#a certain guilty gratitude

[abla-soso]

I keep seeing people describing Aemond's interaction with Aegon as "sadism" but I don't see it at all.

There was no hint of glee or triumph in Aemond's face, body language, voice, or the words he spoke.

What I saw was deep anger and a bit of caution.

He doesn't want Aegon to tell the truth to anyone, so he's willing to lord his power over him to keep him silent.

But mostly he's just boiling with anger.

"You challenged Meleys...it was foolish", preceded by Aemond pushing into Aegon's wounds as a punishment. He wants to drive the point home that he is SO pissed and disappointed in Aegon for "making" him do this.

Enjoying his new position of power seems to pale in comparison to this anger.

He doesn't regret burning and crippling Aegon because he convinced himself that it was a necessary sacrifice (to save Aegon from certain death and to win the battle), but he hates the fact that Aegon's foolish recklessness "forced" his hand.

Aemond sees himself as his family's protector. He believes he's the only one in his family properly equipped to keep them all alive and he's just sort of mitigating whatever losses he thinks are unavoidable. This self-image would shatter if he allowed himself to admit he has utterly ruined his brother for petty revenge. If he allowed himself to feel sad or guilty over what he did to his own brother. So he copes with the only way he knows how: by bottling up the "weak" emotions (guilt, regret, pain, grief, self-doubt) and turning them into righteous anger.

The same anger that compelled him to avenge his wounded pride against Aegon at Rook's Rest is the same anger that allowed him to escape guilt and sadness and put the blame entirely on Aegon. And then he punishes Aegon again because otherwise he might punish himself.

He's a very dangerous character because his severe self-denial makes him unaware of his deeper motivations, and when he's aware of them he excels at rationalizing and justifying them to maintain his desired self-image.

Deep down, I think he can feel the self-deception. It's part of the reason why he needs Aegon to stay quiet and why he feels compelled to pet his head and kiss him gently as a "reward" for playing along and helping him cope with what he did to him. An unconscious part of him sees Aegon's compliance as a form of absolution and he's thankful for it. The kiss is part manipulation and part genuine display of comfort and gratitude. This is why he leaves the council ball in Aegon's hand. His indirect way of saying; "You never wanted this, and when you tried you ruined yourself. Just rest now and let me take care of everything".

He hurts and then mends his brother's wounds, and it's so symbolic of the way he feels for him. It's hate, envy, anger, spite, love, protectiveness, possession, duty, and sacrifice.

It's easier for him to express his twisted affection for Aegon now that he's broken enough to be his clear and undoubted "inferior".

[ozzgin]

Hai, sweecheeks thanks for accept my request, i'm so really Grateful for that 💋. If you don't mind, do you accept my request again regarding Inuyasha and Sesshomaru.With a beautiful butterfly demon, and sexy but has a fox-like demeanor, she is very elegant and has never been attracted to shika no tama. She just wants to live a quiet life.The beautiful butterfly demon is the girlfriend of Inuyasha and Sesshomaru. (separate) .

I always love you and your blog my dear, sorry I always disturb your time❤️🌹

Hi and no worries! How very unexpected, it‘s my first time writing anything Inuyasha related so I‘m both nervous and excited haha. Let‘s see how this goes.

Inuyasha Characters x Butterfly Demon! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Inuyasha, Sesshomaru and a stunning demon reader.

Inuyasha

“Eh?” Followed by a prolonged pause and confused blinking. That’s the reaction you always get when people learn you’re Inuyasha’s girlfriend. You’re always amused by it and clap your hands in delight, especially because you get to see Inuyasha’s response to it. “What’s so shocking about it?!” He barks, appalled. To everyone’s defense, it is rather unusual to see a demon of such elegance and charm followed closely by a half-human, unrefined mutt.

But you can’t get enough of his antics. He’s raw and unfiltered. He wears his heart on his sleeve and even when he tries to deny his feelings, you can read him like an open book. Most demons are prideful and scheming as you’ve learned in your very long life, but Inuyasha appeared to you like a breath of fresh air and you’re grateful to see someone with a humane side to them. Humans have always fascinated you and Inuyasha is now your source of never ending curiosity.

Inuyasha, on the other hand, took some time to get used to you. You’re stunningly beautiful yet sly like a fox and he was very suspicious of your intentions in the beginning. Always with a smile on your face, he could never tell what you’re thinking. Your graceful display of power would also remind him of Sesshomaru and therefore his inability to compare, given his human side, so he’d quietly retreat into insecure annoyance. He was running an imaginary race for power, until he’d come to the realization that you were never part of it in the first place. You yearn for peace and quiet, completely uninterested in this competition of strength.

