#I probably spent way too much time on this

[sallieraptor]

[huge post about Mastermind]

I'm thinking a lot about everyone's faces when they saw Blitz on the guillotine.

so here's a yapping post. a big one! you can say it's an analysis? a shallow one, with my interpretation of what was going on in their heads and some hcs. just for me, so I can get these worms out of my head !

starting with Moxxie,

who politely protested throughout the whole trial, was in denial the entire time, spoke his mind several times, and tried at all costs to defend Blitz. when Blitz's sentence sank in his mind, he could only cry, close his eyes and bury his face against Millie's body to seek comfort from her.

being the first to be recruited, taken out of prison and taken away from the dark mafia life by Blitz, Moxxie did what he does best, spoke up, and continued to try to save Blitz, just as Blitz first saved him.

how could he bear the loss of the person who saved him from the clutches of his abusive father? how could he watch the death of the first person who made him smile after going through hell? the person who gave him hope after he was abandoned and thrown behind bars?

of course he sought comfort on Millie and couldn't bear the thought of watching Blitz die. Blitz was like a re-start in Moxxie's life, he was the one who gave him a second chance. who pulled him out of the hole he was sinking into.

and Moxxie tried to speak, he really tried to stop it. he questioned Satan, more than once. when Andrealphus said that Blitz was forcing himself on Stolas, and they muzzled Blitz, Moxxie was the one who protested. he was the one who said that that wasn't what really happened.

the whole time Moxxie was in denial, until the last second. he couldn't accept that he was going to lose Blitz there. so he cried, and the only thing he could do was cover his eyes.

Millie,

who didn't say a single word during the entire trial, but kept an eye on Blitz the entire time. so much so that, when Blitz looks at Loona, Millie looks at her too, worrying not only about him, but about Loona's future as well. worrying about how she's feeling right now.

when the chains pull Blitz to his knees, the ax rises and he looks at them one last time, Millie is the only one who doesn't look away at any point and continues to make eye contact with Blitz until the end, while continuing to comfort Moxxie.

being the last to be recruited, and apparently being the person Blitz trusts the most to take care of things, knowing how much Blitz believes in her potential, I believe that in that moment, by the way she acted, Millie was clearly understanding that she would be the new person responsible for taking care of everything for Blitz. responsible for taking care of Loona, of Moxxie, of everything that's left. take care of Blitz's family. and she would do it willingly.

the only moments Millie closed her eyes were to process the things that were being said. other than that, she continued looking at Blitz, Loona and Moxxie. silently observing the situation, checking each one of them.

I don't know why she didn't speak. maybe she felt like she shouldn't, that she couldn't. because after all, fuck, look where they are! it's Satan in front of them! even if she spoke, would anything change? she probably thought it would make things worse. after all, she is the muscle of the team.

and as much as she knows how to deal with this currently, I believe that in this moment of tension, there is no way to prevent these sabotaging thoughts from surfacing. it's a delicate situation.

but anyway, there she was, watching Blitz until the last second, holding Moxxie, and I'm sure she was internally promising herself to take care of Loona. exactly the way Blitz, - her best friend, the person who opened new doors in her life - would like.

Loona,

who was deprived of protesting throughout the trial, the only one to have been immediately muzzled and collared, treated harshly like an animal, just as she was treated during the years she spent in the shelter.

she tried all the time to convey her feelings to Blitz through her eyes.

[hc moment lol] their relationship is certainly one of my favorites, and I can only think that at that moment, Loona was probably feeling a lot of guilt. even though she loves Blitz with all her being, and is forever grateful for him (which is no secret), I keep thinking that she must be replaying in her head all the times she treated Blitz rudely, every time she yelled at him, fought with him, every time she hesitated to call him "dad". imagine thinking about all this and not even being able to defend him. not being able to even say "dad" one last time.

anyway, ignoring the hc, I think it certainly hurt her deeply to see him there without being able to say or do anything. of course she couldn't bear to watch his death, the person who saved her, gave her home, food, and love. the person who, despite always getting on her nerves, it's her dad. a extremely loving dad. of course she turned her face away and closed her eyes. watching him die would be too much to bear.

Fizzarolli,

Fizz knew that Ozzie was on a trial, but on Blitz's trial?! can you imagine the feeling of despair when he saw Blitz's face on tv?

the urgency he felt when he saw the face of the boy he grew up with on tv, the face of his childhood best friend! more than that! we all know that it's undeniable that there were at least a situationship going on between them. it's obvious the affection and love they had and still have for each other.

the despair that Fizz must have felt, at the thought that he was going to lose a person that he had just gotten back, just re-established a relationship with, a healthy relationship! after all the shit they went through together.

and damn, he must have thought he could do something. so much so that he desperately asked Ozzie to do something! Ozzie was there! shit, do something!

and when the blade was about to cut Blitz's neck, the only thing Fizz could do at that moment was hold his phone tightly and watch. watch someone he loves leave. once again.

Verosika,

oooof as a Verosika apologist this scene made me completely sick BUT I'll try to say what I thought in a not so crazy way.

from what I read in her eyes, she seems to be feeling a lot of anguish. this is obvious, you don't need to be a genius to understand.

the point is, I constantly see people hating on Verosika for nothing, especially after Apology tour. and I'm not really going to go much into this subject now, but it's OBVIOUS that Verosika still cares about Blitz.

I don't think she still feels anything ROMANTIC for him, but it's undeniable that she cares. if she didn't care, she wouldn't have sat next to him and talked to him in Apology tour, wouldn't have listened to his point of view, wouldn't have let him talk about his feelings.

I see a lot of people seeing Verosika as a villainous and evil person towards Blitz, and honestly, if you think like this, you are simply blinded by your love for him. really.

she is a hurt woman, who had found a cool and fun boyfriend, who made her laugh and feel happy. she loved him, and was abandoned and stolen by the same person. of course she was mad at him for so long. and we don't know what their relationship really was like, who knows what their real dynamic was? we can only imagine based on angry and spiteful comments made by both of them.

either way, Verosika's heart was deeply broken, she was overcome with confusion and frustration at not being chosen, at not being loved back. but that doesn't change the fact that she loved him, that she cared about him.

it's obvious that her heart sank as she watched his execution. how could it not? a person she once loved, who made her feel so many things, was being sentenced to death right before her eyes. and all she could do was move closer to the tv and watch.

Stolas,

oh, about Stolas .... who was probably slumped on the couch for days, trying to cope with his favorite novela, just like Blitz in Ghostfuckers.

damn, the number of beats this man's heart must have skipped. seeing the face of the man he loves, on tv, about to be executed. all because of him.

his feelings are self-explanatory. he got up from the couch, went to the trial and stepped in front of Blitz. he risked his life to save him. how could he not?

I see a lot of people interpreting Stolitz as if Blitz forced Stolas to do something, or vice versa, but??? please, no!

Blitz never forced Stolas into anything. Stolas genuinely loves him. and he would easily risk his life for him over and over again.

it's not the first time Stolas has saved Blitz. the difference is that this time, Stolas risked absolutely everything he had, even though he was still pissed and extremely hurt by Blitz. he risked everything to save him again. after all, Blitz was the one who saved him first.

and he is extremely grateful for that. no matter how upset he is. Stolas loves Blitz deeply, and would never be able to bear the thought of losing him forever like this.

in conclusion, this all makes me think of Barbie. did she saw? if so, what did she feel? seeing her twin brother who she holds such a grudge against because of their past. I'm looking forward to seeing more of them!!!

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN PT.3

Too tired to do my obligations, but too stressed out to sleep, so here we find ourselves again.

This, once again, got horribly long- so long, in fact, I think this is the longest post in this 'trilogy'-, so I apologize in advance (╥ᆺ╥;) I also apologize for the lack of doodles, but dont worry! Im preparing a special one for later <33

After that night where SY offered Binghe an umbrella, things have certainly… changed. Unlike before, where SY spent most of his time mapping away at the ridiculously complex castle hallways and carefully marking away which times it was most likely for SY to be able to get close to Xin Mo, alongside doing his ‘servant’ duties of gathering dirty laundry and cleaning a room here and there, his routine had been suddenly adjusted; now, while he still needed to do everything he was doing before, his servant duties consisted of accompanying the chosen Wife Of The Day.

Or, well, that’s how one of the higher ranking staff had put it, that he was to attend to whatever wife Lord Luo decided to entertain for the day, but honestly, SY was starting to suspect that that had been a convoluted way for Binghe to have SY around whenever he wanted, which…. Was frankly quite worrying! To have the golden protagonist keep his eyes glued on his back almost every second they were in the same room, which - if SY looked back- usually led to Binghe looking away in a (bad) attempt to pretend he wasn’t glaring daggers at SY was more than enough for SY to think the Emperor was probably plotting his demise.

What else could it be? Specially with the way Binghe’s hand seemed to always be lightly tugging at the tassel on his hair every time SY caught him looking, he suspects Binghe had caught onto SY not actually being a servant, and instead that weird guy he saw before he fell into hell that one time. What if Binghe thought SY was somehow involved into the Abyss Incident?? Lord Luo, please have mercy on this servant!

Though, maybe the strangest part of it all, was that sometimes Binghe and SY would just… talk. Usually when the Wife Of The Day was doing something else (e.g. playing music for her husband, or practicing archery, or doing anything that didn’t involve LBH 100% at her side), Binghe would just start musing out loud about the strangest things. It started with questions that were all fair to ask, like ‘How come this servant is a human in the demon realm’, or ‘How come this servant has such short hair’ (SY bullshitted something about being a former slave) but eventually it shifted to questions that were a bit more… random. Or, well, not even questions, musings that Binghe muttered out loud but clearly wanted SY’s input.

It started with minimal things, like Binghe wondering about some type of monster he wanted to fight but he forgot how to do it without damaging the fur too much, which, after a minute of silence and a not-so-subtle look at SY, led to SY nerding out and saying not only the monsters weakness, but what could be done with every important part of the body. Though, the day after that SY realized how strange it was that Binghe was wondering that out loud, since he only fought that monster well into his time as an Emperor, and he swore he remembered one of the wives gushing about her new bracelet that was made from the rare bones of that creature just a few days ago…

Anyways, it continued with questions of similar nature: musings on how to kill a monster Binghe would have no problem killing, to what he should eat for dinner, to what gift should he get for Wife Of The Day. Of course, SY answered all the ‘questions’, and sometimes they even made it to having an actual conversation! Sure, it was a little stilted, SY could not figure out for the life of him why the great Lord Luo was interacting with a random servant, but one day it all finally clicked to him. Binghe had been in the middle of ‘musing’ about hair oils(??), when SY couldn’t help but interrupt him:

“Ah…. Apologies if this lowly servant is overstepping, My Lord, but does My Lord just want someone to talk to?”

A few emotions flashed through Binghe's face quickly enough for SY to not be able to decifer any of them, but eventually landing on a sheepish smile. "This Lord has been found out."

Oh, how cute! And how sad! SY had noticed when SQH was just showing him his shitty story how sad that LBH, even after getting the world to bow at his feet, never really had friendships. Sure, he still had all the love he could want, but sometimes people need friends to talk to, not lovers!

While he knew that he shouldn't interact with characters in world overlooked by the System unless they were transmigrators, SY couldn't help but feel that the situation was dire enough that LBH would turn to a no-name servant in this time of desperation. And it would be a great opportunity to study Xin Mo more closely as well! If SY showed LBH the wonders of friendship, maybe he could pass by his supervisor that he only had to do what was necessary for this world to not implode on itself.

Besides, who could even say no to such a handsome man such as LBH? Is as the old saying goes: what the protagonist wants, he shall have.

*

SY's friendship plan has been going great! After figuring out Binghe's intentions, it seems all of the protagonists reservations flew out the window, and SY was now responsible for being Binghe's personal retainer. Not that that meant too much, since Binghe liked to bend the rules to his liking, and some tasks that should be SY's responsability sometimes were pushed to another servant or Binghe himself made them (which, ???)

Mostly, SY stood at Binghe's side, served tea, was used so Binghe could bounce ideas off of someone, and tended to finer details. All of that very much manageable, if not for the weird mood swings LBH would have sometimes. Yuan, as he has told Binghe was his name after being too scared of the repercutions of using 'Shen', was to accompany him all the time, but sometimes not all the time, or else LBH would get moody; Yuan was to listen to LBH's ideas and plans, and should always comment back or else Binghe would feel neglected, but not too much or else, as LBH had put it, could 'bring back bad memories'; Yuan was to tend to LBH's night routine, even as far as to brush his hair, and if he refused LBH (again) get all moody, but he couldn't brush too much, and he had to do at least one braid but NEVER touch the old, frizzy braid that still had that damn tassle-

Honestly, it was a careful game of balance, which reminded SY more often than not of a child that got mad when their older sibling didn't quite understand the redundant rules they made for a make-believe. Any other person would get fed up, and probably scared of Binghe's constant mood swings, but SY had him all figured out, and his resilience proved to be useful time and time again, since most of the time after his sour mood passed, Binghe would come crawling back with the most pitiful face ever, and what was SY to do? As LBH's friend, it was his duty to hug him and pat his head! (And no one could judge him for that, since if he didn't pat Binghe's head, his mood would plummet all over again.)

Though... SY did feel kind of bad. He wouldn't be able to stay with Binghe forever, and would even need to potentially steal his all-powerful sword for a little bit so everything wouldn't get corrupted. Honestly, the only thing keeping SY from worrying about being labled as a traitor and potentially getting killed was that he would just go back to the System's office and go on with his life.

