#I would love to see some sort of closure to the story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mortal-song · 4 months ago

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the problem with tua's ending is that it was IMPOSSIBLE to do without retconning and defacing the themes and characterizations that have been central to the story since the very first episode. if you had to end it that way, if it really was "the plan all along," then fine. there ARE good ways to do that -- so the execution should have been much different here if that was the case. take a look at "the good place," for example. everyone ceased to exist at the end of that story as well, but it was beautifully done because it ADDED to the show's core themes rather than take away from them. tua's ending was hollow and unavailing. at some point i have to commend the precision with which someone can desecrate an entire series and certain characters (looking at five, diego and lila especially) like this.

it made no sense. diego and lila formed a beautiful (albeit chaotic) relationship built upon mutual trust and authentic love that neither of them had ever experienced before. it was something they were teaching each other and learning together. that was a new beginning to them, and it was painted as such by the narrative. at no point were there hints that things would go sideways, no build up. every time they stumbled in the past it was still right back into each other's arms. at no point did their chaos look like an ending until it was shoved in our faces for... shock value? to shake things up? i fail to understand where it came from. they were relentlessly devoted to each other and the only two people who could stand each other for long. and so what became of them was very jarring. very messy.

five's ENTIRE character has been focused on and motivated by one thing: saving the people he loves. to the point that he was willing to let his own humanity become a forgone ideal, a renounced concept, as many times as it took. to the point that he essentially INVENTED TIME TRAVEL and INVENTED THE COMMISSION TO REGULATE IT. five's stoic exterior only barely concealed the claw-grip he had on every single family member, so why forget it now? why choose to go back on that? and in what world would five hargreeves willingly wait MONTHS to return to his family? because he was SUDDENLY in love with lila, no less? forgetting the very apparent fact that his age and body are not in alignment, five had never shown any interest in romance. especially not towards lila. but they do have very similar backgrounds, and so this was a chance to enrich the mutual understanding five and lila have with each other, expand the familial connections they have, especially seeing as how both of them -- in their own ways -- spent most of their life without that sort of connection.

ben's entire arc felt so, so out of place. completely and very ironically isolated from the entire rest of the series. nothing about it was fulfilling, nothing about it offered any sense of closure or even development. jennifer made no sense even as a plot device, much less as her own character. these two brought out nothing in each other.

klaus had the foundations of a good arc, but too much was introduced in too small an amount of time and none of it really went anywhere. i can say roughly the same for allison and viktor. THAT being said, of most of the scenes i did find myself genuinely enjoying this season, THOSE three were usually at the center! in fact, i really did love the scenes with klaus, allison, and claire. so that's cool. i guess. luther? he was just kind of... there?

and ray just fucked off with no explanation? okay. and reginald? until this point he had all the qualities of a potentially VERY GOOD and nuanced villain. his arc fell flat. and let's not forget all the other loose ends, but, you know, we've been here long enough. so. onto the next point.

none of these characters got to heal. none of them ever got to revel in anything meaningful, or, rather, the things that WERE meaningful across the whole series were rendered worthless because... none of it exists anymore! none of it ever existed! this is like an "it was all a dream" ending but much worse. and these characters are so, so incredible. i can only name a few other stories that have had characters i've connected to this deeply. and despite everything i could never really stop loving them. that makes it hurt more though tbh

anyways. i know i'm about to sound incredibly dramatic but the ending made me sob my lungs out. this show was really important to me. it led me to incredible people, other incredible stories, helped me live, etc. but i honestly found myself wishing i'd just never watched this series at all. the ending was eviscerating and Just Fucking Pointless. i don't think i'm ever going to be able to rewatch it. it's still hard for me to conceptualize that it was even real, that this is all we get. there's a lot more i could say about everything, but again, i've said a lot already and i'm not trying to write a fucking novel. i'll say more of what i want to in sporadic bursts i guess.

#the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #lila pitts #umbrella academy

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phoenixcatch7 · 5 months ago

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Honestly I'd really like to see a mxtx3 story where wwx and xl work with Sqq to reveal sqq's true backstory and the system to lbh.

I mean, think about it!! One of the biggest problems with scum villain is how even though they get together, unlike the other couples bingqiu is still left with all these huge secrets that massively affect them both. Lbh is left believing he married his mercurial abuser, that his suffering passed some sort of indefinable test that proved him worthy of basic rights. That Sqq threw him in the abyss of his own volition. That Sqq was really sacrificing his life and not faking his death with intent to survive.

Sqq is left knowing all these things but unable to act on them, unable to tell his husband about his own past, unable to explain his actions, never able to fully let his guard down because he's supposed to be shen qingqiu. He can't even tell his own husband his original name!! If he could have, he would have, even if only in the extras!

But can you imagine???

A meeting of bingqiu, wangxian, Hualian, for whatever reason, and as the three (actual) protagonists chat and gossip and get to know each other, as they talk, Sqq is at ease enough to slip up and finds out he can talk about the system to anyone from outside pidw! Not just sqh!! Maybe not completely, but he can mention some, and the other two, concerned for their new friend, are clever enough to tease the rest out. They're horrified. Sqq is resigned but freshly hopeful.

And so begins Mission: Save Sqq's Marriage!

(Sqq would very much like to contend the title but he is out voted.)

I'd just love to see the three of them (with unquestioning aid from their husbands) get up to hijinks and face existential horrors on a quest to help bingqiu get the closure they need. And moshang too, I guess XD.

It'd also be very, very funny to have them all in the middle of the latest traumatic and/or mortifying scene look around at the other two like 'hey, aren't you supposed to be freaking out now? This is normally the part people start screaming' and the other two are like 'I mean I guess?? We've got things to do though' like kings of unflappable repression right there.

(and lbh and lwj having vinegar-offs while hc is sighing dreamily watching his husband make semi decent friends for once)

Like there's a bunch of crossovers but none really scratch that itch, you know? The main characters of all 3 mxtx?? There's so much potential for Truly Unhinged Shenanigans!! Wangxian visiting pidws wife plot filled world and disappearing into the wilderness for a full week, coming back with every single piece of clothing they brought ruined. Hualian go visit mdzs and and no one believes xl is a diety and hc chomping at the bit to kill them for the injustice. Bingqiu going to tgcf and lbh getting mistaken for a calamity, or Sqq falling into the one wife plot kidnapping or something intended for a diety.

But seriously imagine Sqq complaining about something and wwx and xl immediately going 'that's not right! You deserve better!!' and Sqq is like 'no it's fine I'm used to it' and the other two slam their fists on the table like 'no!!! If [husband] was forced to keep that kind of secret I'd hate it!! You two deserve to be properly happy!! Let us help! We can fix this!' and start working with zeal and vigor while Sqq trails along embarrassed half heartedly muttering 'it's not that bad >:/'.

And when it works (presumably some clever loophole they stumbled on) and bingqiu are tearfully kissing they share a low five without looking. Or that one meme where the person getting kissed holds their hand back and their wingman enthusiastically high fives it but there's two wingmen XD!

I don't knowww but it'd be such a good premise! Ripe for character interactions!! Fluff! Crack! Angst! Daytrips and pouring their hearts out to people who'd really understand! Xl wwx and Sqq bestie team up! Meeting moshang! Wwx info dumping about his monster index categorisation to an enthralled Sqq! Xl and Sqq bemoaning etiquette while wwx laughs at them! Xl and wwx having intense discussions about morality and righteousness! All three of them laughing at how oblivious they were about their husbands, each trying to one the other two for Dumb Moments They Should Have Realised (Sqq wins by horrifying the other two)!

Forget cross country kidnappings and being locked in a room! Where is my protagonist trio getting into trouble on a self imposed mission to help their friend! Let their magnetism for insanity shine!!

#All three idiots when faced with a 'sacrifice a party member to escape' situation: *how do I ensure they pick me?*#Their husbands sprinting after them blades drawn: *how do we stop them from sacrificing themselves again?!*#svsss #mdzs #tgcf #Mxtx #mxtx tgcf #mxtx svsss #mxtx mdzs #mxtx fandom #mxtx novels #mo xiang tong xiu #crossover #What do you even call the triple mxtx crossover??#shen qingqiu #wei wuxian #Impressed by the amount of misspelled wwx #xie lian #bingqiu #wangxian #hualian #I feel the introvert husbands would be a bit salty their beloved isn't spending as much time with them but they'd also be vibing in the #Middle distance for the majority of the time lmao. They're all in the same room mostly ignoring each other having a great time #Husband watching while the protags have brunch and gossip #They'd try a triple date once and it'd go disastrously lmao. The husbands would get all competitive and pda and decadent #So they've been banned #In all fairness I think lbh and hc would get along pretty well.

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saras-almanac · 3 days ago

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So I’ve been sitting on my feelings about the BuckTommy breakup and handling of it for a while, trying to get my thoughts in order. And after a while of thinking on it—and the recent Lou interview dropping making me feel like my feelings are valid—kind of made me want to just blurt them all out and hope for the best. So this is that.

Ultimately the entire handling of the BuckTommy breakup feels cruel. And not just cruel in an intentional way, but cruel in a casually, not even given any thought cruelty, which is worse sometimes. And to be honest, I think that’s part of why I’ve been struggling with it so much. (That and the echoes of Magicians season 4, which if you know you know).

What I mean by cruelty is just the lack of any real effort or care put into this storyline, one that they had previously been handled with so much care and concern and were praised (rightly so) for at the time. It’s the way they introduce this Tommy as Abby’s ex thing, which makes hardly any sense at all, but also feels cruel in the intention of laughing at the invisible string of fate theory between them. It’s they way that they’re 6 months anniversary and not only have they not talked about this, but Buck (Evan Buckley) didn’t get him a gift that feels cruel because that feels so wildly out of character for him. It’s the way they had the break up play into some bisexual stereotypes at best and inherently biphobic at worst by having Maddie suggest Abby turned him gay or that Buck needs to “explore” things to figure out what he wants or that Buck “Doesn’t know what pond to jump back into” of it all. (Not to mention the comments from OS about wanting Buck to fuck—which I’m not getting into because I didn’t read it and as a bisexual woman, don’t feel the need to go and try to find something that might upset me more.)

All those reasons are why the breakup itself is cruel to the characters, but it’s also cruel to those of us watching, and especially to anyone and everyone who loved and/or related to the character of Tommy, who we see walk away much much worse off than when we found him. It’s the way the story (intentionally or not) is framing it like a romcom break up – make up – pining storyline which they apparently are not doing according to interviews. It’s the way they didn’t give any sort of closure to Tommy for the character or for the audience.

