He demanded.

“He told me…” you mumbled.

“… how many girls has he been with?”

He leaned forward, waiting for an answer.

“He said he had an ex that he did it with all the time in his van…” you admitted, “And that there were a couple girls at the high school that wanted to do it with him on a dare.”

“Chingao…” he breathed, “Have you guys…”

“NO! No… no he…”

You two had hit at least third base at Lover’s Lake through two layers of nylon tights, and denim, grinding in the van until there was an embarrassing wet spot on the fly of his ripped up Wrangler jeans. He came, you came, and it had been the first time you had been so goddamned careless. You’d opened your legs to him, and he’d stopped you short.

“Sorry sweetheart. Normally I would, but not this time…”

“He said he didn’t wanna do it like that in the van while we were too high out of our minds…” you replied, recalling the way he’d almost withdrawn completely away, “He said… He said he wanted us to be sober, for it to be special…”

“Well… at least he wanted it to be different… Just watch it with him, don’t fall too hard for it, entiendes?” Jamie said.

What difference did it make if it was the right thing to do? You were already bitter and moody about it, feeling rejected and all types of ways about how this night had gone down. And that wasn’t the only thing you were bitter about…

“I won’t fall for it. I won’t because… ugh… I’m so fucking pissed, bro…” you growled.

“Why?” Jamie asked.

“Because he didn’t fucking wait!”

You kicked your wicker laundry hamper, pouting and stomping like a petulant child.

“Fucking cochino ass vatos, bro! Just going along with whoever showed a passing fancy, instead of waiting for someone to show up who really cared… Why… why didn’t…”

The feelings were bubbling and frothing in your stomach, hurting you physically from the shock in taking in his revelations in the van. At first, you’d been too high to understand what Eddie was saying. And then the more he rambled on about his previous little sticky fumblings with sex, the angrier you got. What the fuck, you’d thought. Feelings of possessiveness and jealously had plagued you and made your heart hurt, and you had to pretend that his rambling about how you were special and different and how he wanted things to be better quelled the jealous fury.

“Why didn’t that dumbass wait for me?!” You finally sobbed.

Jamie began to laugh.

It was ugly. It was unchecked. It totally invalidated everything you felt. But he began to howl.

“Serious?!” He exclaimed, “You don’t own this guy, he had a life before you. You’re just being all celosas!”

“Shut the fuck up, cabron! No I’m not!” You cried.

“You are!” He laughed, “You’re jealous of girls that ain’t even in the picture anymore!”

Hold it back… hold it in… don’t go for him unchecked… because if you did it now you’d fall flat on your ass and only make your brother laugh harder.

“It’s not fucking funny!” You whined, “It’s not funny, you ass… Eddie’s… he’s the only guy that’s ever paid any attention to me… He’s perfect for me… Why couldn’t he just wait and hope that there was someone out there, that I was out there…?”

“Because that ain’t how shit works, mensa.”

Jamie suddenly looked serious, as if attempting to speak to your jealousy to quell its fury.

“Eddie’s his own man, he’s a person. He’s got his own needs and wants outside of you. You can’t expect someone to just sit on their thumbs waiting just because it’s what you want them to do. This is why I’m worried about you getting so attached. You’re already hurting yourself getting hung up on the what ifs…”

Jamie paused, but because he usually just said shit, he continued.

“And for real, your way of thinking is pretty selfish.”

“But…”

He held up a hand to you.

“Do you even hear yourself when you’re talking?” He asked, “I know you’re high right now, but goddamn dude. You’re basically reducing Eddie to nothing more than an object, like he’s a possession. That ain’t how real love works. You can’t get all worked up because he’s got a past that didn’t revolve around you.”

“But… but’s not fair, because I wouldn’t have treated him like the other girls did…” you tried to defend yourself.

“Mami, who cares? You ain’t above them just because you would have been nicer to him, regardless if they were shitty or not. You don’t know them, nor do you know what went down. I’m not saying it’s wrong to wait for the right person, but just because you made that choice to stay ‘pure’ or whatever doesn’t mean you get to act like you’re all bad and so better than everyone else-…”

“BUT I DIDN’T GET THAT CHOICE!”

You were at the breaking point. Fuck him. Fuck him! He didn’t know you. You realized then and there, Jamie didn’t even want to understand how you felt about all this.

“That’s a fucking crock of shit…” you hissed. “I didn’t get that choice to save myself for someone! Everyone else made it for me because no one fucking… Those girls he was with got a choice to do it with someone, Eddie got a choice to do it with someone… I didn’t get no fucking choice! No one… no one even wanted to…”

It’s too goddamned much. It’s too fucking much to think about. Your mind is a whirlpool, Charybdis incarnate as you’re pulled in twenty different emotional directions. No one gave you a choice to decide who you wanted to give yourself to, and god knows there were plenty of guys back in New Mexico who you would have shared everything with. You weren’t as prudish as everyone believed you to be. Frankly the thought of having sex thrilled and excited you, it was special attention that was exclusive to the individual, and Jesus Christ you wanted special attention. Any kind of attention really. So in those vulnerable moments of awkwardly awakening your thoughts and feelings, you began your hunt to find someone to share this love with. There were a lot of guys you projected a fantasy into. Each was a clone of some Prince Charming who didn’t exist. Comprised of qualities you naively believed a lover should have, a smattering of this and that: someone who could share your passion in music, someone you related to culturally, a lover of books, someone who lived with their head in the clouds as you did, those who had a zest for life and living that you had lost… They all had some amazing quality you’d projected onto them, and yet not a one gave you the fucking time of day.