*

LBH, eventually, caught onto SY's plan on leaving - really, it was only a matter of time. After that fateful encounter with that other SQQ, LBH had found himself in rather pitiful state, questioning everything he knew until that moment and wondering why he couldn't achieve that happiness, and desperately trying to search for a SQQ of his own. He had contemplated going back to that first world, but what would it even matter? Even if he took SQQ by force, his heart would still be with that other LBH, and Binghe couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't be everything in SQQ's world, as he had become for LBH.

Specially after Meng Mo had one day interupted his carefully crafted dream of an idelic world and pointed out some curious memories he'd almost forgotten about. That day, when back in his childhood, when he'd been beaten up by a buch of older kids and hallucinated a man in strange clothes before passing out and waking up protected from the rain. Or when he thought he'd lost his jade pendant forever, only to magically appear in the cabin later.

Or the strange man in the Immortal Alliance Conference.

After SQQ- SJ , that good-for-nothing scum- pushed him to the Abyss, he tried his best to never think about that day again, too scared by how weak he'd been, pleading to man that would sell his soul for one more night at that brothel of his if he could, but now... Now that he could mold his dreamscape any way he wanted, he could look back with a clear mind, which eventually led to the conclusion: It must have been the same person. The same strangely dressed man that helped him in his childhood somehow appeared at the Immortal Alliance again, and even had left provisions right next to where Binghe had fallen.

He'd convinced himself, after many, many years of wishing for a miracle, that he's simply imagined the man, one last thread to keep himself from going insane, but after meeting the other SQQ...

And then Yuan came in. A new servant that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

It took some observation, and a lot preparing himself to face dissapointment that maybe he was just projecting, putting the image of someone else onto a random man, but that day, when LBH was wondering if he was just wasting time, that that beautiful dream of having his version of SQQ would not happen any time in this world, that maybe he really should just go look at other worlds; after all, if it happened once, it had to happen again, right? Not that it mattered in the end, since while he spireled, much to Xin Mo's pleasure, an umbrella was put over his head, and all his doubts had washed away.

Yuan had to be his version of SQQ, it had to be. And after all his effort of getting close to him, after going so far to keep Yuan at his side, even if he still battled with that his perception of SJ and the other SQQ sometimes overlapping with Yuan's image, even if he still wasn't ready to let go of that one braid, he was becoming more and more sure in his assumption that his SQQ had come to him. Everything was going as planned, and LBH was in track to finally begin to properly court him, and yet-

He was sure Yuan wanted to leave. He wasn't sure why, not how he would do that, maybe just dissapear like he had all those years ago and either only appear again 5, 10, 100 years in the future or go back to wherever he came from in the first place. But LBH knew Yuan wanted to leave, that he needed to complete whatever mission he had (after LBH managed to pry that out of his dreams, which where another source of confusion, with how absurdly difficult they were to even get a grasp of), and that, under any circumstances, he could let Yuan escape his sight.

Not again. Never again.

Binghe had become even stickier in the last few weeks. Not that SY minded, it was very cute to see such a different side from the cool, badass Lord Luo, but SY was running out of time. Since Binghe became stickier, his mood swings had worsened even more, now not wanting SY to be anywhere that Binghe wasn't, and Xin Mo seemed to be thriving off of whatever was making Binghe extra protective, though it was becoming a genuine problem now, since Binghe suddenly refused to see any of his wive's to deal with the Xin Mo problem, and he seemed to be on the verge of qi deviation at all times.

In fact, the only reason Binghe hadn't already qi deviated was because SY was abusing his Personal System and chipping away at the qi deviation in Binghe's night routine, since it was the only time where he was physically very close to Binghe and could spend long periods of time manually coding away at the System screen without it looking suspicious.

But, as if that wasn't enough of a problem, since Xin Mo was having the time of it's life recently, the virus clinging to the sword was also getting stronger, leaving even more residuals all along the castle and bordering on infecting Binghe himself.

His Scissors where thankfully, repaired, and his sweet, sweet manager was even kind enough to send him some extra energy supplies, but at the rate the virus was spreading, he was worrying that he would have to deal with the source as soon as possible or else it would become to strong to deal with it in a non-destructive way.

He... Didn't want to leave Binghe just yet, specially since he wanted SY's attention more than ever recently, but...

No, he needed to do this; their time together was never supposed to be eternal anyways, and if he let the virus spread, he would only be putting LBH's life in danger, and he couldn't continue living with himself after that. He decided he would fix the virus at night, while Binghe slept, and by the next morning he would be gone - he would have, after all, just enough energy to go back to the office.

He just hoped Binghe would be able to forgive him later.

When night came, and SY got to doing the usual night preparations, it just felt like an extra needle being stabbed in his heart when, while brushing Binghe's hair, Binghe looks back uncharacteristicly anxious, and asks if SY can undo the braid and remake it. SY does, and if Binghe notices SY takes extra long to pamper him that night, he says nothing.

When SY is sure Binghe is asleep, he sneaks out of his room and heads to back to Binghe's. Yeah, maybe he stalls a bit with snipping off every piece of the residual virus he came across, but one could argue he was just being extra thorough with his job.

The excuse, unfortunately, didn't last long and eventually he found himself in front of Binghe's room, staring at the door as if he was about to be sentenced to death. After a few minutes of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the doors. Binghe usually slept with the sword perched right beside his bed, so SY would probably have to use the System and put Binghe in an extra deep sleep if he wanted to make sure the other didn't wake-

The moment he places a foot inside, though, he realizes something is wrong; the room is empty, Binghe is not asleep in his bed and Xin Mo is not besides the bed. Oh, oh no, had Binghe-

"A-Yuan." Binghe says, and SY nearly jumps as he turns around. There LBH stands in the middle of the hallway, not even in his sleeping robes, with a hand clutched tightly on Xin Mo's handle. His eyes are watery but no tears spill.

SY tries to speak but finds he doesn't even know what to say, he can't even try to deny that he's up to something, since his gigantic Scissors are just out an about. Still, he tries to make Binghe understand, say that he needs to do this, and after this Binghe won't have to worry about anything anymore. Though it barely seems like Binghe is listening, and eventually just cuts in when SY starts to say anything in his panic.

"This is what A-Yuan wants, right?" He asks, extending one arm and presenting the glitched out Xin Mo. SY doesn't even have the chance to find an excuse, as Binghe immediately continues. "Than take it."

"Wh- Huh?" "Take it."

He's so shocked he almost drops his Scissors. What does he mean 'take it'??? Binghe has to know everything that's at stake here! He doesn't even know what SY wants to do with it! He tries to say that, how Binghe shouldn't just hand the sword to anyone like that, but a sudden burst of energy set his priorities straight. Shit- The virus! It's growing by the second, at this point SY will have to cut Xin Mo-

"...Binghe, I-" "I don't care what A-Yuan wants with Xin Mo! Take it, use it, break it if you want, I don't care! But if A-Yuan takes it, than he will have to stay." "Binghe, that's not..." "Why not?! That's your goal, right? Do whatever it is that you want to do with Xin Mo? Than here you go, A-Yuan can do it, but I won't let you leave me again."

SY can't even mask when his eyes dart towards the tassle on Binghe's new braid. Binghe just clenched his jaw, but it feels like confirmation enough.

He adjusts his grip on the Scissors, and, as he has nothing else to hide, dispels the System's illusion, his simple clothes glitching out to reveal the System's uniform. Binghe's eyes fill even more with tears, but none fall."

"I... I'll have to go back, Binghe." "No." "Binghe, listen to me, I-" "No. No! A-Yuan will get Xin Mo, and then he will stay." "I-" "You will stay! I can't-" Binghe can't even finish his sentence before he has to choke out a sob.

The virus starts warping the air around it, and slowly crawling up Binghe's arm. SY's decision has practically been made for him. He lifts the Scissors. Binghe pushes Xin Mo forward.

"...I'll come back." "A-Yuan-" "I'll come back, Binghe." One single tear falls and his arm jerks, not knowing if he trusts SY's words or not. He still his arm as the Scissor blades encircle Xin Mo.

"A-Yuan..." "I'll come back, I promise." "..." "I promise."

"......Okay."

Shen Yuan cuts Xin Mo.

[sluttyminghao]

Hello I was wondering if you could do a pov ( sorry idk what do you call it ) about seventeen angry sex and how would they treat you afterwards. I'll be really thankful ❤️❤️❤️

seungcheol: probably occurs more than you'd think, but more so out of stress rather than anger towards you. it would be hard, rough, and fast, but he would apologise endlessly after and snuggles and feeds you food

jeonghan: probably wouldnt happen too often but when it does, it's intense and hard, and goes for hours on end. afterwards you would get treated to a 5 star meal at a high end restaurant, and your fave dessert place afterwards

joshua: i think this would be a very rare instance for him, but when it does happen its the best sex of your life and you cant walk for a week after. you would get treated to pizza in bed and wine flowing endlessly

junhui: it's rare, but when it happens it goes for probably a couple of days so that he can get every inch of anger out of himself. you would get treated to a spa day(s) and treated like a goddamn royal after because he feels so bad

soonyoung: it's almost a daily occurence with how short his fuse is, but when hes particularly angry it would be hours of nonstop fucking. he'd repay you with the best head ever, as well as energy drinks to keep you going

wonwoo: honestly his anger doesnt come out in the form of angry sex, but rather angry foreplay. he would be so much more intense during foreplay, and then makes up for it after with the sweetest and most loving sex he can summon

jihoon: it's hard, fast and hot. there's no stopping him unless you use the safe word. he's bringing out all the stops, including toys, but repays you after by letting you lay on his lap and he plays with your hair while he composes music.

seokmin: this would be the rarest of the rare sex for both of you, but when he is angry, he just holds you close and fucks you hard until you both pass out. he'd repay you by buying you a whole new wardrobe to make up for his anger.

mingyu: it's rough and messy, and you'll definitely have to change the sheets. i feel like hes a strong believer in free use so you would be constantly getting fucked everywhere. he would take you to a nice restaurant after a particularly angry session

minghao: it wouldnt be common, but when it does it's intense. you'll be in all sorts of positions and he's filling you right up every single time. you would probably also be resorted to some sort of exhibitionism if he was particularly mad.

seungkwan: practically never happens, he's a sweet angel. BUT, the few instances where it has happened are rough and hard, with a little bit of sweetness. you would spend days after finding apology notes around the house, and flowers for a week straight.

vernon: again, very rare but when it does happen, you'll probably be getting strung up bdsm style and letting him have his way with you until he's spent. you get to take his card and spend it however you like afterwards

chan: probably happens like every fortnight tbh, almost becomes routine. he comes home angry (not at you), fucks you to the point where he's breeding you, cuddles for hours and then runs you a bath with all the stops

[leahsgf]

DISTANCE II - mcfoord

mcfoord x child!reader | sometimes things work out

read part one here

-

“i’ll figure something out, promise”

the irish woman smiled softly in response to her girlfriend’s words, but she knew deep down that it would be unlikely, as much as she’d love to believe it. flights from australia weren’t typically what you’d think of when you heard of last minute, impromptu plans - and caitlin still had her own international duties to carry out, being without a doubt a pivotal player for the matildas.

despite the call helping your mood massively, the hours and that days that followed it were even worse than before, you demanding to ‘see mumma’ constantly, and simply not understanding the concept of sleeping, or time difference.

-

after about four days of little to no sleep, it’s safe to say you were both pretty close to losing it.

katie had spent most of the evening busying herself with packing for the next days’ training, making the absolute most of you finally being somewhat content for a brief moment - finding much joy in scribbling in your colouring pad, and also trying to distract her mind from spiralling ever so slightly.

she was incredibly worried about you, but alongside that was just simply exhausted. you hadn’t slept properly the entire time you’d been stuck in this hotel, and if you had it was flat on top of her (almost directly on her face, making it impossible for her to rest even for a second)

and when you were awake you were miserable, crying or throwing a fit over things you never usually did - like her putting socks on you, or even just looking at you ‘in the wrong way.’

above all else, she missed caitlin, more than anything. arguably even more than you - it just wasn’t socially acceptable for a twenty nine year old woman to kick and scream over not wanting to put a shirt on because of how much she did.

she struggled with long distance usually anyway, being a major home body - and you were typically her distraction, though right now you were quite the opposite.

and as much as the facetime calls helped you both, hanging up just brought her back to reality, and made her feel even sadder than before.

a sharp knock at the door broke her from her train of sorrows thoughts, standing to answer it with a sigh, assuming it would be a teammate wanting to talk over tactics, or even better, some kind of god coming to save the day.

turns out, she wasn’t too far from right.

“here sweetheart, i’ll be right back, kay?” she murmured softly, ruffling your hair and wrapping you in a blanket, figuring that you should probably be covered than more than just a nappy in front of whatever unsuspecting visitor was on the other side of the door.

when she opened it however, she realised that she was in fact the unsuspecting one, freezing in shock.

“what the fu- cait?” she gasped, her eyes widening.

“surprise?” the australian grinned in response, suitcase stood next to her. “spoke to the staff and managed to sort things out so i could catch the next flight to you. they can do without me for some friendlies” she shrugged, chuckling softly as she’s pulled into her girlfriend’s arms.

“you, caitlin foord, are unbelievable” katie breathed in pure relief, her body physically relaxing, almost slumping into her hold.

“now, where’s my little monster then?” caitlin broke the moment of silence, peeking over the brunette’s shoulder.

katie stepped aside in response, chuckling in disbelief, gesturing inside and in the direction of the bed. “go see for yourself.”

you were so invested in your colouring, and being grumpy - your back facing the door, that you didn’t notice her entering.