There’s a reason that people lose themselves in stories—it’s because they follow certain rules and contracts. It’s expected that stories do not match up to real life because while things don’t have bigger meanings in life or they don’t work out according to plan, in stories, everything happens for a reason. Because that’s the whole point of what you’re consuming. And along with that, emotional moments are meant to feel cathartic in a way, at least eventually, because you were able to see the bigger picture, to feel the finality to things, and to really understand what’s being said and what’s happening. This breakup does none of that and actually seems to have been included and rushed for shock value and that to me, is just shitty, lazy writing.

If you were going to break them up and have no desire for any sort of reunion or closure, why not make it intentional? Tommy could be the one who wants marriage and kids and settling down and Buck internally freaks out because theoretically he wants that but maybe it’s too soon and as much as Tommy loves Buck, he’s not going to wait around and hope that Buck feels the same for him because he’s been hurt too many times like that. Or Tommy could be leaving for another state because he’s no longer going to be a firefighter or needs to go for family reasons or gets a job at a different station that he applied for ages ago and he has everything all set up and isn’t going to ask Buck to leave his entire life for Tommy, so they decide to breakup even if it hurts both of them. In either of those cases, it’s sad and devastating, but at least there would be some closure to it and understanding of it for both the characters and the audience and some peace knowing that at least these two are going to be moving toward happiness in whatever way that means for them.

Instead, what we have, is a hail-mary last-second breakup that comes out of nowhere and feels abrupt and crappy in the way we leave Tommy specifically because we might never see him again. And that is the crux of the issue. Because the way this was written, the understanding is that they are going to get back together or reunion or at least have that final closure conversation—because that’s what happens in stories. We see this type of surprise breakups, breakups where they issue is they love each other too much and are afraid to go further (Athena/Bobby and Maddie/Chimney to name two examples we saw in universe) only to eventually fight to be together and realize that if they don’t take a chance they might never know how amazing it is. So the fact that it’s set up to follow this same path while nearly every interview is telling the opposite, again demonstrates that casual cruelty as well as an inherent failure on the writing. If you have to go in interview and explain what it is you wrote or are telling, then you have failed as a writer. It’s really as simple as that.

This breakup doesn’t feel set up or foreshadowed, it just feels like they added it on because they didn’t want to do anything more with it? And that feels incredibly crappy as a decision to so many people who related to Buck and Tommy and them coming out later in life and all those other things. I’m rambling and on my phone and feeling a lot of things that I can’t fully express right now, but the long and short of it: If this was always intended to be the final time we see Tommy, this breakup is even crueler than intended.

#I just have thoughts and have been thinking about writing this all day so here we are #I don’t know if I’m explaining this well because my thoughts are jumbled and sad #bucktommy #tevan #911 critical #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tim minear #911 abc

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taesanluv3r · 6 months ago

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lost in love songs.

han taesan x reader

a short, three part, friends to lovers story.

ੈ✩‧₊ hidden love unfolds when taesan's ipod nano accidentally ends up in the hands of his best-friend, yn. a certain playlist catches her eyes, revealing the true feelings kept within the depths of the boy's heart.

part three: can't help falling in love.

confessions, first kisses, so much cuteness my heart swells. lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors! enjoy <3

wc: 4,019

masterlist 𖦹 part one 𖦹 part two

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i need to talk to you"

taesan couldn't sleep at all, her words just circling around and around in his head all night long. the five letter text message written in big bold letters playing in his mind every single time he so much as even tried to shut his eyes. he lies awake, sighing when his eight o' clock alarm rings through his ears. he was going to confess to her today. he had to. it was the only way he or his friend could get any sort of closure, whether he liked it or not. their meeting time was still in another two hours. the boy grabs his phone, instinctively going to check the messages, her messages.

last active 6.45am

seems she couldn't sleep either, though neither of the friends contacted each other while they were awake. no exchange of words, unlike the way they usually did. taesan's stomach hurts, he's restless and he just can't seem to lie still. he gets off of his bed, walking around his room once, then twice, and then a third time before resorting to sitting on the chair near his desk. with a light tap of his finger, the laptop in front of him turns on, a slight buzzing sound from the gears within the device that began to work. his reflection on the screen disappears when the tabs he had opened the night prior appeared before him. the boy's eyes glimmer slightly at the sight of his music folder, countless of demos and drafts scattered in a somewhat organized manner in the little blue folder. his finger slides against the silver track-pad, the air conditioning right by his desk making the surface cool to touch. taesan bites his lips as he clicks, a collection of his unfinished originals popping up above all the other opened tabs.

the boy sighs again, a hand roughly stroking through his bed-ridden hair as his eyes make contact with two songs in particular. those were the same songs he had downloaded onto his ipod the other day, the one that was now in the hands of his best-friend who he had in his mind throughout the whole writing process. taesan curses at himself, regretting ever even making such stupid songs. but it's all her fault, he thought, if she weren't so...her, maybe he wouldn't keep writing these love songs. he scrolls down in frustration, eyes following his cursor as they go through about a dozen more songs about her. a dozen more songs she didn't need to know about, the songs he once swore she'd never see.

the boy's finger moves up again, back to the very top two tracks in the folder. he let's out a deep breath before pressing down, allowing his own music to flow through the air. an unfinished song,

can't help falling in love.

taesan's eyes shut closed, his back leaning softly against his chair and he immerses himself in the tune. soft piano fills his ears, his eyebrows knitting together when he hears his own voice. just like the other song, this one shared that same honey-like feeling. it was very unlike the usually upbeat and, as his friend would call it, emo sound that he typically produced. for some reason though, it was somewhat more...authentic. like despite his edgy exterior the boy was just born to write these cheesy songs that he swore weren't 'his vibe'. he hums along quietly to the lyrics, not wanting to wake the rest of his family that were very much still asleep at such an hour like this on a saturday morning.

her eyes shine like diamonds, her lips stained pink like rose quartz. she speaks so loud with confidence, yeah i envy her voice like sweets of sorts. and i just can't shake this feeling, and i just don't know what's wrong. when she looks at me i'm melting, elvis was right cause i can't help falling in love.

the sound of the lyrics he wrote himself makes him sick for a second, his eyes opening and his body darting forward to hit pause. the tune abruptly stops, his heavy breathing all too loud when silence engulfs the atmosphere. taesan is tense, the sudden reality of the situation he was in had become too real, too much for his liking. the boy blinks in long intervals, his teeth clawing at his bottom lip and his hands that were pressed atop the table forming fists. the boy loses himself for a moment, his mind overflowing with every possible scenario, every kind of reaction this girl he had been so hung up on could've had to the feelings he poured out into his songs, this girl who was his only friend, this girl he might've of lost forever.

he stops himself from screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes glancing at the number on the top right corner of the screen. only one more hour to go. he decides its finally time to get ready. taesan takes a shower, washing his hair with the olive scented shampoo that his mom had bought for him on a sale the other day. he brushed his teeth, making eye contact with the mirror as he dried his hair. the boy spends the next thirty minutes trying on all of his clothes, almost throwing a tantrum and leaving the room in a mess when nothing seemed to feel right. by 9.35 he had decided on a black band tee, the faded smiley face logo of his favourite band contrasting perfectly with the dark wash of his denim jeans. he stares at himself in his floor-length mirror, his hands fidgeting in the air as he begins to rehearse every way the confession that awaits him with his best-friend could possibly go. the shy boy does this often, he finds it hard to speak with people and it makes him feel better to practice beforehand. however, he's never had to do this with her, she always made it easy for him to talk. so why now? why does he feel so nervous and...scared?

"and i just...i think you're cool and- no, i think you're pretty chill and- pretty chill? ugh! this is so stupid!" he groans, launching himself onto his bed and staring angrily at his ceiling. just then, the familiar notification sound of his phone grabs the boy's attention. taesan stretches an arm out towards it, his eyes lighting up and his body going back into sitting position as he reads the text from the girl who'd been running laps around his mind since last night.

yn meet you at the playground

the boy feels a cluster of butterflies in his lower abdomen, a small smile unconsciously making its way onto his lips at the mere thought of the pretty girl conversing with him.

i'll see you there

he shuts his phone off before she could respond, jumping off of the mattress and stumbling into his black leather shoes, all while simultaneously throwing on his coat and spritzing just enough of his signature perfume. he greets himself one last time in the mirror before he leaves, letting out a breath as he nodded to his reflection, so as to tell himself 'good luck'.

the boy was out the door now, not forgetting to bid his family goodbye leaving them to wonder what he was so jittery about. his feet trots over to the bus stop. the playground was closer to her place, almost an hour away from the boy if he were to get there on foot. his fingers tapped impatiently against the silver railing of the bench, no one else was there because no one else had plans so early on a weekend. five minutes go by and the blue vehicle finally comes to a stop in front of him, the automatic door sliding opened as he stepped into the bus. "where you off to this early on a saturday, kid?" asked the old man who had both hands on the steering wheel. "going to tell her the truth" the man chuckles at the boy's mysterious response, watching from the rear-view mirror as he slumped himself onto one of the seats. taesan watches as the trees go by, his eyes wandering over to the people on walks, the children on their tiny bikes, and the couples sharing a morning cup of coffee. the boy reaches into his pocket in search of his music player, lips pursing into a straight line when he remembers its whereabouts. he didn't even have his earphones with him, he couldn't listen to music on his phone even he wanted to! and no music meant no distractions, nothing to focus on apart from his own thoughts he began to get lost in once again.

at last, the bus arrives at his stop. taesan gets up from his seat, a hand gripping onto the yellow handle near the door as he begins to get off. "hey kid" the old man's voice stops him. "huh?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked up in curiosity. "good luck with that girl, rooting for you" the driver's encouraging words paired with a warm smile gave the otherwise nervous wreck of a boy somewhat of a confidence boost. he shoots the man a smile in return, thanking him before hopping out the door. a new sense of security as he strides towards the gated entrance of the park. he walks with his head down, eyes focusing on the way his thick shoes created indents against the grass. he only looks up when his feet reaches the familiar cobblestone that surrounded the playground.

he holds his breath for a moment and his heart rate went up by tenfold. there she was. in the rather empty area, the only other sound apart from the pumping in his chest was the breeze. a smooth blow of wind that cascaded through her hair, causing the swing in which she sat to sway slowly. his gaze lingered for a moment, staring longingly at his best-friend, myung yn. a harsh gush of wind swept the boy off of his feet, sending his body to move forward all of a sudden. the noise that escaped his mouth causing the girl on the swing to turn around and face him. the two stood like that for a while, not uttering a word and just staring at each other from a distance. yn was the first to look away, her head tilting towards the direction of the other swing beside hers, inviting the boy to come and take a seat. taesan takes painfully slow steps before finally making it to the empty swing, the old steel bar from which it hung on creaking a little at the pressure of his weight. still, neither of them spoke a word. her eyes fixed onto the two little birds a couple feet away from them, and his own ones focused right onto her.