The results were the same: they’d look you up and down, and then make the decision. A resounding no. They looked at you, with your baggy black clothes and oversized jacket, and they all thought the same thing: not a fucking chance in hell. No matter how hard you tried to understand why there was so much resounding rejection, you never could quite figure it out. All you knew was you were nothing to them. You were furniture. And if you went scrambling after them, trying to be what they wanted you to be, they spoke down to you. As if you were a child. As if you were stupid. Everyone did…

But not Eddie…

You think you’re the only one in this van that does weird out there shit?

Eddie had grabbed you by the backpack. Staked his claim on you. Stolen you from Hawkins High like a bundle of contraband…

We’re both weird.

The two of you could throw Dune references at one another, and he’d listen eagerly to you talk about the other books you’d read… not once did he ever judge or call you a fucking child. Only one other person in the world didn’t judge you either, and he was nowhere to be found…

We’re both freaks…

Eddie said he would lend you his copy of The Lord of the Rings, because you’d never read it before. Then he said something about how you were prettier than the Lady Galadriel… You wanted to get to that part of the book to confirm if that was a good thing or not. You wanted to know everything about him and share things with him, to fit in, to feel affection…

I don't care if you're weird. I like it.

Eddie taught you to do the tongue thing… With the promise of teaching so much more…

I like you…

“Get out of my room.” You said lowly to your brother.

“Hey, wait a minute-…”

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…

“Get. Out. Of. My. Room.” You hissed.

“Hermana-…”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

You didn’t wait to hear his sputtering protests. With a strength you didn’t know you possessed, you shoved Jamie as hard as you could out of your room, slamming the door behind him and locking it deftly before turning on your record player so loud it set off the barking of your dogs.

Jamie didn’t know shit from fuck. No one did… They didn’t get it. They were all just fine, going through their mundane lives like nothing was wrong, when everything in the entire world was wrong. The world wasn’t like in books. The world was messy and complicated and stupid… And it just wasn’t goddamned fair.

But deep down, you knew you deserved the pain. The world had your hand in a box, a poisoned needle at your throat. To move away, to flinch even the slightest bit, was to forfeit to death.

You weren’t going to let that happen. So you decided to go with what you knew: keep your mouth shut, your head down, and give Eddie Munson whatever in the hell he wanted. Even if you had to pretend like certain things didn’t hurt you.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer…

[amethystjewel01]

RoseJewel🌹 Pocky Day💎 Oneshot

Finally finished this!!! God I'm late but it's here!!! Hopefully things are written coherent enough, I haven't written something like this in a long time, especially for twst. Anyway enjoy!

Edit: Forgot to add that there isn't any warnings, the most that happens is a kiss

——————

“Heyyy birthday bestie!~” A voice called out to Yuuna, surprising them. They turned their head over to see a certain carrot top third year.

“Oh, Cater! What’s up?” They asked, adjusting their arms as they held a small pile of books. As the male approached, he could see the titles mentioning some kind of magic theory. The male then soon swinged an arm around their shoulders, leaning close.

“Coming back to study with ADeuce again?” He asked, smiling wide. Yuuna looked away, hoping their cheeks weren’t turning red with a flush. Unknowing that the male could already see, inwardly snickering at how cute they looked.

“No…I’m actually getting tutored by Riddle.” They explained, muttering quietly as they could see the male smirk at them from the corner of their eye. Yuuna still had trouble with fully understanding the theory of magic, mainly because of their otherworldly origin. While Yuuto had tried to explain it to them with Yuuki, they pinkette just never grasped the concept. And because of this lack of understanding, their grades had been slipping, so they had asked their red-headed classmate to help them. This is what led to them standing at the entrance of Heartslabyul with Cater questioning them.

“Oh~ I see.” He responded, his face similar to that of a cat. “Well Riddle would be the best! He even helped me with studying a bit ago!”

“Yeah? He’s not…strict right?” They asked nervously, having been slightly dreading the possibility. While they knew that the dorm leader had become more lenient after his overblot, there were still times when the male would relapse.

“Sometimes,” Cater began, tapping his phone against his cheek in thought. But he soon smiled in reassurance once he saw the other’s nervous fidget in his hold. “B-But it’s mainly for your own benefit! Trust me, it’ll be really helpful.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” They sighed, adjusting their arms again as they realized their arms were beginning to grow tired. “I better go then, don’t want to be late.”

