#But I like to think this is the divide between him and Thomas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zomb-rabbit · 8 months ago

Note

Rabbit

Rabbit I'm begging you to do stalker headcanons with Mh or EMH guys (you don't gotta ofc! But w o ah)

🐟

AAAA IM SO HAPPY U LIKED THEM !!!! I WAS RLLY HAPPY W HOW THE TOBY ONES CAME OUT :)))) also,,,, watch me hit u w ALL the guys !!!!!!!!!!!!!! (nsfw can come later if u wish fishy, i skipped it cus this is alr a super long post BFJSJFNJS) (also i got to use my rainbow dividers i have saved up cus there's so many ppl YAYYYYYYY)

[📹⛓️‍💥🚬👁️☠️🐇]

Stalker!Brian Thomas / Hoodie / Tim Wright / Masky / Evan Myers / HABIT x gn!reader headcanons :)

Brian ;

ok we know Brian likes to record

so expect there to be at least one camera on you a majority of the time

sometimes he'll leave it in a tree or placed just right behind a fence post, zoomed in on your bedroom window so he can document you and your routine even when he's busy

he's so thoughtful 😸😸😸

definitely the type to perfectly curate a "meet-cute" for the both of you, writing down the coffee place you stop off at on mondays for a pick-me-up, the stores you go to that have your favorite brand of something, he calculates his every action with you long before it's happened.

he knows what he's doing is wrong, but unlike Toby, he's not exactly ashamed of it. if anything he likes the added excitement that you could still find him out

this is one of the times him and Hoodie kind of blur together a little bit, both in morals and actions

Brian is fully willing to do whatever it takes to keep eyes on you and to keep you under his thumb and his alone; it doesn't matter who gets in his way

Hoodie ;

also a big fan of recording, but tends to get much more risky with it

likes the feeling that you might catch a little camera that's nestled in between some trinkets and books or a pile of blankets you keep on your couch

he is a creepy creeper . he wants to watch EVERYTHING

gets his feelings hurt when you close your curtains cus you feel eyes on you (you're right, but still :(()

it takes a lot to deter him from doing everything in his power to keep watch over you

he's not even sure of his own motives, really. sure, he wants to keep you safe and make sure no one else is watching you, but most of the time he's just there to watch.

you're like a doll to him, something to entertain him.

Masky ;

this isn't even part of this i just wanna say the vibe for stalker Masky (and just him in general tbh) for me feels a lot like the intro to My Meds Aren't Working by Dystopia . very slow, calculating, stuck in your own head but still zeroed in on one thing

and it's you ofc !!!!

i think Masky is one of the more scarier guys to have stalking you on this lineup honestly. hot? yes absolutely. terrifying to see constantly out of the corner of your eye, sitting at the bus stop outside your job, standing in the parking lot of the gas station by your apartment complex and staring up into your window? YES VERY

he's haunting. he doesn't go up to you, will go completely brick wall at you if you try to come up to him, and you can never tell what emotion is going on behind his eyes. the few times you've walked closer to him, likely on the street in the earlier stages, he looked hungry. like he was waiting and watching for your guard to be down to do something.

if he knows you'll be out, he'll get into your house to steal some of your clothes- likely your underwear (creepy crawler) and a sleep shirt

you will never see him without the mask on. point blank. not to smoke, eat, anything. he is not human or himself when he's around you; he needs to absorb everything about you.

i don't think of him to be the type to film you, would rather be there in person 24/7. it feels more personal to him.

Tim ;

one of the few guys that feels guilt about what he's doing- he knows how scary it is to feel watched all the time. how awful it is to find out you were right.

he’s embarrassed of himself; he’s prided himself on being stoic and independent for so long that this sudden urge to love you and watch you and know you gives him waves of shame

watches from afar, would definitely try and avoid letting himself get too close to you in person. he’s ashamed of it, but he can’t help himself- he needs you, even if at a distance.

steals clothes you’ve slept in so he can try and satiate his yearning to be close to you without actually needing to be so vulnerable, with you or anyone

his near dependency on you reminds me of It Will Come Back by Hozier, his obsession is fed by breadcrumbs from the few in-person up close encounters he’s had with you. smiles when he comes into where you work, nervous little waves when you catch him looking at you at the store, soft 'excuse me!'s when you pass by him

you drive him up a wall (lovingly)

Evan ;

Evan feels guilty, but for the ‘wrong’ reasons

i say ‘wrong’ because he’s more concerned with you inevitable introduction to the whole Habit mess, not with the morals of stalking and obsessing over you

despite his guilt, he can’t get enough of you. his persistence rivals Brian's; it’s almost immediate that he tries to get you with him

latches onto you for fear of you leaving- honestly less of a stalker and more on the obsessive side. not good at keeping his hands to himself.

you might be one of the only cases where he tries to bargain and/or work with Habit, in an attempt to keep you safe or keep you near him out of desperation if you're not listening to him when he tries to convince you to stay with him essentially 25/8

touchy obsessive little critter . give him what he wants before he goes sicko mode (being 10 feet away from you at all times)

Habit ;

does not hide himself AT ALL

will actively be letting you know he's watching

seeing him behind you in mirrors, rabbit motifs everywhere, a random blood splatter in plain sight that no one else seems to see.

he watches, he knows, and he learns

what things make you the most paranoid, all the ways he can slowly introduce himself in a more. friendly light to get you to trust him. to love him.

he's what's best for you, whether you like it or not. it just might take some time for you to get there

ironically for him, think 'The Best Is Yet To Come' by Frank Sinatra. it's just a matter of time before things get so much better. for the both of you, of course!

#guys can you tell i love me some creepy crawler masky #🐟#brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #tim wright x reader #masky x reader #evan myers x reader #habit emh x reader #emh habit x reader #marble hornets x reader #everymanhybrid x reader #rabbit writings

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piastrisun · 1 month ago

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rings and regrets.

pairings: oscar piastri + ex fem reader.

summary: on the night of your engagement party, as you glide through the celebration, the last person you expect to see is oscar—your ex who broke your heart.

genre: angst.⠀word count: 3.7k.⠀ warning: none.

request: could you do an oscar x ex!reader where reader is engaged to another person and oscar comes to the engagement party to talk with reader while they slow dance. just something super angsty with fluff. thanks so much!

notes: so so happy it’s a request!! i hope it’s what you imagined and that you enjoy it a lot. <3 thank u thank u

you never thought it would end like this—your life divided between a past you can’t quite forget and a future you’ve been building, piece by piece. your relationship with oscar had been everything once. there were days when it felt like the two of you were invincible, everything falling into place: shared memories, laughter, plans for the future. but when it came down to the most important thing, the thing that made you want to take that step forward, he faltered.

oscar hadn’t been ready for marriage. you’d known it for a while, but hearing him say it out loud was still a shock. the words cut deeper than you’d expected. “i love you, but i’m not sure i can do this yet,” he had told you, his voice shaking, as if admitting that to you was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

you had tried, you really had. you gave him space, waited for him to come around, but the longer you waited, the more the silence between you two stretched. eventually, you understood that no matter how much you loved him, he wasn’t going to change. the engagement ring you had imagined slipping onto your finger now felt like a distant dream.

you left. the apartment you once shared became a hollow reminder of what could’ve been, and you never looked back.

months passed, and you moved forward. it wasn’t easy—how could it be, when your heart still carried pieces of him? but you found someone who was ready. someone who didn’t hesitate when you spoke of futures or building a life together. your fiancé, thomas, was steady and warm, the kind of man who held you without hesitation, who showed you what it was like to trust again.

and now, here you are. engaged to him. a soft smile on your lips as you stand beside him at your engagement party, your hands intertwined as the music swirls around the room. it’s a celebration of a love that’s been growing, blooming in ways that feel solid and right. you’ve known thomas for a while now. he's kind, dependable, everything you ever thought you wanted. he’s a man who thinks ahead, plans for the future, and dreams of stability. he was everything oscar wasn’t—and for that, you’re grateful. he’s everything you wanted, and more.

still, there’s a knot in your stomach that you can’t quite shake. it’s as if the past is lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface.

the night is supposed to be a celebration. the air is filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses as guests gather to toast your engagement. it's a moment that should feel like a dream come true—your friends and family, your fiancé at your side, all gathered to mark this new chapter in your life. the venue is elegant, soft golden lights hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the carefully arranged tables. the sound of music drifts through the air, setting a light, joyful tone.

thomas holding your hand tightly as he grins at the guests, proudly showcasing the ring on your finger. you smile back at him, a genuine smile, even though your chest feels a little tight. everything is falling into place. or at least it should be.

the soft glow of string lights casts a warm, intimate atmosphere over the engagement party. couples move fluidly across the dance floor, and you’re among them, your fiancé’s hand resting lightly on your waist as the two of you sway to the rhythm of a slow song. your dress feels heavy—not from its weight but from the pressure of the moment. the words fall flat, lost in the noise of your own thoughts.

that’s when you see him—oscar. he’s standing at the edge of the room, his suit tailored to perfection but slightly disheveled, as if he’d run his hands through his hair too many times. his gaze locks onto you, and you feel the air leave your lungs. it’s been years since you’ve seen him, but the storm in his eyes is achingly familiar.

you try to ignore it, thomas’ hand gently tightens around your waist as the music slows, pulling you closer into the embrace of the dance. “you okay?” he whispers, his lips brushing the side of your ear, but you can’t answer. your eyes are locked on oscar, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t even tried to blend in with the crowd. he’s watching you, and you feel the familiar ache inside you, the one that never quite went away.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, too quickly, but thomas doesn’t seem to notice. he murmurs something else about how beautiful you look tonight, and you smile, the motion automatic, but distant.

oscar’s gaze burns through you. it’s not a look of anger, not even regret—no, it’s more complicated than that. you’ve seen that look before, in the quiet moments between you both, when he used to be afraid to let his guard down. the same expression that haunted your dreams, even after everything.

oscar approaches, weaving through the crowd until he’s close enough that you can feel his presence, though he doesn’t say a word at first. when he finally does, his voice is quiet but weighted.

“may i have this dance?” oscar asks, his tone gentle, almost formal, but there’s an undercurrent of something raw beneath it.

your fiancé looks at him with polite curiosity, unaware of the storm brewing just beneath the surface. he glances at you, a soft smile on his face. “do you know him?”

you hesitate, your throat tightening. “an old friend,” you manage, the words tasting strange on your tongue.

thomas nods, his smile never faltering. “go ahead. i’ll grab us some champagne,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple before stepping aside, oblivious to the weight of what he’s just allowed.

you hesitate, your heart hammering as you meet oscar’s eyes. “this isn’t the time,” you murmur, but he’s already extending his hand, waiting. despite every alarm in your head screaming at you to walk away, you take it. the moment his hand touches yours, a jolt runs through you, the kind that feels like both a spark and a wound reopening.

the music swells around you as he leads you to the center of the dance floor. his hand finds your waist, his touch familiar but tentative, while the other clasps yours gently.

“can we talk?” oscar’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge of desperation you hadn’t expected. he looks at you, and for the first time in a long while, you see the vulnerability in him.

your steps falter, but you force yourself to keep moving, your hand trembling slightly in his. “not now,” you reply, your tone sharper than you mean.

oscar doesn’t back down. if anything, his grip on you steadies, his jaw tightening. “please, just five minutes,” he murmurs, quieter this time, but no less intense.

the air between you feels charged, and you glance toward thomas at the edge of the room, standing with a champagne flute in each hand, waiting for you with the ease of someone who trusts you completely.

your stomach twists. “we shouldn’t do this here, i can’t,” you say under your breath, though your voice trembles as much as your hands.

oscar nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “then let’s go somewhere else. just for a moment. please.”

the finality in his tone makes it impossible to refuse. you glance at thomas again, guilt pinching at your chest, but when you meet oscar’s eyes, there’s something in them that pulls you in, something you’ve never been able to resist.

you exhale shakily. “we’ll talk outside,” you whisper, breaking the spell for a moment.

the sharp night air bites at your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest. as you step further into the quiet, away from the glow of the party, your steps grow quicker, more urgent. your heels sinking slightly into the manicured grass with every hurried step. oscar follows, his footsteps steady but urgent behind you. the laughter and music from the engagement party grow faint, replaced by the erratic pounding of your heart.

you spin around once you’re far enough away, the soft glow of garden lanterns casting a pale light over his face. “what are you doing here, oscar?” your words come out harder than you feel, a defensive shield against the way your chest aches at seeing him again.

he stops a few feet away, his hands still buried in his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself together. “i needed to see you,” he says, his voice tight. he shoves his hands into his pockets, his movements restless. “i heard about the engagement, and i—” he stops, dragging in a shaky breath.

his words catch in your chest. “you’re too late,” you whisper, though you wish, just for a second, that he hadn’t come. “you made your choice, oscar.”

“i made a mistake.” his voice cracks, and he takes a hesitant step closer, as if he’s unsure whether or not he should cross the line. “i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want to make it right.”

"and? what exactly do you think this is going to accomplish?" you gesture around, your voice rising with a mix of anger and disbelief. "crashing my engagement party? making a scene in front of everyone i care about? do you think this is some kind of grand gesture that's going to fix everything?"

"i just—" his voice falters, but he holds your gaze, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "i couldn’t just let this happen without saying something."

your heart hammers in your chest, but you cross your arms, the gesture more to steady yourself than to push him away. “you couldn’t let this happen? what, me moving on? finding someone who—” you swallow hard, the words catching. “someone who actually wanted me?”

his face contorts, pain flickering across it. “don’t say that. you know that’s not true.”

“isn't it?” your voice wavers, and you hate yourself for it. “you left, oscar. you said you weren’t ready, and i waited for you to change your mind, but you never did.”