"yn..." he begins, though his voice is a lot deeper than usual. taesan wants to tell her everything, just the way he had planned, he had so much to say and yet for some reason all of those things just wouldn't- no, they just couldn't come out. "here" his eyes widen when she speaks, the boy's gaze falling onto her hand that appeared in front of him. his ipod nano in it, and his worn-out earphones de-tangled and wrapped neatly around the device. "oh" is all he managed to muster out, his own hand reaching over to retrieve it. taesan's touch lingers against her skin, sending a wave of goosebumps to decorate her body. it's silent all over again. minus the chirping of song birds and the rustling of dying leaves as they shed onto the green grass. the boy zones out, trying to find the right sentences to say. he's distracted by the thoughts running through his brain, perplexed when they all began to fade away at the sound of soft humming coming from the girl to his left.

the tune is familiar, though he can't seem to pinpoint where he's heard it before. "that song has been stuck in my head all night, i couldn't sleep" yn began, her voice still raspy from the lack of rest. she still doesn't make eye contact though, continuing to hum as she rocked slightly on the swing. "you write so well"

that's when it all clicked in his head. the song she had been humming, the same song he had made himself. the one about a girl, the one about her. yn's compliment registers in his brain, his head falling down to hide the way a pink shade appeared onto his pale cheeks, silently praying she couldn't hear the way his heart thumped beneath his shirt. "if only i could speak as well as i write" taesan finally talks, his voice making her turn to fully face him now. her eyes are big and a small smile pulled against the corners of her lips. "well, why don't you try? try to tell me about this girl" the way she asked him, like she hadn't a clue about the meaning of his songs, it comforted him a little. how could she be so...normal at a time like this?

he stutters, looking away from her as he opens his mouth to speak again. "well...she's the complete opposite of me and she makes me feel all weird and fuzzy inside and" - "you're always weird, but go on" yn chuckles, interrupting him jokingly. the sound of her laugh making him smile too. "and well, she's my best-friend- my only friend, but sometimes...i guess i just kind of wish we were more than that...i just don't want to ruin our friendship..." he trails off, his eyes getting watery all of a sudden; if you asked him why, he'd blame it on the breeze, but he knows that the real reason was the same one for his smile, the same on for his laugh, and the very same reason for his stupid little love songs.

taesan's body tenses up when he feels a cool touch of a hand tapped against his chin, his head being forced to lift up and to face her. to face yn who seemed to have also begun tearing up. "taesan..." she says, but her voice comes out hushed. her vision begins to blur and the boy panics, unsure of what to do. "yn..." now it was his turn to press his fingers against her jaw, bringing her glossy eyes up to look into his.

"i think i might like you more than a friend"

a gasp escapes her lips. she recognizes the line from his song, she knew since last night how he felt, but for some reason she's still in shock. it was as though the night before had just been some sort of wild dream and it was now coming to life. taesan stares deeply into her eyes, analyzing the way her breathing slowed down and her eyebrows relaxed. "i..." she begins, her warm breath that smelled of coffee blowing against his nose. the boy waits patiently in anticipation, a look of hope and worry washing over his complexion.

"i think i like you too"

a single tear falls out of his eye, a sight she had never seen before. for the boy she had known all of these years never cried. yn blinks, tears of her own threatening to follow suit. his hand moves to caress her cheek, wiping away the wetness that stained it. she giggles softly, finding his touch ticklish. he copies her, breaking into a smile as he sniffles lightly, wiping away his own tear-stained face.

the confession was a lot quicker and a lot more anticlimactic than they had thought or anticipated. the pair simmering down into another moment of silence as they swung softly with the air, the cool breeze blowing against the tiny hairs on their bodies. "so...you listened to the songs, then? i mean...obviously you did" the boy breaks away from the peace, his gaze moving towards the ipod on his lap. she nods, blushing at the memory of his love song. "only the first one" yn says, her voice fading out softly. "good" now she turned to face him, head tilted to the side as she did so. "the other one isn't done yet...and it's way more embarrassing than the first one" his voice is back to normal now, the jittery-ness in his previous tone long gone. "will you show me when it's done then?" she asked, watching as he raided his brain in search for an answer. "or maybe..."

yn gets off of her swing, turning around on her heels to stand right across the boy who remained seated. taesan looks up at her confused, not a clue as to what she was going to tell him next. "maybe you could write me a new one!" she speaks brightly, "one about how the girl of your dreams, me, became the girl of your reality" she's prideful, her head facing the blue sky as she spoke. "how 'bout that?" now she looked right at him, a hopeful look in her eyes contradicting the playful smirk on her lips. the boy can only stare blankly at her, eyebrows furrowing like she was speaking a language he didn't understand. yn rolls her eyes, waving a hand in circles over his face. "hello? earth to taesan?" he shakes out of his short trance, "huh?" the exchange of words gives the pair a feeling of deja vu. she smiles softly, "i just asked you to be my boyfriend and you totally zoned out...loser" taesan tilts his head to the side.

"you...me...boyfriend..huh?!"

she laughs out loud, grabbing onto his hands and lifting him off of the creaky swing. "you, han taesan. me, myung yn. boyfriend and girlfriend" she repeats for the third time, in simpler words for his brain to digest. this time, instead of just staring at her like a confused cat, the boy grins. "wait, wait so we can be like...together now?" she groans at his question, "taesan, if you make me repeat myself again i'll toss that stupid ipod into the fish pond!" he laughs when she compains, his eyes scanning every inch of her features. the way her eyebrows twitched when she spoke, the way her eyelashes fluttered with the wind, the way her nose scrunched up and the way her pretty pink lips sat in a pout towards the bottom of her face. he must've been staring at them for a while, the girl's pout flipping into a little smirk. "what's up?" she asks, his attention returning to her eyes. "nothing...can...can i..." he never finishes the sentence, but the way his lips were parted and the way his breathing got heavier, she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

yn takes a step forward, diminishing any amount of space they had between them before. the familiar feeling of her cold fingers sent a shiver down his spine as both her hands moved up to cup his face. taesan is frozen still, letting the girl make all of the moves for him. she inhales softly before pulling him down towards her, finally coming in contact with one another. the atmosphere is stiff, the strawberry scent of her chapstick melting into his rather dry lips. the kiss lasts no longer than a second, the girl pulling away to stare in his loving eyes. regaining the consciousness that seemed to have left his body a minute ago, the boy's arms moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her into his grasp and their lips caught against each other's once more. this time, the kiss was natural and passionate. yn's arms sat around his neck, her fingers twirling against the ends of his freshly washed hair. their heads tilted in opposite directions, noses bumping as they got lost in each other's faces. slowly becoming messier and desperate as time went by. feeling a little lightheaded, the pair separate, gasping for air. his hands still placed on her hips, hers are now on his shoulders and they stopped to sink into the moment.

the air around them was warm, differing from the cool breeze that had surrounded them earlier. before long, yn's cheeks began to redden, the same shade becoming apparent on the tips of the boy's ears. avoiding eye contact, they looked away in unison, flustered giggles escaping their mouths the same way little children did when they were happy. taesan smiles brightly at her, and the girl reciprocates, the corners of her mouth dipping into little dimples against her skin.

"walk me home?" she asks suddenly, starting up conversation again. he nods, extending a hand out for her to grab before they began walking through the grass and out of the gated park. their walk was unusually quiet, but there was some sort of a comforting feeling that floated over them, hands remained intertwined the whole time, constantly stealing glances and blushing away awkwardly whenever their eyes met.

soon, they arrived at the entrance of her complex. taesan looks down at her for a moment, a hand scratching against the back of his neck that began to feel itchy. yn lets out a sigh, a frown appearing against her face. he looks at her with worried eyes, "what...what's wrong?" he stutters, though she only lets out another breath. "nothing. it's just that if i go home now, jaehyun is gonna bully me relentless about this whole thing!" the boy closes his eyes in relief, "oh, i thought something was seriously wrong-ow!" he exclaims, rubbing his forearm she just hit. "it is something seriously wrong! as my boyfriend you should be just as upset as me!!" taesan freezes at the term, a sense of shyness wrapping around his body the same way his weighted blanket did at night. yn is just as flustered, not expecting herself to say that, her attention moving to stare intently at the asphalt on the ground.

"well, as your boyfriend, what should i do then?"

his hands find home beneath her chin, lifting her pretty face up to look at him again. he looked handsome. i mean, she knew he was good looking this whole time but she swears he had never looked this...lovely before. his soft hair lazily falling against his shining eyes, his tall nose harmoniously balanced with his lips that wore a pretty smirk. "you know if you just keep staring and not giving me an answer i won't know what to do, yn" he rolls his eyes playfully, failing to hold back his laugh as he watched the ever so confident myung yn struggle with her words for what feels like the very first time ever. "i...i mean you...you should- um..." han taesan bends down slightly, pressing a spontaneous kiss against her cheek, their faces far too close and their noses almost touching.

"why don't you come over to mine? i'll show you all the other songs i wrote for you" her eyes widen at his words, "other songs? you mean you wrote MORE songs about me?!" taesan nods, his teeth showing when he smiles this time and the dimples below his eyes forming whisker-like shapes against his cheeks. "who knew emo loser taesan was such a love-sick derp" her sudden insult catches him off guard, a scoff escaping his mouth as he wraps an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her close as they cross the street.

"and who's fault is that?" he asks, the right side of his face pressed against her hair. "whats that supposed to mean? it's not my fault you fell in love with someone as great and amazing as me!" she rolls her eyes, leaning onto the side of his chest as they walked in the opposite direction of her neighbourhood and towards the bus stop. taesan laughs, "well that's just it! when you're so great and amazing like that, i guess i just..." yn looks up at him, interested in what her boyfriend was going to say next.