They walked off a bit, forcing the male to let his arm fall. He looked at their back for a moment, before coming to a realization when he remembered the weight in his back pocket.

“Wait!” The carrot top male suddenly shouted, scaring Yuuna. They squeaked in fright, almost dropping their books from jumping. They sent a nasty glare towards his way in anger, earning a sheepish grin in response. “I was just going to give you this, since it’s that day and all.”

He quickly takes an unopened box out of his pocket and places it on top of Yuuna’s books. “Sam was selling these for a discount, and I knew how much my birthday bestie loves anything sweet.”

“Huh?” They looked down to study the box, perking up once they recognized the treat. “Pocky? I haven’t had that in ages.”

“Yeah!”

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘that day’? What day is it?” They suddenly asked, confusion swirling in their amethyst orbs. The male only blinked in response, confused at their confusion.

“Pocky day?”

“Oh, cool.” They responded shrugging, glancing up at the sky in thought. “I don’t really pay attention to those kinds of things unless it’s a major thing my family celebrated. Like Dia de los Muertos or Christmas.”

“You’re kidding!” He exclaimed, staring at them in shock as he processed their words. “So you don’t-”

“There you are.” Both jump at the sudden third voice, causing Yuuna to actually drop their books this time thanks to the carrot top bumping into them. All three flinched at the sound of the hard covers hitting the stone path. Cater and Yuuna immediately turned their heads to meet the steel grey eyes of Riddle. “You’re five minutes late, I almost thought you had gotten ‘lost’ at the hedgehog pen again.”

“Th-That was one time!” Yuuna almost screeched in embarrassment, their cheeks flushing a bright red. Soon they quickly knelt down to pick up the fallen books, hiding their face as they mumbled, “I needed a break from Ace and Deuce okay? Their arguments were giving me a headache, Yuuki wasn’t helping either.”

“Right.” A shorter male sighed, bending down to help the Ramshackle dorm leader pick up their studying materials. “In any case, at least this time I don’t have to drag you away from the pen.”

“They looked so sad! I didn’t want to leave them!”

Cater glances between the two as they bickered over the pinkette’s fondness for the small mammals. While he had known of the two sharing a class he didn’t have a big idea on how the two interacted, until now. Without realizing he began to analyze the small quirks each of the dorm leaders exhibit, Yuuna refusing to meet eyes with Riddle and flushing whenever they were close to, Riddle’s lips quirked up slightly into a small smirk as he teased them. It was clear to the carrot top that something was brewing between the two, something he wasn’t sure how to feel.

But he quickly pushed away those emotions and forced a smile on his face. Once the two stood back up with an even amount of books the male bent down to pick up the forgotten box of biscuit sticks to place it on the pinkette’s pile. “Can’t forget these!”

“Oh thanks man.” Yuuna quietly said, adjusting their grip. “Would be a good study snack.”

“Hm?” The Heartslabyul dorm leader leaned over a bit to get a good look at the pocky box. “Ah those…I remember seeing several dorm members talking about these.”

“Oh yeah, these were my favorites back home.” The pinkette said, smiling softly. “I remember they had all kinds of flavors, but these seem to be the classic chocolate ones. I’m sure you would love the strawberry ones.”

“I see.” The redhead hummed, before quickly picking up his pace. “But we can discuss after we study.”

“R-Right!” Yuuna attempts to catch up to the male, turning their head back at Cater. “Thanks for these again!”

————————————————————

“So that’s what you mean, I think I get it now!” Yuuna said, smiling as they quickly wrote down notes into their notebook.

After an hour of the redhead explaining to the pinkette about the theory of magic, the two finally found a breakthrough of how the magic-less person could fully understand the concept. Riddle sighs, looking over their shoulder to silently review their notes.

“How come your dorm member didn’t explain this to you?” He asked, arching a brow in question. “Surely someone of his capabilities could have helped you.”

“He tried actually.” They responded, slouching against the small couch within the redhead’s room. They raised their arms up to stretch their limbs, letting out a high pitch whine in the process. “He had a hard time fully explaining it though, probably because he never had thought about it before.”

“That would make sense.” The redhead hummed, thinking over their words. “It would be hard to explain it if it’s something you could inherently do since young.”

“Yeah, plus my only knowledge on it coming from fictional media back in my world where there’s different systems to it depending on the media made me think it was more complicated then how you explained it.” They explained, finishing stretching before they perked up in realization. Leaning over they grabbed the forgotten box of pocky and ripped it open. “But since i understand it better we can take a break!”

“We haven’t even gotten over how you could implement the theory.” Riddle huffed, eyes narrowing at Yuuna as he watched them take a stick out and nibble on it.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you could use a break too since you basically had to explain it to me like I was a child.” They responded, smiling cheekily in jest. That only earned an eye roll in response, making them snicker. They gestured the box towards him. “Want one?”

“Hmm, is it just a chocolate covered biscuit stick?” He asked, taking one carefully to inspect it. “I never really had a chance to have one.”