“hey pudding” she spoke, so softly it was almost a whisper, but your head snapped up as if she had shouted.

“mumma”

caitlin opened her arms just in enough time for you to launch yourself off the bed and into them, with an alarming amount of strength for a toddler. you clung to her like a koala, burying your face in her neck and letting out a string of happy squeals and babbles - being by far the happiest katie had seen you in days.

“you came back!” you said, voice muffled against her shoulder - your speech still being at the stage where it was just about understandable, but your two mothers understanding you perfectly every time.

“of course i did silly girl” she tickled you, kissing the top of your head softly. “i missed you, my baby”

katie leaned against the wall, still by the door, watching the two of you, her girls, with a loving smile, the weight she’d been carrying for days finally beginning to lift.

the night drew in with the three of you curled up in the duvet of the hotel bed that had been the centre of all the weeks chaos - you nestled snugly in between your parents, having crashed out almost immediately after the initial excitement wore off.

katie and caitlin exchanged a look over your head, a silent agreement that nothing - no crazy schedules, no distance, would ever keep their little family apart like that for too long, ever again.

-

i have indeed not proof read this as i just got back from work and promised you all an update….enjoy

[steddieas-shegoes]

pond hockey season

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'snowfall'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated m | 729 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: modern era, fluff, flirting

🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️🌨️

“Rory, look!” Eddie points out the living room window as she rushes to her room. “Snow!”

Rory groans and runs back over to the window.

“But I have practice!”

“We can drive in the snow, green bean,” Steve says from the kitchen, where he’s hastily packing sandwiches to bring to the rink. “It’s not that bad.”

Eddie nudges Rory’s shoulder with his elbow. “You know what this means?”

Rory seems confused for a second, then her entire face brightens into something close to a supernova. She gets it from Steve.

“Pond hockey!” She practically screams as she runs to her room to get changed for practice.

“It’s way too early for pond hockey,” Steve says from right behind Eddie, making him jump. “She’s not gonna stop asking now.”

“It’s only a couple more weeks,” Eddie smirks as he wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and tugs him close. They may be running a little late, but he’ll always make time for moments like this. “She’s too busy with practice anyways.”

Steve kisses the corner of his mouth. “You think that will stop her from asking every night?”

“No. But it’ll give us a reason to say no,” Eddie kisses his lips for real, soft, but with clear intentions. Rory’s spending the night with a friend after practice and Eddie intends on using the empty house to his advantage. “You coming right back here after practice or running to the store?”

“Just coming here. Store tomorrow when I pick Rory up.”

“Are you guys kissing?” Rory yells from her room.

Steve snorts. “Not this second!”

Eddie leans in to kiss his forehead. “Maybe a little!”

“Ew!” She doesn’t mean it.

“Or you could run to the store for me…” Steve begs without begging. His least favorite thing to do is get groceries, but so is Eddie’s. They take turns, and this time is Steve’s, so Eddie doesn’t want to. He will if he has to, but he really doesn’t want to.

“I’ve already got a to-do list.”

“Which is?”

“Well, it’s top secret. But you’re on it.”

Steve goes red, tries to duck his face down into Eddie’s shoulder to hide it, but Eddie’s already seen it. He knows exactly how to get Steve riled up and he does it as often as he can.

“I won’t be home for two hours,” Steve mumbles against his neck.

“And those two hours will be spent preparing.”

“For?”

Eddie kisses the top of Steve’s head. “You’ll see.”

“Eddieeeeee,” Steve whines.

It makes Eddie’s cock twitch in his jeans. It’s ridiculous how little Steve has to do to get Eddie riled up in return.

“You said you weren’t kissing!” Rory says from the hallway. She has her brush in her hand, ready for Eddie to braid her hair for practice.

“To be fair, I said I was a little. I wasn’t lying,” Eddie says as he walks over to her, taking the brush, and gently parting her hair to get started. “What’re you working on tonight?”

“Reflexes. We’re using a bouncy ball to work on rebounds.”

“Ew,” Eddie teases as his fingers comb through her hair and work the strands into a tight braid. “Tomorrow we can make snow angels.”

“And then go to pond hockey?” She asks excitedly.

Steve gives him the ‘I told you so’ look before he goes back to grab the small lunchbox they use to take dinner to the rink.

“Not yet. It’s only the second time it’s snowed. Ponds haven’t frozen enough,” Eddie explains patiently.

“So the third time?”

“Probably more like the fourth or fifth.”

She sighs.

He tries not to laugh.

She turns around when he finishes looping the ponytail at the end of the braid and hugs him.

“Gonna kick ass?” He asks her, kissing the top of her head. She’s grown so much in the last year, he can hardly believe he barely has to lean down anymore.

“And take names.” She squeezes her arms around him before running to the door to slip on her shoes.

Steve comes over to kiss him goodbye and Eddie deepens it for just a minute, just long enough for Steve to be breathless when he pulls away.

“See you later, big boy,” Eddie winks as he makes his way to the kitchen to eat a light dinner.

He’s got a lot of physical activity coming up.

[letstrip13]

I feel like you should do False God 😏or like Forever and Always (with a twist) or any breakup song, but they end up meeting each other again at a party, and get back together. A solid fluff would be nice too tbh

🪞 - forever and always

summary: you and chris were the perfect couple, or so you thought until you broke up. what happens when you run into each other a month later at a party?

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, drinking/alcohol, some angst

word count: 2,460

author's note: another re-upload from the summer. it's kinda giving cheesy romcom imo

author's note 2: follow my bestie pinkfilipowicz on instagram, i'm trying to help her with her goal of getting 100 followers by the end of 2024!! she's the absolute sweetest + one of the best info/style accs for madi ever!!

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one month. thirty days. seven hundred twenty hours. forty-three thousand, two hundred minutes. two million, five hundred ninety-two thousand seconds. no matter which way you put it, it had been that long since the breakup with chris. that long of feeling agonizing heartbreak.

you sit in front of your vanity, applying glittery eyeshadow to your eyelids, making sure to pack it on there so your eyes pop. you're filled with a horrible sense of dread as you continue to apply your eye makeup, counting down the minutes until you'll have to see his face again; the first time since the breakup.

you couldn't back out of the party now. it was a birthday party for a mutual friend you and the triplets had in high school, actually the one who introduced you to them. you weren't ever super close with matt, nothing was remarkable about the bond you shared. just friends, plain and simple.

but you got close with nick fast, continuing to stay close with him throughout your ten month relationship with chris. that's why it hurt so much when you stopped talking to him. nothing against nick, of course, he was an amazing friend but you just couldn't bear the constant reminders he brought you of chris. you needed to cut them all off for your own sake.

“baby, what happened? please, tell me cause, one second, it was perfect now you’re halfway out the door”

you didn't even know how it had happened. one day something just changed in chris and he left. was it something you said? something you did? you didn't know. sure, you could've gotten closure by asking nick or you could even get it tonight at the party, but there's no chance.

“and i stare at the phone, he still hasn’t called and then you feel so low you can’t feel nothin’ at all and you flashback to when he said, “forever and always””

your goal for tonight's party was to get drunk, have fun, and forget about him. you had spent far too much of your time, waiting for the moment he comes back even though you knew deep down there's a chance he wouldn't. but that didn't stop you from perking up at every new notification, only to be disappointed when it's not him.

you finish your makeup before drying and styling your hair - still wet from the shower - and picking out an outfit. you put on a little black dress that chris bought for you when you were still together. you probably would've showed up on his arm in this very dress. but instead, you're wearing it in hopes that he'll regret ever leaving you.

you order an uber and arrive shortly after, your friend's house being close by. as soon as you get there, you're greeted by the host of the party along with a group of girls you were friends with in high school that had all drifted from each other after graduation. when you start taking shots together, you feel as close to them as you used to. for a split second, you feel okay, completely forgetting about chris.

until you glance over your shoulder and see him staring you down. you stare back for what feels like an eternity, but is really only a few seconds. you don't react, you don't really have time to before another shot is shoved into your hand. you take it and as you've barely swallowed it, you're being pulled away to go dance with your friends.

after a while of you dancing, you have to go to the bathroom. you make your way upstairs, and walk down the narrow hallway, trying not to bump into anyone. you're about to turn the doorknob to walk in when you hear a familiar voice behind you. it's nick. “hey, i haven't seen you in forever. how've you been?”

you were glad to run into him but you feel bad because you're the reason you haven't seen each other. “i'm good. umm just hold on a second. i'll be right back.” you go into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. you take a moment to breathe before doing what you went in there for.

as you're washing your hands, you hear nick's voice followed by another one you recognize all too well. you should've known this would happen, wherever one was, the other two often weren't far. it had always been that way. you hope and pray that it could just be matt, maybe he has a sore throat or something. please, just let it be matt with a sore throat.

you finally open the door and as you take a step out, you almost walk right into chris. of course, the one you did not want to see. “excuse me,” you say, not unkindly but with an expression he can't quite read, as you try to side step him. “wait, princess, please.”

him using his nickname for you makes something inside you break, but also makes you angry. “you can't call me that anymore, not after you left.” he reaches for your arm which you quickly pull away. “please, give me a chance to talk to you. we can work things out. i miss you.”

“i miss you too, but i hate you for what you did. you broke your promise, chris.” nick has walked away by this point, wanting to give you two space to talk things out. “i know i did but-” you're quick to cut him off. “i'm not done! it wasn't fair of you to do that to me. you promised, you said “forever and always” but you still left me. you fucking broke me like i was nothing and you just expected me to be okay with it.” tear after tear is streaming down your face by now with no sign of stopping anytime soon. “and after all that, you expect me to just let you say “i know i did” as if that's supposed to make everything better.”

his heart breaks watching you cry, seeing how much he hurt you. guilt takes over him and you notice a few tears roll down his cheeks too. “i'm sorry, i really am. and i know it's not an excuse but i felt like i had to leave because i was afraid. the thought of being with one person for the rest of your life can be terrifying.” you're about to speak up but he continues before you can. “but i realize now that it's all i want. i want to be with you forever, i can't live without you.”

“well, you might have to learn to.” you walk past him, going down the hallway towards the stairs. “please, i love you!” he shouts over the music. you give him one last look, not saying a word before going downstairs. you go back down to find your friends while he shuts himself in the bathroom, wiping away the rapidly falling tears as it hits him just how much he fucked up.

you and chris don't see each other until way later into the night. almost everyone is intoxicated by this point, you lost count of how many shots you've taken. suddenly, yours and chris’ song was playing. several months ago, late at night while you two were cuddling in his bed, you agreed that having a “song” sounded cliché. but you both knew that if you had one, this would be it.

both of you, forgetting everything for a moment, search the room for each other. you find each other and within a matter of seconds, you're in each other's arms, kissing feverishly with an amount of passion neither of you had felt before. it felt as if you were the only two in the room. as your hands found their way to his back, you could practically feel the regret of leaving you dripping off chris.

“back up, baby, back up did you forget everything?”

you reluctantly pull away, still not 100% sure if you should be doing this. despite being as drunk as you are, you know this may not be right. but the pleading look in chris’ eyes are almost enough to change your mind. almost. “please, baby. just one last time and you never have to see me again. just let me taste you one last time.” that was what convinced you. if there was one thing you missed about chris, it was his tongue. “yes, let’s go,” you say, taking his hand and leading him upstairs to an empty guest bedroom.

as soon as the door is closed and locked behind you, he’s pushing you down on the bed and getting on top of you, kissing you again. within a matter of seconds, he’s gained access to your mouth and his tongue dances with yours. it feels so familiar and intoxicating, more so than the alcohol. he slips his hands down your sides and bunches the fabric of your skirt up around your hips. he runs his finger along your panty-covered slit as he trails wet, sloppy kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. soft gasps of pleasure escape your lips as he leaves marks across your skin.

he pulls away after giving you a final, playful bite. he pulls you forward so your legs are hanging off the bed and he gets on his knees. you lift your hips as he pulls your panties down, eyes locked with yours the whole time. you let out another small gasp as the cool air hits your wetness. he teasingly licks a stripe up your folds, but once he gets a taste of you, the slow, teasing nature goes away.

he lifts your knees, letting the backs of them rest on his shoulders as your legs hang down his back, crossed at the ankles. he practically buries his face in your pussy acting like he's been starved for a hundred years. your fingers tangle in his soft, brown curls as you moan and buck your hips closer to him.

he dips his tongue into your hole, causing yet another moan to escape your lips. his nose bumps your clit slightly so you buck your hips forward, craving more contact. he pulls his tongue out of you and before you can even protest, it's back in again. he gets faster with it and switches between that and lapping up the juices spilling from you as if this is his last time ever tasting you and he needs every single drop. he doesn't find a steady rhythm to it, he's quite sloppy, but it feels so good.

it's a drunken blur of grinding against him so his nose hits your clit just right and of his tongue making you feel lightheaded until you're crying out to him, legs shaking as you finish. “shit.. feels so- oh fuck!” he smirks up at you for a moment, and you take in his hazy blue eyes, and his lips and chin covered in your cum. he licks his lips before going right back in and lapping up every last drop he left behind, holding your hips down as you squirm under him.

