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

piastrisun · 4 months 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 · 7 months ago

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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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djarinova · 3 months ago

Text

written on your upper thigh — rafayel

˗ˏ✎ synopsis: - what is he painting on your leg... and are you going to have the patience to wait him to finish when he's planting kisses on your skin and touching you oh so delicately?

˗ˏcontent - gn (reader wears a skirt), painting, kissing, making out, reader is blindfolded, reader has freckles + small scars on their leg - divider by @/saradika

˗ˏwc - 1860

“C’mon, Raf, it's been like 20 minutes, can I please take this blindfold off now?”

You hear him scoff, “I can't believe that after all this time you still think it's possible to rush me towards completion with a deadline.”

Underneath the blindfold—which is a dark, and suspiciously well looked after, piece of silk material—you roll your eyes. There's a soft clink in the background and you hear water splash against the side of the cup that sits on the table next to you.

“Are you seriously cleaning your brush again?” You huff. “How many colours are you using? Promise me you haven't painted an entire landscape on the side of my leg…”

Rafayel laughs, a soft sound that flows between the two of you and settles somewhere deep in your chest. The fingers of his free hand dance delicately across the bare flesh of your thigh—he had insisted that you needed to be clothes free below the waist for this particular activity, but you'd persuaded him against that choice with a flutter of your eyelashes and the reminder that there are other people (namely Thomas) that may appear in his home without any notice. The short lilac skirt you were wearing also helped your case a little…

“I promise.”

“...Yes?” You urge him to continue.

He suspends his hand palm down in the air, as if making an oath. “I promise I have not painted an entire landscape on the side of your leg.” He repeats, in a solemn voice.

You nod your head, satisfied.

“Will you just tell me what you're doing already! I'm getting anxious.” You whine.

The brush tickles your skin and a small giggle escapes your lips. You try not to shift too much in your seat, lest Rafayel scold you again.

“It's like you don't trust me at all.” He pouts, he exaggerates his point by sticking his bottom lip out, somehow forgetting that you can't see him. “If you missed seeing my face that much then you could just say so out right, there's no need to beat around the bush this much.”

The urge to roll your eyes resurfaces and you're about to speak out in your defense when the brush comes into contact with your skin again. You yelp in surprise, the water droplets from the bristles are cold, and Rafayel chastises you absentmindedly.

“And if you missed kissing me that much then maybe you should hurry up and finish painting me already.” You tease in return, the double meaning of your words not even crossing your mind.

Rafayel says nothing, but you hear him scoff quietly as if he disagrees with your words. His brush strokes tell a different story though, they seem to gain momentum rather suddenly and he begins to work much quicker than he was only a few moments ago.

You feel his breath fan against your leg and your cheeks heat up when he presses a gentle kiss upon your skin. Even knowing that he isn't looking at your face doesn't help to quell the thoughts that churn through your mind. Knowing that he's been working on you for the best part of an hour now, the thrill of being unable to see when or where he's going to be touching you next with the paintbrush… It makes you giddy. He's so meticulous with how he works on his art, you never get bored of the sight, but this secretiveness is far more exciting than you had expected when he suggested it.

He kisses your thigh again, slightly higher than before, and you have to swallow a whine that threatens to escape you. His lips are feather-light on your skin, almost tickling you with how delicate they are. Your brain is foggy with want and you feel your leg bounce minutely, like it's itching to move closer to him.

The noise of your thumping heart is all you can hear, you're so distracted that you fail to notice the shifting of Rafayel’s movements until he's pressed against your side on the sofa.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, his breath is warm on the shell of your ear. It makes your stomach flip.

You gulp, nodding slowly as shivers run down your spine. You think he might not have seen your reply and you're about to speak when you feel his hands fiddling with the knot at the back of your head. One end of the material flutters down over your chest, the other is held securely in Rafayel's hand.

You waste no time trying to adjust to the light that now floods your vision, instead your eyes flit wildly around the scene in front of you, trying to find the lips that you long to feel against your own. You get impatient with yourself before even 2 seconds have passed. The sunlight almost blinds you as you turn your head to the left. Rafayel's hands perched on his lap pass by you in a blur as you spin towards him. You screw your eyes shut and blindly make a move towards where you think his head is, too desperate, too eager, too hungry to bother looking properly. No thoughts cross your mind apart from the need to have his lips on yours. You're so caught up in your actions that you somehow completely forget about–

“Hey! Careful of my work! You almost smudged it off without even looking at it first!” Rafayel cries.

You freeze in your tracks and slowly open your eyes. You're halfway between sitting and straddling Rafayel's lap, your hands are balled into fists and they hold tightly onto his shirt material. The fabric is soft between your fingers.

“I–uh… Well–” You hesitate, before slowly moving away from Rafayel's sturdy thighs and planting yourself back on the sofa. Heat floods your cheeks, pressing a hand towards your face to hide your embarrassment you quickly turn your head away from his prying eyes and look down at the painting that has been keeping you still for so long.

“It's–”

“Beautiful, I know.”

You roll your eyes, but don't disagree. It is beautiful.

On your thigh, no bigger than a finger's length, sits an elegantly painted letter ‘R’. Its ends are curved and, as if following lazy brush strokes, they flick upwards ever so slightly. The circular part of the letter is so precise in how it curves along your skin, the movements of the letter outline seem to line perfectly with the freckles and small scars from hunting that adorn your skin. It's golden in colour, but the longer you look at it the more your eyes are able to pick up all of the hints of the other hues. There's small traces of orange hidden beneath the gold, with blue highlights along the curve and specks of lavender dotted around the edges like stars in the night sky.