In a way, you both complete each other. Inuyasha has helped you uncover an intricate spectrum of emotions that might’ve remained dormant had you not encountered him. And you’ve allowed him to find a sense of peace. In the tumultuous search for the Sacred Jewel, you’ve taught him that sometimes it���s okay to just enjoy life as it is. His desire for power has slowly been replaced by his blooming love for you.

Your guilty pleasure is teasing him relentlessly. You can easily tell just how attractive he finds you and how embarrassed it makes him. So every now and then you’ll ambush him with flirty innuendos and watch him squirm, frustrated and red-faced, while you tilt your head in innocent confusion. You find his genuineness adorable.

Sesshomaru

While Sesshomaru has grown to be more accepting of humans, he can’t help but feel a certain sense of pride about having a partner of your prestige. You’re both powerful demons and your union has only further spread your envying reputation. It feels almost natural that the two of you ended up together.

It was actually you that softened his views towards humans. He found your interest in the feeble creatures to be downright ridiculous and borderline foolish. Why should you, a vastly superior demon, concern yourself with such pitiful matters? Yet this is what intrigued him most about you. You don’t seem to think like other demons and your behavior and actions are often times unpredictable to him. There’s a mysterious twist to your cunning smile and he’s surprisingly eager to decipher it.

Jaken likes to boast his gratitude for you. Ever since you’ve joined them on their travels, Lord Sesshomaru seems to frown less, and Jaken himself has gained a conversation partner that’s not threateningly taciturn and might punish him at any moment. Rin often marvels at your beauty and charisma and wishes she could grow up to be like you. Just like Jaken, she’s thankful you’ve helped Sesshomaru leave some of his hate behind. His eyes hold less malice, and when rested upon your figure there’s a glint of adoration that can be discerned.

Similar to you, Sesshomaru is entirely indifferent to the Sacred Jewel. He’s confident in his strength and abilities and has no need for external aid. Once this entire mess involving Naraku is over, he might even be tempted to give in to your dream of a peaceful, quiet life. He could use some rest, especially if it’s in your company.

Sesshomaru is very reserved in displaying his emotions, though he can be overly affectionate after brief encounters with other males. Your looks are enough to turn anyone’s head and while he is certain you wouldn’t leave him for anything less, he can’t help the faint jealousy that wells up in his chest. He’d rather let it be known who you belong to. You like his possessiveness, but might occasionally tease him by saying that one simply cannot cage a butterfly. It will rest on your shoulder out of its own volition.

[seraphiism]

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ┊ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ;

characters : xiao / alhaitham / ayato fandom : genshin impact

↬ xiao ࿐ ࿔

you imagined this would have gone differently. you imagined xiao would be frantic, furious-- not at you, but at those who dared bring you harm. you imagined he'd be scolding you endlessly for such acts of recklessness, but he does not. instead, he chooses silence, expression stoic, almost unreadable, and it makes the heart sink into uncertainties.

it is silent.

there is a heaviness that lingers in the air as he tends to your wounds, fresh cuts stinging and irritated by the balm he applies in the gentlest of ways. you imagined this would be so much more different, and you almost wish it was, because you can feel his hurt like it is your own, and you know that he believes your pain is his, always and forever.

the salve is cool against your skin ; it tingles, the back of your hand, but a warmth replaces the sensation as his fingers dance across the injuries. he doesn't look at you, but instead, chooses to displace his anxiety and frustration in the way he takes care of you.

you tilt your head the slightest bit, force your gazes to meet as you smile faintly. it is a guilty smile, he notices, and he does not return it, nor can he bring himself to look away.

"i am still here, xiao."

then, he speaks for the first time tonight.

"you should have called me. you know you cannot face dangers greater than yourself alone."

there is something in his words-- a grief, the thought of what could have been, a preemptive readiness for the loss of a loved one-- and your smile turns somber. he is right. you should have asked for help. you are lucky to have survived the night, and you both are well aware of that.

you grab his hand, squeeze it gently despite the pain. you can see that small flicker of surprise in his eyes as you pull him towards you, and in the way your lips meet his, there is the quiet seeking of forgiveness and a known gratitude.