“i missed your taste, your pussy's so fuckin’ good.” he smiles up at you as you sit up. “want you to fuck me,” you murmur in a sultry tone, “missed your cock.” the words were barely out of your mouth as chris starts fumbling with his belt, trying to get it off as fast as he can. you scoot back on the bed as he figures it out and takes it off. he unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling them down a bit so he can adjust his boxers and take his dick out.

he doesn't give you any warning before slamming into you, his thrusts gaining speed right away. the way he’s stretching you out after not having him, or anyone, inside you for a month is a wonderful pain that has you crying out. it’s quickly overtaken by pleasure as the tip hits that magic spot inside you with every thrust. he leans down to kiss your neck, his hands squeezing your hips as he whispers to you, “take. me. back. please. i. miss. you. i. still. love. you,” each word punctuated with his hips slapping against your skin as he goes as deep as he possibly can.

since both of you were so pent up from not having each other for so long and since you’re still sensitive from chris eating you out, it doesn’t take much longer for you to finish together. your walls clench around him as he shoots his release inside you. he slowly gets off you, both of you panting and sweating as you lay together to catch your breath.

you pull your dress down and he fixes his pants before he pulls you close. he runs his fingers through your hair gently, something he’d often do when you’d be cuddling. “i meant everything i said tonight. every single word of it.”

“i,” you hesitate for a moment, “still love you too. but i don’t know if i can fully trust you. you made a promise, a commitment, to me but you didn’t keep it.” he considers what to say next for a moment, wanting to make sure it’s the right thing. “if you take me back, i will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. anything you want, i’ll do it.”

you stay silent, taking some time to contemplate it. you love chris and you want to be with him, but you don’t want to risk him leaving and hurting you a second time. “i will take you back..” chris immediately perks up, an excited shine in his eyes and he appears to be having a thousand thoughts running through his mind. but you speak again before he can get a word out. “but, if you fuck up and break another promise, i will leave. and you will not be having a chance like this again. if you lose me again, i will be gone for good.”

he nods, trying to look serious, but he can't seem to contain his excitement. he pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. being in each other's arms like this feels like a weight getting lifted off your chests. “i understand. like i said, i'll do whatever it takes. i just want to make you happy.”

he loosens his hold on you and pulls away to look into your eyes. “i will love you for the rest of my life.” “forever and always?” he gives you a sweet, tender kiss on the lips, pouring every ounce of love he possibly can into it. “yes, princess. forever and always.”

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[thesparkling-diamond27]

Hi!! I was wondering if I could submit a Fiyero x female!reader request where reader is having an “off” day cause miss girl forgot to do her laundry and has no clean uniforms to wear for uni (rip☠️ but also real lol). So she has no choice but to wear her comfy, casual clothes the whole day and while reader’s lowkey self-conscious about it, Fiyero is just staring at her, complimenting while slyly flirting nonstop, but also trying to reassure her of how naturally beautiful she is even without needing to dress up🥰 Thank you love!!🩷

Something Bad or Maybe Something Good

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

A/n: This is my first request so I hope I expanded your idea to your liking. I was already writing another Fiyero one shot that was based off of a song from Wicked so I figured I would kind of stay on theme with another song from wicked because my other one shot is called dancing through life. I hope you like it!

Something bad is happening in Oz! Something terrible. I never thought this day would come, but it’s finally happened. It’s the day I have no clean clothes to wear!

Back at home I’m so used to having my clothes washed and folded by one of my maids, but ever since arriving at Shiz I’ve been having to do my own laundry myself and I never knew how much work it could be until now.

For me it takes up the whole day with the amount of clothes that I have, so I designated Sundays to be my laundry day. However, yesterday my friend won two tickets to see Wizomania in Emerald City and how could I say no! It’s Wizomania!

My friend and I spent the whole day in Emerald City and we had the best time of our lives. However, by the time we got back to our dorms it was late and I still had to finish last minute homework. I realized that I didn’t do my laundry, but I figured I would have at last one clean outfit left to wear for tomorrow.

Now it’s tomorrow and I don’t have a single outfit to wear! I wanted to cry and crumble to the floor, but I kept myself together. I just have to wear my other clothes I thought.

I opened a nearby luggage, filled with clothes I wore just in case I was doing something that involved filth or if I was simply lazy (but I usually only wore these clothes at home in the Upper Uplands where only my family and housekeepers can see me).

No one in Shiz had ever seen me in an outfit as plain as this and it makes me feel extremely self-conscious. I am known in school for always having my outfits put together and dressing over the top all day every day. I take fashion really seriously and it’s the only way I like to present myself.

The thought of walking through the halls of Shiz in this drab outfit makes me want to not go to school altogether. But I can’t do that. I have a reputation to uphold as a student for my professors and for the rest of the students at Shiz.

I pulled out a grey t-shirt and blue sweatpants that said Shiz on the pant’s leg in white writing. I can’t even remember the last time I wore sweatpants, but at least I would have school spirit. I found a plain navy blue sweater that could elevate my outfit a little bit, but not by much. At least my outfit will match my mood today, because I am not happy with these circumstances. Something bad is definitely happening in Oz.

I quickly did my makeup for the day. I didn’t apply a full face of makeup like I usually do, because I’m simply not in the mood for it today. I only applied lipgloss, and mascara, so I hope no one notices, but who am I kidding they probably will. Or maybe they’ll be too focused on my atrocious clothes instead of my makeup. I wanted to cry again, but I held it in. I couldn’t ruin the little makeup I currently had on.

I checked the time and realized I only had five minutes before Dr. Dilamond’s class started. Now I had no time to style my hair! I quickly pulled my hair into a messy bun with a nearby claw clip and I scrambled around my room for my books before running out of my room. I was not having a good start to my day.

I turned the corner at the end of the hallway, almost at Dr. Dilamond’s classroom, when I bumped into a body. I fell backwards and my books and papers fell out my hands and onto the ground.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

I looked up and was met with Fiyero Tigelaar the school’s heartthrob. Great, I look like this in front of the school’s most sought out bachelor. I hope he doesn’t think any differently of me now that I look like this.

I always thought he was good looking, but I never thought he would go for someone like me. I’m not saying I’m ugly, or anything but I don’t think I’m the type of girl he would want.

“It’s okay I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I said.

I began to collect my books from the floor when I saw a set of hands begin to help me. Fiyero crouched down to the ground and began to collect my scattered papers. I stared at him until he picked up the last paper and handed the stack back to me.

“Thank you.” I said quietly.

“Of course, anything for you beautiful.”Fiyero said with a wink as he stood up. I didn’t say anything back. I was still shocked that Fiyero was actually talking to me and I felt a little embarrassed that he is seeing me dressed like this. In such a contrast to how I usually am.

Usually I am in a perky mood and I always have a smile on my face, but today I was the exact opposite. No happy mood. No smile.

Fiyero extended his hand for me to grab, so he can pull me up. I took it hesitantly and let him guide me, but I think he might have underestimated his strength because as soon as I was on my feet I collapsed into his chest.

Our faces were inches apart. Our noses almost touching. And for a split second I forgot everything and everyone around us. It was as if I was under his spell. I was close enough to look into his deep blue eyes and see flickers of aquamarine and even emerald green. Something I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t so close.

He then gave me his iconic charming smile before saying.

“Well this is cozy.” Maybe he didn’t underestimate his strength after all.

His words lifted me from his spell and I noticed that since he was so close to my face he had a front row seat to my makeup less face. I backed away from him, but I couldn’t go far because his hand was still grasping on to mine as if he didn’t want me to go.

This is when he finally took a good look at my appearance. Me in a t-shirt paired with Shiz sweatpants and a messy bun. I waited for him to say something about my attire, but instead he gently stroked the side of my hand with his thumb.

I looked up at him and he didn’t say anything, but his eyes did. I looked into his eyes and it seemed like he was consoling me. As if he was telling me it’s okay to dress comfy every one in a while. Your clothes won’t change how I think about you. How I see you.

He stroked my hand for a few more moments before he pulled it away and cleared his throat. “Let’s go to class sweetheart.”

Fiyero walked down the hallway and I would have stood there frozen analyzing the whole interaction if he didn’t turn around and say.

“Are you coming?”

I nodded and quickly followed him to Dr. Dilamond’s class. The walk was silent, but it wasn’t awkward. Occasionally I would catch Fiyero sneak glances at me, but it was probably because he was staring at my clothes that were quite different compared to my usual school atire. We approached the classroom door and Fiyero let me enter first.

“Ladies first.” He said gallantly.

I gave him a small grateful smile before I braced myself to enter the classroom. I immediately felt everyone’s eyes on me the minute I walked in and it was not the way I wanted them too. Everyone had shocked expressions on their face and would occasionally whisper to their neighbor about what they were seeing.

I wanted to run out of the classroom, but I felt a hand ground me as it found the small of my back. I felt a hand on my shoulder and then Fiyero whispered.

“Don’t let their remarks change who you are. Your clothes are just clothes. They’re expendable, but you are special darling. You look beautiful.”

I blushed at his words and thank god my back was to him because then he would have witnessed my rose tinted cheeks. I took in the words he told me. He thought I was beautiful and even in such dull clothing. Did he really mean that?

Dr. Dilamond walked into class, so I decided I would have to ask him later after class. I took a deep breath and found my usual seat with my friends. What I didn’t realize was that Fiyero abandoned his usual seat, all the way across the room, and followed me.

I stared at him as he chose to sit a few seats down from me. He turned around and gave me a smirk before turning to the front to face Dr. Dilamond. My friend nudged me and asked, “What was that about?” Referring to Fiyero.

But I couldn’t answer her. I was completely baffled as well.

About halfway through class I was starting to get bored. I ripped out a page and made a fortune teller. I drew a vase of flowers in the corner of the room. I balanced a pencil above my lips. Now I was simply just staring out the window. The sun got a little too bright, so I looked off to the right and suddenly my eyes drifted to Fiyero who already had his eyes locked on me. Startled, I jumped up and my pencils flew off my desk. I stood up abruptly and scrambled to try and pick them up.

“Miss Y/n are you alright?” Dr. Dilamond asked.

I picked up the last remaining pencil and set it on the table.

“Yes I am. I was just startled, but I’m fine.”

I was completely embarrassed that I made such a spectacle in class.

“Good. I’m glad you are alright. Now…”

Dr. Dilamond continued to teach and I looked back at Fiyero. He was still looking at me. He gave me a wink before he turned back to Dr. Dilamond.

Now I definitely needed to talk to him after class because now he was blatantly staring at me for no reason. But why? Why has he took a sudden interest in me? Why has he been so reassuring all morning? Is he maybe interested in me? Does he actually mean what he’s saying? No that can’t be true.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and the boy sitting next to me passed me a note. It was a small piece of blue paper that was folded to conceal what was written. Curiously I unfolded the paper and read.

“I’m sorry I startled you. That was not my intention. I just couldn’t help, but stare at you. You looked so ethereal with the sun hitting your face. You looked like an Angel. Well you are an Angel.”

I looked up at Fiyero and just as I suspected he was already staring at me. Probably wanting to see my reaction and awaiting my response. I turned the piece of paper over and simply wrote

“I don’t believe you. Why do you keep saying these things?”

I folded it back and handed it back to the boy next to me. He passed it along and so on and so on until the paper landed back into Fiyero’s hands.

Fiyero unfolded the paper and looked back at me. He did nothing flirty or cheeky and instead he turned around and grabbed a new piece of paper to write his response. He was quick with it and eventually the piece of paper was handed to me. I discreetly opened it up and read.

…

Three dots? Three dots? What does that mean?

“That’s enough for today. Class dismissed.” Dr. Dilamond said.

I grabbed my books and quickly tried to get to the exit, so I could catch up to Fiyero. I needed to know what his intentions were and what those three dots meant. I got to the hallway and couldn’t find him anywhere. Great I lost him I thought.

Then a hand grabbed mine and pulled me away to the opposite direction. It was Fiyero and he began to drag me away from the hallway of classrooms and outside to the courtyard. I thought he wanted to talk there, but instead we walked up the stairs to the library. However, we passed by that too, so I guess he didn’t want to talk there either.

We walked a little further to a secluded area where there was plenty of different colored glass arranged to be art. There were blue glass tiles glued to the walls to create designs and glass circles that were pink, orange and green acting like mirrors.

I stepped in front of the green circle mirror and I could see the reflection of the area and Fiyero, but all in green. I turned around and reached up to spin the array of glass shards that were hung and arranged on the ceiling to act like a chandelier.

“This place is beautiful.” I finally said.

Fiyero smiled. “It is isn’t it. But not as beautiful as you.”

I blushed at his words and this time he actually saw it. He seemed satisfied with my reaction because he smirked before continuing.

“I found this place when I was running away from Madame Morrible. She didn’t find me.”

“Should I even ask?” I asked jokingly.

“No.”

The both of us broke into laughter. As soon as our laughs died down I cut right to the chase.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

But I could tell he already knew what I was referring to.

“About today. Why are you acting like this?”

“Acting like what my love?”

“Like that! Calling me my love, beautiful, angel, darling. Why all the pet names?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. You are my love. You are beautiful. You are an angel. You are my darling.”

He took a step closer to me.

I tried my best to hide how much his words have affected me, but I couldn’t tell if I did a good job.

“And the staring. Why were you staring at me all throughout class?”

“Like I said in the note. I couldn’t help it. You looked so ethereal.”

He took another step.

“Speaking of the note. Why did you write three dots on that piece of paper?”

“Because I wanted to continue our conversation.”

Now we were standing face to face. He grabbed my hand and stroked it with his thumb like he did before. Except this time he placed a kiss on the back of my hand.

“Because I saw how you were this morning. I saw the self-doubt and insecurities written all over your face. It didn’t take me long to realize why.”

He wrapped his other arm around my waist and pulled me up against his chest.

“I simply wanted to stop whatever delusions you had in your head. You are drop dead gorgeous my dear. Especially now.”

I ducked my head at his compliment and looked at the shiny gold buttons on his suit jacket instead.