You swallow your emotions, tears threaten to fall from your eyes and as you spin in your seat you feel the droplets pooling along your lashes. Before you have a chance to think about what to say Rafayel is pressing his lips against yours. He hums against you and you feel his hands slide around your waist before they sneak under your shirt and settle on the hem of your skirt. There's something different about the way he's kissing you, it's hungry and fast and he's deepening the kiss hurriedly in an effort to keep you close to him. Your hands knot in his hair, the soft strands tickle your skin. Something digs into your upper thigh, and you're about to open your eyes to check what it is when you feel Rafayel’s hands gripping the flesh of your ass. Your eyes fly open as he flips you onto your back and your hands search the air looking for purchase on his shirt. As you hum against his lips once more there is a faint ‘click’ noise in the background and before you have the chance to register the sound the front door is flung open.

“Hello?” Thomas whisper-shouts in the entryway.

Rafayel groans as your hands push against his chest haphazardly.

“C’mon—Rafayel—we have to—seriously—we have to move, quickly! C'mon, baby!” You mumble against his lips.

He sighs, but relents to your pushing. You manage to sit up and straighten your clothes just as Thomas enters the living room. You hope you don't look as thrown about as you feel.

“I was just coming over because I was certain that you'd forget–Oh!” His cheeks flood with warmth, and he stops dead in his tracks once he notices your embarrassed state and the air of Rafayel's oh-so-nonchalant attitude (and if he sees the mismatched buttons of Rafayel's shirt, and the dishevelled mess of your hair, he's polite enough not to draw any attention to it).

“Oh, right. You wanted to–”

“You promised me the week off and I was just coming over to remind you that today is Friday.” Thomas interrupts, “That means for the next seven days I will be unreachable to you, okay?” He directs his next question to you. “Please, please, please can you watch over him this week? You know how his schedule is and the only way for me to get any peace of mind is if I know you won't let him ignore his responsibilities this week.”

You nod confidently, if there's one thing Thomas can rely on you for, it's keeping Rafayel in check.

You smile widely. “Have a lovely and restful time, Thomas. See you next week.”

He waves to the two of you, Rafayel just huffs and crosses his arms in his seat as you promise to make him behave this week.

The door clicks once again and you hear the sound of Thomas's car pulling out of the drive. You sigh, somehow getting interrupted by Thomas has you feeling like a school kid who got caught cheating on a test. Your cheeks are hot and your pulse is quickened—and it's not for the same reason as it was before…

“You're really going to make me go to all those events and meetings that Thomas promised I would attend this week?” Rafayel pouts.

You turn to look at him. “Of course I am! I gave him my word. And don't even think about trying to run away, I know where all your hiding spots are.”

Rafayel huffs, his eyebrows furrowed together as if deep in thought.

“You think you know where all my hiding spots are…” He whispers.

You fake a shocked gasp, and shove his side lightly while laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.” You tease.

Now it's his turn to gasp. He turns his head away from you dramatically and crosses his legs so his entire body is angled away from you, leaving just enough room for you to slide yourself behind him and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Your painting really is beautiful, you know.” You whisper against his ear and you feel him shudder against you.

“Thank you.” He whispers in return. His hands now preoccupied with tracing the outline of the ‘R’ that sits entrancingly on your thigh.

#no one look at me no one talk to me #he's my little guy:(#im so in love w him that uhhhh #it's making me feel a little crazy #want to give him so many kisses:(#his stupid gorgeous pouty face #GIMME #sage.fics #rafayel lads fic #rafayel lads x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you

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i-try-to-write-stuff · 2 months ago

Text

Queendom

This blog supports Palestine 🇵🇸.

Zionists and Minors DNI.

Prompt Plot - Dark Reader operating the invisible strings of the King of Small Heath aka Tommy Shelby

Warning!!!!!

This material contains sensitive themes, including Dubcon, violence, and assault. By clicking the "Keep Reading" button, you explicitly acknowledge this warning. If you are triggered by any of these themes, do not proceed with reading this piece of fiction.

I am not responsible for your content consumption.

You always dreamed of making it big, big enough so you didn't have to worry about your next meal, a roof over your head, and even a small nest egg. Not that you had to worry about any of those things apart from your nest egg.

Thomas Shelby, a shrewd "businessman", a man hell-bent on building an empire for his family, a clever man who could sense the next moves of his family, friends, foes and lovers alike on the chessboard of life. But why couldn't he predict you or your moves?

Maybe it's a good thing, maybe it's bad, but you wouldn't change it for the world. Queen is the real player with any power in the game of chess while the King sits on his ass. And just like the game of chess, your King reaps the benefit of your hard work, not that you care; you prefer to work in the shadows, shadows that shield you from the ugly side of the power play.

It wasn't easy for you to get Tommy's eyes on you, and to be fair, Grace, Ada, and every woman in between them had kept him plenty busy and naturally, he overlooked you. Not that you ever cared, for you indirectly controlling Tommy was a safer option. So many backroom shady deals you have had to grease with money, blackmail, sex murder or some combination of all four of those.

That's how you met your first husband, a rich old fool obtuse enough to think that a young woman in her 20s, fresh out of college with a business degree, would fall in love with a man old enough to be her grandfather who was also a guest of honour at your graduation.

That's how you met your first husband, and you were determined to be his last wife. Obviously, you weren't gonna waste your 20s tending to a senile old man so far away from the city. You played the doting wife as long as you could, madly in love with the old bastard so well that even his children and grandchildren, who rightfully doubted you and your motives, were convinced that you were really in love with the pile of brittle bones. And joyfully, Thompson died soon, or to put it differently, how you killed him by accidentally overdosing your weak-hearted old husband. You researched enough to know that his death would look natural. Due to his advanced age, his death didn't come as a surprise to his family, and just to put every doubt to rest, you cremated him and divided his ashes among his children.