“i know.” he steps closer, his hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. “i was scared. i thought i had time, but seeing you now… i can’t lose you. not like this.”

“what were you hoping for—that i’d just drop everything and run back to you?”

“is that so impossible?” his voice sharpens, his composure cracking. “after everything we’ve been through, is it really so crazy to think you might still care?”

“care?” you laugh bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet garden. “of course i care, oscar. i cared when i waited for you for years, hoping you’d finally be ready. i cared when you told me you weren’t, and i had to pick up the pieces of myself that you left behind. what about you, huh?” your throat tightens, and you shake your head, stepping back.

he flinches, his jaw tightening. “you think i didn’t care? that it didn’t kill me to walk away from you? i thought i was doing the right thing, giving you a chance to find someone who could give you everything i couldn’t.”

“don’t you dare act noble,” you snap, your voice breaking under the weight of your anger. “you didn’t leave for me, oscar. you left because you were a coward.”

the word hangs in the air between you, cutting deeper than either of you expected. he takes a step closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “maybe i was,” he says, his voice softer now but no less intense. “but i’m here now. doesn’t that count for something?”

“no, you don’t get to do this now. not when i’m finally…” the words falter because you don’t know if they’re true. are you happy? or are you simply surviving without him? you shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “you don’t get to show up now and act like you’re the hero of this story. i’ve spent so long trying to move on, trying to be happy without you, and now you want to rip it all apart?”

“i’m not trying to ruin your life,” he says, his voice rising again. “i’m trying to fix what happened. and you—” he stops, dragging a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “you’re still it for me. you always have been.”

your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in them slicing through your anger like a knife. “you don’t get to say that,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“why not?” he challenges, his gaze locking onto yours. “because it’s the truth? because you know it’s still there between us, no matter how much you try to deny it?”

“i’m not denying anything.” you snap, your emotions boiling over. “but it’s not that simple, oscar. you left me. do you have any idea what that did to me? how hard it was to piece myself back together, only to have you show up and try to pull it all apart again?"”

he steps closer, his voice dropping to a raw whisper. “i know i hurt you. i know i don’t deserve anything from you, but i can’t stand the thought of losing you forever.”he sees the crack in your armor, and his voice softens, filled with desperation. “do you love him?”

the question hits you like a punch to the stomach. you look down, your fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “don’t ask me that,” you whisper.

“why not? because you don’t want to lie, or because you can’t tell me the truth?” he steps even closer now, and you can smell the faint cologne he always used to wear. it’s maddening, pulling you into a past you’ve tried so hard to bury.

you glance back at the dance floor where your fiancé waits, his eyes scanning the crowd. he’s everything you wanted—stable, kind, ready to commit. but oscar is everything you lost.

“i can’t do this,” you finally say, your voice cracking. “you shouldn’t have come.”

“please, just tell me—do you love him?” his question knocks the air out of your lungs.

you look away, your throat tight, your mind a mess of conflicting emotions. “why does it matter?”

“because it’s the only thing that matters to me,” he says, his voice breaking. “if you love him, i’ll walk away. i swear i will. but if there’s even a part of you that still loves me…”

“stop it,” you whisper, shaking your head. “you don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

“i’m asking you to be honest with yourself," he says, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. “do you love him the way you loved me?”

the words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. you feel the tears spill over, hot against your cold cheeks. “why are you doing this to me?"”

“because i can’t let you go without fighting for you,” he says, his voice trembling. “not again."”

you let out a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you try to hold yourself together. “you should’ve fought for me when it mattered.”

his expression crumples, the weight of your words hitting him like a blow. “you’re right,” he whispers. “i should have. and i’ll spend the rest of my life regretting that i didn’t.”

his shoulders sag, but his gaze remains on you, raw and pleading. “if you can tell me you don’t love me anymore, i’ll walk away. right now. i swear.”

the sound of voices and laughter from the party drifts faintly through the garden, a cruel reminder of the life you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight. you glance back toward the lights, toward your fiancé waiting inside, then back at oscar, who looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

your breath hitches. the weight of the moment presses down on you, and the music in the background becomes a distant hum. you open your mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. instead, a single tear slips down your cheek, and that’s answer enough.

oscar watches you, his face softening as he steps closer again, his hand lifting but stopping just shy of touching you. “i never stopped loving you,” he says quietly, his voice almost breaking. “even when i tried to move on, it was always you.”

his words shatter something inside you. “oscar…”

you look back toward the golden glow of the party, the life you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight. thomas is waiting inside, kind and dependable, offering a love that is steady and certain. but when you turn back to oscar, all you see is the man who once made you feel like the world could catch fire and you wouldn’t care as long as he was holding you.

“i can’t do this,” you finally say, your voice breaking. “i can’t keep breaking my heart over you.”

oscar’s hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for you but knows he shouldn’t. he exhales shakily, his hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he pulls back. “i’ll wait for you,” he says, his voice breaking. “even if it takes forever.”

your fingers close around his instinctively, a fleeting, fragile connection that neither of you is ready to let go of just yet. “you can’t just wait for me,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “that’s not fair to you.”

he smiles faintly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “life’s not fair. but you’re worth it.“

for a moment, the world seems to stop. the sound of laughter and music fades completely, and all that exists is the way he’s looking at you—raw, hopeful, and utterly unguarded.

you pull your hand back slowly, your heart breaking all over again. “i don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice cracking.

oscar steps back, his gaze never leaving yours, as though he’s memorising every detail of this moment. “take the time you need,” he says softly. “but don’t think for a second that i’m going anywhere. i’m here, no matter how long it takes.”

and with that, he steps away, leaving you standing there under the stars, torn between a future that feels safe and a love that burns like a fire you’re not sure you can survive.

you glance back toward the glow of the party, then down at your hand, where his warmth still lingers. for the first time in a long time, you realise that love, even the messy kind, has never truly left you. and that scares you more than anything else.

the sound of oscar’s retreating footsteps stings, every step pulling him further away from you, further into the shadows of the garden. you should let him leave—should stay rooted where you are, let your choice carry you forward. but something inside you stirs, refuses to let this be the end.

“wait,” you call softly, barely audible over the hum of the music. but he hears you. he stops mid-step, his back stiffening as though he doesn’t dare turn around, afraid of the hope that might break him.

when he finally turns to face you, his expression is a mix of pain and something else—something fragile but enduring. love.

“i hate you for this,” you whisper, but your voice trembles with something softer than anger. “i hate that you still make me feel this way.”

oscar lets out a shaky breath, a flicker of something like relief crossing his face. “i don’t care if you hate me, as long as you don’t stop feeling something for me.”

you shake your head, your tears falling freely now. “you ruined me, oscar. and then you left.”

“i know,” he says, stepping closer, his hand lifting tentatively toward your face but stopping just shy of touching. “and i’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it, if you let me.”

the weight of his words presses against your chest, and for a moment, all you can do is stand there, caught in the pull of him, of everything you once had and could never fully let go of.

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you murmur, your voice almost breaking.

“why not?” he asks softly. “because it’s true? because i love you?”

his words make your breath hitch, and for a brief moment, the world around you blurs. you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but then you feel his hand—gentle, warm—slip over yours. it’s hesitant, like he’s asking permission with the simplest touch.

you don’t pull away.

“i can’t walk away from you again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “not without knowing if there’s still a part of your heart that has my name on it.”

your chest tightens, and when you look up at him, there’s a softness in his eyes that undoes you completely. you’ve seen that look before, years ago, in moments you thought you’d forgotten. it’s the look that made you fall in love with him the first time.

for a moment, you don’t think. you lean in, just enough to rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling in the cold night air. “you’re impossible,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid.

“and you’re everything,” he whispers back, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

you stay there, suspended in a moment that feels too delicate to break. and when you finally pull back, your heart feels just a little lighter, even as the ache remains.

“go,” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “i need time.”

oscar nods, though you can see the pain in his eyes. “i’ll give you all the time you need,” he says, his voice steady despite the crack you hear beneath it. “but i’ll be waiting, always.”

he presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles before stepping back, his warmth lingering even after he’s gone. you watch him disappear into the night, your heart torn but beating with something that feels dangerously close to hope.

as you turn back toward the lights of the party, you catch your reflection in the glass doors, your tear-streaked face and trembling smile staring back at you. you’re not sure where this path will take you, but for the first time in a long while, it feels like you’re finally letting yourself choose.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

#piastrisun: work #piastrisun: one shot #piastrisun: requests #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine

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cerisemerald · 4 months ago

Text

One and only — Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She has been loving Thomas for a while now, and it is heaving on her the fact she thinks he still is in love with Grace — she needs a confession, a affirmation that she is not just filling in a gap. It comes in a unexpected night, followed by an unusual morning, but everything with Thomas was like that.

MUSIC: One and only by Adele

A/N: this is the second fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it) and it was from one of my celebrations (200 followers I think) that consisted of fanfics inspired by Adele’s songs from the album 21, this one was requested by a dear friend and it is very dear to me!! It happens between s1-s2, Thomas meets (Y/N) after grace leaves. Feedback is always welcomed!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language.

WORD COUNT: 5,477

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD]

(divider credit is for @cafekitsune)

“Thomas,” she calls, staring at his back, but he doesn't answer, he continues to look at the field in front of them instead. “Thomas?”

“Hm?” He still doesn't look at her.

(Y/N) decides to finally walk to him, she does not stop in front of him though, sensing something was wrong and not wanting to disturb or annoy him somehow. She stops right behind Thomas, a step of distance between them, from this close she can see the tension in his shoulders better, and as much as she wishes to touch him and try to tranquillise him, she waits. He doesn't do anything, however, not even looks at her, and she sighs.

She looks at the field, too, trying to understand what is possibly happening in his head. But she has a strong guess, one she does not like at all. (Y/N) hates when Thomas lives more in his past than in his present life, for her, it was his biggest flaw; the way he was constantly living for memories and not for life itself. And she feels that now he is probably thinking about what happened two years ago, Grace.

(Y/N) does not care he is thinking of her, that she can understand, after all he did fall in love with her, it would not be easy, especially for Thomas who protected himself with so many walls, to forget the woman. She doesn't expect him to just stop thinking about Grace overnight, but it did hurt, sometimes, how it felt, as if she was living in the shadows of someone bigger than her. It had been Grace's mistake, but she was the one paying for it, paying for the mistakes of a woman she hadn't even met.

She also knew, of course, that it would take Thomas time to trust again, to open himself like he had before. She knew everything that revolved around a broken heart, she did, but knowing did not make anything easier to deal with. It was still hard to face Tommy and see how, even in his most present moments, a piece of him was lost. Sometimes, she would ask herself why she even stayed, when it seemed like Thomas would never love her the same way. But she did, returned to him every single time, hope, maybe, tying her to him.

“Tom, why’d you bring me here?”

Thomas had showed up in her house last night, surprising (Y/N) in the middle of the week. It was not how their encounters usually went, Thomas would see her mostly on weekends. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleep with her to leave only on Sunday morning, sometimes stay up until four pm, these nights they would dance in her kitchen while drinking whiskey. It was all simple, but what mattered was that they talked, that they would sit down to talk and would sooth each other. Everything between them was simple, even love, when it came to their realisations that they were in love. There hadn't been a confession, not from her nor from him, they had just looked at each other differently, held each other for longer, kissed with more passion than ever, and that was enough to understand.

But yesterday was very different. She could not understand what was happening, neither read it on his face. As soon as she opened the door, he was tense, eyes haunted — not like tiredness from work or exhaustion because of all his problems, but as if he had just heard terrible news and saw his world crumbling. When she greeted him with a kiss, he had not held her waist or face, and had returned the kiss distantly. Still, she breathed and let him in, hoping that she might help somehow. He didn't talk much, short answers only, but it was like he needed the attention, needed her to listen to him, so she did. After sometime, she had run out of ideas to console him and offered for them to share a meal together, and for the first time since they had known each other, he ate something. Almost unnerving, but she was so relieved that she chose to see that as a good sign. After that, Thomas just sat in silence while she cleaned the plates.

When (Y/N) finished, she turned around to see he was sitting still at the table, eyes closed, breathing like he was trying to control himself. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold back tears or a scream, whatever it was, it was consuming him, drowning him in anguish. (Y/N) moved slowly, getting closer to him and delicately grabbing his hand. Then she whispered his name like a secret, like she was afraid of being caught saying that, because, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Tommy to hear it or not.

But Thomas did, and he squeezed her hand like his life depended on it, returning the touch with such a force it took her aback. It was not like he never touched her, or that he didn’t show any sign of affection such as holding her hand, but that touch was different. It was acid, burning (Y/N)'s skin in seconds and leaving a million scars behind. Thomas touched her like she was the only one capable of saving him.

It was scary. It was exhilarating. It was a breath of heaven’s pure oxygen. It was suffocating as the smoke on a fire. And it was only a touch of hand.

But it said so many things, it said that he wanted her there, that he actually needed her there. And she was happy with being wanted, but being needed was something she could not even describe, it was overwhelming. It took (Y/N)’s breath away. It made her forget everything else she needed to do, because Thomas was there, all of him, in her kitchen, holding her hand and asking her to be there for him.

With care, she walked until she was behind him, her arms adjusting perfectly in his neck, allowing his head to find a rest in her belly, it was not often Thomas would let her be the one embracing him. Usually, he would be more vulnerable after they would have an entire night together, and he would lay down between her legs and relax on her chest while she caressed him. (Y/N) started to caress his hair, gently as she could, and she noticed that with time, Thomas was melting to her touch, a small smile grew on her lips, but she kept quiet. It was the first time she felt like she could have every single piece of him with her. He sighed as she took some strands of his face, inclining his head even more.