“You’re lying. I’m wearing such awful and dull clothes today, I’m barely wearing any make up, and my hair is not styled and it’s just a mess! I do not look beautiful right now and I don’t feel it either.”

Fiyero let go of my hand and lifted my chin with his finger. My eyes met his and they were filled with love and admiration. Love and admiration that I don’t deserve.

“You’re the one who’s lying here Y/n.”

That was the first time he used my real name all day, so I could tell he was being serious.

“You’re magnificent.”

He grabbed my hand again and kissed the back of it.

“Iresistible.”

He kissed my cheek.

“Stunning.”

He kissed the top my head.

“And bewitching.”

And with a swift movement of his hand he pulled the claw clip from my hair and my hair fell down to my back. He attached the claw clip to a strap on his suit jacket.

“Your appearance today has only proven how beautiful you truly are. Right now I’m looking at your natural beauty without all of your clothing and extra accessories getting in the way. I’m not saying your clothes and makeup are unnecessary because I know how much they mean to you, but you can hold back every once in a while and let yourself relax. You don’t have to be dressed up all the time. We all have our off days and sometimes it’s okay to wear comfortable clothing.”

Somehow Fiyero was able to capture exactly how I was feeling in just a few sentences and for the first time ever I felt seen. No one has ever been able to read me as easily as Fiyero has. Not to mention that he barely even knows me and that this is our first proper conversation. But it still doesn’t explain the real reason why he thinks I am beautiful and making sure that I know it.”

“Why are you making it your mission to remind me?”

“Because I’m interested in you. I’ve had my eye on you for a while. I’ve been thinking about how I could approach you and today was my lucky day because you ran into me. And if you give me the chance I will make it my mission everyday to remind you just how naturally beautiful you are inside and out.”

My breath hitched at his words. He knows exactly the right words to say and he actually makes me believe it. All day I couldn’t even stand to even look at myself, but somehow Fiyero made me feel beautiful. Even in my sweats and t-shirt he makes me feel pretty. Then I repeated the first words I said to him earlier today.

“But what if I don’t deserve to be reminded.”

Fiyero looked taken aback by my words, but a fire of determination blazed in his eyes.

“Then I’ll tell you how much you deserve to be reminded everyday until you believe me. And even then I’ll still tell you every day how much you deserve to know how gorgeous you are.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. No has ever made me truly feel special until now. I’ve had my occasional admirers here and there, but never anyone genuine.

“Thank you.” I said with a smile.

“You’re welcome princess. And I understand how you feel. I struggle with the same problem in a different way. But we can overcome it together.”

“Together.”

Fiyero smiled warmly at my response. He grabbed a piece of my hair and placed it gently behind my ear. Then he cradled my face with his hand and placed a whisper of a kiss on my lips.

My day might have started with something bad, but I was left with something good.

[sweetkpopmusings]

miserable (you & me) | s. changbin <3

a/n: i currently have a long weekend thanks to the thanksgiving holiday, so i'm in a bit of a writing frenzy. since i just posted some ateez fluff, i figured i should give into the stray kids angst demon again >:^) please enjoy a moment with changbin <3 pics not mine~

content: angst, happy ending | wc: 1.4k | warnings: none really! | pairing: changbin x gn!reader | requests:open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

어떻게든 같이 걸어가려, I feel so tired but I can't give you up, my babe / “somehow try to walk with you / i feel so tired but i can’t give you up my babe”

changbin stared at some indiscernible object in the distance–or, rather, the direction opposite you–biding time until he absolutely had to respond to the information you just shared. sure, he was happy for you, but he couldn’t ignore the burning in the back of his throat as he tried to say encouraging words. the inner conflict was eating him alive, yet he felt he had no other choice than to be here and listen, like any good friend would. 

it wasn’t the first time he had been in this position. he ended up here, again and again, because he didn’t know how to get out of it. behind every i’m rooting for you and they’d be crazy not to say “yes” was an i can’t get you out of my head, you know? every time i look at you, i feel my whole self coming undone, only being put back together when you look at me begging to be said. but he couldn’t. changbin wished he could. he practically pleaded with himself each time he saw you to finally say something. changbin pretended it wasn’t his fear of you rejecting him that held him back. he swore that once he had figured out the right words, he would find the right moment, and then, once everything fell into place, he would bare his soul to you. changbin convinced himself he wasn’t a coward by reminding himself that someone as perfect as you deserved the perfect confession. even if it meant he spent years hiding and hurting. 

“changbin? did i lose you there?” the corners of your mouth upturned as you gently and playfully waved your hand in front of his face.

instinctively he smiled back, laughing a little despite the growing pang in his chest, “no, no, i’m right here.”

“good! because i haven’t gotten to the best part of the story yet,” you grinned before continuing to tell changbin all about the cute interaction shared between you and the coworker you were crushing on.

he couldn’t believe the beaming look in your eyes could hurt him so much. jealousy would do that though: make something so beautiful of yours hurt because he wasn’t the one igniting that beauty. that wouldn’t stop him from relishing in it though. your energy, your presence, it was always a gift, even if it broke his heart.

“so that’s when i figured, what the hell? i asked them out right then and there. they got flustered–it was so cute–and then they said ‘yes!’ we’re going out this saturday. can you help me pick out my outfit?”

changbin, who always turned to putty when he saw your puppy-dog eyes, let out a breathy laugh, “yeah, sure, i can help pick out the outfit that will get them to fall in love with you, just so they can break your heart in a few months like everyone else.”

changbin’s face filled with shock and regret before you could finish processing his words. it hurt you, but, judging by the slump in changbin’s shoulders, what he said hurt him even more.

“i’m so sorry for snapping, y/n, i–”

“no, it’s fine. i talk about them too much. i’m sure you’re tired of hearing me ramble on about all my crushes, especially when my dating life is so unlucky,” you forced a smile, aware that changbin saw right through you, as he always did, “i should probably go, so you don’t have to suffer through my rambling any longer.”

the way changbin looked at you kept you frozen in place. you wanted to turn and walk away before tears slipped down your cheeks, or, worse, before either of you said something that would hurt the other. but the way changbin watched you, the way his breath staggered, the way his eyes revealed he had no intention of every looking away from you…it all kept your feet firmly planted on the ground. 

changbin, knees weak and trembling, felt adrenaline coursing through his body. he stood in front of you, hands in his pockets, unsure if this was the moment to finally reach out to you. when he saw you break your gaze away from him to glance toward your route home, he knew, deep down, that it was now or never. he may have already ruined things by snapping. he figured it was better to ruin your friendship by showing you how much you were loved, rather than leaving you hurt with harsh words.

“y/n,” changbin took a deep breath when your eyes once again locked with his, “that was rude, and i hope you know that i never get annoyed by your rambling. i could hear you talk forever, even if it’s about someone you like, as long as that someone makes you happy. i just…it can be hard for me sometimes because…well…i like you. i have liked you for so long, but the timing never feels right, and everyone else seems to have the courage i don’t because you keep ending up with other people. if you’re happy, i’m happy. i guess i just can’t hide it anymore. i like you. i always will.”

changbin paused, eyes brimming with tears, and he mustered up a smile so you didn’t feel forced to comfort him, “i know you like them, your coworker. if your feelings for me aren’t the same, that’s fine. or, i mean, i at least can live with it, as long as you’re still my friend. i can’t give you up. if you need time away from me because of this, i understand. i hope this hasn’t made things too weird. i hope, more than anything, that we can still be friends. a life without you just doesn’t feel like the right life for me.”

you bit your lip, keeping yourself quiet until changbin finished. it was only fair to let him ramble after you had been talking his ear off all night. then, once you were sure he had said everything he meant to, you smiled. changbin, despite himself, let hope bloom in his chest when he saw the smile grow on your face.

“changbin,” you shook your head, laughing quietly in disbelief, “why didn’t you say something sooner? i like you more than everyone else.”

changbin’s eyes got so big you couldn’t do anything other than giggle. a few words from you, and he looked like he was over the moon.

“you…like me?”

“of course, changbin. are you free saturday? i just have to cancel some plans, but then i’m all yours.”i’m all yours turned changbin’s chest into a fireworks show, so, rather than answering you, he broke into a fit of giggles and wrapped you into his arms. he was, always and forever, all yours. he did not need any courage to tell you that, over and over and over again.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[brox-not-a-badger]

I know I’m supposed to be working on my fanfics but I made a ranking based on how likely the primarchs are to drown if thrown in a lake

I did this totally for fun, mostly because I was bored and had nothing better to do. (1 is most likely to drown, 18 is least likely to drown)

1. Sanguinius

big wings, probably not waterproof

2. Lorgar Aurelian

ehhh raised on a desert-esq planet, probably never learned

3. Perterabo

probably would sink like a damn stone if thrown off a dock

4. Konrad Curze

might flail a little bit will ultimately probably just give up, did absolutely no prior swimming on Nostramo

5. Magnus the Red

also raised on a desert world, probably sucks at swimming,

6. Angron

there is no way in high hell that this man can swim, he’d maybe give a little effort before he snaps and starts punching the water

7. Mortarion

There is no way that this man can swim, maybe like a couple of moments above water before just awkwardly struggling and sinking

8. Vulkan

might put up a good few strokes but most likely never learned due to Nocturne being Nocturne

9. Corvus Corax

Ravens absolutely can not swim and this emo probably can’t either due to lack of experience.

10. Leman Russ

Raised on a frozen wasteland of a planet, probably didn’t do a lot of swimming in his free time but at the least will do an awkward doggy-paddle back to shore like the contemptible dog he is.

11. Roboute Guilliman

For sure has done some swimming on McCragge, probably.

12. Horus Lupercal

Big E probably took enough time to at least teach him not to fucking drown and die at the least, probably had him take swim lessons.

13. Rogal Dorn

If I had to guess I’d say he probably can swim, at least better than Perturabo.

14. Lion’el Johnson

If I know anything about this man it’s that he can do a good job at staying above water and not under it.

15. Jaghatai Khan

Most likely hasn’t spent time swimming too much but does know how too for sure

16. Alpharius + Omegon

Alpharius and Omegon revolve their whole legion around a beast called the Hydra. I’m fairly sure there’s an obvious answer here.

17. Fulgrim

Snakes swim pretty well, simple as. All jokes aside, Fulgrim seems like the type to actually enjoy swimming in his free time.

18. Ferrus Manus

Can canonically swim and can swim VERY WELL. I mean, the guy swam to the bottom of an OCEAN for fuck’s sake.

[aikrus]

"You're haunting me."

i don't think aizawa would let you go easily, and i'm probably not gonna do anything with this

"I love you," he breathes like that explains it all.

You step away and it's so natural these days that you don't even shake.

"I don't know what to do without you."

He's grabbing your wrist, tight but tender and you can feel the sparks traveling from the tips of your fingers straight through your ill stomach.

Looking at him, you can tell just how genuine the words are. He's a mess, glossy eyes and red, patchy skin. His lips are cracked and he seems breathless, he seems desperate.

You've seen him like this before.

"We can't keep doing this," you shake your head and plead he'll understand; but you know better. It's been nonstop in this give and take of yours, as foolproof as the water cycle.

"We can do this," he insists, but there's no point. His grey eyes spark with life and promise and hope, and despite the grimy streets he stood on Shouta was- without a doubt- beautiful in a radiant holy manner.

Last time, you think receiving that look along side the gentle stroke of his thumb across the inside of your wrist was enough.

"I can't."

You don't look at him- refuse to in fact and the tightening of his grip solidifies your resolve.

His breath hitches, it's a rare thing and hurts all the more. "But you love me. And you know I love you too."

He says it like it makes sense, like in this situation that's all that should matter. Still, too many nights were spent awake and in fear.

You knew too much, after the first time you kept seeing through more and more of this glamour he draped over you like a blessing.

He'll keep pushing. He'll never stop if you don't end it here and it's itching at your heart.

"It's not enough."

You wait a second and settle your stomach easily despite the acid rushing up your throat while hiding behind your closed eyes. "You're not enough."

He lets you go. It could be over, but seeing his foot step closer you figured it may take a little more- he's the type to need to draw conclusions by himself.

You rip your now free arm away from him and stumble back. He looks shocked and hurt, and people are starting to not so subtly group together and watch.

"You're a ghost, Shouta; my own personal monster to terrorize my every breathing moment. I wake up in the morning gasping for air and sleep each night so sure I won't open my eyes again."

You feel tears start to rush and let them flow without resistance. If he sees the way people look at him now he might let go a little easier.

"My phone rings and I'm shaking in fear, and I watch my words even though I know it wouldn't matter." He looks at you with a new layer of shock and maybe horror, though after a second it seems like nothing more like disappointment and regret.

You'd thrown the wire's he'd dispersed around the room that morning. He must've thought they'd be harder to see than the cameras, but your lover was known to underestimate you.

"I can't keep living like this." You look in his eyes clearly now, letting the grim expression filled with heartbreak etch itself uselessly in your memory.

He may not believe you yet, but you square your shoulders and speak directly: "I won't live like this."

It sounds like a threat and a small thrill travels up your spine when it becomes obvious he took it as one. Shouta looks positively devastated at the thought of you being harmed in any way, you supposed being upset was harm in a way.

You've had this feeling, and you swear on your soul that it's true, that if you didn't get out now you might never be able to.

"You're haunting me," you insist with one last tear, "and I think it's time to pass on."

You walk straight ahead- straight towards him- and brush past without looking his way. He lets you go, and that's more than you expected from him.

You took step after step with baited breath held in suspension each block. The farther you got the more you were sure; it was your time to be a ghost. You'd disappear, and you'd never have to think of the monster you found in Hosu ever again.