You played the role of grieving widow well, one might say too well; your refusal to leave the sprawling mansion (and millions of dollars in your name in offshore accounts hidden from his family) for a year really cemented your role as a dumb naive girl in high society, something you needed. London High Society was sprawling with filthy rich people still desperate enough to leech off of every penny from each other, you formed enough connections that when you fell from the face of the earth in search to "find yourself", nobody questioned.

You returned to Small Heath, with sizeable savings. And unlike the Shelby's you didn't start spending money like them. You wanted to grow your fortune, but you also didn't want Arthur's nosiness, John's curiosity or the sedulous eyes of Tommy on you. And what better way to stay out of their radar than to join them?

You went to Polly and begged for a job at Shelby Brothers Limited. Polly was a little suspicious of you but that suspicion flew away when she saw tears and snot running down your face as you explained how the love of your life died and left you with nothing but a mansion which was too expensive to maintain and how you had to essentially rent it as a holiday home to break even on maintenance.

Polly got you an interview with Tommy Shelby; she couldn't just hire you into the illegal side of the business without Tommy's approval.

----

"You went to school with Ada, didn't you?" Tommy asked you and you nodded like a good girl.

"You were in her class?" John questioned.

You cleared your throat and replied affirmatively in a demure voice. "Yes, we were classmates."

"What happened to the rich old fuck you married?" Arthur questioned distastefully.

You saw John and Tommy making eye contact, silently communicating in their own language.

"He died," you replied trying to muster up some tears.

"And left you with nothing?" John probed.

"No, no, he left the mansion in my name, but the mansion is old, and it's too expensive to maintain, so I rented it out as a holiday home. But after all the expenses and salaries of the mansion's employees, there isn't much left." you spill out the lie.

"Don't you have a business degree?" Tommy asked and you nodded.

"Why aren't you using that to get a legitimate job?" John added.

"I don't have the real-world experience they want, being a trophy wife and a widow of a rich man isn't exactly considered an experience." you joked

"From what we have heard, you really loved that old badger," Arthur added.

"I did, Greg Thompson was the love of my life..." you replied with tears in your eyes. Your acting classes were really paying off.

All the three Shelbys in the room silently communicated while you tried to look as pathetic and naive and dumb as possible.

"Most men are fools; they underestimate women, kiddo", your Dad muttered when you trapped your older bully brother in his room when you were a child, not old enough to understand what that meant. But you often thought about it. Maybe that was the day you learned to observe people. Your parents weren't exactly like you; in fact, they were almost the polar opposite of you, where they saw good in people and loved to help people out; you saw bad; you saw their selfishness and their ability to use good people to do their work for them.

To you Shelby's were a safe place to lay low and before you planned your next move. You had few leads that could turn over some serious cash but you also needed muscle to move it and you could definitely use Peaky Blinders for that.

"Come to Shelby Brothers offices tomorrow at eight in the morning." Tommy calculatedly replied.

"Thank you, thank you so so much, I will do my best, I will not let you down, I promise." you jumped up and down playing your part well.

"We know because we will be keeping our eyes on you" John smirked flirtatiously, clearly checking you out.

"We don't allow TicTacing, Instacarting, Snapshoting and Facelooking, so don't do that in the office. I am so tired of Finn and Isaiah doing these crazy internet challenges. I don't need you doing it too" Arthur gently warned.

"Yes, sir" you replied meekly.

"You can go now; send Harry with a bottle of Scotch", Tommy dismissed you.

From that moment on, you committed yourself to kinda, sorta obeying every command from the King, your loyalty unwavering as you embarked on this new path.

---------

If you like, please reblog or comment to let me know.

If you have any requests, prompts, or suggestions, feel free to share them here - Suggestion Box

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x black!reader #tommy shelby x woc reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #dark tommy shelby x reader #dark tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x woc reader #tommy shelby x desi reader #tommy shelby x desi!reader #thomas shelby x desi!reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x black reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x desi reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 7 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 · 8 months ago

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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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sorvqlz · 1 month ago

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Songs I believe fit the CRP's 3/?

Tim Wright / Brian Thomas (Marble Hornets)

(Before becoming Masky & Hoody)

(Warning! this might be not accurate bc I don't remember too much about the MH series I literally watched it like over a year ago)

“The truth is hiding in your eyes / And it’s hanging on your tongue, just boiling in my blood”

- This could reflect Tim’s suspicion that Brian is hiding something from him. As the series progresses, Tim begins to suspect that Brian knows more about what’s happening with Alex and Slender Man than he’s letting on. Tim can see something in Brian’s eyes—the guilt, the fear—but Brian is either unwilling or unable to speak the full truth, which causes tension and frustration for Tim. The “boiling in my blood” part reflects Tim’s anger and the emotional turmoil of realizing that someone close to him may be hiding crucial information.

“But you think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are / If you’re a man at all”

- This line is particularly powerful when applied to Tim’s view of Brian. As Tim digs deeper into the mystery, he begins to notice the darker side of Brian, especially as Brian becomes more involved with the twisted events surrounding Slender Man. Tim might start questioning Brian’s integrity, wondering if he’s still the same person he thought he knew. It’s possible that Tim sees Brian as someone who has lost his humanity or who is making questionable decisions, adding to the emotional conflict between them.

“Oh, I will figure this one out on my own”

- Tim’s determination to uncover the truth on his own is a major theme in Marble Hornets, and this lyric fits his mindset. He feels increasingly isolated as he uncovers the dark realities of the situation. Despite his suspicions about Brian’s involvement and the sense of betrayal, Tim decides to continue investigating alone, especially after realizing how deep the mystery goes. The sense of being alone, even when surrounded by others, is something Tim grapples with throughout the series.

”(I’m screaming, ‘I love you so’) on my own / (But my thoughts you can’t decode)”

- This part is particularly poignant in relation to Tim and Brian’s relationship. Tim likely still has deep care and love for his friend, but the emotional distance between them grows as the situation becomes more complex. Tim wants to trust Brian, but Brian’s actions and the secrecy around him make it impossible to fully understand what’s happening. The “my thoughts you can’t decode” part speaks to the lack of communication and the growing rift between them. Brian may be withholding information, or Tim may be misreading his intentions, but the emotional divide is widening.