"i just...can't help falling in love"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

i want an emo love-sick derpy taesan ☹️ this is the end of my short series <3 i hope u guys liked it!!! and liked the lyrics i wrote for this and the last part too hehehehe 🙂‍↕️ reblogs n feedbacks are always appreciated!!!! tysm for reading, lmk what u thought 🧸 love, kona :3

#kona's work ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #taesan #taesan x reader #boynextdoor taesan #bnd taesan #han dongmin #han taesan #bnd x reader

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cherryblossombankai · 20 days ago

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Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: angst, seriously it's just angst, alcohol, mentions of anxiety and trauma, sort of implied toxic relationship, breakup, sad, depression, jealousy A/N: I'm so sorry for this :) Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet

You knew deep down that breaking up had been for the best, or at least you’d believed Aizawa when he said it was for the best. Aizawa was still trying to overcome his trauma, and you're no walk in the park to live with either. Stubborn and moody on the best of days, paralyzed with anxiety on the worst of days. You knew it took him some patience at times to navigate life with you, but he wasn’t a walk in the park either. You thought you were each other’s person until he asked for space. You gave it in hopes he would eventually realize that he needs you.

It had helped you along the healing process when you believed he was as miserable as you. You took comfort in the image of him curled up in bed, mourning the scent of your perfume fading from the pillow. At the very least, it made you feel less pathetic for still sleeping in his shirt every night and refusing to wash it because he'd no longer be lingering in the stitches.

You were fine, truly. Most days you only cried a couple of times, and you hardly ever typed up a text you'd never send anymore. At least not when you're sober. The things you’d never sent while knee-deep in a bottle of wine, well that’s a different story. It ranged from “I miss you so bad” to “Why don’t you love me anymore?” but you never sent them, and that’s what matters.

"I'm on the path to healing. thank you very much,” you'd bragged to your friends over dinner. You meant it! Things were really starting to fall into place.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

All it took was one event to have your healing facade crashing down faster than you built it up. He didn't even like selfies, that's what he told you over and over. He would scoff and cover his face every time you tried to lean in to catch a snap of the two OF you together. More than once he went on a half-hearted rant about ‘living in the moment’ instead of stopping to photograph everything. You only have a handful of photos to prove that you didn't hallucinate a five-year relationship.

Yet there he is on your timeline, snuggled up to a pretty girl who called him ‘baby' in the caption. His arm is wrapped around her. He's leaning in...He's smiling.

Fuck, you love his smile. It was such a rare sight when he belonged to you. You wonder what this girl has that you didn’t.

Later that night, you and your roommate split a bottle of wine.

"I hope he thinks of me when he fucks her," you ranted to your roommate.

You were pacing the living room like a caged tiger. A caged, drunk tiger anyway. You were angry. How could he? What right does he have to be happy when you still whisper his name when you make yourself cum?

"I'm going to call him!"

Your roommate thankfully finds your phone before you do. She swipes it OFF the coffee table while you're digging around in your pockets.

"Nope, that is a horrible idea," she says.

"Why? Don't I deserve answers? Closure?" you sit beside her on the couch. Your puppy eyes were almost enough for her to change her mind, but she didn't.

"Of course you do, but not like this."

After your ranting and raving becomes sleepy, your roommate — No...your hero — tucks you into bed. She covers you up with a soft blanket and pushes your hair off your face.

"Do you think he misses me?" you whine. "I want him to miss me.”

"He'd be stupid not to miss you,” she says, too kind to break your delusions for now, “Get some sleep."

It felt like your heart was ripped out. Seeing a stupid selfie was one thing. Being face-to-face with the happy couple in the produce section of your favorite grocery store is another rotten thing entirely. Aizawa doesn't even live in this neighborhood. You can’t fathom why he’d decide to date someone from the same neighborhood as you.

You're frozen to the spot. Your nails dug into the fragile flesh of the peach you were testing for ripeness moments before your worst nightmare came true. Aizawa doesn't notice you but, to your surprise, she does. Her smile falters and she quickly looks away as if making eye contact with you was painful for her. It was odd to see. You want to look away too, but seeing them is like watching a car crash. No matter how badly you want to look away, you just can’t.

"Oh, hello," Aizawa says when you finally shift into his line of sight.

"Hi," you fake a smile. You were hoping maybe you’d be able to seem genuinely unphased.

It’s hard to be unphased when he doesn't have to fake a smile. His smile is real and you know she’s the reason for it.

You clear your throat, "How are you?"

"I'm good. Uh, this is my girlfriend, Ami."

"Nice to meet you." you lie for the sake of friendliness but refuse to shake hands.

"I've heard so much about you." Ami says. "About your hero work, of course!"

“Right, of course. Thanks."

“We should get going, babe," he says and places his hand on her back.

Babe? When did he become a guy who said something like 'babe'. It makes your stomach turn as you walk away. You used to make fun of people who said ‘babe’ together.

"Why was I not enough for you?" you text him that night. Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you don't even think you could read his response. Not that he will ever respond, you figure.

You roll onto you side, letting the tears flow from your eyes into the pillow. You clutch on tightly to the fluffy teddy bear he’d bought you for the last birthday you’d spent together.

"Don't do this," he texts back

.You drop your phone onto the bed, and you bury your face against your teddy bear. The muffled scream you let out is full of pain. You still love him. You know you shouldn't, but you want him back. You can taste him on your lips still.

“Why? Because it's not on your time? Because you're not in control?" you text back.

"No! Because you're being emotional again.”

“Again? God forbid I have feelings.”

Aizawa was always so controlled. It was infuriating to know that no matter what you say you will never get under his skin the way you want to. He doesn’t respond for the longest time, and you decide to try once again to get to him.

“Of course I'm emotional. I fucking love you."

When he doesn't respond, you get the message. There's nothing else to say. He's over you, or he wants to be. All you can do is pick up the pieces.

#🌸.writes #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa bnha x reader #aizawa mha x reader #eraserhead x reader

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drdemonprince · 6 months ago

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I am very very attracted to my boss and it's driving me insane. There's this amazing chemistry and tension between us and all day long we're just teasing eachother and flirting. We're always gravitating towards eachother and happy to see eachother, finding excuses to work together, etc. He is, however, a straight man twice my age who has a girlfriend and I'm a trans guy who could be completely misreading our interactions. Straight guys often banter and "flirt" with eachother so maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe he's just excited to be some sort of a mentor figure to me and he likes to be admired, and likes to see me grow and learn, and that's all there is to it. He calls me his protege which I find incredibly hot. Anyway I'm seriously contemplating whether I should confess my attraction. I'm not really anticipating him to reciprocate, but would do it more so to get rejected so I would be able to stop fantasizing about him all day long and give myself some closure. On the other hand, I don't want to humiliate myself and create a possible distance or awkwardness between us. There would be no consequences for my job so that's not an issue. I was wondering if you have any words of wisdom for me? You always have such a unique yet sobering outlook on things and I would love to hear your thoughts on this situation.

"Unique yet sobering outlook"! That's the kind of compliment I would have put in the word document alongside all my favorite feedback from English professors back in the day when I still needed that. Sincerely, thank you.

I am of several minds with regard to your question. On the one hand, I think straight people are terminally monogamous most of the time and that it would be hell on earth to get involved with this man and draw the potential ire of his girlfriend even if they weren't.

I think it's usually a self-hating maneuver to date a straight man as a trans masc (I have been there, it is terrible) but as a gay man, I support the frisson of danger that comes with seducing a heterosexual and think it would be a baller little feather in your cap to ruin this man's identity and relationship for a fling with you, even if it would be destined to end in agony.

I hear that this misadventure will not affect your job, but I don't exactly understand how that could be true. It sounds as if you work together quite closely and that his flirty banter is part of what makes the gig pleasant, and even if he doesn't have the capacity to fire you (I'm guessing) this affair could devastate the vibe enough that someone else might step in and fire you for its indirect consequences. happens sometimes.

Part of me however does believe in "fuck it we ball" and in being a bit reckless when you find yourself in a moment of raw, transfixing chemistry. chasing after fascinating moments that are destined to shatter our hearts is one of the core aspects of being alive. It keeps us growing, fills us with vigor! Who doesn't want to one day have an interesting story of a love affair like that?

One of my follow up questions would be how rare this kind of connection is for you. If it were me? Someone I truly connect with on the level you are describing is rare, and I've been willing to risk upending my life as i know it over a fleeting few weeks or months of passion before, and sometimes it's been worth it! Some mistakes are worth making, because we will become stronger and more interesting people after they happen!

But another part of me also thinks "straight men flirt with eachother sometimes" makes no sense and that what you are likely experiencing is him not seeing you as a man, or doing the thing some sensitive straight guys do of leeching attention off of queer men to feed their egos. (Which isn't evil, we all need attention sometimes, but it can be devastating.). If he lets you down because he sees you as a man and is not gay, that might relieve the pressure for you and work out fine. If he is into you because he doesn't see you as a man, you two will fuck and it will be horrible in the long term probably. But maybe hot in the short term.

I also think there are probably hotter ways to play this one (and more strategically effective ones) than a straight-up love confession, which would probably force him to bring up his girlfriend as the reason not to pursue it.

I think if you really want to SEDUCE this man you should spend time with him after work, ask him to mentor you on a labor intensive but potentially rewarding project, disclose little personal details that endear him to you, ask him lots of questions about himself, allow him to open up to you about his life... and then strike.

I think it'll be interesting if you go for it, at least. I certainly want to hear the story. But I don't want you to get fired, lose a mentorship that is important to your career, or get your ass beat by the gf.

So I will also tap my followers for their feedback.

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chefkids · 5 months ago

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As much as I love sydcarmy, I really don’t think they’re going to become romantic. Especially after this season. If Storer really only planned for 3 seasons and had to split it into half, it doesn’t make sense. The show doesn’t have enough episodes to really develop them to where both realize their feelings (if they’re really there) and then be in a place to get together in a way that it doesn’t feel rushed

I don't think Storers big plan for this series is to leave Carmy in a miserable lonely place.