“Huh- oh right.” The pinkette looked the other way, flashes of seeing the male’s childhood flooding their vision for a bit. They never had told anyone they saw these, but made their stomach drop every time they had to almost view the trauma someone went through firsthand. “Well I’m sure most are gonna take Sam’s entire stock since Cater told me he’s selling them on a discount.”

“I would buy them all today myself honestly, what with the discount..” Yuuna snickered, grabbing another pocky stick to eat. “But lord knows all the looks I would get from everyone.”

“Why?” The male asked, confused. “You’re not one who normally cares what people think of how much sweets you eat.”

“Oh no,” They sat up, looking around a bit before they leaned over to the surprised male to whisper. “It’s because most of the boys would start thinking I’m trying to get kisses from someone.”

The redhead quickly flushed, backing away as he screamed, “What?!”

He then starts to cough, not realizing a bit of the treat in his mouth had been swallowed. He drinks some tea to stop his choking, feeling the pinkette roughly pat his back in comfort. “Why would someone think that?!”

“Oh, you don’t know? Makes sense.” They mutter, taking another pocky stick in their mouth. “It’s because of the pocky game.”

“The…pocky game?”

“Oh boy.” Yuuna sighed, ignoring the way their heart raced as they began to explain. “It’s basically a way for people to get a kiss from their crush or partner. You both take an end of a treat in your mouth and eat the stick until you…”

“I-I see…” 

Yuuna couldn’t see the male’s face as they had turned their head away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. So they had not caught onto his flushed face as he glanced away.

“Yeah, most explain it in a way of a chicken game. ‘Whoever pulls away is the loser’ kind of thing.” They continued, their hands gripping onto their vest a bit. “But really it’s just a way to get a kiss, though I have to admit it’s a cute concept.”

“I can’t say I fully understand it.” Riddle replied, coughing to push down the flush on his cheeks. “But it’s not a terrible thing, most couples would do various silly things like that.”

“Exactly,” The pinkette then gulped, trying to ignore their still racing heart. They were so focused on trying to calm it down they hardly had time to stop the next few words flowing out. “I mean I definitely wouldn’t mind playing that game if it was with the person I like.”

“The person you like?” The male repeated, looking over at them.

“Um!” They quickly coughed, surprised. “I just mean- like! Um…Let’s move on!”

“S-Sorry.” Riddle quietly apologized, glancing away for a moment. “I was just a bit curious, since I never would think you would see anyone here in a romantic sense.”

“W-Well I do!” Their cheeks burned red, their thoughts trying to keep away from their crush on the redhead. “But that’s not important! L-Let’s just get back to studying!”

They grabbed a book from the table, bringing it to their face to block it from the other’s view. They wouldn’t have noticed the way the male’s eyes darkened, an unknown feeling beginning to rise in his chest. While he knew that there were clearly others that also have a fondness for the pinkette, he didn’t even consider that the pinkette would also have a fondness for someone. But instead of pushing the subject, the male only sighed and continued the study session.

After another hour of taking notes and explaining, the two decided to take another break. Though Yuuna could only pout as they stared at the empty box of pocky on the table.

“Man, I wish Cater had given me more.” They whined, mumbling as they nibbled on one of the cookies Riddle had set up for them. “Not that these cookies aren’t good, pocky just brought some nostalgia.”

“You don’t have to explain.” He only responded, his face blank as he stared into his tea cup. The pinkette noticed and frowned, their mind trying to think of what to say. But before they could, a knock resounded from the door, making the two dorm leaders focus on the familiar mop of orange peeking into the room.

“Still studying I see!” Cater pointed out, smiling wide as he entered the room. His eyes were quick to notice that instead of sitting across from the ramshackle member with his desk chair, his dorm leader was seated on the same couch as them. Grinning, he looked over at Yuuna. “Hopefully Riddle here hasn’t worn you down yet.”

“Oh no, we’re taking our second break actually.” The pinkette responded, smiling back at the male. They missed the surprise look on the third year’s face as they grabbed another cookie to eat, and also the look of exchange between the carrot top male and the redhead dorm leader. “Hey Cay, you got any more boxes of pocky?”

“Huh? Oh yeah! I bought some more for you!” The green eyed male said, tossing another box towards them. They failed at the catch, earning a laugh from the elder. Both had missed the frown on Riddle’s face that pulled down for s split section at the interaction before subtly shaking his head to push away the unsettling feeling from earlier rising back up. Luckily Cater had tossed him a box as well, snapping him out of his quick thoughts. “I got for you too Riddle! They had more flavors.”

The male scanned over the box he barely caught, reading over the text that spelt out it was strawberry flavored. His eyes narrowed, resisting the familiar voice in his head to check the nutrition label. The voice screaming in his thoughts made him grip the box tighter, something only the pinkette noticed for a moment. They gently pressed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course! Anything for our dorm leader!” Cater said, forcing a smile onto his lips as he noticed the silent interaction. “Now I’ll stop bothering you two. After all, you did ask for no one to interrupt you two, ciao!”