Thomas opened his eyes suddenly, and because of his moving, they were now staring right at each other. Her heart sank with what she could see, his eyes were dark and tired, hurt. Still, she didn't say anything, knowing it had to be him the one to initiate any type of conversation about what was happening, she only kept caressing his hair. After some seconds, he reached for her left hand and kissed it, making her smile again, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she understood that it was his way of saying thank you. And, in a way, showing that he liked being near her like that. Although he seemed more calm, it didn't look like he would talk, and it was obvious how tired he was, so instead of asking anything, (Y/N) offered for them to sleep. He nodded, and they were quick to go to bed, a simple, but genuine kiss as a good night.

In the morning, he had all of a sudden woken her up with kisses on her neck — like last night hadn’t been so different, saying he wanted to take her somewhere. And yet, even though it was his idea to bring her, he hadn’t spoken since they got in here.

“I haven't come here in a long time.” He finally says something, making (Y/N) stare at him again. “My father…” Thomas takes a time to complete his sentence, “my father used to bring us here, sometimes, I hunted with him one day.”

“Hunted what?”

“A deer,” Thomas smirks, finally directing his look at her.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Thomas smirks only grows bigger at her words. “Why did you bring me here, Thomas?”

He keeps staring at her, she can’t tell everything he is thinking, but that he wants to say something and the words are hard to say, she is sure.

“I don’t know.” He confesses, and (Y/N) could have believed it if it wasn't for the hint of doubt in his tone, as if he didn't want to tell all the truth, but at the same time, didn't know all of it too.

She breathes deeply, she is trying really hard to understand him, she has been for quite some time, but he never truly gives her the chance. “It's that so?”

Thomas and her stare at each other for long seconds, it's not a battle this time, it's not her trying to reach him and him running away, (Y/N) feels as if she is already inside, but can't see what it is, and how could she? When he showed nothing before. She is not sure how to navigate this, what to search, what to ask, not this time, and that scares and frustrates her in equal amounts.

Thomas has these eyes that always make her feel naked, confused and alive. He sometimes looks at her like she is precious, like he cannot go a second without touching her, and she believes it, because his eyes are true, raw even. And then, he could look at her the way he is doing now, like she has just stabbed him, as if she has his heart in her hands to do whatever she wanted, and she decided to make him suffer. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t fair, she didn’t have him like that, so why would he stare at her with all that devotion and agony?

She chuckles, lowly and dryly, and starts to walk, leaving him behind. (Y/N) doesn't know exactly what she is feeling at the moment, but everything is a little too much. She doesn't want to have to guess, it would be nice, for once, if he could finally say it out loud.

Stopping a few steps away from him, she finally takes a better look at everything in front of her, how beautiful that field is, how breathtaking the view of the sky is with no pollution from the city. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, some shades of purple, pink, and orange decorated the sky. It looks just like a painting, she thinks, and it hurts a bit to realise that it would be a pretty day to feel good, for her and Tommy to be doing something enjoyable.

What bothers most is that it feels like there is just one last wall between them, and she had thought she would finally have him — but it's not simple, it never is. Thomas has to be the one to take that last step, he has to be the one to, at last, face what he is feeling. If she is the one to do it, to once again try to put pieces together to understand him, it will never change, he will only come home broken and expects mending. She wants more than that, she wants genuine words being said, wants to feel more than… a fragment.

She was afraid sometimes, what if the problem was not his past love, but her? Understanding that old feelings were hard to get rid of was easy, but to which point was Thomas protecting himself from any new feelings? Did it ever become a protection against her? (Y/N) would ask herself, what was he so afraid of? Afraid of having feelings for someone again? Or was he just afraid of… her? It scared her that maybe it wasn’t love and it’s disappointments that kept them apart, maybe it was her. And that she couldn’t fix.

She kicks some rocks by her feet and holds back another frustrated sigh, feeling like maybe she wasn't being fair, that her previous insecurities and frustrations might be influencing her. (Y/N) was trying so hard, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Because she loved him, honestly and easily, but had she not done this before? Tried to communicate, to understand? With others that now seem pale in comparison with Thomas, but still, love was a complicated thing. For her, it had always been, since the very beginning, since she had known what love was. It was not just Thomas, no, it would be unfair to say it was only him, perhaps she also needed time to deal with what was inside her. Yet she can't help to think it is different with him, there were others before, but he is the one that matters, he is the one she wants close at all times, the one she still stays close to even with all the hurt and words unsaid, waiting, wishing.

It was Tommy, after all, making her heart feel full and empty at the same time, occupying her thoughts, making her feel like things could get better someday.

If she just had the chance to properly talk to him… to cross all the bridges and understand, maybe then a conclusion would be made, one not based on assumptions she could not fully trust.

Nevertheless, here they are, turbulent thoughts clouding each one's mind. The surroundings are beautiful, the wind making leaves float in the air, both of them with their mouths clasped shut and minds running wild.

She can't see it, Thomas thinks, this time she doesn't seem to see the truth in his eyes. He notices the way she is shrinking inside herself, body almost crumbling, and he walks to her, he is tense when he hugs her from behind, arms keeping her in a tight embrace. Thomas knows she is fighting back tears by the way she lets herself go and relaxes her head against his chest as soon as he pulls her in. He can feel the way her body is fighting, half of her not willing to rest completely.

He never truly knows what to say, he did when he was with Grace, or almost always did, a clarity coming to him when he was about to do something stupid. With (Y/N) it is different, he knows how he feels, and she says the right thing, and he lets her read him, and they go on. Sometimes he has to say it, because she is tired, because she needs him to, or simply because he feels the urge to. But now it feels like they have reached a point that if Thomas keeps being silent, things will end.

Still, for a while they just stay in silence. Thomas keeps his touch steady, not entirely conscious that he is drawing patterns on her waist until she lets out a sigh that he recognises quickly by now, contentment, he can feel her relaxing a bit more. His hands wander a bit further, tracing her belly and up her chest, and as he remembers the night they met, his touch becomes heavier. For what felt like an eternity, he had wished to touch her. It was quick, she'd always say, how they met and how they ended up in a private room. She was not aware that for him, it had felt like a long waiting.

A party that he meant to go for business only, not even much interested in said business, at least not enough to try to do it in person, he had sent John to do it, but he got sick. Never before had Thomas been so happy with his brother being ill. Had he never gone to that party, he would not have met her. And it was a truth, even though he did not say it much, but a truth nonetheless, that since they met, she was constantly taking him out of his stupor. Since he had laid his eyes on her, he felt it, hands pulling him up, making him finally blink and wake up.

It was simple between them, it had been since the beginning, he had wanted her and there was no room for questioning if he would follow her, she had corresponded in the same intensity. Slowly their lives came in between, the days apart, the reality of each one, but even then, she only told Thomas she would be waiting, and there was no room for questioning if he would come back.

On the weeks with fewer visits from him, nothing changed, on the weeks he could see her more frequently, everything did.

Although his ghosts still haunted him, it was not the same as before, he could breathe now, push them away easier. But he had never been good with words when it came to this. To confess, he used words to get what he wanted, to conquer, long gone was the time words served as a way to connect and open himself. Grace had started to change that, easily as if she was a childhood love, she had picked up his heart on her hands. Thomas had not expected it, and when it hit him, he realised how truly in love he had been. For once his intuition had left him, after such a long time creating walls upon walls, they crumbled only to have to be raised again. He had also not expected it to change, to meet someone else, and yet, he did.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, head still resting against him.

“You.”

“You are thinking about me?” He can hear the small smile on her lips.

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“The night we met.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, as if something suddenly made sense to her. “You were so pretty that night.”

Thomas holds back a smile, like he usually does when she says something like this. “I’d say you were more.”

(Y/N) laughs and turns to look at him, distancing herself enough so they could stare, he is relieved to see there are no tears in her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t last long after I met you.”

Her arms find a place on his shoulders as she hugs him, hiding her face on the crock of his neck. She radiates warmth, and Thomas welcomes it eagerly.

“It wasn’t all my fault.” Thomas says, dead serious, because sometimes she seems to forget they burn together, and she laughs again.

He feels when her body changes after a few moments, her breathing getting erratic, he prepares himself.

“Tom?” It's nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking, and…” something in him is begging for him to interrupt her, he knows what is coming, he can feel it. “I think we should, you know, stop seeing each other.”

He stays quiet, his arms never leave her body.

“Why?”

She takes a long time to answer, and Thomas starts to look for words he can say, things he can do to fix whatever needs to be fixed. He knows what it is, but as her silence stretches so much, he wonders if there is something more, if there is more he did and was unaware of it, that isn't hard to imagine. He feels, somehow, the moment she shivers, her arms seem to lose strength, her embrace weakening.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before speaking,“because… because I feel like I’m Grace’s shadow. I feel like you met me when you were desperately needing someone to replace the emptiness that she left at your heart. It’s not that I’m the same as her, no…” she hides her face even more in his body, “it’s just you wanted someone to make you forget all the pain. And it happened that I was there to be your distraction. And at the beginning, I didn't care. But now, I do.”

She stops, Thomas knows she is fighting back tears, knows that she hates having to say all of this. Then she whispers, “I care because I’m in love with you, and being someone’s shadow for the man I love isn’t my biggest wish.”

What a treacherous path Thomas had walked them into. He could not deny it what he felt in the past was real, what he and Grace had shared was still haunting him, as his deceptions and frustrations always did. He never admitted, but for him, things like that never left his mind, he just pushed them away, kept them hidden. And still, things did not need to be like this, he did not have to act like that. He did… he liked (Y/N), not just that, he loved her even. A small and fragile thing at first, threatening to hurt him, not because it hurt, but because it made him finally move on. But now, a year later, it was not that small any more, he knew what he felt, knew that he searched for her when they were apart. And Thomas had no necessity in comparing what he felt before with what he felt now, he knew it would take time for something like that to happen again — to be true, he had not even thought it would happen again, but it did, it is happening.

Thomas blinks, watching as flowers and leaves were stirred by the wind, a hollow sound surrounding them. There is so much more he probably doesn't know, more things she thinks and has kept to herself.

“You’re not Grace’s shadow.” He says in a whisper, his voice betraying him. It sounds weak, and he wanted to convey how strong his affection is. Nonetheless, he hears her sighing in relief, distancing herself from him a bit, but still not looking at his eyes.

“You love her Tom,” (Y/N) states, “you’re still deeply in love with her and all you lived by her side. If I’m not her shadow, then I’m a mere ghost of what she was.” She raises her eyes to his face, he is already staring, always staring at her.

She looks at him with so much resignation that Thomas is almost convinced he cannot change her mind.

“I’m not angry or mad or upset about this. I’m just sad.” She says it then, voice low, Thomas knows it is because she is holding tears back. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I don’t want to be sad, to feel miserable every time I don’t act like someone I don't even know. I just don’t want that life for me, even if that means losing you.”

He looks away, not being able to stare at her eyes at the moment, not when he doesn't have the right words to say. It was not his intention for it to reach this point, for her to think he wants a copy of Grace. He knows he has to say it, explain himself, but it is like being paralysed. It's the kiss on his cheek that makes him finally blink, it is the way her lips are so delicate against his skin, a goodbye. She leaves his arms, turning around to go back to the car, but he holds her wrist immediately, (Y/N) stops, looking at him with knitted eyebrows.

Thomas takes in all of her at that moment, the determination clear in her eyes, eyes he has grown so accustomed to, that do not search him unless he opens himself, eyes that love him, tender him. Eyes that he cannot forget even when she is not with him. He looks at her lips, lips that have said the words he needed to hear, the ones he did not want to hear, lips that have kissed him with so much passion that he was able to forget the world for some hours. She has, slowly, found a place inside of him, roots with her name overtaking his chest. Her hair flutters around her face, she seems tired, (Y/N) offers no more resistance on her face, only resignation, but she does not pull away either. He engraves every single detail of her in his mind.

The words are not helping him, he cannot think of anything good enough to say, it is like she wiped his mind, leaving nothing but thousands of pictures of her behind. Of every moment she has used her words not to pry him open, but to convince him to do so, every moment she has held him in place instead of insisting on dragging him somewhere else.

It was at the moment, the sun shining brightly, orange light taking over the sky, making her skin seem warm to the touch, that he finally realised. It had always been simple between them, he did not need to complicate it right now, there was no need for elaborate words, only the truth. She wanted something straight-forward, (Y/N) was just asking for it to be real.

“I don’t want her,” Thomas says, words finally appearing. “I don’t want her like I want you. Not any more.”

And it was true, he had loved Grace, had felt something he thought himself incapable of after the war, and yet, it passed. She had betrayed him, and he still felt it then, sometimes still feels it now, but it passed.

She gives a step forward, “but you still love her, right?”

He allows himself to remember Grace's face, her tender touch, it was involuntary, the care that comes with it. But there is also the pang of heartbreak, the understanding and the sense of finality, there is nothing he can do to go back in time, and now, he does not want it any more. He has (Y/N), she mended what was broken. He takes a step towards her as well, hand tightening even more around her wrist, he wants her now more than he ever did.

“Yes.” he admits, because it is also true that (Y/N) can wring secrets from him. “But she’s past.”

“Is she, Tom?” She gives in a deep breath, “if that’s so, you’re a man living your days in the past. You’re always with her, even when you try to be here with me.”

“No.” he denies, low and firm, “It’s not me living in the past, (Y/N).”

“What is it then?”

He wants to say it at that moment, to confess she haunts him, that his past always does — who he was before war, who he became during it. It is a part of him now. But that is not his nature any more, to confess this easily, it takes time, and he has said more today than he ever did before. Instead, he looks at her, knowing that when nothing comes out of his mouth, that it's what denounces him, his eyes.

She reads him again. Thomas knows, he always knows when she understands. Maybe it is the look on her face, he has never been able to identify what it was, but something changed when she could get him.