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

here and now, unhaunted: dovquez [g]

@dovquezdecember bingo + mouth

Marc’s front wheel slams against the side of his own. Dovi wobbles, kicking up sludge and mud. He’s down just like that, sliding on the ground, the bike making a reedy, spluttering noise.

It wasn’t a very hard crash. The corner is narrow, slow—more annoying than anything. Same goes for how he hit the ground. Dovi gets up unsteadily, cazzo stuck on his teeth, then realizes he isn’t dizzy at all, just loose-limbed, relaxed. Amusement curls in the hollows of his chest.

Ahead, Marc has stopped, is running towards him.

He tugs off his helmet. Breathes in the December cold.

Marc takes off his helmet too. His fingers dig into it erratically, the redredred plastic of it, and there’s the cut of his troublesome mouth, pinched tight and tense. His eyes are huge, liquid, staring straight into him—Dovi’s met street dogs with more shame than that. Then considers that someone else might not read it that away. Might see malice in Marc. An insult.

“You could’ve told me we were riding for a title,” he says, deadpan, his voice flat.

Marc’s back straightens. His smile seems knife-thin, deliberate. Strained. It is the thing about Marc—bit of a naked razor, bit of a jerk. Wound tighter than people would like to think about. Dovi snorts out a laugh, pours the dirt from inside his glove.

“I didn’t ride you like this when we were fighting for a title.”

Like hell he didn’t. Dovi levels him with a look, and Marc raises his hands in a mock surrender.

“You know you can’t overtake here, seriously,” Dovi mutters.

He cradles that red-hot flicker of irritation close. Lets it unfurl into the usual harmlessness. Because it isn’t a title fight, and even when it was—

Marc shrugs carelessly. He doesn’t fidget, not really, not anymore, but he keeps looking from Dovi to the snow-licked track. Keeps—thinking, probably. All very obvious. “I know now.”

There’s a moment of suspended silence between them, before Dovi turns back to get his bike up. Marc makes a noise, a faint intake of breath, jaded, ripping around the edges, rooted to the spot. He makes an addendum to his notes—he’s also met street dogs less wary than this.

“That’s a grid penalty, for sure,” he calls out over his shoulder, pretending to shake his fist at him.

Marc frowns. Runs his tongue over his teeth. “But—do you want to?”

Dovi, well. He knows Marc now. The sharp-edged shape of his hurt. There’s no waiting, feeling it. Crystalline tears to mania to a bloodsport. It shouldn’t—charm him so much.

“We still got some fuel,” he says. Smiles.

It’s the easiest thing in the world, to forgive him, to coax him back down. Marc drops his shoulders from somewhere around his ears, rushes on to help him with the bike. From up close, he’s a lovely, devastating thing, shinning with sweat, cheeks pink, the cut of his leathers almost demure. Dovi could—reminds himself sharply that they have dinner to get through.

That it is cold as fuck out there.

Want lingers in his stomach anyway, tugging like a fishhook. Marc, evidently, doesn’t help one bit. Opens his mouth wide and breaks into a loud, shameless cackle. He stares a little, then a lot more. At the cut of his lips, chapped, broad. At the flash of his too white teeth.

Dovi remembers—was it in 2012? Marc, baby-faced, un-fucking-manageable already, looking up at him through his lashes, wrapping his tongue around the fork he’d been holding.

Christ.

“You’re starting from the back of the grid,” Dovi tells him. Doesn’t tug Marc for a kiss.

It’s a very close thing.

He bristles, indignant, gesticulating broadly—that’s way too much time spent in Italy, down to the pathos of his offense. Dovi hides a chuckle in his hand.

“That isn’t fair!”

He shakes his head, helpless as always. “Do you listen to yourself when you talk?”

“Dovi!”

It’s only when he puts on his helmet again that Dovi realizes he’d been smiling.

They don’t race after that, though. Their laps are lazy, sedate, Marc a heartbeat behind him, so overtly, deliberately careful he sighs. It isn’t even subtle. When he slows, so does Marc. When he leaves the insides open, Marc doesn’t lunge.

So he didn’t learn risk management. Dovi shakes his head.

Night falls early. It gets colder, darker, more snow on the track. His fingers creak, protest. Marc’s arm can’t be doing better, he realizes, and that fine needle prickle of worry gets him to get off the bike and herd them inside.

Inside where it is warm, and Dovi can tug off Marc’s gloves, help him out of his knee sliders. He doesn’t mention the way Marc holds his shoulder, or the way he watches him.

“Are you—” He tries, trails off, horribly clumsy in how brazen he is.

Dovi squeezes his wrist once, very light. “No, not really. Bolognese or carbonara?”

He already knows the answer. Carbonara—too heavy for the season.

Marc still watches him. Breaks into a smile that Dovi doesn’t think he even notices. “Carbonara,” he says, and Dovi—

He isn’t such a difficult thing from up close, Marc. Exactly as troublesome as promised, maybe, but not difficult. Not bad.

They eat to the noise of cutlery scraping against the plates. Things unsaid.

“Did you have fun?” Marc asks, earnest, earnest enough to ache, a smear of white sauce in the corner of his mouth.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” He doesn’t budge an inch, bull-stubborn, expectant. “Of course I did.”

Dovi leans in. Cleans that stain with the pad of his thumb, then guides Marc for a kiss with a touch on the hinge of his jaw.

There’s a noise, soft. The kitchen melts away. Marc clambers into his lap gracelessly. There you are, Dovi thinks, triumphant, and keeps him close, a hand on the flat of his back, dinner going cold around them.

[unfriendlies]

garam just watched angel seemingly flirt with the other man, clenching his jaw to keep himself from saying anything. he shouldn't be jealous, he was in no position to be jealous. he'd only just gotten out of a relationship, and a horrible one at that. one that not only affected himself but his best friend, in such a horrid way. this was a good thing, if angel took his attention away from garam and started liking somebody new. he was much safer with darius when he was the one being compared to the other man. "yeah, i should get going." he mumbled coldly in response, letting go of his fork so it clattered loudly against his plate before getting up from the table. with his phone in hand, he left the two men to slip on his shoes and exit angel's place before he even booked a ride. it seemed pretty clear that neither men wanted him there right now so he might as well wait outside. it wasn't too long before his uber was there to pick him up, and shortly after, he was being dropped off at his apartment. garam looked around briefly to make sure his ex wasn't lying about going into work. thankfully, he didn't spot the man's car so he headed up to his apartment. to his surprise, the door was left unlocked. garam could have sworn he locked the door, he never left his apartment without locking the door. so he was a bit weary when he slowly pushed the door open, immediately finding the place in disarray. books and knickknacks were pulled off shelves and thrown on the floor, some of the more delicate pieces he collected had broken on impact. he could see a few glasses pulled from an open cabinet in his kitchen, luckily they weren't shattered on the floor but on the countertop instead. that meant his cat wouldn't have had to walk in broken glass to get to her food and water. he knew this was his ex's doing, how could it not be? after garam had refused to speak to him, going as for to tell the man his constant calls and texts were annoying, of course he was going to retaliate by harming things he valued the most. garam gasped sharply when it hit him, his computer and all of his equipment — the sole means to his livelihood — might have been destroyed. he took off down the hall only to let out a sigh of relief when he opened his door to see everything in the room untouched. it wasn't until he walked over to his bed and sat down that he remembered he was supposed to contact angel to let him know he was home. instead of a call, garam opted to text that he'd gotten home and everything was fine. his cat made a bit of a mess, a lie, and he needed to clean that up quickly but to not worry. he probably spent a hour in total cleaning up the mess, packing up what he thought he would need, moving it all to his car, and then going back up inside to pack up what he'd need to take to his parents place so they could watch his cat for him. it wasn't until he was in his car, all set to head out, that he went to contact angel again. but even now, knowing that he was spending special time with darius, garam opted to text angel again to let him know he was heading over to his parents home, he was going to have lunch with them and it might take longer than expected since he knew his mom would want to talk. almost two hours had passed before it hit him just how long he'd been gone. as much as he wanted angel to be happy, he really didn't want that happiness to come from darius. there was just something about that man that garam didn't like. so he was quick to head out as to not give angel and darius too much time together.

in his haste to get back to angel's place, he completely forgot to call the man to say he was on his way back from his parents' place. he was too focused on the mess of his life and the possibility of losing angel to get into contact with him to say he was coming back. even when he'd gotten back to the other man's home and brought his things up to the front door, he didn't think to call or text that he was back. he knocked on the door and when nobody answered, garam set his things down on the ground before taking a seat with his back pressed against the door. it was at this point, that garam realized he hadn't reached out to angel since he left his apartment. he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up angel's contact information, hesitating for a moment before he chose to text him again. i'm back, was all that he said at first but he was quick to add in, take your time with him, just so they wouldn't rush back.

Garam's laughter was nice to hear. It put a smile on Angel’s face. He playfully put up his middle finger and pointed his tongue at his best friend. He knew he was being a bit much with his phone call request, but it put him at ease. By the way, Garam reacted, he would fulfill his request. “Tell your parents I said hello. I really should stop by. It’s been a while,” Angel said between bites of food. As they spoke, he could feel Darius' gaze on him. The simmering jealousy coming off of him. “Well, our dinner would have to be lunch if the two of you make dinner.” The annoyance in Darius' voice didn’t try to hide itself. His guest had stopped eating and crossed his arms on the other side of the table. Angel smiled and tilted his head, looking at Darius. “That’s okay. Just spend time with me,” Angel cooed, batting his eyelashes at the man and playfully pouting. He didn’t want to deal with his jealousy and knew flirting with him would shut him up. “I’ll take the dough I already have out of the freezer and buy ingredients to make more. I can teach you to make dough and still have some tonight. Trust me, it will be the best pizza you ever had.” Angel could barely remember their night. His memories consisted of feelings. How panicked and uncomfortable he felt. But not details. He was just happy to have his best friend with him. Angel thought about what toppings he wanted as he stuffed more food into his mouth, checking his watch. “You should get going, Garam. Don’t want to wait too long,” he suggested as he climbed up from the table and headed right over to the freezer. He knew his memory wasn’t the best recently. Taking the dough out now was his best option. “Darius, the faster we go shopping, the more time we have for lunch.” Angel gave another smile, leaning into Darius, liking him. If the man wanted to keep trying even after being told no, he decided to use the man as long as he could. A part of him felt terrible, but he was honest about his feelings. Might as well enjoy the benefits. "We should be back by the time you get home. OH, I will have a key made as well for you"

[dreamwatch]

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Black Friday pop-up event.

Prompts: Black, Friday, "I'm not standing in line for that", Leftovers, Trampled, One Day Only, "I am giving thanks."

Yeah... all of them, and you're right, it was a stupid idea.

Word Count: Pt2 - 3670 | Rating: M | CW: Past suicidal ideation (very subtle, blink and you'll miss, I'm just being cautious) | POV: Mixed - Pt1 Eddie, Pt2 Steve, Pt3 Eddie | Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth CC, Jeff CC, Matt CC, Wayne Munson, disabled Eddie Munson, pining, protective Gareth, protective Steve, kissing, guitars, reference to canon typical injuries, references to blood and injury- please let me know if you think I've missed any.

I'm posting in 3 parts, because this is nearly 12k in total, which is a lot. Mods - hope that's ok! I'll link them all together. :)

Part 2

Steve’s learned a lot about himself this past year.

He’s a good friend, for one, an excellent wing man, even if Robin continues to do her best to get in her own way. 

He’s painfully patient with Dustin and the rest of the little assholes that have literally haunted his every waking moment for the last three years. He loves them, and they know it and they abuse that love on a near daily basis. Sadly, he wouldn’t change them for the world.

He doesn’t love Nancy anymore. He doesn’t want to think on that too much.

He’s done with dating. He’s done with the peacocking that comes with it, the effort of it when the person you’re with is just… okay. Nice enough. Inoffensive. He’s at that point in his life where he just needs something real, someone real, someone full of life, who makes him laugh, who wants to share everything with him. He’s done with quick fucks, the empty feeling of grabbing your clothes and sneaking out of bedrooms, of trying to get your pants on in the back of the bimmer. He wants love, and he’s not afraid to go after it now.

Oh, yeah, and he likes guys.

That’s probably not that much of a revelation, to him at least, Robin had been more intense about it.

“Now you tell me? Not when I was covered in piss and puke on the floor of a public bathroom, Steve, when I was sharing my deepest secrets with you, you tell me now, months later, you’ve had literally months, and it’s at this point in time, randomly while I am trying to re-shelve a weekend’s worth of returns, that you choose to drop this bombshell, this life changing moment, that you’ve been carrying around with you for, how long?”

“A few months.”

“A few months. A few months, he says like it’s no big deal. What is wrong with you?”

What was wrong with him was Eddie Munson. He’s still kind of getting his head around it all to be honest.

The guy thing was there for years, a low level thrum of attraction, of slightly too long looks, of grab-assing and horseplay in locker rooms and showers. Easy to pass off as nothing because they were all doing it, to one degree or another. Some, like Tommy Hagan, were less than subtle about it. 

But the Eddie thing hit him like a bolt of lightning. Never saw it coming. One minute he’s a suspected murderer holding a broken bottle against Steve’s throat and the next Steve’s holding his hand while he’s cuffed to a hospital bed scared out of his mind. 

There’s something to be said for seeing someone at their worst, there’s a pride from watching them climb back and knowing you had a part in that, being able to pat yourself on the back for it. But this isn’t the shared trauma that Robin talks of. This is pretty brown eyes and long lashes, this is dimples you want to sink your fingers into. This is hair you want to touch and hands you want to hold, and lips you want to kiss. 