“Huh? Why’d you ask that?” Yuuna asked as soon as the third year left, tilting their head as they looked over at the male.

“You mentioned how easily you can become distracted.” He explained, purposefully not meeting their curious gaze as he poured more tea into his cup. “Normally I tutor someone in the common room, but knowing you it would be easy for anyone to walk in and make you lose your train of thought.”

“That’s fair.” They responded, not at all offended at his assumption. He wasn’t wrong in the slightest, as they normally had to have Yuuki and Yuuto distract Grim to prevent him from interrupting their self study sessions. “Luckily we already were on a break when Cay walked in, and he brought more pocky!”

They hummed happily as they opened their box, making small noises of excitement once they realized which flavor it was. “Oh shit! This is oreo!”

“Language.”

“Whatever, I having fucking oreo pocky!” They stuck their tongue out at the huffing male, childishly grinning in joy. “That’s like the best!”

“And most likely the sweetest.” He sighed, shaking his head a bit as he heard them practically devour several sticks in a row. “Don’t eat those so fast!”

“But they’re so good!” They whined, not at all caring how the crumbs fell onto their lap. They did notice the male’s grimace and chuckled sheepishly in apology. But soon they swallowed the last in their mouth, taking a sip of tea to wash it down. “You can’t fault me, they’re so tiny too. You know I’ve eaten a whole big donut in one-”

“I do not need to hear about that!” Riddle exclaimed, halfheartedly glaring at them as they laughed at his playful frustration. “Honestly I’m surprised you haven’t choked.”

“So is everyone who knows me and my antics.” They chuckled, before gesturing their pocky box at him. “Try it! You’ll see that I’m right.”

“There isn’t any left.” He pointed out, making the pinkette look inside in shock. They hadn’t realized they had eaten all of the treats that quickly, causing them to dramatically groan as they let themselves slouch onto the couch in such a fashion that they began to almost slide off the cushion.

“Noooooo!”

“That’s what happens when you eat them too quickly.” Riddle huffed, shaking his head at their dramatics. Though he couldn’t hold back the small smile that crossed his face as he watched them ungracefully fall onto the carpet. He didn’t even have to look to know that their gaze immediately settled onto the box still in his hand. “No.”

“But-”

“No, Cater got these for me.” He said, smirking at their playful glare and pout. “You already ate yours.”

“Aw come on, you never even had these before!”

“All the more reason why I shouldn't share with a glutton like you.”

“Just one!” They had shoved a finger in his face to emphasize their point, causing the male to jump back into the couch. They pulled their hand back in apology, realizing they had gotten too excited. “I can at least ask for one! I like the strawberry ones too!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t ask.”

“Can I have one?” They asked in a deadpan tone.

“No.”

“Bruh!’ The two had begun to laugh at this point, something the pinkette didn’t entirely expect. While the redhead was used to their antics in class they usually never had joked around like this with him, instead saving it for someone else like Ace or the other ramshackle members. But they were glad to see that the male wasn’t as stuck up as he was during their first few classes, having now taken a subtle teasing approach that was encouraged by their own challenging nature.

Riddle had begun to open his box of pocky with a smug look on his face, keeping eye contact with the other dorm leader as he bit into the biscuit. The two stayed silent as the male continued to eat one in an agonizing slow manner, amused as he could see their face scrunch up into a deep frustrated pout. To prolong the, albeit weird, standoff he had taken occasional sips of his tea in between the treats. But soon it all came to a head when he picked up the last stick, childishly waving it around. 

Though that allowed the pinkette to rise from the floor and quickly grab the treat, surprising the male as they rushed towards the male’s bed to create distance. They cackled in victory, their face very smug as they watched the male sputter. They had chosen to sit down on the plush comforter of the redhead’s bed, crossing their legs as they began to mimic the male’s previous action of swinging the biscuit stick. “Hah!”

“Give that back!”

Yuuna tapped their chin with the stick for a moment, pretending to consider before grinning mischievously. They placed the surprisingly unbroken biscuit on their lips and they grinned at him. “Don’t think so~”

“You-” The redhead glared at them as they snickered while swirling the treat around in their mouth without actually eating it.

“It’s already in my mouth, unless you want to bite the part that isn’t~” They teased, a look of challenge in their eyes. They could see his face turn red from their audacity, making them smile wider. They never really expected the male to do anything, believing the way this scenario would only end up with them being collared and forced to buy him another box.

But to their shock, the male had stood up abruptly and stomped towards them. They froze at his actions, trying to think of a possible escape plan. But as soon as they took their eyes off of him, they felt his gloved fingers loop under their silk choker and pull their head towards his. They squeaked at the sensation, meeting his fiery glare as he bit down on the biscuit. The force had broken it in a slight mess of crumbs, but neither noticed as they stared into each other's eyes. The male was munching on the treat in smug victory, before freezing once he realized the two’s current position. Neither said anything, unable to process how they ended up in the situation they currently were in. 