“How did we get here?”

- Tim might be asking this question in regard to his relationship with Brian. Initially, Tim and Brian had a solid friendship, but over time, as Brian becomes more entangled with the events and darker forces, Tim is left wondering how things went so wrong. How did Brian, who he once trusted, become someone he can’t fully understand or rely on? The increasing tension and mistrust between them might make Tim feel like they’ve both lost the connection they once had.

Author's note: Tim and Brian’s relationship in Marble Hornets shifts from friendship to suspicion as Tim uncovers unsettling truths. The growing emotional distance and distrust reflect the themes of betrayal and confusion in “Decode,” with Tim struggling to reconcile his feelings for Brian while facing harsh realities.

#hoody marble hornets #masky marble hornets #marble hornets #crp fandom #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #crp #creepypasta fics #tim wright #brian thomas #paramore #lyrics #this fandom is dead #Spotify

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sad-girl-hours23 · 5 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 · 1 year 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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cari-pharoahs · 2 days ago

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gale + why suzanne collins is sort of wrong

ok idk if any of this is right at all but here's the script of a video essay that i've been brewing with for the past 2 years and I guess I just want a second opinion

(this is long so buckle up)

PROLOGUE

Lets backtrack.

We all know that the hunger games is a morality play.

(um… whats a morality play?)

Shortly put, its sort of a way to explore the actions and consequences of people within the safety of fiction. That's about it.

Ms Collins’ father was a war veteran, and wanted his children to know the consequences of war. She’d look on her tv screen seeing images of the Vietnam war and knew that her father was there, however young she was.

Now, from what I know, which isn’t a huge amount, given that the british history curriculum is only so wide and isn’t able to cover the vietnam war, I don’t think it was a great war to fight in.

And a lot of ms collins’ views are sort of visible in a kids book that she wrote a long time ago. ‘A year in the jungle’. She speaks continually on how she’s afraid - afraid that her father will die. But there’s not much on who will kill him (and why would there be? Its a kid’s book. And yet… when you fight as an oppressor…)

She plays with the concept of a just war in the series. I’ve got an rs/pe gcse in a couple weeks in which this comes up (does this count as revision? It should…) First proposed by st thomas aquinas,

Just war theory is a framework of military ethics that attempts to determine when war is morally justifiable, encompassing conditions for going to war (jus ad bellum), conduct during war (jus in bello), and justice after war (jus post bellum).

There are a number of criteria required to fulfil in order to make a war a ‘just war’ - but, the queston ms collins proposes is, what are these criteria really? Who decides what they are? And how much authority do they have?

But here’s my counter question. Does it need to be a just war at all? Are the ethics of it more important than liberation?

But this is just ms collins, and my opinions. How does this affect the actual text, you may ask?

ACT 1: the old days

(to clarify, I will be making points about Gale’s character on a personal and ideological level. This may be a little bit confusing but, I swear, I have a point)

Well, Peeta is diplomacy and Gale is liberation at all costs.

We know this. Anyone with an ounce of media literacy probably knows this.

Gale grows up in the poorest area of district 12 - the seam. Gale’s father, much like Katniss's, died in a mining accident - the same mining accident, in fact. It's sort of trauma bonding for him and her - they end up sole providers of their families after that.

There is a clear distinction between the seam and merchant section that goes beyond wealth. Gale, Katniss and Haymitch are all ‘olive skinned’ with ‘dark hair’ and ‘grey eyes’. I think casting white actors in the film adaptation for almost all these people of colour does them all a huge disservice - that clear divide is now gone.

I can’t tell if Ms collins was trying to say something about the real world when it comes to this. Maybe she was. I haven't found an interview implying so but if there is one out there, please send it to me - I’d love to read it.

But Gale’s childhood is just as hard (if not harder) than the majority of people living in Panem. He is a CHILD, remember when a lot of this happens to him - and obviously, when you put a child through all that, they’re going to come out a different way to the way they began.

Even at the beginning of the text, Gale’s hatred of the capitol is very outward. Madge, the mayor’s daughter who’s not in the books, collects strawberries and he makes sure to point out that her chances of being entered are far, far less than his or Katniss’s.

(insert quote)

He probably knows deep down that she is a victim of this system too, but seeing her with an expensive bit of jewellery and being able to purchase freely the items that they have to forage for would undoubtedly be frustrating.

The ‘fire’ symbolism is there from the start. He is angry and rightfully so? This system has him at a disadvantage more than most and there is nothing he can do (right now).

Just to compare and contrast, Peeta grows up not exactly in luxury, but he’s comfortable. He may have had to ‘eat stale bread’ but he could eat. He didn’t have to take out tesserae. Him ending up in the games is meant to be a reminder that everyone has a chance of being entered into the games, even if some people’s chances are higher.

When Katniss is leaving, he says to her,

(quote)

And the fandom shits on him a bit for this, because they say ‘oh look how cruel and awful he was from the start’...

No?

What else are you saying to your friend as they leave to enter the hunger games? ‘Good luck yolo!’

No.

You tell them to play to their strengths - you reassure them, you tell them they have a fighting chance, especially in this case, because she does. He wants her to come back because she’s his best friend and they are kindred spirits, and if reminding her of this is what’ll get her back then so be it.

It’s not as if the other tributes, and even the capitol, don’t view them as animals. I guess this comes back to core questions of just war in a way - can you respond one way because your enemy has done the same? On a pure, philosophical level, no, I don’t think so. Ethically, it’s not the right choice at all.

But this is survival we’re talking about - the hunger games are known to strip children to their most basic, animalistic instincts. And there is something admirable about putting survival of your best friend over the people that are probably going to try to kill her.