"i'm sorry, xiao." you murmur against his lips. "i will be sure to speak your name when the time arises."

↬ alhaitham ࿐ ࿔

"be honest. you're pissed."

alhaitham is quick to care for your wounds, but he is not quick to panic. not a surprise, really, and it's also not really a surprise as to how he's acting.

"i'm not angry". he states, a blunt brutality in his words. "i'm just disappointed."

you don't say anything initially, your expression deadpan as it meets his before you throw him a half-hearted glare. there's a slightly teasing tone in his response, though you know he means them. had you been a stranger, you would have thought he was dead serious.

"i'm sorry," you start, "i almost thought i was being grounded for a second."

alhaitham doesn't say anything at first, simply stares at you-- and it's a long while of just looking at each other until the first person breaks. he's almost certain you will be the first to lose in this battle of resilience-- you always are, albeit through his own means. so he scoots a little closer to you, leans forward until all you can see or think about is him. he cups your face with his hand, touch gentle, almost too warm, and how steady it is that he holds your gaze.

"you are." he murmurs, and you almost think you see a hint of a smile when you finally look away, begrudgingly leaning back the slightest bit in silent admit of defeat.

"shut up."

"i won't." he answers. "now come back to me. you have a scratch on your face, you know."

"oh. is that why you were getting so close?"

"yes," alhaitham chuckles, and you are unsure what makes your heart beat faster : the love in it, or the way he closes the distance between you once more, "but i also happen to like you, too."

↬ ayato ࿐ ࿔

"beloved, you wound me so."

there's a faint curve that settles on ayato's lips, but there's worry in that smile, and you know that no amount of words can ease it. you let out a quiet laugh, your hands in his as he squeezes them gently in comfort to both you and him : to you, in means of letting you know that he is there for you, and to him, in means of reassurance that you are still here, still alive and breathing.

there's bandages all over your body-- no serious injuries, thankfully, but there are still so many, and how they adorn you terribly so.

"and i thought i was the only one who was wounded." you respond, a lighthearted tone in your words. you do not wish to see him sad, nor do you wish to add any additional stress to his already hectic routine. ayato has experienced much loss in his life -- and even now, he must be on guard for those who wish to harm him through means of hurting those he cares for. you squeeze his hand twice : a quiet apology, an i'm sorry, and he hears it loud and clear.

"in spirit, i'm hurt, too."

your laughter grows a little louder. he's always been so cheesy and theatrical when it came to romance. the worry in his smile dissipates, turns into something of genuine relief at your reaction. though you may be littered in wounds, it's clear that you are alright.

"well, we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead in yet another means of apology. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you." you whisper, and you press your forehead against his. "i'm alright, love. thank you for taking care of me."

[fandomwritingbit]

Fem x reader with William Afton the reader murder someone by accident and he cleans up the body but he then uses that against her every chance he gets so he can fuck her

Yo this is a dark idea... delightfully dark though.

Hope this scratches the itch ;)

William Afton x "killer" fem reader

warnings: smut, blackmail, coercion, murder in self defence, Will is an implied practised killer.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” The man above you groaned, one of his hands tangled in your hair, you knew him well enough now to know exactly what he likes and it shows. How he loves it when you look up at him from down there on your knees, biting your lip. How he’ll let you tease him with cute little kitten licks on the head of his cock, but only to a certain point. He makes you work for it and you hate to admit that you like it more than you should. 

You hollow your cheeks and take him as well as you can, the pressure from his grip and his length making tears spring in the corners of your eyes. Your hands come forward to push against his hips and he lets up just a little, smirking when you hum your gratitude, the vibrations of your voice just delicious. 

His hand guides your movement and you swirl your tongue underneath his shaft to earn his patience. You know by now that if you’re not his perfect enthusiastic fuck bunny, he’ll take it out on you later. So you suck him as good as you can, using your hands to stroke his base before sliding one down to his balls, the light pressure making his end raise its head out of nowhere. Moaning as you sense the change in him, and trying not to think about the growing warmth between your legs. Not that you can help that, it's a subconscious association now.

You know he’s close when the grip on your hair becomes more dominant, holding you still whilst he fucks into your throat. His pace quickly falters because your hot mouth feels too good around him, stuttering completely when he cums, his release warm as it coats your tongue. 

He just loves the power that he has over you, how you’ll hop down to your knees to serve him happily, because the alternative scares the hell out of you. So you’ll let him use your mouth and your greedy little cunt, pretending like he doesn’t know your darkest secret. It’s blackmail, and he knows it, and maybe he would feel guilty if you didn’t enjoy it so much.