Yuuna was as red as a tomato as they tried to ignore the way their heart was beating against their chest rapidly, hoping the male couldn’t hear it. Their hands had unconsciously gripped onto the comforter below, their knuckles would’ve been seen turning white if they weren’t wearing their gloves. They could only sit there in frozen silence, not knowing what to say or do that wouldn’t make things more awkward. 

Meanwhile Riddle was no better, as his thoughts began to scream over his rash actions. He could almost hear that older feminine voice scream in rage about how inappropriate he acted in the moment, chastising him on how he potentially made whatever feelings Yuuna had for him plummet. He quickly removed his hand from the pinkette’s choker, muttering an apology as he quickly swallowed down the sweet treat. 

But before he could step back to try and apologize further, he felt the pinkette grab onto his bowtie and pull, crashing his lips onto theirs. Both had jumped in shock at the contact, both surprised by the pinkette’s actions. They didn’t even know when they had moved their hand, nor when the sudden urge to kiss the Heartslabyul dorm leader had overtaken their thoughts. And when they thought about letting go and groveling at the male’s feet for forgiveness, they felt him return the sudden passion in the liplock. Neither moved as they soaked in the warm feeling of kiss, each of their heartbeats pounding within their ears.

After a few moments the two pulled away, gasping in breaths of air as they realized neither breathed at all for those few moments. They couldn’t look each in the eye as Riddle stood up, having been forced to bend down a bit from the pinkette’s grip, coughing into his fist to quell the bright flush on his face. He tried to sputter out a few words, before Yuuna suddenly stood up.

“I…” Unable to say anything else, they rushed out the door. Their hands covered their flushed cheeks as they let their flight instinct take over for now. Once they reached outside the dorm building, they hid behind a rose bush and screamed into their hands. They don’t think they could face Riddle again after that, though they weren’t gonna complain how nice the kiss was.

————————————————————

“Yo Riddle how-” Cater stopped for a moment, blinking as he saw the dorm leader just standing in the middle of his now empty room. The third year could barely see the redhead’s ears flushed red, along seeing his whole body shake. Though he wasn’t sure of what, the carrot top hoped it wasn’t rage. “Uh, you good? Where’s Yuuna?”

“I-I’m fine! W-We just ended our session.” Cater could hear the tremble in the younger’s voice, still not fully able to pinpoint the emotion behind it.

“Oh, but their-”

“I’ll return those to them later!” The dorm leader shouted, slamming the door in the other’s face. After locking the door to make sure no one else would barge into his room, he slid down the door as he groaned into his hands. This was certainly a predicament he could never have thought to find himself in, especially with someone he had begun to pine for since his overblot. And as much as it made him flustered, he couldn’t help but remember how nice it felt.

[rawbin-hsr]

The previous anon articulated it so well bc I just saw what they're talking about and I'm honestly confused why they thought u were saying anything wrong like 😭😭 are we sure we have the same guy here? Aventurine while yes knows what being loved feels like, he's gone through enough things and changes in life that that little frame of reference won't serve him well, especially within a romantic context bc he doesn't have ANY reference.

I read what you wrote as him not really meaning to (even reread) and yeah, he wouldn't Purposely want to be abusive to his romantic partner, but it still borders on it. What a lot of ppl get wrong is that, emotional abuse doesn't have to always mean the perpetrator is fully aware of it themself.

Maybe bc I myself have bpd, but it's so easy to see. When someone's avoiding negative feelings they have about themself (jealousy, insecurity etc) they can easily externalize this blame (and for him, that's so much more likely, it's literally a defense mechanism) or even, projecting his own view of himself on how you view him only to end up upset. (And then, the random clinginess that comes after this pushing away, why would it happen if not for trying to convince you to stay even though what he keeps doing is generally not a good thing to do in a relationship?) He wouldn't have known healthy attachment, didn't grow up with a safety net to be comfortable with that, hell, he thinks people closest to him (in canon) are sort of "tolerating" him. Are we really surprised?

Like, you never said aventurine is doing it with intent or even awareness bc yea he isn't!! He'd realize some of his actions sure, but stuff like "pushing you away" is probably shit he genuinely considers good for you, and it's not even like completely wrong he's in a high and risky position. Doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a mf, and I think that's the biggest tragedy of it all, because he doesn't fully realize how bad his actions are from another pov, and it's not like a single Convo can get him to understand that.

Anyway, sorry that was a lot more incoherent than I thought and I was firmly stating a lot of things bc I can pull up stuff to back my claim but ALSO bc they pissed me off if u don't like something just scroll I've been doing that for years on this app I never felt the need to go yell at someone bc I don't agree with how they interpret a character 😒😒😒😒 I hope ur feeling better, rsd sucks ass I always get so overwhelmed whenever I experience it but ur intent came across very clearly actually dw

I’m literally in tears I’m so grateful multiple people are taking the time to reassure me thank you so much 🥹🥹🥹 I was really doubting myself and my own take on him, it makes me feel so relieved I’m not the only one who has this specific take on him haha I was lowkey worrying I was a terrible person for a moment there 😭

And yes, exactly !!!! I think you were very coherent in this, in fact I think you formulated what I meant to say better than I did 😭😭 Like there’s a lot, a LOT of nuance to it !!! He never does it out of malice. He just doesn’t know any better. He tries to do what’s right and what��s best for you, he’s just… kind of not good at that because his whole perspective is skewed.