I think when analysing Gale’s character, it’s important to keep putting yourself in his place, and that will really demonstrate how just because something is seen as ‘wrong’ on a moral standpoint, from a personal one, we can see he means no real ill-will to any of them, but he is prioritising the person that he knows.

If my friend was being sentenced to death, but there was a chance out of it - I would not care. I want her safe.

ACT 2: his relationship with Katniss

Katniss comes back, alive and… not so well. But this is where people start to dislike Gale’s character further. They say he is irritating with his intentions, that he feels as though he is entitled to Katniss’s affections.

In a way, yeah, I guess that’s true.

He is upset, when he sees Katniss with Peeta, because while he understands that she did what she did to survive,

[Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale-watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home.]

I guess, from this passage, I see the dislike. He kisses her without any sort of permission and we're lucky that she seems to enjoy it, but she's so traumatised that I don't really know if she's in the right mind to consent to anything at all.

[Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." ]

^^^EDITING ME SPEAKING - she does something similar? ?? i think this is a writing problem

[Someone they love. The words numb my tongue as if it's been packed in snow coat. Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do /mean when I say I love Gale? I don't know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I'm sure he doesn't remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can't think about kissing when I've got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it.

"Where's Peeta?" I say.]

[He takes a deep breath. "Look, Katniss, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry." His apology takes me by surprise. It's true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Games was something of an act. But I don't hold that against him. In the arena, I'd played that romance angle for all it was worth. There had been times when I didn't honestly know how I felt about him. I still don't, really. "I'm sorry, too," I say. I'm not sure for what exactly. Maybe because there's a real chance I'm about to destroy him. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends," he says.]

Peeta also sees that maybe he was in the wrong for the way he spoke to her at the end of the first book, and apologises, which Gale never does. I don't know if I think Gale was wrong in that moment - I think he very easily could have been, and it's only luck that he wasn't. But this shows the differences in their characters and……..

Let's hear a bit more before I get back to my point.

Their relationship does seem to be a complicated one.

There is an extreme level of codependency, to a toxic level, that comes out of the strange trauma bond of having no one but eachother for 4 years. (funny how katniss keeps falling into relationships that revolve around trauma bonding).

lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com

There is this extreme level of codependence with this two, and I think we only truly see the extent of how deep it goes for Katniss when Gale is whipped. (on a side note, I think people that enjoy when this happens are genuinely insane. This is still a teenager, who was hunting to keep his family alive. Forget his relationship with Katniss, he is still a person.)

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He's whipped 40 times. A teenage boy, living under oppression, whipped 40 times. No, I don’t think it’s funny. It’s cruel, and so is a lot of the fandom response.

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And shes jealous. I guess thats the plain, teenage angsty way of looking at it - she’s upset for no real reason that Madge had brought medicine because she feels an equal level of ownership over Gale.

This isn’t to defend his own strangely possessive tendencies, it’s to show the depth of this relationship. Gale isn’t the one-sided, angry guy in love with a girl, its both of them equally strangely attached to eachother.

https://64.media.tumblr.com/127ebcb2812b8944054fd67a679b0921/38aed5d34b1a0637-0e/s1280x1920/a692e9739ba67ca76070003cce4dda206064e463.pnj

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He’s thrilled to run away. He wanted to leave before and now that he can, he can keep his siblings safe forever with his best friend/situationship? He’s happy, of course he’s happy, and Katniss is happy too.

lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com

Not just about his family anymore, and this is a nice segway back to their ideologies. Gale wants freedom for everyone.

lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com

And… crazy as it seems, is that not the ethical choice? To help everyone, if they can? He knows she can save people, she can be the symbol of a revolution if she so wished, but she wants to run away. It’s not wrong of her to want to run away - of course not. She’s traumatised and young and wants to be safe - but its not wrong of him to want a revolution.

He’s young and angry and rightfully so when he’s faced some of the worst that this system has to offer and knows that there are others like him - other prims, other gales, other katnisses that deserve to grow up happy.

This is where my opinions bleed in. I think wanting freedom and liberation were the only correct courses of action.

But, on a personal level, he’s rude. He’s a little bit cruel, honestly. He’s angry. All, in a way, rightfully so… but at the wrong person.

lh7-rt.googleusercontent.com

And I guess this shows the extent, but also some of Katniss’s own dilemma.

She’s self-deprecating and selfish and this moment changes everything for her. She could be useful and she hates that she isnt, which is the wrong response - she’s traumatised and upset and of course she didn’t want to be the face of a revolution.

But, I think I’ve shown enough quotes to demonstrate that their feelings for eachother, as well as where Gale is coming from.

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INTERLUDE:

Before I get into Mockingjay, there are a few things I want to address.

On a completely objective, third-person level, Peeta is a much more agreeable person. Katniss picking him in the end isn’t the wrong decision, rather it’s the objectively correct one.

However, this isn’t a story about a love triangle, is it? No, Collins loves to remind people - its an allegorical tale about Katniss’s world view.

(2018 nyt interview)

So, I think, personally, that presenting one of the people in the story as ‘objectively nicer’ does defeat the purpose a bit. If we are meant to be judging them solely on the ideologies that they represent, then posing one as a better person than the other seems counter-intuitive.

Because, while I have sympathy for Gale, and honestly, a lot of empathy too, I have the emotional intelligence to understand that for Katniss’s mental state and this time in her life, Peeta is better for her. But that doesn’t mean I agree with the ideology that he represents, and this in itself could override the question that collins is posing:

Diplomacy, or liberation at all costs?

Well, the reader is not able to objectively make a decision. More on that later, but, at least for now, I think it’s important to note that we are not making a choice. We are guided to a choice that was honestly made for us from the beginning.

Back to gale.