“I know it ain't easy,” (Y/N) says, getting closer to him, she puts a hand on his face, “it seems to haunt you, Thomas.”

She is close now, enough that he can feel the warmth of her body again. Thomas lets himself relax against her, his hand still on her wrist, he can feel her pulse now, slightly accelerated.

“I feel left out sometimes,” she whispers, “as if she is right behind me, and I am echoing her words, or at least the words you wanted her to say.”

Thomas nods, “you are not like her.”

(Y/N) seems surprised at that, “what was she like?”

But that is too much. “You are different,” he establishes, firm enough for her to understand he does not want to talk about Grace like that. It's easier to just forget, sharing this feels strange, describing how he loved her — because it would not be just an impartial view of how she was. “And your words too, you do not echo her in my mind.”

You fixed it. Erased what hurt was left on the surface.

(Y/N) squint her eyes at him, he lets her stare into his eyes, lets her understand.

“If we…” she cleans her throat, “if you try, could this work?”

He bites his tongue to say that is already working, because yes, for him, it is, but she is opening herself to him and saying she is hurting.

“What do you want?” He asks, instead.

“You.” (Y/N) shrugs, “I know we can't be each other one and only. But it would be good if you opened yourself more, I cannot always read your mind.”

He must've frowned at that, because she immediately completes, “I know it's different for you, how you open up. I sometimes wish for words, it's true, but it is not what you can give me and I know that.” And although she understood it wrong — he was just surprised when she said she could not always read him —, he was happy to hear that.

Thomas puts a hand on her waist, pulling her and closing the distance that was left, he can feel her now, that smell that calms him every time they sleep together, he tightens his grip. There is not a world where he would refuse this, it is surprising, sometimes even slightly scary and annoying, how she managed to awaken him when he fought so much to numb himself. But he always comes back to her, always knocks on her door, because it is stupidity to refuse her, push her away, only a mad man would do that. He consumes her instead, goes to her house, drinks from her lips with such thirst it is as if he is famished, and it is never enough. Whatever she wants, he thinks, whatever she wants to stay.

She is looking at him with an indecipherable expression, but he cares not at the moment, he will have plenty of time to reflect on everything she said today, to understand her even more. Now, he searches for her lips, brushing his own against her, wanting to feel her before making the real move. He is not one for teasing, every time he does this, it is because the waiting feel as good as the actual kiss, the way he can feel her skin shivering, the way she whimpers slightly — because they are the same when it comes to this, she also has an insatiable hunger. They finally kiss, then, desperate to feel each other, it always feels like they are one at this moment, and nothing else matters.

She is the one to break the kiss, only to look at him and whisper, “I love you.”

Before Thomas can think of answering, her lips are crashing against his again, demanding, taking, and he answers it. He almost chuckles when one of her hands find her way to get under his shirt, but his own body leans into it in such a fast manner he knows he would be laughing at himself too.

Since the first time she touched him like this, he knew he had cursed himself. He knew he would be damned, growing hunger for that, fonder for her. She had scared him, and yet, proved herself to be exactly what he needed.

He broke the kiss this time, not being able to contain the smirk when he saw her drunk eyes, even though he was for sure laughing at himself too.

“I love you.”

She melts against him, smiles brightly. He does not know why he waited so long to say it, but he is usually like this, takes too long to say something important.

“You’re not her.” He finds himself saying, surprising the both of them, “you’re not her shadow.”

She nods, Thomas sees her blooming right in front of him. He feels something settling in his chest, his mind getting quieter, a miracle for its own, but even more special when he feels it because of her.

Please. He thinks as he gives a peck on her lips. Don’t ever say you’re a mere ghost, when I love you this much.

The wind was still stirring the flowers and leaves of the field, and the field was still the same, same as the sun shining in the sky. But somehow, everything seemed more right.

#ely writes peaky blinders #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #peaky blinders x reader

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 5 months ago

Note

🎏 — in love with the ghouls as cats 🥹 i am curious tho, how do you think they'll get along with MC also as a cat?

This is kind of a mix between how they react at first and after some time

Neuter him 🚫

These cats seem to notice that the newest cat is single and don't like that. Depending on who it's from this list this might reflect as fighting other suitors or licking the mc clean and demanding attention.

Jin

Kaito

Sho

Towa

Haku

Rui

Your his baby 🥺

These cats have a strong drive to protect whatever they perceive as weaker or smaller than than them or the mc hangs around the kitten they take care of enough for them to be part of the pack.

Thoma

Luca

Alan

Haru

Return them to the street 🛑

These little ones don't feel at ease with the new presence in their home out of nowhere. For some it might be territorial behavior, shyness or just having to divide their owners attention even more. Divided in those who hate the new cat or those who are skittish.

Leo

Ren

Romeo

Lyca

Subaru

Yuri

Unique reactions ✨

Taiga: his first reaction is to strike at them and sniff them for a while before letting them go, he does this the first few times they enter his field of vision.

Ritsu: no reaction but will follow them for a while and hiss and meow at them when they break a rule or do something wrong.

Zenji: he LOVES his new housemate!! Will chase after them regardless of where they go and they are now forced to hear his lengthy songs.

Ed: he is an old soul cat who only wants to nap and eat, as long as they don't bother him too much he will put them in the ‘kitten’ group even if they are an adult cat

Jiro: baby literally doesn't care, he is happy with having his doctor ordered food and a home to sunbathe in.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker alan #alan mido #tdb haku

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don1t1red · 6 months ago

Text

Honestly, one thing about DotO which always bothered me is how Billie seems to be so lonely in her journey. And not in a way of "she is a lone-wolf" but in a literal sense of loneliness and not-belonging. It almost feels like it is her first day in Karnaca, a city where she doesn't know a single thing or person. Which isn't true. I know that a lot of people have already talked about this, and so I won't jump into the depth of criticism. Treat this post as a bunch of thoughts which occurred to me in my first playthrough.

Firstly, there is no recognition from different people. Stilton, for example. In DH2 she was ready to battle her way to his house and help him, she payed with her blood, her eye and her arm. And yet in DotO we don't see any valuable mentions of this man. Yes, we have a photo in her cabin but that's it! Nothing more nothing less, just a photo which exists in the cabin only to show us, the player, the Void rifts. Almost like it was never meant to actually represent their relationship, just a funny mechanic of the game.

Maybe I don't understand her character to that extent but when I firstly played and heard Billie's monologue about the state of the Dreadful Whale, I had a thought. Was there no one who could help her with that? And my first thought was Stilton, especially after I saw their photo together. But alas she didn't mention anything like that which was completely fine… till the The Stolen Archive mission. With a plot progression things became absurdly stupid. Billie learns that the cult uses Shindaerey as their hideout. And what is Shindaerey? It's a literal mining quarry.

And so you want to tell me that Billie who I know, cunning Billie, who was, by Daud's words, extremely good at unsolving mysteries, won't at least ask Stilton about this quarry? She won't ask a mining baron of Karnaca? Really? Give her skills some credit! I'm not asking for a 5 minute long cutscene but at least a small panel in the pre-mission briefing where Billie talks to him about that, and where we can see how worried he is for her. She is not alone and, no matter what, there is still at least one person who remembers her, sees her and wants the best for her. But again, for whatever reason Billie has no valuable connections in this game, it seems. So it didn't happen.

Two other people about which I keep thinking about are Thomas and that person who borrowed Billie's skiff and returned it during the Follow the Ink mission.

If that note from a certain T. was actually from Thomas I can't think of good enough reasons not to include some of the letter which might happen in between them during the events of the game. Thomas knew that both Billie and Daud were in Karnaca but he didn't know that Daud had died. And honestly an unfinished letter from Billie to him where she tries her best to write about their master's death but just can't - would be absolutely gut-wrenching and insightful. Also it could be interesting to see the difference in how Billie is talking about this event and how she is living through it in reality. Because - obviously - people's internal and external dialogues would be different and seeing that difference in Billie would help us, the player, to understand some shapes of her character.

Or maybe Thomas would learn about Daud's death himself somehow, maybe he could recognize Billie's work as she goes though the city to uncover its secrets. And, finally, it would be simply fun to find a small lootstach from Thomas on one of the missions, accompanied with a letter from him. How is he now? What are his thoughts about Billie? How do her actions are seen by the common folk? Or by the gangs? After all, a good character is not only divided by how the story sees that character but also how this character sees themselves and what other people in the story are thinking about this character. And, as I already said, this small letter exchange between Billie and Thomas could cover up those aspects.

And so we are left with only one character whose presence and absence in Billie's story bothers me. That person who borrowed the skiff. Because the skiff was Billie's main link between the shore and the Dreadful Whale. We learnt from DH2 that in any port there would be a “fee” for leaving the ship there, later, in DotO she complains that hiding her ship wasn't an easy task. So whoever borrowed it must be a good friend of Billie, as absence of the skiff puts her in a bad and potentially dangerous situation. Besides there is a note by a certain M., which talks about meeting with Billie later. I was kinda excited to see who this person might be. Someone whom I already know? Character from the first game? Maybe from the second one? Would it be a howler or black market dealer? Would they give me some special mission akin to one that Emily can get in the Royal Conservatory mission? Well, should I say that I was left wondering as there was not a single special NPC which met the criteria.

What? I forgot about someone? Deirdre? Oh, right. Deirdre. The best person in Billie's life and the worst death in Billie's memory. Right. It's almost too easy to forget that she exists, as Billie talks about her approximately two times in the game? More or less so. Should she talk more about her? Maybe, I don't know. But I remember thinking about using the rat charm in the Void or in the quarry. I thought that in the Void I could hear the real Deirdre speaking, this idea gave me chills back then. To adjust to the voice of your loved one's from rats, only to hear her cursing you for all you have done or to call you from beyond. I thought that she would appear somewhere in the Void, just in the corner of my vision. But again it didn't happen. And I don't know for better or for worse. As in the current state if you want to completely strip her out from the game - you won't lose a single thing. After all, a rat charm is just a rat charm, and so is a voice in it, as it never changes and never really speaks to Billie, it was never a personal matter.

Overall, I don't want to be another person who throws rocks at DotO as, honestly, I like Billie and I'm just… sad, I guess. I'm sad that the game about such a character fails to make me think more of her. I'm sad that the plot of this game was kinda ruined with a terrible script. And, at the end of the day, I'm just sad that Billies didn't get her chance to shine in her own game.

But nonetheless I still like Billie and, at least, her sarcastic comments on the surrounding was always a delight to hear, so I'm gonna replay this game one more time in vain hopes to find what I see in it.

#dishonored #death of the outsider #billie lurk #aramis stilton #thomas the whaler #i mean they are in this post so yeah why not #yes this post lacks bri but im gonna be honest with u guys #i completely forgot about her when i fistly played and this post is about my firts exp with this game so yeah #no bri slender i love her i just have bad memory #and i doubt i can bring anything new to her chara at this point of fandom meta talking #so yeah sorry :[#dt (stands for doni talks)

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sad-girl-hours23 · 2 months ago

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Thinking about Buck,

Still not over Tommy, deeply unsatisfied being under anyone else (he's tried and lost count how many times). His best friend has moved away; he's happy Eddie's working things out with Chris, but he misses them both terribly.

Amongst every one else, he feels...not so much a divide, but maybe less enmeshed than they used to be.

Nothing's wrong with his job, but well, it's starting to feel a lot less like his whole life and purpose and more like just that: a job. He's stagnant. Stuck.

He feels an itch under his skin that he can't scratch in any of his usual ways.

He's over pouring out his love into a Kitchen aid mixer. He's done trying to bury his need for connection into hook-ups.

Realizes maybe he's not as settled as he thought he was. Maybe he's still searching; but for what, he doesn't know. Himself. His purpose. Love.

Realizes he misses not being stuck in one place.

So he takes a vacation. Spends two weeks in Japan. Tells himself he won't create a full itinerary for his time there (he spends most of his flight doing so anyway, but he compromises with himself and leaves his second week open).

He reads about the Wind Phone. How people travel from all over to talk to their late loved ones through a rotary phone.

He doesn't go his first week there, but the thought of it is never far from his mind. (He's held hands with Death, he isn't sure what he's so afraid of).

He gets to the garden of Bell Gardia.

He thinks about Red Delacroix, who warned him against making firefighting his whole life. “You can be the hero and save lives, but don’t neglect having your own. Last thing you want is to be at the end holding nothing but regrets.” So he talks to Red; tells him he hasn't quite figured it out, is scared he never will.

He comes back the next day, Thomas on his mind. Buck tells him how he found his scrapbook the other day (he had forgotten that he'd even taken it). He tells him about Tommy, the love he thought he finally found (then lost). He smiles. "I know, I know. You don't find it, you make it." He can't help the crack in his voice "I really thought we were."

Buck wonders what it says about him that he's spending his vacation talking to the dead. Knows he's not done yet

He comes back the next day, and the day after that, and the one after that. He talks to Daniel each time. He isn't quite sure how to picture him; the age he was in the last photos taken of him, the age when he died, the older Daniel that his coma dream imagined up? He talks to them all.

He gives him the abridged version of his life. Wonders if he should leave out the parts he knows would break his brother's heart, leaves them in anyway. It's cathartic; to confess of the survivor's guilt he's carried since learning of Daniel, how it all came flooding back when woke up from his coma, how it felt like he was letting him down again in the interest of his own survival.

He's certain he's out of tears, and he may not have a voice left by the end of his trip.

But he's got one more phone call to make. And he can't make it here, in this haunted phone booth. And he doesn't want to wait until it's too late.

He hasn't figured it all out. He doesn't know where him and Tommy went wrong. He knows they're both haunted by their own ghosts.

But Tommy's still here. And unlike Buck's ghosts on the other end of the phone, he can talk back.