I do still think they were right that I shouldn’t have used the word ‘abuse’. It’s a very loaded term, and I think abuse requires a power dynamic, which is something I think he would try to eliminate in a relationship. Like, yes, he is a powerful man and he sort of needs some leverage to stay in control (of both his own life and his relationship with you), but I think he fucking hates the idea of being “above you” in any way. (Though to be fair he still could unintentionally create an uneven power dynamic — he’s the one mostly in charge of when the two of you interact. I think he loathes himself even more when he realises that.) I think it would be best to stick to the word “toxic” because it feels most fitting from my pov

[silverpelt3600]

Halo 2x7 Spoilers!

What’s up y’all we’re back with another series of my irrelevant and incomprehensible thoughts on this weeks episode!

- OOH! “There’s a difference, you’re human!” “Am I? Are you?” Woah! Easy there tiger that hurt his feelings.

- also the jump to seeing him not bloody feels so jarring, and then immediately back to him being beat up lol.

- YO! Didn’t expect Cortana to pop up immediately.

- good grief the whole “you train them I choose what to do with them”, careful girly you’ll show your true colors to your partner in crime!

- KAI! All my homies love Kai, shout out Kai. And lmao John “I didn’t ask for your help” like DUDE be so fr right now you’re not doing so hot.

- wow the condors getting taken out so fast, the look on Ackerman’s face. Like, it totally just set in for him how deep in shit he is with this whole operation.

- Soren’s flashbacks mixed in between scenes of the new Spartans. Great show of how nothings changed for the spartan program. And jeez, he wants to go back? Some real Stockholm shit.

- WHAT THE HELL KAI! “I made a mistake. Maybe you don’t know that but that’s what humans do.” Can everyone just take a CHILL with bullying John?! Good grief it’s like everyone’s go to when they’re upset with him is saying he’s not human.

- live laugh love John going sicko mode fr

- Also woah! Surprise with the spike! Not surprised that the crazy lady is crazy though! And “those Spartans are my life’s work” “I’ve heard that before” LMAOO bad word choice when talking to the angry spartan with trauma.

- THE ARMOR YEAHHHHHH!!!! Aw Vannak’s armor nooo

- “he wasn’t scared, just didn’t understand.” What if I cried. What if I started sobbing.

- also John’s “I’m the proof” hell yeah you are buddy what a power move

- starmap moment was cool. Halsey as usual charging head first and the two science brains just not having the perspective needed.

- Kai’s “they’re mine”, I love her she cares so much about both of her teams.

- good grief Halsey drives me NUTS with how tunnel visioned she is.

- damn Makee, alright girly that was maybe a bit much but I get it.

- alright Soren’s situation just got a lot more complicated!

- THE SUIT! HES IN THE SUIT! He’s so cool I love him. Also “what it would mean to me” from Perez just breaks my heart. And her humanizing him! When literally this episode has had multiple of the opposite!

- oh FUCK YEAH John just walking through the building like a badass. All those people stopping and looking at him! He knows how awesome he is

- Holy shit the Halo!

- and that’s it?? Omg the writers are killing me.

Alright y’all I hope that was somewhat coherent. This show drives me nuts with the cliff hangers but John truly has skyrocketed to the top of my list of favorite characters. Also he’s attractive, so that helps too lmao. Anyways season finale next week will probably kill me! :)

[ottiliere]

hello! ur posts on the vagus nerve and its connections to digestions have encouraged me to do a lil mini dissertation thingy kinda focused on it/around it, ur big thread on PVT and everything really piqued my interest when i read it and i just held onto it for like a year or smthing until like last week when i started the project. Ik u said recently in one of ur posts i believe that ur not going to post the big dirk PVT post and im not here to be like yo post it because i also think u said that ur kinda moving away from like hs/dirky stuff rn ?? (im forgetting if i saw that sorry) but yeah i just wanted to say thank u etc etc, like ive never done an ask before so sorry if this is phrased weirdly but ur blog is just like one of those blogs that fundamentally changed how i view certain things in life for the better lol, like whether its ur beautiful representations / depictions of mental health in like just beautifully painted art (seriously the way u make it look like idk how to word it cartoony/really 2d but then it stands out against the background + if u zoom in and see the tiny pixel details == it makes me mad) or just like the huggeee long form posts that i like to chew on and save cuz theres so many details that AFFAAT like the way you talk abt the topics u portray has made me concious of how i would want to do so in the same way ig u get me. anyway this got really long and idk if i come across coherently, but ur just a random person on the internet whos art and written thoughts that u decide to share makes me happy when i see it == makes me pace around my room and distract me from this fat essay lmao so tldr: i really appreciate what u do + i hope like that ur doing well and that u keep arting and thoughting no matter what it is that u choose to focus on

(uve made me comitted to reading jthm, playing psychonauts and giving jjba w/ dio another go lmao) 🫶🫶

Hello! I’m sorry this reply is coming so late, this ask in particular is very sweet and has stuck out to me.