ACT 3: Mockingjay part 1

To recap - he was born poor. He was born the oldest of 3 siblings, taking out tesserae to help feed them. He works in dangerous mines that could kill him, the same mines that killed his father every day. He was whipped, publicly.

And then his district is bombed.

Somehow, Gale saves as many people as possible - which, people like to say that he doesn’t save Peeta’s family on purpose, but it’s clear, if you ask me, that he saved people closest to him. People in the SEAM, where he was able to easily access them.

He experiences a horrific bombing. He is 19. None of those people deserved to die, and Gale knows this. So does Katniss, and its why she’s fighting.

[Prim … Rue … aren't they the very reason I have to try to fight? Because what has been done to them is so wrong, so beyond justification, so evil that there is no choice? Because no one has the right to treat them as they have been treated?]

Gale is disliked because he wanted power. I don't know if that's necessarily a bad thing, unless you abuse it.

(below in italics is a brief recap of their relationship in quotations - skip if you don't need it lol)

["No, just blocked the doorway when he tried to follow you. His elbow caught me in the nose," says Gale. "They'll probably punish you," I say. "Already have." He holds up his wrist. I stare at it uncomprehendingly. "Coin took back my communicuff." Ibite my lip, trying to remain serious. But it seems so ridiculous. "I'm sorry, Soldier Gale Hawthorne."

"Don't be, Soldier Katniss Everdeen." He grins. "I felt like a jerk walking around with it anyway." We both start laughing. "I think it was quite a demotion."

This is one of the few good things about 13. Getting Gale back. With the pressure of the Capitol's arranged marriage between Peeta and me gone, we've managed to regain our friendship. He doesn't push it any further-- try to kiss me or talk about love. Either I've been too sick, or he's willing to give me space, or he knows it's just too cruel with Peeta in the hands of the Capitol. Whatever the case, I've got someone to tell my secrets to again.

EDITING ME WANTED TO PUT THIS IN

I'm afraid of Gale's answer, but I ask anyway. "Why do you think he said it?" "He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He'd put forth the idea of the cease-fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there's still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right." I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. "Katniss…he's still trying to keep you alive."

They start to disagree near here -

"I still stand by what I said. Do you want me to lie about it?" he asks. "No, I want you to rethink it and come up with the right opinion," I tell him. But this just makes him laugh. I have to let it go. There's no point in trying to dictate what Gale thinks. Which, if I'm honest, is one reason I trust him. "That doesn't seem very fair to the deer," I say. "Wouldn't be using it on deer, would I?" he answers. "I'll be right back," says Beetee. He presses a code into a panel, and a small doorway opens. I watch until he's disappeared and the door's shut. "So, it'd be easy for you? Using that on people?" I ask. "I didn't say that." Gale drops the bow to his side. "But if I'd had a weapon that could've stopped what I saw happen in Twelve…if I'd had a weapon that could have kept you out of the arena…'d have used it." "Me, too," I admit. But I don't know what to tell him about the aftermath of killing a person. About how they never leave you.]

So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say. "Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, Ireach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer.

"The majority of the workers are citizens from Two," says Beetee neutrally. "So what?" says Gale. "We'll never be able to trust them again." "They should at least have a chance to surrender," says Lyme. "Well, that's a luxury we weren't given when they fire-bombed Twelve, but you're all so much cozier with the Capitol here," says Gale. By the look on Lyme's face, I think she might shoot him, or at least take a swing. She'd probably have the upper hand, too, with all her training. But her anger only seems to infuriate him and he yells, "We watched children burn to death and there was nothing we could do!"

Well obviously thats going to piss people off.

the above quotes sort of show the deterioration of his character and relationship with Katniss. and now, here comes...

ACT 4: THE BOMB

This seems to be the nail in the coffin for why not only are we meant to pick Peeta for Katniss, but also the moment where we are meant to reject Gale’s ideologies.

But, before we get into the ethics of the bomb, let’s look once more at the life of a citizen in Panem, not from Gale’s perspective anymore, but yours.

You live in a world rapidly headed towards facism, where the lines between oligarchy and democracy have started to blur. Conflict surrounds you, every day you see that people are being killed, wrongfully, from the war in Ukraine to the genocide in palestine. None of these people deserve to die, you know this, but there isn’t much that you can do.

You might be rich, or poor - you might live in an upper-class neighbourhood, or you’re one of the rest of us - living in average conditions, average lifestyles, but at the whim of the government. Free market capitalism and neoliberalism are tyrants, and we are at their whim.

Or, you’re one of the Gales and Katniss’s of the world. Your parents cannot provide, you are being exploited and harmed, or you’re one of the people at risk of being affected by the conflict surrounding you. You know that not everyone in the country of your oppressor is the villain, but they might be silently complicit in yours and the surrounding people’s oppression.

When the united healthcare ceo was shot, no one was worried about your family. People were praising the supposed assassin. If you were one of them - congratulations. You might agree with Gale.

Katniss pleads to Gale that capitol citizens are unaware of the damage they are causing.

"It's more complicated than that. I know them. They're not evil or cruel. They're not even smart. Hurting them, it's like hurting children. They don't see…I mean, they don't know…" I get knotted up in my words. "They don't know what, Katniss?" he says. "That tributes - who are the actual children involved here, not your trio of freaks are forced to fight to the death? That you were going into that arena for people's amusement? Was that a big secret in the Capitol?"

But what about us, today? We're living in, far from the worst times in history, but far from peaceful. We see propaganda on the news every single day. The deaths of thousands of innocent Palestinians are barely given coverage while the US claims that the atrocious events taking place there are all in self-defence.

But we're not stupid. There are people that claim to think that the situation is 'complex' and 'difficult to understand'. But no one respects them. We don't infantilize them. They're adults that are being wilfully ignorant.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Attributed to Edmund Burke, including by John F Kennedy in a speech in 1961. Burke didn’t say it, and its earliest form was by John Stuart Mill, who said in 1867: “Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.” Thanks to Andrew Marshall.