So Buck does what he should have done months ago. He calls Tommy. He nearly sobs in relief when he hears a breath on the other end and a quiet, "Evan?"

#why is this so long lol oops #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #sad girl hours musings

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invis-o-william · 9 months ago

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Day 2: Wish

All Amity Parkers knew that “wish” was practically a forbidden word. Years of interactions with Desiree had all but guaranteed that. Younger children weren’t even taught the word anymore out of an abundance of caution, after all nobody wanted a repeat of the “Toddler Wish-mageddon” that had occurred just a year prior. The firemen had been cleaning chocolate syrup out of the streets for weeks afterwards. This left the naive and unassuming newcomers as targets for Desire’s power, many of whom didn’t quite believe the city moniker of “The Most Haunted Place on Earth” yet. One of those newcomers was Thomas Kincade, and one way or another he too would learn the consequences of the word “wish”.

. . .

Thomas had barely lived in Amity Park a week before his coworkers started messing with him. He had just been sitting down in the breakroom for lunch when Craig from accounting had sidled up in the next chair.

“Oh hey Tom,you’re new to town, right?” he asked while grabbing a bowl from his bag.

Thomas hummed an affirmative while digging through the box chock full of leftover lo mein that his wife had left him that morning. “Yeah, just moved from Springfield like a week and a half ago, why? Also, it's Thomas.”

Craig pointed a fork his way, “Well you should probably invest in a lunch bag or something. That box is a prime target for the Box Ghost you know. He’s usually pretty harmless, but he’ll definitely steal that thing in a heartbeat if he sees you with it man.” He accentuated his point by tapping on said box with his fork.

Thomas sighed. Although he’d only lived in the city for under two weeks, he’d already seen more than enough of the “ghost tourist trap” schtick. “You can give the “ghost” thing a rest Craig, I think I’ll be fine.” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Craig shrugged, “Alright Tommy, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You transplants never quite believe it at first anyway.”

“It’s Thomas.” Thomas said pointedly. Craig made a noncommittal noise before digging into his meal.

. . .

The next day it happened again. Thomas was working at his computer when his deskmate Maria leaned over the divider.

“Hey Tim, did you see the news this morning?” she asked excitedly.

Slightly irritated, Thomas looked up. “No, I didn’t. And it’s Thomas.”

Maria didn’t seem to hear him as she waved her hands around, “They got some footage of the fight between Phantom and that big metal ghost last night on the corner of Park Place and Amity Row! It looked so intense, and the big ghost is so cool looking!” She practically squealed the last words.

Thomas groaned and let his head fall back. “Look, I get it, you guys are pulling my leg, ‘ha-ha lets haze the newbie’ kind of stuff, but its getting old.”

Huffing, Maria crossed her arms. “How long have you been here now? Two weeks? You can’t tell me that you haven’t seen one of the ghosts yet! Hell, blob ghosts are so common I’m surprised one hasn’t popped into your yard yet” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Just hope you don’t encounter any big ones, you definitely don’t want to run into the Fenton’s with their tank-on-wheels.”

With a sigh and a shake of his head Thomas turned back to his work as Maria shrugged and did the same.

. . .

Thomas was getting fed up. Everyone kept talking about ghosts. “Phantom’s been seen here” and “The whisps have been really active lately” and all that crap. How long was everyone going to pull this? Not to mention that nobody wanted to call him anything but nicknames. Why was calling him Thomas so hard for them???

The last straw was his boss stopping by his desk an hour before quitting time.

“Hey Timbo, everyone on the floor is going to head over to the Mitty Boulevard Bistro after work for dinner, company’s treat. Want to join?” he said, leaning an arm on the desk divider.

Thomas’ eye twitched. “Yeah, sure that’s fine. And please. It’s Thomas.”

His boss smiled, “Great! Originally we were going to head over to the Mexican place on Park Place, but they’re closed for cleanup from that ghost fight last night.”

“Yeah! You can thank Phantom for that, honestly the Bistro is sooo good. I like Mexican food and all, but you gotta try the Bistro’s fries Tim!” Maria said, perking up from her seat.

Thomas had had it. “Ghosts this, ghosts that! I’m so sick of this! Just give it a rest already! And my name. Is. THOMAS. Not Tim, not Tommy, just Thomas!” he cried as he picked up his coat and lunch box. “If this is how all of you are going to treat me, then count me out of the dinner. Honestly I wish you guys would just cut it out already!”

Everyone in the office went deadly silent and stared at Thomas with wide eyes.

“Thomas,” began Maria, “you shouldn’t say that word. I’m sorry that we were teasing you so much about your name, but you really shouldn’t say that word.”

Thomas scoffed, “What word?”

Everyone looked around nervously, “The “w” word,” his boss said, “there’s a ghost who grants them, usually in the worst ways possible.”

Thomas threw his hands up in the air. “What, wish? Now you’re telling me that there’s a wish-granting ghost? If there was, I'd wish she’d make you all see sense right now because ghosts aren’t real!”

The office was deadly still and many held their breath. There was always a chance Desiree wasn’t around, but some still expected her to appear and grant the wish.

Instead the Box Ghost popped in out of nowhere, grabbed Thomas’ lunch box, shouted “BEWARE!”, and vanished.

Thomas could say he knew better now to pack his lunch in a bag.

#dannymay2024 #dannymay #danny phantom #amity park #box ghost #desiree #oc characters #wish is a forbidden word for a reason

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taeaura · 3 days ago

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So..I was listening to Ethel Cain {as always} specifically Strangers and may or may not have thought about this franchise again..whoops. Here's a complete list of Ethel Cain songs + lyrics that I feel reflect the franchise ++++ an analysis of each one ! 🫀 I'd also like to preface this by saying I understand the meanings behind each of these songs are not what is reflected in this analysis, this is simply just finding connections.

I might make this a series, who knows?

TW: SA / Rape, Strong Language, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Gore, TCM-Canon-Typical Violence / Topics, Animal Abuse?, Hoyt being Hoyt {boo lame boo, I know}

Family Tree

"I'm just a child, but I'm not above violence My mama raised me better than that When the preacher talks, that man demands his silence And daddy said, "Shoot first, then run and don't look back"

So take me down to the river And bathe me clean Put me on the back of your white horse to ride All the way to the chapel, let you wash all over me"

"These crosses all over my body Remind me of who I used to be And Christ, forgive these bones I've been hiding Oh, and the bones I'm about to leave, yeah"

____

Right off the bat "I'm just a child but I'm not above violence" throws me right back to the introductory credits in TCM:TB 2006. Thomas' self-harm, killing and skinning animals, all the violence he was subjected to at a young age. He was young sure, but he was willing to be violent. Not necessarily to other people, but animals. Maybe he viewed himself an animal; Something to skin and use. Following that line "My mama raised me better than that." We know the relationship between Thomas and Hoyt, but we just barely scratch the surface of Thomas and Luda Mae's relationship. I'm sure Thomas was raised to fight back, especially considering Hoyt's background.

"When the preacher talks, that man demands his silence And daddy said, "Shoot first, then run and don't look back." This is just self-explanatory. Hoyt, in this case, is 'the preacher.' He's a man who provides and dictates his family {at least that's what he thinks.} He demands silence; The family listens to him without interruption. Now, this also applies to Luda Mae. She doesn't demand silence, but she is the one who 'preaches.' Whether it be religious ideals, scoldings, or general guidance to the family. The continuation of this line reminds me of what I previously discussed: Encouraging self-defense as well as dividing yourself socially from the opposing side. In this case, it's the 'city-slickers' Hoyt preaches about.

"So take me down to the river And bathe me clean Put me on the back of your white horse to ride All the way to the chapel, let you wash all over me"

"These crosses all over my body Remind me of who I used to be And Christ, forgive these bones I've been hiding Oh, and the bones I'm about to leave, yeah"

These lyrics are just so reminiscent of the first supper scene. That scene has always come across as the family killing off who they were. Consuming the final ounce of humanity within the town and fully transforming into the killers they portray in the 2003 film. I find this to be especially prominent during this segment:

"Thanks to the good sheriff here, we ain't gonna go hungry tonight. Matter of fact, we ain't never gonna starve again." Followed by "Charlie, say grace." It seems almost as if Luda Mae is encouraging Charlie / Hoyt to 'say grace' similarly to how Ethel writes "Christ forgive these bones I've been hiding - and the bones I'm about to leave." She's asking for forgiveness not only for herself and the remaining members of the family, but especially for Charlie. The 'bones' he's been hiding are the sadistic tendencies he gained over the war. The 'bones' he {and the family} are about to leave are the carcasses of the people they once were. The kind receptionist at the community center. The mechanic. The veteran farmer. The butcher.

____

Ptolemaea

"I followed you in and I was with you there I invited you in twice, I did You love blood too much But not like I do Not like I do

Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you Need you, love you, love you, love you"

"You'd do well to say yes to me"

"Even the iron still fears the rot Hiding from something I cannot stop Walking on shadows, I can't lead him back, uh Buckled on the floor when night comes along Daddy's left and momma won't come home, oh, uh

You poor thing Sweet, mourning lamb There's nothing you can do It's already been done

What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me (show me your face) Please, don't look at me I can see it in your eyes, he keeps looking at me Tell me, what have you done?

Stop, stop, stop, make it stop Stop, make it stop, make it stop I've had enough"

____

This song reminds me a lot of Hoyt {for obvious reasons which we will get into} but also Thomas. This specific set: "I followed you in and - I was with you there - I invited you in twice, I did - You love blood too much - But not like I do - Not like I do" reads to me as a subconscious urge of Thomas'. His urge to destroy and abuse. To tear into and become. It's almost as if the sadistic and animalistic side of him coaxes him. This could also apply to Hoyt; How hist trauma began to whisper urges into his ears. How the sadistic desire dripped into his mind, forming puddles until it flooded. The next segment: "Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you Need you, love you, love you, love you" - "You'd do well to say yes to me" is SO reminiscent of Hoyt. It feels like him talking to a victim. ESPECIALLY when he was talking to Bailey. "Don't you think you're gonna go any place, huh? - I love you." And his moans just felt so..selfish. So primal and inhumane. It's so reflective of the constant 'I love you"s in Ptolemaea. Such a demonic and contradictory statement that festers within the background of the song. This song continues to reflect Hoyt within the lines: "Hiding from something I cannot stop - Walking on shadows, I can't lead him back, uh - Buckled on the floor when night comes along - Daddy's left and momma won't come home, oh, uh." Each victim may try to hide from the family, but their fate is inevitable. Hiding in the shadows whilst figuratively being in the shadow of the family. By this I mean, they will never be seen as human by the family. Never considering more than a meal and a puppet of pleasure by their captures. Their humanity consistently overshadowed by the family's primal hunger. "Buckled to the floor as night comes along - Daddy's left and momma won't come home" Essentially reads as being trapped in the rotten walls of the house. No one is there to help you, no one there to comfort you. It also describes the physical conditions: Being buckled to the table in the basement, hung on a meathook, tied to the chairs, wrapped to a bedpost, ect.

"You poor thing - Sweet, mourning lamb - There's nothing you can do - It's already been done." This segment just reminds me of Luda Mae, Kathy / The Tea Lady, and Henrietta. The three women of the household seem to be the only ones attempting to cover-up their malice with maternal reassurance and comfort. It's not like they care about the victims, at least not anymore. All they care about is the family. All they can trust is the family.

"What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me (show me your face) - Please, don't look at me - I can see it in your eyes, he keeps looking at me - Tell me, what have you done?" You cannot TELL ME that listening to Ethel sing "Tell me, what have you done?" Doesn't slightly sound like "Tommy, what have you done?" It's at 3:32 in the song, please someone tell me they hear it too 😭. Anyway, this entire segment feels like an outside perspective of how terrified the victims {and people in general} are of Thomas. I'm sure even Luda Mae was terrified and just extremely worried when she found Thomas mutilating himself {which is where the "Tell me, what have you done?" and "Show me your face" comes in.}

"What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me" Is also just, EXTREMELY reminiscent of Hoyt. Cmon now. As well as the repeated "Stop", "Make it stop", "I've had enough."

____

Gibson Girl

Speaking of Hoyt; Gibson Girl. That's it. That's the post. Nah I'm kidding but hear me out:

"Says he's in love with my body, that's why he's fucking it up And then he says to me

"Baby, if it feels good, then it can't be bad" Where I can be immoral in a stranger's lap And if you want it good, downright iconic Something they all want that only you can have

You wanna fuck me right now You wanna see me on my knees You wanna rip these clothes off And hurt me

And if you hate me Please don't tell me Just let the lights bleed All over me"

____

You COULD NOT convince me this song doesn't reflect Hoyt. ESPECIALLY "Says he's in love with my body, that's why he's fucking it up - Baby, if it feels good, then it can't be bad." Cmon now. He doesn't seem to want his female victims to be dead, but his behavior often results in extreme injury. Specifically gynecologic bleeding / tearing, bruising, cuts, ect. So he really is "fucking up" their bodies. {If you're experiencing sexual abuse of any kind, contact RAINN or the local authorities.}

____

Strangers

"I tried to be good, am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good? With my memory restricted to a Polaroid in evidence (oh, oh)

I just wanted to be yours, can I be yours? Can I be yours? Just tell me I'm yours If I'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick (sick)"

____

Alright, let's just state the obvious: This is Thomas' subconscious. At least how I interpret it. He craves praise, he needs it. And I'm not taking about "you're so good to me; You did so good, ect." I mean reassuring him he's not just a destructive brute. Praising his strength, giving him patience and space when it's needed. Providing and acknowledging opportunities where he can do more than just butcher. Providing new ways to communicate whilst trying to understand his current communication skills. Reassuring him that he doesn't make you feel sick. Understanding that his hygiene is poor for a few reasons {I.E; Depression, exhaustion, fear of looking at himself, disgusts, ect.} and not shaming him but simply encouraging self-care. Praise his accomplishments, even small ones. Reassure him that he doesn't scare you; That his physical state isn't revolting. And especially that he's worthy of love, that he won't be abandoned; "Can I be yours - Just tell me I'm yours." This is the type of praise Thomas needs. Something that helps him grow as a person whilst fulfilling his needs. He needs specifics, and genuine interest in what he's doing. But remember, give him space :) We all need it. Getting into specifics within the lyrics:

"I tried to be good, am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good? With my memory restricted to a Polaroid in evidence (oh, oh)"

This reminds me of when Thomas burnt and destroyed his childhood pictures. To his family, those are memories of him, his childhood, their time spent together. To Thomas, those are his childhood. The childhood that was full of ridicule, disgust, trauma. I doubt he wants to remember that; Hell, I don't remember some of the things that happened to me as a kid because they were traumatic and upsetting. The memories of pain aren't usually remembered by the perpetrator. The only recollection of Thomas' insulting memories are "restricted to a polaroid in evidence." The memories that made him doubt himself.