This season already set up a few things with Claire. Mainly that she does not seem interested in getting back together with him. She's a pushy person, she was not afraid to push him to be with her once. If she really wanted to she would have pushed again and talked to him to get him to apologize and be with her again just how she forced him to apologize on the phone for giving her a fake number. I think she's hurt he hasn't talked to her at all or apologized, but she does not want to be with him again. She told Tiff he basically said he would blame her if anything went wrong in his life. Which is really not what Carmy meant, and I think that will be part of their fight when he does apologize to her. She also told the Faks "it's done." when they were saying she's the peace and that he loves her and that she should get back with him to "take care of him because no one else does". I don't think she wants to be with him again and has accepted they shouldn't be together, and I think that will be the end of their relationship once he apologizes to her. I do not think Storer plans on making Claire his emotional caretaker. And the same goes for Syd. She's not his babysitter either.

She's running out of time to decide on her partnership offers. Which I think will be address right at the start of the next season and will be the turning point for Carmy to get his shit together.

This story is about family and found family, they have made that very clear and it has always remained true though out all the season. Sydney is stuck because she doesn't want to leave her found family, but Carmy is a toxic family member. Carmy left his family because of his toxic mother, but we've seen how Nat and her were able to rebuild their trust and come back to each other. Jimmy told him his mom wants to speak to him. He knows he's been avoiding her, but he will see her again, even if he doesn't fully forgive her for what has happened between them, I think Donna and Carmy will be on an okay place even if they don't stay close and speaking with each other. Which I think also mirrors Storer's relationship with his own mom that he has talked about.

We already know next half will be all about him rebuilding his broken relationships with everyone by apologizing to Claire and getting closure, fixing things with Richie, and reuniting with his mother. There has been evidence for all of these. And I'm sure finally fixing things with Sydney in the end will also be a part on the next season.

I think she will make moves to leave and tell him about the offer, and I think she will likely develop some sort of relationship with Luca. But we also know that he comes with an expiration date, he's only here for a few months. That was the set up, while Carmy was not paying attention to Sydney, she was getting scooped up professionally and personally. I really don't think her and Luca will work out long term. But I'm still uncertain about Sydney leaving The Bear. We know Jimmy was going to cut them off if they got a bad review, which is apparently what they got, and I think that might actually happen. I could still see The Bear closing next season and everyone going their own ways professionally, but remaining a family at heart.

That conversation about Legacy and family trees Carmy had with Marcus really seemed to me to foreshadow Sydney starting her own place and taking bits of The Bear with her and also Marcus perhaps starting his own place or going somewhere else. Carmy said he wants to leave behind something "panickless and anxiety free" and I do think he will get there in the end, but I think that might involve closing The Bear or at the very least him stepping away from it and handing the reins to Sydney. I think there was a lot of emphasis on his drawings especially from Chef Terry, and I think that will still play a role in his future and him pursuing his passions which might be beyond cooking.

I do not think this is all going to end on a sad and miserable note. If this part's theme was about funerals, Marcus's mom and Ever. The next will be about weddings. We know Tiff and Frank's wedding is coming. A big theme for Richie was the idea of him being alone/lonely. He's also very clearly starting something with Jess and I think that will continue in the next part. I think Syd and Carmy's "partnership", be it professional or romantic, working out will also be a part of these "weddings".

I don't think Storer is as stupid and oblivious as we sometimes think he is. He knows that Syd and Carmy have a crazy transcendental celestial bond that Claire and Carmy don't. He knew the implications of the Season 2 panic attack. As much as Season 3 felt like retcon to justify Claire and Carmy being true loved or something, he still doubled down on Syd and Carmy's invisible string, on her being his muse, and on her being his actual peace in panic attacks despite any lies Carmy tries to tells himself about it being Claire.

I think they will unambiguously break the platonic allegations by the end of the series. Will they have the guts to show us their relationship and partnership outside of the kitchen in the show beyond just them getting together at the last minute? Unsure.

I think he probably intended on ending the series with Syd and Carmy getting together at the last second. Especially if you consider John Hughes' Some Kind of Wonderful, which I do think inspired his Claire/Carmy/Syd dynamic, ended with them getting together and kissing right before the screen turns black. Which would honestly be a lame cop out and really quite offensive to Syd to not show their full partnership in motion after giving so much screen time to Claire/Carmy's romantic life and would only feed the people that will claim it's fanservice to end with sydcarmy.

I think that's what the ambiguity of there being a Season 5 or not is. We know the studios want it, sydcarmy is making them a lot of noise and a huge subset of people would love to actually see it play out on screen for more than 10 minutes at the series finale, but does Storer want to actually make a season about more than Carmy being miserable and show that people can heal and exist in a functioning relationships and a functioning kitchen and still be funny and exciting and entertaining? Who knows.

#the bear #the bear season 4 #sydcarmy

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tropes-and-tales · 4 months ago

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Care and Comfort

CW: Richie being Richie, swearing. Angst and fluff. Mentions of Mikey's death and addiction.

Word Count: ��2070

AN: Requested by an anonymous person!

February 22.

It’s a tough day. You’ve been with Richie long enough now—two years—to know what the date means. What it is the anniversary of. You came into Richie’s life after Mikey exited it, but you knew enough of your boyfriend’s best friend.

What a charming, larger-than-life man he was. Mikey Berzatto. Mikey Bear. Charismatic. Filled the room with his presence, his stories, his ability to make a person feel like the most important person in the world.

Also an addict. Also, probably, a narcissist.

So it’s a tough day for Richie. Mikey’s suicide blew a hole in the lives of those who loved him, and Richie loved Mikey like a brother. Two years out from his death, Richie is no closer to any real closure: he misses his friend. He loves his friend. He hates his friend for what he did, all the shitty behavior before he finally made a choice that couldn’t be taken back.

February 22 is the day that Richie’s feelings break loose like a storm. He rages, he goes sulky and quiet. He gets mad at Mikey, and because Mikey isn’t there, he lashes out at those closest to him.

You, namely.

But you can handle it. What sort of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t help him weather these hard days? Because you know, deep down, the person Richie is angriest at is himself: that he didn’t see it coming, that he didn’t do more to help his friend.

-----

Your first year together, Richie was snappish. He tried to start fights with you all day, and you—not understanding him completely—were too bewildered to rise to any bickering. Your confusion took the fire out of him, and he spent the rest of the day maudlin, full of apologies, rife with terribly negative self-talk.

This year?

This year, Richie is just sad.

He stays in bed past noon. He gets up around one in the afternoon, wanders out into the living room of your shared apartment, then promptly plants himself beside you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, soft. You glance at him, take in the red-rimmed eyes, the deep lines etched between his brows.

He answers with a grunt, a non-committal noise.

“Hungry?”

Another grunt, and this one sounds sort of like a no or a nah. A beat later, though, you hear the snarl of his stomach, and you laugh softly at it.

“Let me make you something.”

That, at least, earns you a grumble, a string of unintelligible words, but he doesn’t object when you stand up and make your way to the tiny kitchen.

-----

You’re no Carmy, and you’re no Sidney. You’re no Tina or Marcus or Ebra.

Still, you can hold your own as a home chef. You had a mother and a father who cooked, who taught you how to fry a chicken breast, how to make a simple fresh pasta, how to roast a piece of beef or pork.

So you can’t do a Hamachi crudo or a lamb ragu, but you can do comfort food. Food that sticks to the ribs and warms a person from the inside out. For Richie, on this difficult day? You make him breakfast for early dinner or late lunch.

You slice up the brioche you got earlier in the week and find it perfectly stale for French toast. You put cinnamon and a pinch of cloves in the egg batter, fry up the slices to perfection. You fry some bacon to the crispness Richie likes; you make a pile of buttery scrambled eggs with goat cheese and chives folded in.

You finish it all off with strong coffee in the French press, which Richie used to scoff at as needlessly fussy but now can’t live without.

You don’t bother to plate it nicely. This isn’t the Bear, and no one is going to give you a star. This is food as medicine, and you heap everything on a plate and carry it—along with silverware and the coffee—into the living room.

Richie has gone horizontal as you cooked, stretched out on the couch with his face to the back, but the scent of the food makes him turn a bit and glance up at you.

“Said I wasn’t hungry.” He sounds peevish.

“Just have a bite or two.” You set the silverware down with a clink, and Richie heaves a sigh, rolls over, sits up. He doesn’t quite glare at you, but it’s glare-adjacent. A slight narrowing of his eyes as he looks at you.

“Didn’t have to fucking do all of this.” His voice has a rough edge, but you know him well enough to hear the faint thread of gratitude underneath all the gruffness. Richie never knows how to handle being taken care of. He’s used to being the one taking care of others: his daughter, his ex-wife when they were still married. Mikey’s mother, after Mikey’s suicide.

He’s the real-life version of setting himself on fire to keep others warm, so he is always surprised when someone else cares for him. Even if it’s something as ordinary as making him a comforting meal on a day when he’s too paralyzed by grief to feed himself.

-----

As you had guessed not hungry wasn’t true. Once Richie gets a few bites into him, his appetite awakens and the plate is cleaned of crumbs in an appallingly short amount of time.

“Good?” you ask, and he mumbles a sheepish “thanks,” so you clear away the empty dishes, take them to the kitchen, rinse them off.

When you return to the couch, though, Richie is sitting up straight and gazing right at you. He waits until you meet his eye, and then he says, slowly and deliberately, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He clears his throat, seems embarrassed by himself. So much of his bluster and cockiness is an act, a smokescreen. Richie is often insecure, chagrined by his own behavior, and you can guess that he’s berating himself for being curt with you earlier. For dozing in bed for so long when the two of you have so few days together.

“Really didn’t have to do all that though, sweetheart,” he starts, and you wave him off. You sit beside him, and he lifts his arm automatically, the gesture for you to tuck yourself against him, but you shake your head. You settle against the corner of the couch, then pat your lap invitingly.

“C’mon, Jerimovich,” you tell him. “Let me scratch your head.”

Your first impression of Richie is the most lasting one, even two years in. He puts you in mind of a shelter dog—kicked and mistreated in some prior life, yearning for affection, baring his teeth at the thought of being kicked again.

And like a dog, the man loves to be petted. It’s not necessarily sexual; it’s the simple fact of human touch, the feel-good chemicals that release in his busy brain when you skate your fingertips over his bare skin, when you press your own body against his, when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

Which is what you do now. You let Richie settle in your lap. He tucks one arm underneath him, but he wraps the other over your thighs. Once he’s situated, you just…pet him. Scratch his head. Sometimes you press your fingertips in the small muscles that go tense and bunched at the base of his skull, but mostly you just pet him. Let the repetitive motion lull him, and you feel him relax against you little by little.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask after a long stretch of silence. The T.V. is on, some true crime cop show, but it’s muted. The only sounds are those of city living: faint doors opening in the hallway of your apartment building, traffic in the street, the occasional gust of wind against the window.