Therefore, I don’t think Gale was wrong at all. Acting as though they are just too stupid, or too propagandized to realise that the killing of children every year is wrong is ridiculous. Every person that allowed those games to happen without speaking up is just as guilty.

I want to rapid-fire some arguments and the counter arguments for the sake of time.

Gale killed prim!

No, he invented the bomb, with Beetee.

Same thing!

No, beetee helped invent the bomb. And Coin fired it. By this logic, the inventor of the gun is responsible for all gun crime ever.

(I got that from a reddit post lol)

But, but, he killed someone else’s prim! And he wanted to do that.

Well, that’s a bit more complicated. Gale wanted to be free, at all costs.

Let’s go back to you, in panem - sorry, I mean, you, today.

You have a weapon that could ensure that everyone suffering today would be safe. Some may die, but the majority will survive. Their children will survive, in a better world than the one today. The catch?

Well, some innocents may die. Some. Not all, not everyone, but you’re sacrificing a few lives for a better tomorrow. They might not all be innocent at all, no, but some are.

You cannot guarantee that you are not killing people that deserve to stay alive.

So, what do you do?

If you’re going to do it, pull the trigger, then once again, congratulations. You’re like Gale - like me. I think I would do it. I don’t think you’re meant to want to, as the reader, but thinking about it from the perspective of someone in Panem, someone who can prevent suffering, its completely alright.

Gale says himself - if he’d had a weapon to stop what happened in 12, he’d have used it.

I guess this is full circle for him - he can save people now, and with the weapon that he and Beetee designed. Not just him, by the way.

[At some point, Gale and Beetee left the wilderness behind and focused on more human impulses. Like compassion. A bomb explodes. Time is allowed for people to rush to the aid of the wounded. Then a second, more powerful bomb kills them as well. "That seems to be crossing some kind of line," I say. "So anything goes?" They both stare at me - Beetee with doubt, Gale with hostility. "I guess there isn't a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being." "Sure there is. Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta," says Gale.]

Now, we're back at the topic from the beginning. Just war. Is this ethical, in any situation?

That's hard to determine. I'll pull up 3 ethical systems for us to judge them by, to help us a bit.

Kantian ethics, utilitarian ethics, and situation ethics. Immanuel believed in right and wrong, nothing more, nothing less. The world is black and white with no space for gray. Well…. By that logic, Gale is wrong, Katniss is wrong, Peeta is wrong. They're all villains in this situation because they committed murder.

Utilitarian ethics? Simply put, the action that guarantees the greatest amount of good for the greatest amount of people. Well, the problem with this, is that it all depends on if the districts have a bigger population than the capitol. If the districts have more people….

Gale is right. In his ideology, he will save future generations, today's people, everyone, at the cost of the lives of a few. But it also justifies the killing of innocents, which, technically, defeats the point of a just war.

(just war critera)

But, who decides what is right and wrong in war? No one, not really. There isn’t really a way to quantify how much murder was okay.

I guess that brings us to the last ethical system I wanted to bring up. Situation ethics. Determined on a case by case basis. In this case, was the killing of hundreds okay? It did guarantee the safety of future generations. (keep in mind, this is about the murder itself in the context of intention - Coin sanctioned that, for power. She wasn’t doing it for freedom. Gale was)

I think, personally, that it comes down to this:

Does it matter if its ethical or not? Because, in hundreds of years, people might look back on someone like Gale, they’ll study these oppressive, awful systems, and wonder, how did we end up in that situation? How did we get out?

It was help from a bomb?

Well, maybe he was a villain in someone’s story for inventing it, for wanting freedom regardless of all other factors - maybe he’s a villain in Katniss’s story, in a tragic, twisted way. But he wasn’t the villain. His actions have saved so many - is he in the wrong? Really?

[We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other's eyes. "You didn't come see me in the hospital." He doesn't answer, so finally I just say it. "Was it your bomb?" "I don't know. Neither does Beetee," he says. "Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it." He waits for me to deny it; Iwant to deny it, but it's true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames.And Iwill never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer. "That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family," he says. "Shoot straight, okay?" He touches my cheek and leaves. Iwant to call him back and tell him that Iwas wrong. That I'll figure out a way to make peace with this. To remember the circumstances under which he created the bomb. Take into account my own inexcusable crimes. Dig up the truth about who dropped it.]

That's the end of them. 6 years of friendship, gone. In my mind, when I read that, I didn’t mourn Prim - not really. We didn’t even know her. I did mourn the loss of that friendship though. I think she did too. But there’s nothing to be done.

So, in the end, Gale makes choices. From an ideological standpoint, the majority of the fandom that thinks that Gale’s choices would never be wrong - I don’t think so.

I think, when we come down to what we believe in, to making a difference, liberation at all costs is the answer that most of us would pick in the face of decades-long systematic oppression.

Now, back to Collins.

The presentation of gale, in the my opinion, was intentional. He is meant to be seen as frustrating, chasing the girl and hurting people for freedom. His personality taints the actions that he makes - arguable, a lot of what he does is justified, until the end.

To make katniss choosing a partner, and a life ideology, more of a fair thing - I think you’ve got to present both people as reasonably okay people. Gale, as a person, while I agree with his ideology and in fact many of his actions, is objectively more toxic as a person than Peeta.

It means that, when I say I’m ‘team peeta’ in a way, i've chosen his beliefs, because collins chose them. They’re what she believes, in her own work, which in a way is completely okay.