____

Inbred

I did my analysis on Inbred here :)

____

Onanist

Listen..I know this song is about masturbation; I just think some of the lyrics OUT OF CONTEXT could fit a narrative found in TCM. Hear me out PLEASE

"Witness to such agony but there, - before the grace of god go I - I want to know love - I want to know what it feels like"

"it feels good "

"it feels good"

____

Okay..this may seem way out in left field but this almost reads to me {In the context of TCM} like a semi-sexual experience for Thomas. LISTEN. Just hear me out. I know the masks are a way for Thomas to hide himself, to present as someone else; I just can't help but imagine how intense putting on his first human mask felt. I know it just looks like a normal day for him in the scene, but I just have this inkling that this felt so intense for Thomas. I've discussed Thomas' sexuality before in this post, just for extra details. Sometimes experiences that aren't inherently sexual feel sexual, y'know? Just this intense build-up that feels pleasurable once it climaxes. Thomas had finally found his craft. This feeling of intense accomplishment. Almost an 'a-hah' moment. It was the first time Thomas could fully take on the appearance of another person; Truly transform himself into an 'alternative mind' if you will. He's still him, obviously. I don't think he 'transitions' between persona's like Bubba Sawyer does, but I still think his masks are influenced by how he wants to navigate the moment. During such an intense moment of agony, Thomas found himself in the grotesque. His image stitched into the face of another. There was no longer an 'Eric', only Thomas. Eric was 'consumed' by Thomas, if you will. Both literally and figuratively {assuming the family ate Eric's body afterward.} Idk, I could be talking out my ass rn but for some reason I could imagine this being mentally stimulating in the same way sex is {for him.} Definitely a source of pleasure, maybe just a form of catharsis.

____

It feels good.

Does it not?🫀{GOD THE WAY HIS BICEPS LOOK IN THIS RAFGHFHAH}

#leatherface #tcm #tcm 2003 #tcm 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt #thomas brown hewitt #sheriff hoyt #texas chainsaw 2003 #the texas chainsaw 2003 #the texas chainsaw 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre 2006 #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre 2003

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metalhoops · 2 years ago

Text

Steddie Week Day 3:

Discover/ First Kiss/ Kiss on My List by Hall and Oates

Steve’s first kiss was with Tommy Hagen. He was eleven and neither of them had spoken about it since.

Steve’s first official kiss was with a girl named Melissa. He’d been fourteen, and she’d been a whole year older than him. At the time the twelve-month age gap felt like it spanned the length and breadth of the Indiana state lines. She’d smelled like Farrah Fawcett's hair spray and tasted like coconut lip balm. By the time he turned fifteen, he’d kissed half a dozen girls, and he’d felt the same Indiana-length distance between himself at fourteen and himself at fifteen. As the years went on, Steve lost count of the number of girls he’d kissed. Some mattered more than others.

At twenty, Steve was looking for quality over quantity, so he could count the number of girls he’d kissed in the last two years on one hand. Still, it surprised Steve to hear Robin and Eddie commiserating over their lack of any first kisses one afternoon at the family video store.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you two haven’t kissed anyone, ever?” Steve echoed, looking up from stacking the latest returned rentals, making sure he’d heard them right.

“You ever tried being a lesbian in a small town, Dingus?” Robin asked, leaning against the front counter. Eddie made a sound of agreement from his spot in the horror section.

Steve was sure Eddie liked men. He was doubly sure Robin knew, but neither had said anything to him about it, so he hadn’t pushed. It hurt, knowing Eddie had likely asked Robin not to tell him, but he got it. He’d been a dick in high school. He’d hoped Robin would be able to reassure Eddie he was cool with it, but he knew how people thought. Being okay with Robin being a lesbian and Eddie being gay were two different things. He’d wanted to assure Eddie he wasn’t like that, but he never knew how to broach the topic.

“I see your point but, it’s not... impossible. I mean- Eddie, you’re left-handed, right?” Steve asked out of nowhere.

Eddie stood on his toes to peer over the shelf of videos dividing them, taking a piece of his hair and toying with it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah. Thanks for noticing?” Eddie breathed, sounding perplexed.

“I mean, everyone knows someone who’s left-handed, right? There were three people in our senior year who had those weird left-handed desks in Mrs Click’s class. So, ten percent of the population is left-handed, right? And ten percent of the population is gay. That’s gotta mean there’s at least one age-appropriate and available person to kiss in Hawkins. You’ve just gotta find ‘em and take the initiative,” Steve reasoned with a shrug of his shoulders. Eddie was giving him a disbelieving smirk.

“Did you just try to use math to tell Robin she’s got no game because she can’t find a girl to kiss? And here I was thinking you were an ally,” Eddie mused, resting his chin on the top shelf.

Steve shrugged and returned to stacking. The word ‘ally’ sat strangely with him.

“How old were you when you had your first kiss, Stevie?” Eddie asked curiously. Normally he’d say fourteen, but today he decided to tell the truth.

“Eleven.” Eddie let out a low whistle.

“That’s young. The Harrington charm actually worked back then, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes and grumbled, ‘shut up,’ under his breath.

“Well, you can’t stop there, Casanova. What’s her name? I haven’t heard this story,” Robin chipped in, sounding intrigued.

Steve took a deep breath. He felt sheltered from the other’s eyes from where he kneeled behind the shelves. He decided it was time to tell the truth.

“Thomas,” Steve whispered, feeling a sudden tremble in his fingers.

The silence was deafening inside the video store. He could hear the distant call of birds and the screech of tires on asphalt drifting in from the outside world, but neither Eddie nor Robin made a sound.

Steve felt like a dying star, moments from collapse. His shoulders were hunched and his breaths were uneven. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Only after the words left his mouth had he thought how badly the confession could go.

Steve felt the weight of a body pressed against his back and Robin’s thin arms wrapped tightly around his middle, holding his shaky frame together.

“Thomas, as in Tommy H? Total dud, dude,” Robin breathed, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. Steve tried not to fall face-first into the ‘Action’ section as her weight bore down on him. It was comforting. He chuckled and nudged his face against her.

“Yeah, total dud,” He agreed.

“Is there room for one more in there?”

Steve looked up to find Eddie crouching in front of the two, awkwardly pretzeled together, half on the floor of the video store. Steve gave a little nod and felt another pair of arms around him.

He wasn’t sure how long the three stayed like that. When they broke apart, it was almost closing time.

“I’m going to head out, guys,” Eddie uttered, looking as though he wanted to say more.

“Steve’ll walk you to the van, won’t you, Steve?” Robin prompted, looking between the two thoughtfully.

“I... yeah?” Steve mumbled. Robin shot him a thumbs up over his shoulder as he trailed after Eddie to his van.

Eddie’s eyes were fixed on the ground as he kicked dirt off his faded white Reeboks and buried his hands deep within the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie said, looking up for a moment to survey the empty parking lot, as though checking for the prying eyes of the cultist-hunting-jocks of years past.

“Yeah?”

“Tommy Hagan really is a shit first kiss,” He chuckled, taking a step closer. Steve snorted and raised a brow.

“Yeah, well, thanks for your input, dude.”

“You know who I’d choose for a first kiss?” Eddie asked, the air between them electric. The distant birds were silent, as though the sky were too thick to fly through.

Steve thought he knew where this was going, but he wanted Eddie to take his hand and lead him there.

Eddie’s ringed fingers brushed across his neck and pulled him closer.

“Go on then,” Steve pushed with a wicked grin.

“Take the initiative, Munson.”

That was all the prompting Eddie needed to push Steve roughly against the side of his van and crash their lips together. It was a proper first kiss, with the clumsy colliding of teeth, bumping of noses and awkward trade-off of tongues. It wasn’t the perfect kiss, but it was the perfect moment.

Steve wanted to teach Eddie the art of hands in hair and skin on skin. He wanted to find out what made Eddie tick, map out the parts of his body that made his toes curl and his breath grow shallow.

It was their first kiss, but Steve sure as hell wouldn’t let it be their last.

#steddieweek2023 #steddieweekprompts #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #first kiss #platonic stobin #robin buckley #stranger things #ficlet #drabble #writing #little bit shorter today #I'm trying to do this #work a masters degree and a crap ton of assignments #Metalhoops writes

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beauty-and-passion · 1 year ago

Note

sooooo, latest video

Well... it seems like there is a video XD

Jokes aside, thanks anon for letting me know Mr. Sanders posted a video that was Sanders Sides related. Kudos for that <3

Then... I have some thoughts about this video. Thoughts I will divide into pros and cons, to make everything easier to explain.

If you don’t like long posts or reading criticism of any kind, please save yourself (and myself) some time and ignore this post. I won’t get offended, I promise.

__________________________________

PROS

A real Aside

It looks like Thomas finally learned the difference between Asides and main episodes. It took him three years, but he finally realized that the Asides should be simple, no plot-related stuff. Good to see he finally got it.

(Still don’t understand why ATHD is a main episode, tho. It’s not plot-related and it’s very clearly more low-effort than FWSA and DWIT. Maybe Thomas didn’t want to leave it all by itself?)

-------------------

Some hopes for the characters

I was very relieved to see that the characters’ personalities are not completely butchered. There are a few things I will talk about in the cons section, but the overall vibe has stayed more or less the same. I’m especially relieved Virgil isn’t the fratboy he was in Thomas’ latest Instagram post, in which he talked all fratboy-esque and I almost expected him to bully me and steal my lunch.

The most in characters are Janus and Remus, which is nice to see too. Remus in particular, is still a chaotic rat man and I love him so much.

-------------------

Remus is my chaotic child

I personally think the best part of the whole video is Remus saying the others told him he could kill Bing Bong. I laughed so hard, I had to stop the video. That wonderful, chaotic rat man deserves to kill everything, as a treat <3

But actually, everything Remus says is great and that proves he’s the best, in this essay I will-

__________________________________

CONS

A weird start

Let me recap my experience while watching the video for the first time.

So, the video starts and I’m welcomed by this guy with an orange shirt and blue hat, all happy and excited. For a split second, I think he’s Patton… but then, a Patton-esque guy with a sweater appears.

Okay, now I’m confused because I have no idea what’s happening here and don’t know who these guys are - I mean, if sweater guy is Patton, who is the orange guy? The orange side was introduced and I missed it? What’s happening here? Who are they? Are those the Inside Out characters as seen by Thomas? Will these guys meet their Sanders Sides “counterparts”?

But then another guy appears and he looks like Janus, so now I’m really lost because, seriously, who are these people? They call each other by name so they should be the Sides, but they also call the orange guy “Joy”, so who is this guy? Who are they? Are they the Inside Out characters cosplaying the Sides? Or vice-versa? What’s happening here?

I got my answer, only when Virgil appeared and clarified this was all a weird roleplay.

I have several questions:

Was it really necessary?

Why?

No, seriously, why? The Sides are the first to admit they aren’t an exact match to the Inside Out characters, so why doing this? Why flatten their multifaceted roles and personalities to do this? Because Mr. Sanders isn’t able to handle them?

Okay, fine, I know why Mr. Sanders wanted to do this weird roleplay and it could’ve been fun to see the Sides acting as the Inside Out characters… if only the Sides’ personalities stayed the same. But since their personalities are not the same anymore, all the viewers feel are confusion and a weird sense of “something’s wrong here”, which they can’t exactly pinpoint.

-------------------

Wrong aesthetics and confused personalities

In order to explain this point, I will bring two examples: Janus and Roman.

First of all, Janus. I know, he’s our beloved sassy queen and we all love him… but his aesthetic in this episode was completely wrong.

Janus is a character who wears layers upon layers of clothing. That’s the first thing you get, the first thing that characterizes him. But in this episode, he wears nothing but a gilet and a scarf. He shows with bare arms, bare shoulders, a deep V-neck and doesn't wear his gloves: for his standard, he’s basically naked.

You can tell me: “It was to match Disgust’s dress”. But since Remus put his own color on the costume, why couldn’t Janus put his own twist too? He’s not doing a perfect cosplay after all. So why not wear a sheer shirt underneath the gilet, to mimic the “nakedness” without showing his skin? Or a greenish/yellow shirt to match both his and Disgust’s aesthetic? I know Mr. Sanders loves to show his skin, but since he created a character whose aesthetic is to not show skin, why “strip” him just to show some more skin? Did Mr. Sanders forgot this aspect of Janus’ character?

But if Janus had at least his face and personality to remind us who he is, Roman had nothing. Seriously, look me in the eye and tell me that, when you saw that guy in orange, you immediately thought: “Ah yes, here is Roman”. There was no way to recognize him, because he had nothing of Roman.