“No.”

A beat, and then you ask him to tell you a story about Mikey. It makes Richie sigh, and he starts with the well-worn story about Bill Murray, but you interrupt him.

“No, tell me a story from when you were kids,” you clarify. “Tell me about Baby Mikey, and make sure there’s lots of Baby Richie.”

He chuckles against you, and it sounds warm. Genuine. He’s never said it, and you’ve never asked, but you can guess that it helps him somehow, when you ask for Richie stories in the guise of Mikey stories. How you gently try to frame him as the main character in his own life instead of Michael Berzatto’s side-kick and sometimes-stooge.

Now, Richie tells you a story from his high school days, and it’s his own story, and Mikey is just a supporting character, but an important one—a supporting character before the crush of adulthood, before Papa Berzatto took off and left Mikey as the man of the house. Before the Beef as it skidded into bankruptcy, before the arson attempts and shell games with Unc’s money, before the pills and the dealing out of the alley, before whatever darkness in Mikey swallowed him up and put him on that bridge with a gun two years ago to the day.

It's a funny story, some prank on some stodgy old teacher, and Richie chuckles as he tells it. You can hear his own darkness bleed out of his voice, can hear him remembering the good ol’ days instead of wallowing in the bad ones. You can hear him remembering his friend who was more like a brother—remembering him in all his bright promise and not as he left.

The story ends, and then you hear it: a weak sniffle. You lay your palm over the curve of his skull, hold him, and think that a cry might do him good. Richie holds so much in; tears might be healthy, might help him grieve Mikey in a more healthy way—

“I know it, you know,” he says against your lap, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“Know what, baby?” You wonder at what revelation he is going to share with you, what understanding in his own psychology or Mikey’s has come to him.

“I fucking know I don’t deserve you,” he replies, and it surprises you. You gape wordlessly above him. It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say.

“All this shit,” he explains. “My life’s a fucking mess, and every year, I fall into this black hole and you have to pull me out.”

You smile down at where he’s settled in your lap, and you feel a wave of love for him wash through you. Your boyfriend, Richard Lawrence Jerimovich. Rough around the edges and then some, but underneath all that trauma and hurt lies the biggest heart you’ve ever seen. A heart of gold. A man who wants desperately to belong, to be loved, to be needed.

“You’re putting a lot of weight on have to,” you tell him. “I don’t have to. I want to.”

He shakes his head. “Shouldn’t fucking have to or want to.”

“It’s just life, Richie. It beats us up. What’s the point if we don’t take care of each other when we’re feeling a little more beat up than usual?”

“You take care of me more than I take care of you.”

You scoff, and you resume scratching his head. Dragging your nails through his short hair. “Bullshit.”

“You do.”

“You keeping score on me, Jerimovich?”

He grumbles at that. “You’re not keeping score?”

“In love? Never.”

As usual, the mention of love makes him squirm. Makes him uncomfortable. He’s perfectly fine saying it to you, says I love you easily and without a bit of hesitation. Hearing it said back to him, though? That’s entirely different.

You say it as much as you can. You let him squirm and be uncomfortable and you let each mention of your love for him chip away at those rough edges a little more, revealing more of that big heart of gold.

“I love you,” you tell him, and sure enough, he squirms again.

So you say it again and again, over and over, until he finally surrenders to it, sighs and nestles himself in your lap, and he mutters it back to you as he allows you to comfort him, to take care of him. To love him.

#richie the bear #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear #tropes and tales

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shorthaltsjester · 3 months ago

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okay but i am very confused about the energy regarding the weavemind as. bells hells specific enemies? like sure they’re on ruidus and have been introduced in campaign 3 but none of bells hells have expressed a specific interest in taking them down, the weave mind has committed no specific crimes against bells hells that would equate it to being Justice™ for bh to fight them. even if you want to make the tenuous connection that like imogen and fearne are ruidusborn: both of them have focused much more on the consequences and revelations about their families that have come about from their ruidusborn existence than the authoritarian leaders of ruidus itself. so, uh, it is profoundly more interesting to have the party go after the person in charge of the army cult that contextualizes both of their existences and the trauma of the entirety of their party than a obscure group of villains that bh has no actual tangible relation to. like this was literally laid out in the conversation. bh get the cage and ludinus because that’s Their Fight that they’ve been fighting since imogen started dreaming and since orym’s family got killed. vox machina is taking the bridge because of the vax of it all. and mighty nein got the third less prevalent thing, because they’re experienced with psychic threats and manipulation (and also because of course the mighty nein are the ones dealing with the assignment less likely to be seen or heard about).

like the in-character reactions to the breakup of activities were only really considered anything close to negative by braius and dorian who while certainly now members of bells hells aren’t the ones upon which people are claiming to build their “this story is an injustice to the bells hells” sure it is. like ignoring the fact that being unable to get closure on every single issue and potential villain is a long-standing tradition in cr campaigns, i thought the thing everyone loved so much about bells hells is that they’re the npc party? and for better or worse c3 has been about being fast paced and it would be extraordinarily out of character for matt to say “oh these two high stakes and powerful groups have decided to fulfil their plans one at a time so that bells hells can sufficiently take them out.” like the only way that bells hells — the lowest level party — getting to take out One Of The Most Powerful Exandrian Mages is an injustice is if you’ve ignored the entire campaign and its context. like seeing the complaint that “it’s not bells hells story” yes, that has been made clear time and time again in the past 100 episodes. it’s completely fair to not like this, it’s extremely odd to see this as some sort of surprise wrecking ball that has come about in the decision to have more than one party of eight fuck ups trying to stop the unavoidably obvious world ending threat that exandria currently faces and not as something that has been made repeatedly clear by the themes and position of bells hells. like, throughout, unlike vm or mn, they have been handed their missions rather than choosing them (even if between 2 or 3 choices as was often the case with mn), they have explicitly discussed being the npcs or little guys, they have consistently gone to the bigger guys for help with things that previous parties either managed themselves or suffered without or had allies to help them (versus the like. Leaders that bh look to), even the dynamics of the parties express that bells hells are people stuck saving the world due to a bunch of personal moral codes rather than a specific decision to save the world because they’re the only ones who can, they’re expendable. that has made this campaign different throughout, it has made the characters less explored because they don’t have the time or means or desire to do so. and again it’s a matter of taste whether that’s something you enjoy, but it shouldn’t be a matter of “why would they do this” this far into the Bells Hells Aren’t Special They’re Just There campaign (which isn’t to say the characters aren’t special or whatever like they’re a bunch of weirdos but as a party they’re just a party)

#cr3 #critical role #bells hells #cr spoilers

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infinityroom · 4 months ago

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Was there a plan for false to become less... Murdery? Would seeing impulse have helped somewhat with that? I'm assuming if she saw tango again like she is now, tango might not make it out in one piece lmao

Also assuming they got out to some sort of regular world, how would they deal with the overstimulation? Would tango still want to go back?

Love love love this story, I've had art from it saved for over a year <33 (I also follow you on YouTube! Just stumbled upon your art style by random coincidence one day <3)

Don't feel bad about life getting in the way, it does that all the time. Many of my favourite fanfics are just left to the aether, forever without closure. I'm incredibly thankful that you created this story for us, and are giving us info about it even though stuff prevented you from properly finishing it <33

Of course! False was gonna break down the moment she saw Impulse, seeing an ally for the first time in years would just do that to her. She's been running on pure survival instinct and nothing else. She somewhat remembers that Tango knows how to get out but without Impulse between them, she'd definitely go for the throat. Even with Impulse between them, she might still try to go for the throat regardless at first. Tango would flee from her, he doesn't want to attack her again. If they got out i don't know how they would find a way to deal with their overstimulation, and impulse would also need to deal with his new headmates, but they would probably get along in the long-run. To get Tango out in the first place would be the biggest issue. He probably wouldn't want to leave.

#infinity room au

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vladajwrites · 2 years ago

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Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 4146

Notes; Hello!

The next part should be out relatively soon. Not sure quite yet how many parts will be made and posted. Thank you for any and all support! It truly means the world to me.

(Not Beta Read)

It had been an astonishingly warm night when you returned to the town of Woodsboro. The air around you felt slick with familiar August humidity as you stepped out of the car that once belonged to your father. You stood for a moment, inhaling deeply as if attempting to swallow in the sight around you.

It had been nearly a decade since you had seen the quiet street where your aunt Irina resided. The moon was nearly full, casting a gold tinted glow that rivaled the street lamps near the surrounding homes. Memories of your childhood summers spent rolling in the grass of your aunt’s front yard as she sunbathed beside you flashed through your mind as you stared across the lawn.

A sad smile crept across your lips as you popped the trunk, compiling boxes in an unstable stack within your arms.

You suddenly felt a nervous sting in your stomach as you walked towards the door. Reality seemingly sinking in slowly. You had just turned eighteen only days prior. You dreamt of that birthday for years. It meant that you were now an adult and that in some ways; you were free. Free to leave home and go no contact with your parents. Your parents had plucked you from a town not far from Woodsboro and moved you across the country at the age of nine. They isolated you from the support of any sort of extended family or potential friends. Your mother and father psychically and emotionally tormented you and did so in such a calculating manner that they would never be caught or reprimanded.

You had tried to run away to your aunts once before at the age of fourteen, but your parents had the police bring you back to the home before you could cross the county’s boundary. It was even more difficult to keep in contact with your lovely aunt after that. Your parents monitored the communication between the two of you like a hawk. Your aunt still did what she could to support you and you both knew that when the time came, she would become your safe haven.

You weren’t sure how you’d make your escape, how you would go about hiding the things you were carefully packing away. But it seemed your parents had, by this point, completely checked out. It was as if they quietly understood that you’d all be better off if you parted ways. The final confirmation you needed that this was true was when your dad passed the title of the old car he had kept in the garage and worked on rebuilding over the past years to you just days before your birthday. He committed this action wordlessly, dropping the paperwork in front of your bedroom door to find. You said nothing in return. You knew what it all meant. An action like that from him would never come from a place of love or kindness.