She wrote the ending she believed in, because it’s her book. But,

This is meant to be a morality play - we as a reader should be less influenced by the writer. in my opinion, (yada yaya yada), the better ending would have been something like this:

I inhaled slowly, lifting the bow. Snow in front, coin behind, but in the moment, I could hardly tell who was who. I thought I saw someone out of the corner of my eye flip a coin. Two sides. One coin. The noise around was overwhelming - I heard cheers, I heard people murmuring, I heard screaming. It seemed to crescendo in my mind, utterly consuming me.

Coin’s eyes glinted, brighter than I’d thought possible in a human being. In a strange moment, they reminded me of the bejewelled accessories of many a capitol citizen. I exhaled, lifting the bow again.

And shot straight.

Does this read as really bad fanfiction? Of course it does. I’m not an experienced, award winning writer - the longest thing I’ve written is…. (no you’ll never know and im not telling you).

The point is, I don’t think Katniss should have made a choice at all. I think that should have been left up to the reader. And, collins isn’t as intelligent as the fandom makes her out to be.

‘She only writes when she has something to say’

Does she? Really? With all her media literacy, she didn’t speak on the current atrocities in gaza at all. Not that she has to, but with all her books preach, you’d think that she would.

‘Reading isn’t political’ stfu.

In the end, this is my opinion. But to summarise -

Gale isn’t a bad person. In fact, he has the right idea a lot of the time. He is often presented negatively, which I think can sway the reader, but I don’t think he’s in the wrong. Just because his character isn’t written to be the right choice for Katniss, doesn’t mean he is the wrong ideology.

And even if he is the wrong one, I think that choice should have been left up to the reader. A better version of this book wouldn’t taint the readers’ choice with his less than agreeable statements, rather, we’d be allowed to make that choice for ourselves. Collins’ views shine though more often than not, which is alright, but it means that her books do not pose an important question that we must contemplate - they are well-crafted works of fiction that explore ideas, but ultimately tell you what they believe are right.

The fandom holds them to the highest standard, but personally, I believe that there is an integral flaw in them conceptually.

But ultimately, this is all my opinion - if you disagree, please let me know! I love good-natured, philosophical debate. pls dont send me death threats. tyyyy for reading this mammoth of an essay.

#the hunger games #gale hawthorne #suzanne collins #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sunrise on the reaping #catching fire #mockingjay #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #philosophy #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #literature #essay

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winstontheecow · 1 month ago

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Logan isn’t logic.

What if Logan isn’t a light side and is actually orange disguised as logic. Think about it. First of all, their outfits.

Roman and Patton wear virtually no black. Roman has absolutely no visible black in most videos. Nothing above the waistline at least. Patton has black glasses, he also is more accepting and sees, so to speak, that the “dark sides” have their purpose. Then Virgil has the black on his hoodie and has black pants. Then Remus and Janus have the majority of their outfits being black with green and yellow accents respectively. Then look at Logan. Completely black except for the tie. The connection speaks for itself but there’s more. Alcohol.

Both Janus and Logan canonically drink wine. And though the incorrect quotes have been confirmed to be non-canon (i heard from a secondary source), he did drink the perfume not knowing if it was whisky or not. Patton has openly disliked wine and there is no evidence of roman or Virgil with alcohol.

Additionally the only signs of orange with the sides has been hints. But especially with Logan. The orange light when he threw the paper in Learning New Things About Ourselves, as well as the eyes. And many have attributed the orange side to anger and rage, which I agree with. This also supports the idea that Logan could be orange because of his Falsehood bit. He claims to have no emotions but feels anger very strongly. It also may be why he claims to feel nothing, because he doesn’t want to feel something too strongly and lose control over his appearance like when he got too angry. It would also be a completion of the rainbow without any repeats like the double blue that has been there.

Here’s the question, why? Why would orange dress up as Logan and be apart of the light sides. And to that I have two answers. Either Logan is turning into a dark side and this is all just elaborate suspense and foreshadowing (which I will get to later). Or it's for balance.

We know each side plays a specific part for Thomas which would have to have been true since his childhood. We also know that the split happened between creativity. What if when roman and Remus split, that started the divide between the sides. Because they split due to the way Thomas was taught about right and wrong. Then he gets taught lying is bad. Thus separating janus and remus from him then he only has morality and light creativity (bc I’m a firm believer in Virgil developing later than all the sides) and Logan sees this and decides that Thomas can’t live without him. Because he has all his feelings with Patton but when have we really seen Patton get angry? What if orange split from Patton long before the creativity split and just existed with them all. Orange, Logan, knows that it would be dangerous for Thomas to live without one of the core emotions such as anger. (Also Logan was anger in the inside out video) so he replaced his orange tie with a dark blue one and pretended to be logic.

Another thing is the names, for Janus and Remus it’s much more difficult to figure out the correlation than Roman and Patton simply because of most school systems but all four are connected to their core idea in a small way. Same goes for Virgil. However, it’s very easy to make the connection of logic to Logan. Literally changing two letters and calling it a day. Obviously, very easy name to fake. And it’s a similar ending to the other sides so that’s where the ending could have come from and it’s also another link to Patton with both having the -on ending.

Furthermore, in Moving On pt 2 he said that even if he’s not there, there will always be logic. Insinuating he can’t duck out like Virgil did. What if he can but it wouldn’t leave Thomas without logic but without anger. Which of course would be concerning because 1, Yerkes-Dodson isn't just applicable to anxiety, and 2, what if they think it's better without him because they’ve been under the impression that he is logic and if he leaves but logic remains, then what?

Of course I am going a little off my rocker. There is the other idea that he is turning into orange and all of this is just a crazy amount of foreshadowing and connecting dots that shouldn’t be connected. However both would line up with how Thomas is using complementary colors and the sides. Yellow and purple being complementary but both are to keep Thomas safe (from society as well as the world itself), green and red are both complementary but are both his creativity, orange and blue both being complementary and both being his emotions. It would line up.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #Orange #orange sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders

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taeaura · 3 months ago

Text

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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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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