First of all, not a single drop of red anywhere. And I know, roleplay and whatever… but Mr. Sanders is a theater man. He knows the importance of colors. He created seven characters by associating a color to each of them. And yet, Roman appeared without a drop of red, while Remus had no problem turning Fear’s sweater into green.

That doesn't mean Roman had to turn full red, but he could wear a red accessory at least: a bracelet, a necklace, a pin on his hat, whatever. Logan’s tie was blue after all. Or wasn’t Roman allowed to put a twist on his cosplay? This weird roleplay session gives me more questions than answers :/

Second (and most important), Roman’s personality was nowhere to be found. This guy is a more obnoxious, forced version of Roman. When he talked, I didn’t see a person talking: I saw Mr. Sanders reading a script. Or better, screaming a script. Seriously, why was he so loud? Why was he screaming this much, during the roleplay session? I almost got a headache and I don’t get headaches so easily. Seriously, if I needed to hear him louder, I could’ve turned up the volume of my computer, no need to scream this much.

-------------------

The makeup and the importance of details

The dark sides’ makeup has been butchered.

Remus’ eyeshadow used to be of a deep dark black/blue/purple. So why is it so light? Because of the roleplay? But it’s still light after the roleplay. What happened, did Thomas finish the eyeshadow? It’s not too expensive, can’t he buy some more?

Same goes for Virgil: his eyeshadow is basically non-existent. And that’s even weirder, considering that in the Christmas episode, he said he wanted darker makeup to match the darkness of his soul. Does that mean his soul isn’t dark anymore?

And then, Janus. My poor, beloved Janus. His makeup used to be impressive, with scales of a deep green/yellow/brown hue: now they look more like a weird, yellow-y rash, with a thin black line crossing them (probably made with an eye pencil?).

I know Thomas doesn’t have the same makeup artist, but experts exist. And if the one he has isn’t doing their job well, then I’m sorry, but he should hire another one. That’s not being mean, that’s being real.

And before any of you says: “That’s just a detail, you’re being nitpicky”... sure, you can see it like that. But let’s say someone gives you a cake and when you see it, there are missing decorations, the fondant doesn’t fully cover the cake and the phrase “Happy birthday” is wonky. And when you eat it, it has a weird aftertaste too. Sure, it was a gift, but would you think “That was the best ever!” or would you think “Thanks, but you could’ve spent a little more time making it better”?

Heck, you can apply the same concept with this post too! If I posted something with incorrect grammar and misspelled words, would you be happy? Or would you think “man, you could’ve spent a couple more minutes to correct it”?

Skipping details doesn’t make me think you care about your work: it makes me think that either you’re lazy or don’t really care. And if you’re okay with something with missing details, good for you. But from someone with a certain degree of expertise/professionalism like Mr. Sanders, I expect something professional too.

-------------------

Subtle vs thrown in your face

I enjoy the “Janus being a wine mom” thing: it’s funny, it makes me smile, poor boy dealing with the little shits he has around, please give him wine.

But you know what’s really funny about this? That it’s subtle. It happens once in a while. It’s not thrown in the face. And it’s not thrown in the face like that, with Sides luring Janus with wine, almost as if he’s an alcoholic and you can use wine to make him do anything.

Also because the whole “Janus loves wine” thing doesn’t work too well with the functions he embodies. I mean, this guy is responsible for lies. Do you really think lies and alcohol work well together? You need to be extremely lucid and focused to be a good liar. And I don’t think I have to explain to you why alcohol and self-preservation don’t work well together either.

So seeing him with a glass once in a while is funny, but seeing him being all like “you promised me wine” as if wine is his drug… that’s not funny.

Speaking of things that are funny when not thrown in the face, let’s talk about “falsehood” too.

Just like the wine, falsehood was funny when it came once in a while. It wasn’t a switch you could press and bam, Logan says “Falsehood!”. It was a momentarily outburst because Logan’s main reaction isn’t to yell: Logan’s main reaction is to explain things by using cold logic. Because that’s who he is: logic.

So, when I see him dropping a “falsehood” like this, I don’t enjoy it. I feel it old and stale. And it saddens me too, because it looks like Thomas is using the easiest bait to get his fans’ attention. A bit like a bunch of dangling keys: see? Your favorite character says his catchphrase! Now laugh!

-------------------

Apollo gave me the gift of prophecy (or maybe it was just too obvious this would happen)

Right after Roman stops screaming, Virgil starts screaming. And he does it in the most out-of-character way, for the most out-of-character reason.

Since the Q&A episode from season one, Virgil was the first one to tell Thomas that Anxiety looks different for anyone and that he specifically chose the dark persona to keep “everyone’s guard up”.

So why is he complaining so much about a movie representation of Anxiety now? And why should everyone remind him that hey, Anxiety looks different for everyone? He should already know that. He was the first to tell that.

Do you know what this is? No, not a pathetic excuse to talk about a trending topic (i.e. Inside Out). It’s proof I was fucking right and of course I was, because I experienced it too.

What did I say in my old post about the problem with this series? That SaSi doesn’t have an outline. And what happens when you don’t have an outline and, instead of focusing on that project/writing an outline, you do 20 other different things instead? That more time will pass. And the more time will pass, the more you will forget things you already talked about.

Like, you know, a topic from season 1 that was clarified, over and done by the same character who now forgot it.

-------------------

The golden goose will never die

Call me a conspiracy theorist or just an old hag with a heart of stone. But I really would like to know the real reason why, deep down, Thomas made this video.

I doubt it was because he missed the Sides and wanted to do something with them. He doesn’t miss them the slightest, it’s quite clear. He doesn’t even care enough to remember what their personalities are supposed to be, how can he "miss" them?

But oh look, there was new merch to advertise. And Inside Out is a trending topic and the fandom knows about the association between SaSi and the movie. So if Mr. Sanders makes the right video at the right time, he can get a lot of views with minimal effort.

But he should advertise a shirt with all Sides in, so he can’t just make a video about Virgil reacting to a trailer: he needs all of the Sides to be there. So, let’s rush a video with the first idea that popped into his mind: that Virgil doesn’t like the Inside Out take on Anxiety.

Maybe that’s not what truly happened in his mind and behind the scenes. Maybe Mr. Sanders really just wanted to make a video with the Sides and I’m a cynical, heartless person. Personally, I would be way happier to know I was wrong and there weren’t ulterior motives behind this video.

But without any actual proof, I won’t believe this video was made just for passion. Passion doesn’t make you skip details. Passion doesn’t make you put on a sloppy video, without taking two more minutes to check if your characters are IC or the topic you want to talk about makes sense.

Believe me, I’m very sad to say this. I don’t want to think all of this. I always try to be optimistic and think good of people. But if this is what I get, how can I believe this video was made with good intentions and no ulterior motives? Especially since it’s coming from a guy who can be accurate, detail-oriented, and very subtle while acting? He did all of this in the past: now it looks like he forgot everything.

If you want to still watch this Aside, do it. If you enjoy it, even better. For me, that was just a tiny waste of time and it left me nothing except a momentary smile. At the end of the day, I don’t even care enough to watch it twice. And for me, that's a failure, coming from a series I used to watch on repeat.

#sanders sides #ask #ts criticism #I guess #thomas sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #at this point I'm just sad

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circusgoth-dotcom · 1 month ago

Text

Yearning

Ship: Harry x Luci Thomas

Word Count: 958

Summary: Luci ends up in a holding cell and asks Harry to bust him out. CWs for mild injury mentions, mentions of violence, alcohol mentions, ideations of cheating, brief suggestive humour.

Harry had been enjoying a quiet night in, cosy in his living room, when his landline unexpectedly began to ring. Despite the odd hour, he assumed it must be his wife and went to answer it. Instead, he heard the sheepish voice of his favourite employee.

“Hi, Mr. Norton?” Luci prompted, a thin veil of static surrounding his words. Harry’s head whipped toward the clock on the wall before he answered.

“Mr. Thomas, it’s ten o’clock on a Sunday, what could you possibly need that can’t wait until tomorrow morning??” He asked hurriedly, more concerned than annoyed.

“I… er… listen, I’m down at the South West police station, you don’t think you could get me out of the slammer for the night, could you?”

“What on Earth are you doing at the police station??” He moved as far as he could to the window, curly phone cable stretching into straightness as he leaned to twitch aside his curtains. It was raining heavily, persuading him to hesitate.

“I’ll explain everything when you get here. Will you please come, Harry, I’m so sorry to bother you, I know I’m making a complete ass of myself… my time’s almost up.”

Harry yielded a sigh, closing his curtains and returning to the wall. “I’ll be down in a few.”

“Thank you—” And Luci was promptly cut off, likely by the bobby in the room with him. He placed the phone back in its cradle and went to get his coat and boots before leaving for the station. He was glad his wife and children weren’t home, off visiting extended family until Tuesday. His relationship with them had become increasingly convoluted since Luci came into his life… someday he would come to regret his spinelessness, but today was not that day.

He next saw Lucille Thomas in a holding cell and folded his arms as they were let out. They had bruises forming on their cheek and temple, their knuckles raw and red, dried blood in the cracks of their lower lip. With no bail to pay, there were only questions on Harry’s mind as they walked to his car.

“Thanks again, Mr. Norton…” Luci rubbed his hands together as he sat in Harry’s passenger seat. “... Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“Well, I can see what happened. You got yourself into quite a scrap. I will ask why and what could you possibly have been thinking??” Harry pulled out of his parking spot, focus divided between driving and paying keen attention to Luci’s answer as they rubbed the back of their neck awkwardly.

“Wrong place, wrong time. I-I was down at the pub, about two drinks in, when a fight broke out behind me. I tried to break it up, then it escalated. Most people scattered when the bobbies showed up… lil ol’ me wasn’t fast enough, of course.”

Harry nodded as he listened. “You’re lucky this isn’t a usual thing for you. What were you doing at the pub, anyway?”

Luci sniffed, looking out at the rain pounding the passenger side window. “What do you mean—”

“I mean, that isn’t the usual place I’d picture you. I know you don’t like crowds, or noise, or much of anything social, really.”

Luci laughed lightly and his breath fogged up the glass. “My stash is dry and my usual liquor store closed early tonight… plus, it was happy hour at The Fat Lamb, and I may’ve followed a decent-looking guy in…”

Harry bit his cheek, though he knew better than to be jealous. “Right.” He pulled up to his house and Luci perked up.

“Oh, don’t let me intrude, I’ve already been enough of a nuisance tonight…”

Harry sighed lightly. “I’d be remiss if I let you spend the night alone in this weather, especially after you’ve gotten the shit kicked out of you. I won’t take no for an answer, either.”

Quickly, they dashed under lightning and into Harry’s warm home. Harry led Luci into the kitchen, fetching him a towel and a tumbler of whiskey as he sat at the table. “Since your night of half-price drinking was cut short. And it should keep you warm.”

Luci nodded in appreciation, ruffling his hair with the towel before draping it over his shoulders, hand clasping the glass. He hummed after a thoughtful sip. “So, this is your place?”

Harry placed his palms on the table, looking around the room. “Yes. Cosy, isn’t it?”

Luci smiled. “It suits you.”

Harry slowly exhaled and turned his gaze upon them. “How’s your head?”

A small smirk couldn’t help but form on Luci’s lips as they took another sip of the whiskey. “No complaints yet, Mr. Norton.”

Harry flushed and straightened up. “Please, you can call me Harry. It isn’t just reserved for when you’re begging me to bail you out of holding cells.”

Luci snickered behind his hand and finished off his drink. “I could do with some aspirin, actually… Harry.” He flexed his hands, watching his boss with half-lidded eyes.

“Right. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable in the sitting room, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Luci stood and followed Harry’s direction, soon rejoined by him and a couple of painkillers. He took them and the two sat together on the couch, though with an appropriate sense of space between them. Still, Luci couldn’t deny the allure of Harry’s fireplace and the softness of his sweater, soon curling into Harry’s side. Harry moved his arm, wrapping around Luci’s shoulders.

“Luci…”

“Yes, Harry?”

Their faces were inches apart. Still, in this intimate moment, Harry couldn’t make his move. “Nevermind…” He let them cuddle closer to him, appreciation for silence clear in their demeanour. He rested his temple atop their head.

#self shipping #self shipping community #safeshipping #gay self ship #trans self ship #self insert #self insert x canon #self x canon #self insert oc #oc x canon #circus scripts #👓Designed For You🖥️#🖱️🫦.s/i

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mitzyslatestobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

hi guys mitzy here. back with a fucking BANGER post

with all the discussion about the finale and the video that released (that made me like cry) i figured now is as good a time as any to share my theories on the finale!!!!! keep in mind i am stupid and some of this may not make sense so, my bad in advance. also, spoilers for the newest life update video (if that needs spoilers, but just in case!!!)

1. i think the main driving event (based off the last asides and general details we know about c!thomas) is maybe c!thomas diving too far into the relationship too fast (i.e. telling nico he loves him, if i had to guess). roman is very obviously over excited, we know patton has little self control, and with c!thomas’ mental state it’s not irrational for him to cling on to any good thing that comes his way like a vice.

2. orange time. i know there’s A Great Divide™ between the orange side is anger/orange side isn’t anger debate but i honestly have to agree that i don’t think he’s anger. it feels too on the nose. i mean, so many thought roman’s anti was going to be pride and look where we ended up with that. it feels too easy to assume he’s anger. i’ve been doing a lot of discussing with my pals in the sanders fanders discord server and some other ideas could be insecurity, regret, someone even said addiction (bc logan is. totally normal guys), like there are SO many options that would make sense that aren’t anger.