He’s spent so much time with Eddie over the last seven or eight months, and it’s snowballed; as the months roll on, the number of days they spend together has increased. At first it was to be helpful, for as much as the pair of them loved each other there was no way Eddie would feel comfortable with Dustin taking him to and from the bathroom to take a piss, or to hold his hair back when he puked, or to help him get dressed, or a multitude of other easy things that just became hard for him over night. 

Steve could do those things for him. He wanted to do those things for him.

Eddie has other friends, sure, but Steve was there. He still has nights where all he can see imprinted on the back of his eyelids is Eddie’s corpse, can smell the penny scent of blood. His fingers twitch when he remembers how Eddie’s skin felt slippery, the sudden release of his chest as a rib breaks. 

Those are things Eddie’s friends can’t know, and Steve is happy for them. He truly wishes he didn’t know, either.

They know things Steve doesn’t, however, and he needs their help.

Say what you want about Steve, but when he wants something he goes all out.

So dinner didn’t go well, but there’s not much he can do about that now. But just being there and seeing Eddie’s obvious pleasure at the effort at least did something to lift his spirits. And they had a nice evening, watching TV and talking late into the night until Eddie started to fall asleep on the couch and Steve took that as his cue to say goodnight, as much as he wanted to stay.

He nearly fucked up when he asked if Eddie wanted to hang with him and Robin for the day. He was like, ninety seven per cent sure Eddie would say no, the guy barely leaves the house these days, but just for a second he looked as if he was going to say yes. And that would have put a real crimp on Steve’s plans, because they had nothing to do with ferrying Robin around on a joy ride, and everything to do with Eddie.

He wakes early the day after Thanksgiving, despite the late night, which is not unusual for him; he still runs most days, he enjoys the feel of it, running through choice rather than because he’s trying to stay alive. It’s a decision he gets to make for himself, something he can own, and there hasn’t been an awful lot of that over the last few years.

But today he has a mission, and it starts with Dustin.

When he rolls up to the Henderson house it’s barely eight A.M., and there’s a good chance Dustin will still be in bed. So he does what the little shit heads would do. He bangs on Dustin’s bedroom window.

He peers through just in time to see a bundle of blankets tumble to the floor, Dustin smack in the middle of them. Dustin squints back at him before opening the window.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Your language is shocking, you know that? Is that Eddie? I need to keep you two apart, seriously.”

“I think my language it perfectly reasonable given it’s a holiday and it’s—“ he glances at his watch, “eight! Jesus—“

“—Christ, yeah, yeah I got it. I need help. Where does Gareth live?”

Dustin frowns at him, bleary eyed.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Uh, how about none of your business?” 

“Uh, okay, how about I’m going back to bed now?”

Dustin moves to close the window, Steve reaching to stop him.

“Alright, alright. Jesus,” and for a second Steve thinks he might know where that language is actually coming from. “I’m running an errand for Eddie.”

“What kind of errand?”

This fucking kid.

“The private kind.”

“Why didn’t Eddie give you his address then?”

So, Steve’s tenacious, but maybe he doesn’t always think things through completely.

“Look, I’m trying to do something nice for Eddie, okay? The surprise type of nice, and no offence, but you’re just not that great at keeping your mouth shut.”

Dustin nearly chokes on his indignation. Steve just raises an eyebrow in challenge. The kid hasn’t got a leg to stand on, and he knows it.

“Fine!” Dustin huffs, then wanders into his room to find a pen and some paper. He’s back a second later, thrusting the yellow note paper at Steve.

“Thank you. Now was that so hard?”

Dustin flips him the bird in response.

“Okay, go back to bed you little shit. Call you tomorrow.”

“Make sure you do.”

And with that the window slams shut and Steve can’t help the fond smile as the curtains close.

As it turns out, Gareth doesn’t live all that far from the Hendersons. There’s something off about turning up outside someone’s house that early in the morning when you don’t really know them, and he can’t imagine Gareth is going to appreciate a knock on the door from him at anytime of the day honestly, so he sits in his car a few spots further up the street. He should have got a coffee and a donut, go the full Chief Hopper route.

Steve waits patiently for a little action inside the house, trying to gauge if people are up, had their breakfast, that kind of thing, when there’s a rumble from the opposite end of the street. He checks his rear view mirror and watches as a blue AMC Pacer struggles to climb the hill. He knows that car from the the Hawkins High parking lot, though it usually has music blaring from it. This morning it seems to be respectfully peaceful. He doesn’t get a chance to ponder it much further. It parks up outside Gareth’s place and Jeff climbs out, Matt pouring out behind him. 

Steve waits patiently for them to go in the house, door opened by a bleary eyed Gareth with a nest for hair and blue check boxers fully on display. It takes twenty minutes for them to leave, this time everyone looking a little more awake. He pulls his keys from the ignition and opens the door.

“Hey.”

The three of them turn to face him all at once, glaring at him once they recognise him.

“Can we help you?” asks Gareth with a sneer. 

Steve’s well aware these guys don’t like him, though he has no fucking clue why other than ‘you jock, me nerd’ which is total bullshit. He’s had a lot to work through this last few years, and part of that has been to stop apologising for who he was. Because firstly, he wasn’t that bad. A low key douche, but he wasn’t mean with it (Jonathan Byers being the exception, and he has apologised profusely). So you know, fuck these guys, honestly. 

However, he also kind of needs them today.

“Uh, Henderson mentioned you were headed into Indy today? Shopping?”

“What’s it to you?” asks Matt.

“I need a favour. I have a— cousin? My cousin, yeah, so he’s staying with me at the moment and the guy’s had a tough year and I want to like, get him something nice, but I have no idea what.”

Jeff shakes his head. “We’re not personal shoppers, dude, how the fuck—”

“He’s one of you. He’s like a—” Steve gestures broadly at them, “Like, a metalhead, you know. And he plays guitar.”

“Oh my God,” laughs Matt, “There’s a cool Harrington? This is I have to see.”

And he and Jeff yuck it up, but Gareth isn’t. Gareth is looking at him, really looking and Steve thinks this was a fucking mistake. He feels a little naked out on this street, his insides on the outsides for this one person to scrutinise. 

“Yeah, okay,” says Gareth, eventually. “So what do you want from us?”

He pulls a crumpled up page from the back pocket of his jeans. “This guitar store is having a sale, one day only. Store opens at ten, but like, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Matt grabs the paper from him. “Holy shit, you want to buy him a guitar? Can I be your cousin?”

“He— uh, lost his. And like, it was a big deal to him, you know? I can’t stretch to much, but I thought, maybe with the sale…” He shrugs.

While Jeff and Matt look at the ad, Gareth doesn’t take his eyes off him.

“Why didn’t you ask Eddie?”

It makes the other two pause and makes a little piece of Steve’s stomach drop.

“I was going to but, uh, he mentioned he was staying home. And you know, you guys know just as much about this shit as he does.”

He’s not above a bit of flattery to get what he wants.

“I need new strings, actually,” says Matt, staring at the crumpled paper.

“Shit, theres like fifty per cent off some of this stuff,” Jeff says, snatching the ad. “Time to get a new pedal.”

Gareth continues to try and bore holes through him with his eyes, so he decides to up the ante, offers to drive so they don’t all have to pile into Matt’s piece of shit Pacer, and he’ll buy them lunch, and sure, he’ll take them wherever they want to go in the city, and he’s starting to regret this, until Gareth says the magic word:

“Sure.”

It’s laced with suspicion and confusion, but fuck it, Steve will take it. He only needs them for a few hours.

The drive is uneventful. Jeff and Matt share college stories, telling Gareth about the parties they’re going to, the clubs they’ve joined, and in Matt’s case the pussy he’s getting. Steve nearly chokes on a Twizzler.

“Dude? ‘Pussy’? Really?”

“What? Since when have you been so puritanical? I can’t help it if the ladies flock to me.”

 He’s desperately trying to not upset this particular apple cart, but Jesus they don’t make it easy.

Matt reaches through the back seats, looking to change radio stations, until Gareth slaps his hand and tells him to sit the fuck down.

“What about you, Harrington?” asks Matt.

Steve shoots him a look in the rearview mirror. “What about me?”

“Got any college plans?”

They have to know he doesn’t, and his skin itches with annoyance. He’s trying to be really nice for lot’s of reasons; right now because he needs them, but also their Eddie’s friends, Dustin and Mike and Lucas’s friends as well come to think of it. Jeff and Matt might not be around, but Gareth very much is. They weren’t around much to begin with, and Steve didn’t ask about that, not really his place and he kind of had bigger problems at the time, what with two friends in the hospital, El in hiding from the army and half the town crumbled to ash. But things seem to be better between them all now; Eddie has letters from them in a sweet little box he made on his desk, and a pennant from Loyola on his wall. Gareth comes over a couple of times a week to hang out with him. So it’s all on the up. But they still piss Steve off, and he’s entitled to that.

“Nope, just living the dream at Family Video.”

It’s a conversation killer, and he’s just pissed off enough not to care. Instead he cranks up the radio, Peter Cetera crooning The Glory of Love blasts from the speakers, though not loud enough to cover the groaning and Matt pretending to be sick.

They make it to Indy just before ten A.M. The store is much bigger than he expected. It also has a queue snaking down the block.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Gareth smirks at him. “It’s a black Friday sale, man. Fifty percent off this stuff is no joke. You thought you could just wander in like it’s a fricking Kroger? Jesus.”

“I want my pedal,” says Jeff as he wanders to the back of the queue.

Matt shakes his head. “Well, I’m not waiting in line for that.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to cross the street. “I’m going to Tower. I’ll meet you back at the King-mobile in an hour. Enjoy getting trampled!”

“King-mobile?” Steve mutters under his breath. “Asshole can walk home.”

He spends an awkward thirty minutes in line, listening to Jeff and Gareth arguing about music and games and a load of other shit Steve doesn’t know anything about, before Jeff tries to include him in the conversation, seemingly to Gareth’s annoyance. Eventually they’re in, and goddamn there are a lot of guitars; floor to ceiling, brand after brand, every colour and finish you can imagine. It’s oddly exciting, despite the fact he can’t play and has no idea what any of this stuff is. He gets a flash of the odd price ticket and his heart sinks. He’s not short of money, sure, but some of these would make an impressive hole in his savings account.

Jeff and Gareth desert him almost immediately, off playing with the toys, so Steve wanders through the store on his own, knocking shoulders occasionally with actual musicians trying out guitars. There’s a hum of activity, snippets of solos and songs he mostly doesn’t recognise filling the space around them. He’s out of his depth, but all the assistants are busy, and he hasn’t got a clue what he’s asking for anyway. So he does laps around the store looking at each guitar trying to size it up.

He stops when he gets to a rainbow wall of B.C. Rich guitars. He knows which one is Eddie’s, a red and black Warlock that was lost to the netherworld when Eddie’s trailer fell into the the void. They don’t have the same one, and his heart sinks a little until he spots a glossy black version He reaches out tentatively.

“Not that one.”

Steve spins, and comes face to face with Gareth. 

“What?”

Gareth looks conflicted, looks around as if he thinks he’s going to be overheard. The hustle and bustle of shoppers continues, the solos and music continue to cycle from song to song. 

“Not the Warlock.”

Steve finds himself mirroring Gareth, eyes fluttering around the store, falling on Jeff as he tries out a pedal.

“I don’t—”

“I don’t know what he went through back in March, but I know it was bad enough for him to sell his guitar. So—”

“Wait,” Steve starts, raising his hand. “He sold it? I thought he lost it in the earthquake?”

Gareth shakes his head. “I was with him, dude. He was so desperate to offload it he let it go for a hundred bucks. So if you’re looking to get him a new one, which I think is a bad idea by the way, then maybe don’t replace the one he just got rid of with the exact same model. I’m guessing there was a reason he didn’t want it anymore.”

“Why are we talking about Eddie? I told you, this is for my—”

“—you’re cousin, right. Well, my advice is don’t buy your cousin a Warlock. He won’t thank you for it.”

And with that he slinks off into the store, joining up with Jeff as he tests out a pedal, leaving Steve standing in front of a wall of guitars with no fucking clue what he’s doing, and feeling horribly seen in a way he doesn’t have the fortitude to unravel in the middle of a guitar store in Indianapolis. 

He goes back to the car, radio playing Duran Duran while he can enjoy it before the three ungrateful shit heads pile in and abuse his good will by mocking literally everything about him. Eddie getting rid of the guitar makes no sense to him, but the more he thinks the more it dawns on him that he’s never heard Eddie play. Like, not ever. Even without the BC Rich there are two other guitars in his room, and Steve has spent a lot of time with Eddie over the last few months, and he’s never touched them once that he knows of. It doesn’t make any sense.

Except… his left hand shakes. A lot. And he rarely uses a knife, just uses a fork in his right hand, which Steve only notices because he notices everything about Eddie. Or he thought he had. He missed the biggest part of him. Eddie lost his music and Steve didn’t even notice. 

Jeff and Gareth are back at the car on time, Matt only twenty minutes late, a record according to Jeff. True to his word Steve takes them to lunch, a diner called Sandy’s they all seem overly excited about. They’re talking among themselves and he finds himself content to listen as they talk about things they got up to with Eddie. Hearing about his escapades from before, back when Eddie was still just the school freak and high school super super senior, makes his chest ache. He wants to know that Eddie, wishes he’d had a chance to meet him and hang out before all the Upside Down crap stole their youth from them. But it hits him all at once that he could have had that, if his head hadn’t been stuck so far up Tommy Hagan’s ass. 