I’m really happy to have introduced you to PVT, this is something I’ve heard from a few different people on here and it’s very sweet… I did my thesis on it in college and the time really flew by while working on it, things you don't think could possibly attributed to "nerve issues" being nerve issues is always an eye-opener, isn't it? being able to research things that interest you & access information in general really is a privilege in this day and age.

“The topics [I] portray” are very important to me, so it’s heartening when others take interest in spite of the obvious deterrents. A lot of what I love making art about is unpalatable to most, and while I do understand the reasons for that on principle, it can make things feel a little insular. I genuinely believe there’s a lot of value in depicting tableaus of misery.

The last year has brought a lot of very unforeseen changes, and my life is quite different from when I initially made this blog to post about him! That’s also part of why I’ve been so sparse here…though I’m working to change that quite soon. I love sharing my work, and I’ve had the privilege of meeting some truly wonderful people through this website. That said…with where I’m at now, I’m not sure I’ll be posting the Dirk essay anytime soon, I’m afraid.

I’ve undertaken a few ongoing projects, one of which in particular is an original project I plan on sharing publicly here hopefully within the next month or so. I hope it’s something you & anyone else who’s stuck around with me here will enjoy, but failing that, I’ve really enjoyed working on it thus far.

Thank you for the sweet ask, take care, and good luck with your project!

[astarionposting]

Hi, I just want to say that your work is stunning and we're very thankful for it! I also hope that nobody is causing you problems about liking that other route...It's ludicrous that people still act like children when it comes to what others enjoy, not to mention that if you show them two pictures of Astarion they won't even be able to tell which one is the 'bad' route and which one is the 'good' one.

Other than that, I wish you a very nice day!

Thank you so much! 🥹🥹 I’m so so happy you enjoy my content.

Thankfully no one has caused me any issues with Ascended Astarion stuff haha. I guess because I do acknowledge he is 100% evil if he ascends, but SOMETIMES I LIKE ME AN EVIL MAN!! I enjoy both routes and think they are both super fun to play.

I love Spawn Astarion for him being able to overcome his fears, open up, heal and become “better” (but still pretty cheeky and wanting to create as much chaos as possible) and end the cycle of abuse, which is very personal to me as well in my own trauma. I love that he is able to overcome what I would consider an unhealthy coping mechanism to his fear; he is scared, so his reaction is to obtain as much power over everyone else so no one can ever hurt him again, but then he would lose himself in the process… and his SO if you decide not to become his spawn. I mean, he pretty much becomes his BIGGEST fear, his own source of 200 years of trauma and abuse (“the new cazador”—just like Cazador did since he was also a spawn and killed his own master for power out of fear—if I’m remembering correctly).

BUT I also like the Ascended Astarion route for how tragic it is. How you can really see right through him and how he ISN’T satisfied. He gets so angry with you if you even point it out a little bit, that sacrificing all of those souls, including his own in a way, didn’t fix anything. He’s still so insecure. He is still afraid (he’s just much more aggressive and defensive about it). He is still unhappy and he will never actually be free. I mean, it’s a deal with MEPHISTOPHELES. He might have been freed from one master, but now he owes his power to another, much more dangerous and powerful being. Not only that, but he will never be free from himself. If you listen to Cazador’s inner thoughts, you can hear how much he WANTS to die, how much he HATES being a soulless and vile vampire with only a lust for blood. No capability to love, to care, to be any part of who he might’ve been before.

The song “hurt” by NIN makes me think of Ascended Astarion. He says “we can have it all, we can take the world”. But what is “having it all?”. “Having it all” to me would be the Spawn ending. Being free of his abuser, being free of owing his power to someone else, being able to be HIMSELF and surrounded by people who care about him because of who he is, not because of his power.

Anyways I’m not that great at writing my thoughts coherently so I’ll stop there lol, but I also like his voice lines cause they can be kind of hot because also kind of goofy 😭 😭 and it’s fiction!! I read the wildest fanfic out there but if an actual man spoke to me that way, I would be OUT OF THERE SOOOO FAST lol

I don’t like to call them the “bad” or “good” ending, because it’s different for everyone. I mean, it’s a ROLEPLAYING GAME. Yeah, if your Tav/Durge is good alignment, then the spawn ending may seem to be the “good” one, but if your Tav/Durge is evil then wouldn’t the vampire ascendent ending technically be “good” for them? Anyways, I just think people struggle to separate reality from fiction when they get too deep into it. I love soft-ish and cheeky vampire and also evil and hot vampire like WE CAN ENJOY BOTH!!!

Anyways, thank you so much again and I hope you also have a wonderful day!! ❤️