It didn’t take you long after to finish gathering the last of your things. You debated on leaving your parents a note, debated the possibility of initiating a final conversation with them. Using your better judgment, you decided against it. They didn’t deserve anything from you, you knew you’d never receive the closure from them you deserved. Better to just try and forget it all.

You left in the night after hours of pacing your bedroom floor, waiting and listening anxiously until the house grew silent and you could assume your parents were fast asleep. You grabbed your bag containing your phone, wallet, and keys and made your way out to your car that sat adjacent to the curb in front of the Connecticut home that served as your personal hell for nearly a decade.

You started the engine, feeling the car shake as it warmed up. Your hands trembled as they gripped the steering wheel. You were ready, had to be.

Taking a single look back at your home, you felt your heart skip out of step as you caught your mother’s frame looking down at you from her second-story bedroom window. You took your foot off the gas as you met her eyes. You couldn’t have but certain, but by the way her sullen cheeks glinted in the dim night lighting, she appeared to be crying. Her mouth remained pierced and straight, her shoulders and head rigid and stiff in their usual form. Even if she truly were crying, you wouldn’t have been able to bring yourself to care. Too late and far too little, you thought. You snapped your head back to the road and pulled forward down the street, refusing to look back again.

You held your shoulders and back straight, attempting to keep your face stuck in shrewd control. You couldn’t explain the wet, sickly feeling that built and spilled from the corner of your eyes. Couldn’t stop it if you tried.

It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the rearview as you entered the highway that you realized you saw your mother’s face staring back at you. A sudden terrible thought crossed your mind. Could your parents have made you just as cruel and horrible as they were?

You took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that clung to your cold skin. You let your body slack slightly, relaxing the muscles in your face and shoulders. You glanced back up at your reflection once more. No, you thought, there was still a sense of softness in you. You would never be like them. You were going to heal, move forward.

A smile spread across your lips then as another car shot past you. This felt like the first real moment of your life. You reached over, digging in your bag for your phone. You only had one person to call. The phone rang twice before your aunt’s soft-spoken voice answered on the returning line. As if she could read your mind, she asked quietly, “Are you on your way?”

Your smile widened as you answered her, “Yes, yes! I’ll be there in just a few days. I have all my things. I’ll let you know if I run into any trouble.”

The line was silent, you held your breath as you waited for a response. You suddenly felt nervous in those quiet moments. You hadn’t told her that this would be the night you would be leaving. It had all happened so quickly.

Your aunt then exhaled a heavy sigh of relief and your smile returned once more.

“Be safe darling, I’ll speak to you soon. I love you.” Irina spoke.

“Okay, promise I will be. I love you too.” You replied before pressing the button to end the call.

The long drive passed in what now felt like an instant as you stood in Irina’s driveway, boxes in hand, looking up at what would become your new home.

Your aunt Irina greeted you on her front porch, promptly taking one of the small stacked boxes from your arms that hid your face. You sighed in relief at the lightened load.

“Ah dochka, come inside quickly.” Your aunt said over her shoulder as she propped the front door open with foot.

You nodded and followed her, placing the heavy boxes that contained the most important of your belongings on the entryway table beside the stairs. Your aunt carefully placed the box she held on top of the stack as well before turning to face you. You held your arms awkwardly at your side, your fingers twitched as you met your aunt’s gaze. She was all the natural beauty and poise that your mother -her older sister- had without the cutting and sunken look that came from years of contempt and cruelty. You hoped you favored your aunt in that way.

There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you as you took in the sight and presence of one another. Irina’s expression was filled with something indiscernible as she looked you over. You suddenly felt self-conscious in that moment. The last time she had seen you, you were only a child.

“I-“ You began to speak, unsure what your next words would be. You were promptly interrupted as Irina took you into her arms.

“Oh sweet girl, I’ve missed you so much.” Your aunt spoke softly. Her hand slid over your hair, holding your head closer to her own.

You tried your best to get a hold the overwhelming emotions building up inside you as you wrapped your arms tighter around her.

“Listen, don’t worry about any of it right now,” Irina pulled away, holding your shoulders in her hands. “I’ll show you to your bedroom. It’s late. We’ll catch up in all the days to come. As you’re ready, of course.”

She understood you so perfectly. It felt as though no time had passed between the two of you at all. You nodded, wiping away the single tear that slipped past your waterline. “Thank you.” You replied earnestly.

She showed you to your room, helping you carry your things up the stairs. The room was warm and soft, perfectly polished and eclectic, in the style that perfectly encapsulated Irina. You absolutely adored it all.

Your aunt didn’t linger as you swiftly unpacked the essentials you needed for the night. It was nearly reaching the hours of the early morning and you were both physically and mentally well exhausted. You’d let yourself begin to process it all in the morning. For now, you were safe, even happy. It was going to be alright.

The next morning had come and gone. Your aunt woke you with breakfast and the two of you exchanged small pleasantries. In the afternoon Irina stopped you as she caught you on the stairs, a laundry basket stuck to her hip. “We can go tomorrow to enroll you at the high school if you’d like. I have a gap in meetings around noon.”

You picked at your fingernails, tossing up the idea in your head. “It’s okay, I can run by the school on my own tomorrow. I imagine It shouldn’t take me very long.”

Irina furrowed her brow, nodding. “Oh okay then, just shoot me a text when you get everything sorted, will you?”

You smiled and nodded before the two of you resumed your paths apart.

Finding your way to the school the next morning wasn’t too difficult of a task to accomplish. Classes began in a week and to your relief, there were no students hanging near campus yet to be found. Aside from a few members of faculty, the school was entirely deserted.

It didn’t take you much time to locate the staff required to complete your enrollment. The secretary had even exclaimed she knew your aunt quite well. You supposed that everyone must be at least partially acquainted in this town, given its size.

You suddenly felt hesitant as you made your way across the parking lot back to your car. A silver sedan caught your eye as it sped past you. All four windows were rolled down and you could tell the car was full of people that looked just about your age. It seemed you had caught their attention too as you met the eyeline of the driver. She was too far away to make out much detail beyond her short cropped hair and frame.

The thought hadn’t yet occurred to you how difficult it would be to make new friends in a place where nearly everyone grew up with one another. You wished in that moment that you had made more of an effort as a child during your summers spent here to make any friends. But you had always been shy, horribly and painfully shy, as a child. It was just easier to play on your own. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how to make real close friends, let alone keep them.

Still, you shrugged, it would have made this whole transition much easier if you had at least one person near your age in Woodsboro who might have remembered your name.

You tried to keep your mind occupied in the days that followed. It wasn’t much of a hard task to follow. In the afternoon, you mainly kept to your bedroom, flipping mindlessly through a book you had been attempting to finish for the better part of a month. In the mornings you sat in the window bay, hot coffee in hand, remembering the neighborhood boys you used to watch ride by in circles on their bikes. Occasionally, your aunt invited you to eat lunch at the law firm she worked at in town. She’d tell you endlessly how quickly you’d adjust to things once the school year started, reminded you how the home was always open to guests, talked about the possible colleges you could apply to. It was a strange feeling to have someone show so much interest in the day-to-day doings of your life. You figured you’d learn to truly welcome and reciprocate the sentiment in time.

Your nerves had seemed kept safely under control until you began to turn into the Woodsboro High parking lot on the first day of class. Your fingers tapped the steering wheel in anticipation as you pulled into an open parking spot near the back of the lot. Placing the car in the park, you flipped your visor, giving yourself a once over before biting the bullet and getting the worst part of the day on with it. You scolded yourself for unknowingly chewing your lip nearly raw on the drive there, but other than that, you seemed just about alright.

Irina had been so excited to help you get ready for your first day. You knew she had always thought of you as her own daughter. She never had the opportunity to have any children of her own. You gladly let her fuss over your hair and clothing without once interjecting that the curling iron was burning your neck, and the constant outfit changes were exhausting your limited wardrobe. It gave you a sense of confidence, though, knowing that you at least looked your absolute best, regardless of how you felt inside.

You said a silent prayer as you approached the building’s front doors. Groups of students passed by in small droves. Each step felt like sinking through sludge as you noticed the quizzical looks from your new found peers that read ‘outsider.’ Even though your rational brain knew it couldn’t be true, it felt as though everyone in the halls was craning their heads to catch a glimpse. You dug your thumbnail into the palm of your hand as you dropped into an empty chair near the back of your first period homeroom class.

“There’s that new face.” A friendly female voice spoke beside you as she dropped her things on the desk to your right.

You turned to face her and were met by an inquiring smile and a familiar short blonde haircut. You immediately recognized her as the girl you had seen in the school parking lot the day you had registered.

You held out your hand, giving her your name.

She shook your hand in return, “Kirby.” She replied, giving you her own. As the two of you waited for the first bell to ring, you exchanged the usual first introduction sentiments. She introduced you to another girl who sat in the seat in front of you.

“Jill Roberts.” The new girl had stated more matter-of-factly.

“Good to meet you, Jill.” You replied in the same cadence. She gave you a half smile as she onced you over.

You spent the majority of your first few periods staring out of classroom windows or drawing endless little circles on your notebook as your teachers passed around syllabi and gave the same spiel on classroom expectation for the semester. You had learned so many names in just a few hours; you were already struggling to remember even just a handful. You assured yourself it wouldn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. In a matter of days, most people would lose interest in the new girl thing and you’d slip comfortably by as a nameless face in the considerably smaller student body.

The bell rang for lunch and you were on your feet with your things thrown over your shoulder in a matter of seconds. You carefully squeezed your way through the buzzing hallway and made a direct line to your car, hoping to decompress and catch your breath for a moment.

Just as you planted your first foot on the paved parking lot, you heard your name called, no- shouted, from behind you.

‘Fuck,’ you mumbled to yourself, pivoting in place. It took a moment to locate the person who had called after you. A curly-haired boy awkwardly jogged to catch up, his long-haired counterpart feigned a cooler stepped approach behind him. You couldn’t remember an introduction with either of them.

The curly-haired boy noticing the confused look on your face interjected, halfway catching his breath, “We already got your name from Kirby.” He began, noticing the way your brows furrowed he quickly continued, “I’m Robbie, this is Charlie.” He motioned to the man that stood beside him.

You looked up between the pair, catching Charlie’s line of sight. His eyes dropped just as quickly to his shoes below him, kicking his laces at the ground.

“... Right.” you stated questioningly, dragging your eyes away from the frayed aglet on Charlie’s left shoe to look back up at Robbie.