He bites into his hot dog and keeps it to himself.

It’s late afternoon when they get back to Hawkins, and he drops everyone back at Gareth’s where they started this monumental waste of a day. Jeff and Matt thank him as they get out of the car, but Gareth hesitates before putting his hand on the door handle. 

“Blue,” Gareth says, like he doesn’t want to, like Steve grabbed him by the throat and threatened him for it. “He likes blue. He doesn’t tell anyone, says it’s not metal.”

“Uh, okay…” 

“And he gets the chilli dog, with extra onions at Sandy’s. With the cheese fries. And a large peanut butter malt. That’s his order.”

And like, what the fuck? Steve’s head spins with it, with the fact that Gareth knows something, he has seen something in Steve, and just how far does that go? How transparent is he that this kid who he barely knows has managed to just lift the lid on him and take out all his hidden parts? 

“People haven’t been good to him. He likes you for some reason, so just, don’t fuck him up. That’s all I’m asking, man.”

And with that he gets out of the car, leaving Steve in a whirlwind of panic, and with problems still unsolved.

He needs to talk to Wayne.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

In this whole HnM saga Harry's psychology is more interesting to me than Meghan's.

She can be possibly explained as someone who has an over exaggerated sense of self-importance and wants more and more of everything she sees as above and beyond her reach. She is obsessed with how she is perceived, what others think of her. This is very obvious from some of her favourite words and phrases - "seeing through the lense of xyz", "bespoke" "curated through the lense of.." etc etc. She wants to be what someone will like, revere, aspire to be and hence she is fixated on the PR angle of everything from day1. As opposed to showing or sharing what she truly is and using that to build her brand (which any long-term successful pr strategy usually is based on)

Harry on the other hand ... !!

I think it's his paranoia, ego, insecurity and resentment that set the ball rolling on the clusterfuck that is megxit.

Some anons pointed out that William and Harry both did silly stupid kid things growing up but Harry was used as a scape goat while William was protected. I'd argue that whatever Harry did WAS indeed so stupid, so odd that it had to be reported while Williams behavior was more in step with normal teenage behavior, so it wasn't noteworthy enough (as compared to Harry or other royals)

I've read a lot of books on Diana - Ken wharf, sally bedel smith, lady c, Wendy berry, jepson. (I revisited them again when youtuber Vintage book reads did book reviews for these and realised I had read these).

A common theme that emerges from these is that William and Diana were more like a bunch of naughty children in cahoots than a traditional mother-child relationship. They did everything together, spent a lot of quality time, laughed, created mischief, watched tv, visited friends together etc. William was there for nearly all of Diana's major life moments and was an active witness to everything she went through - good, bad and crazy. She talked to him, she shared with him, she considered him to be a whole, independent person rather than just a little boy of 6, 8,10,12 or 15 years. She gave him a lot of importance.

Maybe because he came along when she was just about 20 and they sort of grew up together, but their bond was tight. They knew eachother as humans. He also, at a very young age, had an authoritative say in her life. His approval or disapproval mattered to her a great deal. She was utterly dependant on him emotionally.

From a psychology point of view we could argue that William was a proxy for Charles, her father, her mother and she had a dependent personality disorder with William as a surrogate for whatever she wanted emotionally that she couldn't demand from others. He being a child gave to her freely, uninhibitedly.

Harry on the hand came along much later so she was a more distant mother to him (because parenting was different in royal circles in the 80s than it is for us regular folks). His parents couldn't stand eachother, so he rarely saw them interacting lovingly or functioning as a unit. Probably why he doesn't understand how healthy relationships look, or why he was jealous of Catherine or the Wales kids. But he saw how Diana+William functioned. How cohesive they were. He was just a witness while those two were a unit.

And so he developed a more attention seeking personality to get his mother's attention (and in turn Williams). If William was on his side, so was his mother (that's a childs way of thinking).

If he wanted his mother, then William came as a package deal (because of the dynamics of Diana William relationship)

Her attention was never exclusive. Whatever she gave to Harry, William would have it too, or he would he would have it first or he would have more. (In terms of emotionality associated with her time or their quality time).

Now, he couldn't control that. But later in life when he saw (or thought he saw) the same dynamic in his royal life - The sausages, the bigger room, the quality time with granny, the army honours, the close friends, the wife, the kids, the bigger homes etc - that's when he could do something. If nothing, just pointing out that this disparity exists is a huge deal for an insecure, resentful person. The problem is t even the things that William gets, because those things are secondary. The problem become William who is the person who got those things. (Talk about unconscious bias, eh!)

In reality the age gap between the boys was barely 2 years. Outside of their little bubble with mum there wasn't much difference between the 2 brothers. They went everywhere together, they got everything together, they had the same friend circle, same likes and dislikes, same schools, same everything as kids. Mainly because of the kind of relationship their parents had they always had to either be with their mum or with their dad. Not much alone quality time without the other brother because the dynamics of the separation and their lifestyle meant the brothers were always grouped together.

Yet within that, William got quality as well as quantity, or that's how Harry the spectator saw it as. When it came to mum, William got more while Harry was just looking on.

In all the books I've mentioned above, it's always William who Diana chooses to do something with, they have some mischievous secret while Harry is barely mentioned, and usually as an afterthought. They got their tv dinners and tea parties and confidences and arguments, while Harry just took in that experience as a spectator. Like watching a movie as opposed to living in it.

He was happy as long as he got any attention. Whether it's Diana, Charles or the staff. So he goes alone and does his own thing mostly. He is indulged as any curious child is, but when he, he thinks that's extra attention. So in his mind he then becomes more important than William. So the child Harry thinks he alone knows he is better than William, no one else does, and that is his little secret.

Later after she died, they kids were teenagers. Their anchor had gone. But they were naturally at the point in life where they experiment and have new experiences. It's normal for teens to be angsty, angry, rebels, defy authority, try alcohol, sneak off, party etc.

But the problem was that Harry was doing that for attention. He was pulling away. His resentment against his brother was probably unconsciously growing but he didn't know that yet (still does not). As a kid he wondered why William got more of Diana and more of a respect that he did when they were the same. And as a teen he was angry why William, now without Diana the anchor, wasn't with him as much. He couldn't make friends or the ones that were appropriate. And the group he was in was always getting in trouble with drinks, drugs and idiotic shenaigans.

Nobody had ever told him what to do, he always just went along. And as a teen when he was expected to follow rules he couldn't understand the concept.

He was rudderless, clueless, aimless. Smoking at school, doing weed relentlessly, endlessly, binge drinking, bullying others, bullying his PPOs they are all bad things. It was abnormal behaviour. And as much as Harry likes to say "William did it too", he did not. William was not stumbling into sixth form drunk off of his arse. William wasn't doing drugs and shagging staff behind the pub, William was streaking naked through the house during his father's birthday. William wasn't making fun of other pupils. William wasn't stumbling out of pubs at age 15,16,18 and vomitting on passers by. Harry was.

Ad hominen fallacy is Harry's favorite defence mechanism. Doesn't make it acceptable, logical or necessarily true.

William on the hand seems to have gained some maturity and insights into human behaviors watching his mom and others who mingled with her. He was there after all, his opinions were caught, he probably thought he was the only one who could actually save her from herself and others trying to manipulate her.

He probably learnt early on that adults arnt always right, good or know everything because he had to think on his own. His sense of self from a very young age was acknowledged and respected so he later learnt to differentiate between confidence and ego (mainly because he had to, he was also alone without his anchor person). He had to become a person and find an identity that was away from his predestined path of becoming king one day.

He fought hard and was belligerent also (as per many courtiers) but I think that's because he also struggled a lot coming to terms with the path that was set for him since before birth. He didn't choose his life, he was born in this, so he tried to make it as much his own thing as he could. Which we see in how he operates today, how and how much he works, his choice in where they live, how he deals with his team, where he lives, how he keeps his family away from the toxicity, his relationship with the middltons etc.

Harry and William have both struggled and gone through some horrible life situations which needed them to grow up fast and choose a life path.

They chose the exact opposite.

Harry's jealousy stems from his childhood issue of seeing William being better adjusted with what he got versus he, Harry, having to begrudgingly, asked to be content.

[amethystfairy1]

Hello there! I've just come from ao3 and I've spent basically the entirety of the last two days reading the entirety of TTSBC, *inhale* AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH OH MY GOSH YOU'RE AN INCREDIBLE WRITER YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I'VE ENJOYED READING THIS AND ALSO THERE'S SO MUCH OF IT!!!

Seriously the fact that you manage to write so much and so well is incredibly impressive and I really admire you for it

Also I don't know how to bring across how much I LOVE your worldbuilding. It's one of my favourite things to pick up on as a story progresses, and the world you've created is so vivid and facinating and beautiful

Also I feel the need to grumble a teensy tiny bit about the cliffhanger with Grian- sorry, CuteGuy- getting injured becuase that was evil. I mean he was shot?? By whom??? It's probably thanks to that new head of Council (what was his name?)

Literally obsessed with Flower Husbands btw, their relationship is so sweet, and I've loved watching them progress from pining crushes to early relationship and having to work around the things that they don't know/understand to living together and slowly working out their issues (excited to see Scott's skeletons being tackled more btw) and being so cute and the poppy earrings and the trip to the undercity and the constant reassurances and- *wails distantly* It's so good.

And while we're in a ranting mood, how about Treebark and how Martyn (mirroring Scott) wanted more but didn't pressure Ren with anything because he understood he needed time and also (again mirroring Scott) decided he wanted to put the dagger down and give Ren all the roses. How he tried so hard to keep it together when he literally stumbled across the undercity and spontaneously had to (didn't technically, he chose to) go through the whole "meeting the (terrifying) family thing" because it was important to Ren. How Ren's first instinct was to protect him, even though he really didn't know how Martyn would react, and he was so scared it would be bad, and-

Or I could ramble on about Doc and Etho and how beautiful their relationship is, with all the crazy things they manage and do from day-to-day, and their darling Pesky Birds and Little Spark. There's a very unique feeling I get when I read how their early days in the depths were, it's so heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time, and I can't help but love it.

Or I could give you a paragraph about Grian and Scar and how their secrets and double lives unravelled, albeit messily in places, and how now there's just love, even though they haven't said it out loud (ahem, evil, evil cliffhanger) yet, and working around their differences and struggles, and cookies, and the coffee that Scar makes them in the mornings, and the shiny three-ringed binder, and-

I could go on about the under-city, this world under the surface, both dangerous and beautiful. Or Grian, Pearl and Jimmy and how much they mean to each other, absolute chaos and unwavering support. Or our wonderful, loving, chaotic family of six (yes, six, Tango for the love of god you're part of it too even if your relationship with them looks different), Tango and Zed and their issues that they probably really need get sorting out, Cleo and Bdubs (gods that one where they met healed and broke me in equal measure), the Empires Family (they're so dear to me), Nature Wives(I loved how they met), etc, etc, etc.

I could keep going, but I won't in this already super long ask (sorry about that by the way, wasn't really intended). I may rant in the future, if you'd like to hear it

Needless to say, the brainrot has gotten to me and I'd like it to stay please and thank you.

Sorry again for how incredibly long this turned out to be, but I hope it fulfills it's purpose and brings you joy <3 Have a good timezone!

Oh my stars thank you thank you! I'm so glad you enjoy my work so much I love the rambles! It's always so cool to me to see what parts of my stories stand out to people! Please never apologize for the rambles!!!

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Just realized that almost none of the straw-hats know how to dance. Like dance with a partner type dance. Legit i think the only one who knows is Usopp and thats because he learned with Kaya

Looking at the crew you think itd be Sanji. And he most definitely considers dancing a skill a gentleman must know. But like, who taught him?? Zeff? A fellow cook? Like i know he was a prince but considering his upbringing and how young he was when he got out i dont think he actually got around to it

Nami spent years shackled in a room and she had much more important things to focus on when she was finally sent out

Zoro? His whole life has been dedicated to the blade. "Isnt sword fighting like dancing?" well Zoro thinks that and then utterly fails and never tried again. And we all know this man could never lead. Man cant find a kitchen in a house how's he suppose to not suddenly forget he's leading a dance?

I was gonna say Luffy had no chance except for the fact Shanks' crew probably know how to dance but then i remembered Garp. And theres like army balls so the marines probably have them too. So maybe Garp has forced Luffy to go to one or two of them but even if Luffy managed to make it through lessons theres no way he wasnt at the food table 100% of the time

(I just finished the Loguetown arc so im not actually familiar with the other characters yet but I do know theres a reindeer that lived with doctors so i dont think anyone got around to teaching him and i think i read somewhere Robin has been on the run since she was a child so again who? when? how? would she have learned)

(The poor music skeleton man. He probably knows how to dance. But none of his audience members know how to dance to the lovely slow songs he's been playing for the last 30 minutes)

Anyways now im imagining Usopp teaching the four of them to dance and Sanji is stuck with Luffy bc Nami didnt want to partner with Sanji so she's stuck with Zoro and they're barely restraining from killing each other

Nami: stop stepping on my feet!

Zoro: then move your foot!

Nami: i did! You're moving the wrong foot!

Zoro: no im not!

Nami: you're leading! You're suppose to use your right foot!

Zoro: i am using my right foot!

Nami: that's your left!

Eventually they switch partners and Nami and Luffy get it down and are having fun while Sanji and Zoro are strangling each other in the background

Sanji eventually gets it down. Zoro gives up until one day he finds out ultra clumsy Glasses can dance during a joint celebration and he's not about to lose to her... no it has nothing to do with the fact he wants a excuse to hold her hand and be close to her shut up