3. i think orange’s name is going to be argos. this is mainly because of all the eye symbolism we’ve had with him and argos is heavily associated with being “all-seeing”. we also know the team absolutely LOVES their greek names. i have the least support for this but i also like it because its cool as fuck. also i did the least research for this like. ages ago so take it with a grain of salt. also, (apparently) in the greek testament of the bible (which we know thomas and the team love) argos is used to refer to leisure/being free from labour sooooo…. that’s cool…….

bye love you all!!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #logic sanders #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #remus sanders #dark creativity sanders #roman sanders #creativity sanders #morality sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #mitzy analyzes #ts spoilers #ts orange side #ts orange

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edwin-paynes-bowtie · 1 year ago

Note

give us those Thomas hcs please! he is high school era me fr

YEAHHHH OKAY Alexa cue Hey Stephen

Some of these are just Funny and Cute things that I want to have happened while others have canon basis

Thomas followed Alastair all over the school. A LOT. To the point that Matthew was calling him a little marble that rolls wherever Alastair is. He's standing in the corner of the room talking at Alastair after Clive dies, and they're the only two people there. It seems to me that Alastair did notice Thomas, and per Cassie, Thomas was one of the four people Alastair liked pre-ChoG (along with Cordelia, Sona, and the redhead). But "I didn't see you" and "you were just some boy" make me think that Alastair was like "okay this runt is following me around again but he's kinda sweet and a little earnest and is nice to me so. I like him" and just rolled with that. But Thomas was gone. Totally smitten with Cupid's arrow. And cue all sorts of opportunities for funny interactions.

Thomas keeping his journal about his daily activities and referring to Alastair only as "A". You know, to protect his privacy in case the metaphorical pink glittery lock is broken.

The journal also includes some bad early childhood poems about Alastair.

Thomas's internal monologue was basically the same now and then, though back then it was more innocent and just lacked the horniness. It was just the wholesome bits (that are still copious).

Thomas constantly tries to converse with Alastair and sometimes succeeds. When they talk, it's the highlight of both of their day even if they're not friends.

Thomas has dreams about kissing Alastair regularly. If you want more of this you can check out @vwritesaus fic what's in a kiss. Literally my comfort fic i read it like every week.

Thomas doodles "Mr. Thomas Lightwood" in his journal while thinking about Alastair. Alastair finds it and is largely confused why he's doodling his own name, but hey, alright.

He's also definitely doodled their wedding invitation.

Thomas does things like trip over his own feet and fall up the stairs when Alastair appears. Alastair doesn't get why but finds it endearing.

Not really a headcanon, but Thomas liked Alastair's teasing because he thought it was bold and daring. Matthew notes this in CLS, but I think it's why Thomas loves him so much. He respects it.

After a while, Alastair picking on Thomas becomes something of a joke between them. "Pipsqueak" is a good natured nickname.

Thomas and Alastair get paired up for a project once. They divide the questions in half and copy each other's answers because Alastair "isnt going to talk to the likes of him." But they sit together in a companionable silence the entire time and it's very comfortable, 0% awkward, and neither of them understand why they're so at peace. (I might write this fic sooner rather than later.)

Alastair primarily targets Thomas because he's friends with James, but he also does so to protect him from worse bullying/abuse at the hands of his vile friends of yesteryear. This may or may not be subconscious.

#thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #thomastair #fave

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 2 years ago

Text

Philip | You, Always You | Romantic

Requested: Yes

Whilst reminiscing on the past, you realise the love of your life has always been right in front of you.

Forcing the yawn that threatens to escape back into your system, you rub your eyes tiredly as the light of the flames hurts your eyes. Seated against a log that digs into your spine, you pull one leg a little closer to your chest, hoping to get more comfortable.

The day has been long and tiring, with crowds of people constantly gathering around Jesus and requiring His attention. Although there is no better place than at the Messiah’s side, you are aware that all of you need rest from time to time, including Jesus Himself. Constantly staying alert whilst ushering people into fair queues whilst Jesus did His work was worth it yet physically draining.

Ever since returning to camp, all you’ve been yearning for is to crawl into your bedroll, drape over an extra pelt to keep warm and close your burning eyes. With a rich stew warming your belly, you feel your exhaustion creeping up on you as all of camp slowly starts calling it a day, most Disciples already having withdrawn themselves to their tents, and you are about to do the same when a familiar voice says your name.

You blink in surprise at Philip’s sudden appearance behind you and you turn to face him, your heart fluttering pleasantly at the sight of his smile. “Are you headed somewhere?”

“Well, yes,” you breathe, “I was about to go to bed, actually. Is anything the matter?”

Something sad flashes behind Philip’s eyes, but it is soon replaced by something hopeful. “Well, I was supposed to keep the first watch with Nathanael, but he fell asleep and I can’t get him to wake up.”

You chuckle at the image you can vividly imagine. “That’s typically Nath.” you laugh lightly, “Nothing new with him, hm?”

Philip grins and shakes his head. “He never changes in that regard.”

You hum and are silent for a second, staring at the flames whilst your heart is torn between two things – to call it a day or suggest to stay with Philip for a little while to keep him company – but his request decides for you: “Say, (Y/n), would you like to stay with me for a while? Otherwise, I’ll be so lonely during the first watch. It will only be about two hours until Thomas and Zee will be taking over.”

“Sure,” you tell him, your heart pleasantly skipping a beat. Spending some extra time with Philip is always a dream, but it also makes you worry that you’ll slip up one day, or that you would say something embarrassing that causes him to not like you anymore. For as long as you can remember, you’ve had the biggest crush on him, and the last thing you want is to ruin your friendship by running your mouth. “Where shall we sit?”

“I was thinking, maybe on the other side than where you are sitting right now? That way, we’ll have a better view of the plains.”

You agree to that and shift your position to the other side of the fire, where he takes a seat next to you.

A brief silence befalls you two and Philip is the first to break it. “I can boil us some water.” he suggests, “If you can pick a few herbs, we can soak them into it.”

“Of course,” you tell him, rising to your feet to gather some fresh mint leaves that grow in the shade of a rock formation, whilst Philip rummages around for a bit. You quickly pop a mint leaf into your mouth in the hopes of making your breath a little fresher, for if you’re talking in a low volume, he’s bound to get closer to you. The idea makes your cheeks flame.

After collecting enough sprigs, you return to his side, for Philip has already put on the kettle and has found two clean cups that he brushes clean from dust with the end of his tunic. “Here you go,” you say, handing him the mint leaves, which he divides evenly. You watch him work whilst getting comfortable. “I remember that we used to make this on days that we didn’t feel like going into town to buy food. When we were still with John, I mean.”

“I miss these days sometimes.” Philip muses, “The wild honey we’d add was so sweet, too. I remember your small obsession with the stuff.”

Blushing, you swat his arm. “Hey, I was not addicted to honey. Okay, maybe a little, but it was over as soon as I got stung in my mouth that one day.”

Philip laughs at the memory, swirling the water around the kettle carefully to distribute the heat. “Oh, yes, I remember that. You couldn’t eat properly for two days. Your extraordinarily chubby cheeks looked very cute on you though.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the way he had considered you then, but Philip avoids eye-contact by pouring scalding water into the two cups, handing one to you carefully. His hand brushes yours in the process and you have to prevent yourself from startling too much lest you spill anything, your heart skipping a beat regardless.

“Luckily, it was only temporary. After all, such an experience is not recommended.”

Philip hums and blows some air into his cup. “I can only imagine, and I did feel really bad for you then.”

“You were basically panicking when it happened and my face started to swell up.”

He smiles. “Well, I couldn’t exactly help you in the same way you had helped me when we were children. Remember the incident with the tree branch?”

It takes you a moment to realise what he means, but when a memory about Philip being stung in his thumb after poking a beehive he had expected to be empty, you cannot fight the laugh. “I’ve never heard you scream that hard ever in my life, nor have you screamed like that after.”

Philip smirks and takes a careful sip of his drink whilst the two of you look at the fire. His upper arm snugly pressed against yours makes you soar, his proximity welcome, familiar.

“I do remember that you gave me a kiss on my thumb after removing the sting, and it was as if the pain was gone instantly.”

Your cheeks turn red; You had totally forgotten about that detail, and the fact that Philip still remembered made your gut swarm with butterflies.

“Well, I am glad to have been of service.” you try to hide your sudden abashedness. Philip lets out a pleasant sound, his knee hitting yours playfully.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve often thought back on that moment.”

Flustered, you blink in puzzlement. “Oh? Why?”

Philip finally dares to look at you, his gaze containing something that you cannot quite place.

“Because it was the first time I ever had such contact with a girl.” Your heart drops, then tightens at the implication that he has been kissed by another girl later on in life. “Of course there have been moments during our teens that girls showed their interest by kissing my cheek, but none of them had evoked such a reaction as to when you had healed my thumb that day.”

With reddened cheeks, you avert your gaze. “Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that I’ve had such an impact on you.”

He smiles wryly. “You must think I’m weird now.”

You frown. “How so?”

“Because that was… How long ago? Twenty… Twenty-five years? And I still think about it from time to time, truth be told.”

You nearly drop your drink and carefully put it down on the ground beside you.

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” you muse, “I had completely forgotten about it.”

The glimmer in his eyes dies down. “Do you mean to say that it meant not as much for you as it meant for me?”

Regret immediately shatters your heart, you firmly shake your head, and you lean towards him. “No– No, of course not! I-I mean… Of course it meant something to me, but… Perhaps I was afraid of how much it would mean to me, so I pushed away the memory.”

Philip lets out a sound of confusion. “Afraid? Of what?”

You fall silent, embarrassment clawing at your throat. For a second, you scold yourself mentally – you should have gone to bed, now you’ve said something dumb that will potentially ruin your friendship, just what you had warned yourself about – before you open your mouth to respond.

“I don’t know.” you shakily say, eyelids fluttering as you force back your blush. “Why did you… Why did you never mention it again?”

Philip lets out a sad scoff and lowers his gaze, shrugging. “Well, I always thought you were going to get married to Boaz.”

“Boaz?” you let out a laugh, “Really? Where did you get that idea from?”

With genuine surprise on his features, Philip meets your gaze. “What…? Do you mean that you weren’t going to marry him?”

“No!” you chuckle, “Never even thought about it. I thought he was way too childish for someone who was nineteen and… Well, I wanted to reserve myself for someone else.”

Philip’s eyes widen. “Oh… What happened?”

For a second, you hesitate. “He never asked.” you say at last, which is the truth. “And I fear that he never will.”

The flow of your blood is so loud in your ears that you hope you’ll be able to hear Philip speak as he visibly mulls over the words. “Well, I think that man would be very lucky to have you as his wife, and if I ever run into him I’ll tell him he’s pretty stupid for letting you wait for so long. If it had been me, I would have asked you ages ago.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. Is this a confession?

Suddenly short of breath, you bring your fingers to your lips to touch them, completely in shock. With your free hand, you reach for your tea, that has cooled down enough to be consumed.

“Are you okay? You’re a bit pale.” Philip worriedly queries when you remain silent. For a moment, you’re worried you’ll spit the drink back into the cup. You take a moment to gather yourself and try to come up with an answer.

Yes, this is a confession, you decide then and there. And you’d be dumb to let it pass.

“Then why haven’t you?” you break your silence.

Now it is Philip’s turn to grow flustered, momentarily confused with your words until he thinks it over. When everything seems to fall into place, his eyes shimmer with hope.

“Are you… What are you implying, (Y/n)?” He tilts his head slightly in question, as if he is still unsure.

You take a deep breath. “What I am trying to say is… The man who I was waiting on to ask for my hand in marriage was… Well, you.”

The silence between you two is heavy with unspoken emotion as you stare at one another, neither of you looking away.

“Really?” Philip croaks, “Am I… Am I dreaming?”

Laughing in relief, you shake your head. “No, Philip, I’m very serious and this is very real.”

His gaze flickers back to the flames and he runs a hand down his brow, grunting in frustration. “Oh, I am such an idiot. Have I been that blind?!”

You giggle and put a hand on his arm. “To be fair, I haven’t been very assertive myself, either.”

Philip hides his face in his hands and lets out another sound, still processing what he has just heard.

“Forgive me, (Y/n), I am just… Oh, forgive me for making you think I wasn’t interested, because I am. I have always been.”

“As have I,” you admit, “Since we were teenagers.”

“I’ve loved you since long before that.” His words are so soft that you nearly melt and his gaze meets yours, gently, patiently. “Please, forgive me–”

You cut him off lest he feel bad for any longer: “I have already forgiven you,” you breathe, “There is nothing to forgive, anyways. It turns out that both of us were too afraid to come forward with our feelings and misunderstood the other.”

Philip smiles and takes your hand in his. “Then please don’t misunderstand this, (Y/n).” he mutters, and your breath hitches in your throat as he moves forward slightly.

“Misunderstand what?”

“Marry me.”

Blinking rapidly, you try to comprehend what he has just asked you. When it takes you a few seconds to reply, Philip’s face falls into embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry if I am going too fast, I didn’t mean to pressure you–”

“Yes.” you interrupt, “Yes, I will!”

He exhales in alleviation before grinning from ear to ear, putting a hand over his mouth in disbelief. “Oh!” he murmurs, “Oh, that is… Yes! You’re serious! This is the best day of my life!”

You can’t help but laugh and scoot a little closer to him. “The best is yet to come, Phil.” you muse, and he softens, looking you in the eye.

“Feel free to say no, because it’s not really part of our customs, but… I’ve been wanting to properly kiss you for so long, and at this moment…” He sighs and cups your jaw, thumbing gently at your cheekbone. “I would love to just…”

His voice trails off, and you don’t reply verbally. Instead, you lean upwards to connect your mouth to his, for he has not been the only one to have mustered that desire for the last fifteen years.

Softly pulling you closer, Philip returns the sentiment, wondering why he has ever waited this long, and imagining a beautiful future with you at his side, promising you silently in this moment to always be there for you, like he always had been.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #angel studios #the chosen philip #philip x reader #philip x you

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