“Right, yeah,” Robbie stumbled over his next words, “We run the film club. We meet every day after school.” You sucked in your bottom lip, trying to conceal your now amused half smile.

You noticed Charlie now glancing between you and Robbie with dread in his expression at the awkward mess Robbie was attempting to make his way through. Just before Charlie could begin to speak, Robbie rushed to spit out the point he was trying to get to.

“Well, we’d- I’d.” Robbie met Charlie’s eyes for a moment before continuing. “No- we’d love for you to, if you ‘d want to… You should come check it out. After school. Today.”

You rolled the idea over in your head for a moment. You didn’t really believe you belonged anywhere near a film club; you considered yourself an average movie-goer at best. It couldn’t necessarily hurt to go, either. If you really felt out of place, you could just not go back the next day. You squinted up at the pair. Neither of them could meet your eyes. Your aunt would be ecstatic to learn you’d even made an attempt to put yourself out there a bit more. The short contemplative silence hadn’t been a thought that had crossed your mind, but you could tell it was now starting to make them squirm.

“Come on dude, I told you she wouldn’t want to come.” Charlie broke the silence with a quiet plea to Robbie.

Charlie now turned back to face you, “I’m sorry, don’t stress about trying to make it.” The look of defeat in the pair’s expressions brought a pit of sudden guilt in your chest. Just as Charlie grabbed Robbie’s shoulder to drag him back inside the school, you interjected without a second thought.

“I’ll go. I’d love to go. Thank you for the invite.” You drug as much sincerity into your face as you could muster. Both boys stopped in their tracks, exclaiming in unison, “Really?”

Charlie’s eyebrow raised in suspecting confusion.

“Okay, cool! Classroom 120A, right after the last bell.” Robbie called over his shoulder, a wide grin plastered across his face.

You stood for a moment, one foot on the curb, watching the pair make their way back to school. Fixating on the way, Charlie ran his hand through the mess of his long hair.

“See, I told you dude, you just have to make the first move.” You could hear Robbie say, almost out of earshot now. His arm reached out to fall over Charlie’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. Charlie pushed the boy off him. You imagined him rolling his eyes as he brushed off his shoulder.

You laughed to yourself, turning on your heel, heading back to your car to spend the time left of lunch you had in much needed solitude.

The remainder of the school day passed by just about the same way the first half had. In your last class of the day, you took the time counting the heads of the students around you, trying to recount the names of each one you could remember. Once you made your way to the back corner of the room, you noticed Charlie staring down at his lap. He was crumpling, unfolding, then crumpling up the same piece of paper over and over again. You wondered what he could’ve written on that paper, if there was anything written on it at all.

You hadn’t realized how long you sat watching his repetitive movements until he looked up, catching your gaze. His eyes were piercing, deep set, his hair half-way covering the features of his face.

Your face burned hot as you quickly snapped your head back towards the whiteboard in the front of the room.

‘Idiot.’ You groaned in silence to yourself. Out of the very corner of your peripherals, you could feel his eyes still fixated on you from just a row behind. You picked at your nails anxiously, watching the minute hand spin on the classroom clock.

The last bell of the day rang out shortly after and you relaxed into your seat. You slowly gathered your things into your bag on the desk.

“Hey.” A familiar voice spoke beside you. You jumped in your seat at the quiet and sudden proximity. You looked up to meet Charlie’s gaze. He was messing with the loop on the strap of his backpack that rested on his left shoulder. “I can show you to the room we use for film club, if that’d be cool with you.”

You nodded your head up at him. “Yeah, that’s cool.” In all honesty, you had almost completely forgotten about even going.

“Cool.” He said, grabbing your bag off the desk and throwing it over his other shoulder. He began walking to the door, motioning over his shoulder for you to follow him.

You followed closely beside him as you both pushed your way through the hallways packed with students exiting the building. The would-be awkward silence between the pair of you was graciously filled by the loud chatter of people passing by.

“When’d you move back?” You barely caught Charlie’s question. His face was fixed on the wall in front of him.

“Back? I’m sorry, I’ve never lived here.” You replied, “I moved in with my aunt about a week ago.”

He looked over at you, studying your face for a second before turning away again. He nodded his head.

“What about you? How long have you lived here?” You asked, keeping your gaze directed forward as well.

“Born and raised.” He replied. You nodded in response as the two turned a corner. You could see a plaque that read 120A just ahead.

A trio of guys in football garb made their way past, headed in the opposite direction. The closest of the group carried a large bag of equipment at his side that nearly knocked your knee from under you as you crossed paths.

“Ouch,” you mumbled, missing a step. You were alright, truly fine after shaking it off a bit.

Charlie stopped in his tracks beside you. Turning to face the group. “Watch your shit, Anderson.” He called after them.

The carrier of the bag didn’t bother to stop walking, only looking over his shoulder to seemingly size Charlie up. He laughed, “Yeah, alright Walker. You’re not gonna do shit about it.”

You could nearly feel Charlie tense up beside you. Men and their silly egos.

“I’m alright, let’s go please.” You grabbed Charlie’s forearm and pulled him forward towards the room, letting go once you could feel his resistance lessen.

Once in the room, you let out a sigh and took a seat next to Kirby near the center of the room. The meeting, to your surprise, went by well. Charlie and Robbie both seemed much more sure of themselves when they were talking about things they were passionate about. Although you had to admit it was all pretty dorky, you’d never fault them for the devotion in their interests.

You were practically lost throughout the hourlong meeting, but you believed it wouldn’t be too much of a challenge to pick up on things, eventually. It was all sort of interesting, fun even.

You decided on the car ride home that day you’d make sure to attend the next one.

#fanfiction #fanfic #scream 4 fanfic #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker x reader #scream fanfic #charlie walker x y/n #charlie walker #rory culkin fanfic #rory culkin fanfiction

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pine-rhyme · 2 months ago

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Pine I’m going insane please clear something up about tlt

I keep seeing art of two(?) v similar looking people, one with short hair and another with pigtails and I’ve seen both being referred to as Harrow or Nona or similar. I thought they were the same person (with Nona being a nickname of Harrowharks family name) but I saw some art that’d imply they’re two different people???

I always interpreted it as ‘Nona is what Harrow would be without the Horrors’ since she’s v cheerful. Like a sort of collective fandom oc. But now I think that’s wrong. Pls advise T^T

(Also hiiiiiiii hope you’re having a nice day ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́) )

OMG THANK YOU I AM SO GLAD I GET TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU BECAUSE THIS IS GENUIENLY MY FAVOURITE THING OUT OF THIS SERIES!!!!!

That and the wild contrast between Harrowhark and Nona makes me giggle maniacally every time.

Here is some sketchy art and rambling under the cut because I LOVE LOVE LOVE NONA!!!! And by extension the book she stars in!

Nona is a real character! But very well pointed that her name derives from Harrow's NONAgesimus! She is the narrator and main lady of the 3rd book (Nona the Ninth :DDD).

The thing about Harrow and Nona is that yes! They share the same body! Harrow is such a haunted character that it is already ridiculous how many other ghosts could take over her body if she falls unconscious (which already happened a few times and ngl it was very sexy).

But this time, in Nona's case it is unclear if it is one of her many ghosts piloting her body or if it is really Harrow whose trauma caught up with her and got her brain reset (you already know it wouldn't be her first rodeo given that she already has had the lobotomy experience :)) but the thing is, Nona can't remember a thing from before she got saved by Harrow's... friends? Acquaintances? People that owned her a favour?

The beautiful thing is that you have this vulnerable person, who doesn't know anything about herself is getting taken care of by these people that? Genuinely cared about the old Harrow? And are actively trying to figure out who Nona actually is. And how she can be helped. All we know is that Nona is uncharacteristically kind and sweet-natured for the tlt world :)))

She is deeply aware that she is unlikely to survive for much longer and experiences everything around her with a deep sense of wonder. She has only been alive for 6 months and it was a gift. The world is slowly crumbling around her and her body is slowly dying but she loves the people that take care of her nevertheless. She looks in the mirror and finds herself truly beautiful and she is openly grateful for the girl who let her borrow her body to experience this life. It is a bittersweet story and a very big tonal shift from the intense and alienating POV of the previous book (Harrow the Ninth), focusing more on the domesticity and closure nurtured in a wartorn refugee camp, between unlikely characters.

AND IT IS JUST HILLARIOUS to encounter characters with whom Harrow has been AT LEAST highly disagreeable, getting absolutely showered in affection by Nona. Nona herself being so full of love and admiration for everything and everyone she meets is just amazing when you remember that's HARROW'S body she's piloting. Harrow who is easily the most people-allergic character out of this whole series lmao. AND NONA IS WEARING HER HAIR LONG AND BRAIDED! AND PARADES AROUND IN THE MOST INSANE GRAPHIC T-SHIRTS. SHE WANTS TO DYE HER HAIR ELECTRIC BLUE LIKE HER CRUSH!

I absolutely love Nona she is my favourite character in this series. It is because of her that Harrow started to grow on me as well. It is just wonderful to find, after how distressed and alone Harrow is during the 2nd book, she has people that would go to such lengths to care for her, despite the fact that she lost her necromacy, genius and aptitudes, along with her memories and, in fact her body might be the only thing that remained out of her because, by the end, Nona might indeed be somebody else entirely.

More than that it is a story about a girl with no past and no future loving unconditionally and getting unconditionally loved in return by her friends and family. Even when it gets very complicated and twisted and at times you are forced to question what is everybody's hidden intentions or what is the meaning of it all. It is just as grim (and upsetting at times) as the rest of the series but having for once an optimistic pov (even tho it comes with her forcing herself to suppress her ugly feelings because her life is very short and she needs to enjoy everything while it lasts) feels almost like a fever dream.

"Life is too short and love is too long."

(This is Nona with Pyrrha! Pyrrha loves Nona so much it makes me sick to my stomach and I could talk for hours on end about them. )

Thank you so much for this ask and for indulging me in my madness!!!!!!! MMMMWAH!

#tlt #the locked tomb #THANK YIU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK #I HOPE YOU CAN FOLLOW TROUGH BECAUSE I WENT CREATURE MODE #i have a great day now!!!!!#i hope you do too!!!!!#nona the ninth #tlt nona #tlt yapping #tlt thoughts #harrowhark nonagesimus #tlt harrow #harrow the ninth #pyrrha dve #tlt pyrrha #pine art #rhyme art #pine talk #my art

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