It's no use trying to say no to him, or trying to change his mind. Everytime you so much as hesitate in response to him and his demands, he forces your mind back to that awful night. The night your relationship with William Afton changed. 

~

It was hot that night, you remember it well because it made you scrape your hair back just to stop it sticking to your forehead as you went about your work. The heat made people flock to the diner and the place thrummed with bodies and their warmth. Nothing was amiss. You were doing the closing shift that night, and come 9pm were just desperate to finish your tasks and get home, but of course people kept lingering, ordering more and more, ‘keeping you busy’ or ‘helping you get your steps in’ as they like to say.  

It was bad but not out of the ordinary, until one of the men inside became a problem. He’d been creepy all night, asking you your name, how old you are, if you have a boyfriend etc… You stuck to your one word answers, not being rude but not obliging either. 

Then it was catching your arm as you walked past, jeering and complaining when you pulled away. That was enough for you and you spoke to your supervisor, getting someone else to serve him, so you didn’t have to feel uncomfortable. 

Except that wasn’t enough. You were walking out towards the kitchen, an empty bottle in your hand that someone wanted chucking away, slipping through the staff door and down the dark corridor. Careful to give a wide berth to the customer toilets so you didn’t get hit by doors flinging open. When without any warning a strong grip on your shoulder made you spin around, a rush of adrenaline filling your entire body that only worsened when you recognised the man who’d been harassing you all night. 

“Let go of me.” You said, your voice pinched with panic as you were alone back there. It was still firm enough though, and the bloke’s expression turned sour. 

“Come on, you’ve been avoiding me all night. I only want your number.” Despite his innocent enough claim, the grip said otherwise. 

“I said. Let. Go.” You tried to pull away but he yanked you forwards, your body coming into contact with the wall behind you was a feeling you’ll never forget. Your struggling wasn’t enough, so you used what you had at your disposal: the bottle. Swinging it hard, fuelled by adrenaline, into his face. The glass bursting in your hand upon impact. 

The action wasn’t conscious and it only dawns on you when you feel blood pouring out your palm, an achingly sore feeling spreading through your hand. Then you look at him. He was also bleeding but so, so much more. A shard of glass as big as your fist sticking out of his neck, his hands raising uselessly to try grasp it, but hardly getting near before he collapsed in front of you. Body crumpling to the floor in the most uncanny and haunting manner. 

You must have stood there for a few minutes before you realised what you’d done.

And then, your boss left his office. The low light level made him question what he was seeing, but when he saw your face ravaged by terror and guilt it was a certainty. You just killed that man. And that sight was much too familiar.

“Y/n… What have you done?” His low voice was the only thing that snapped you out of your trance, it was close to a whisper, hissed at you from between his teeth. You look at him, your face aghast and tears streaming down your face. Unable to speak, you just watch as he walks towards you, a cold and detached look crossing his face. 

“I…” You hardly recognise the thin, flimsy sound of your voice, you sound fragile, if not already broken. “I didn’t mean… I-I don’t know how this happened.” It takes a long time for the words to leave you and when they do they’re interrupted by a sharp and desperate intake of breath. You glance at your boss momentarily but your eyes are fixed on the pool of blood spreading across the tiled floor. 

William places two hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look away and towards him. His touch was sobering and you looked at him in disbelief. “Listen to me. Did you do this?” The way he spoke made it seem like he was talking to a child. 

You can only nod, burying your face in your hands. He chuckled then, somewhat in disbelief; how on earth should he react? Well, he should call the police, give them the footage and say goodbye to one of his prettiest employees. But he could use this…

As if reality only just dawned, you began babbling, talking nonsensically, desperately trying to tell him what happened and how this wasn’t your fault. Stumbling over the point of not calling the police repeatedly, fear making you fixate on the possibility. He let you for a moment but cut you off quickly. 

“Shut up.” He spoke very firmly and you obeyed instantly. “It doesn’t matter… Do you want to go to jail?” You shake your head in response, biting your lip to try and keep the tears in. It’s that expression that seals the deal. He is going to use this to have you. 

One of his hands comes up under your chin and firmly cups your jaw, and you gasp at the quiet strength. Breathing shakily when his thumb presses against your lips. “Then you won’t. But, if I fix this for you, sweetheart.” You stare mesmerised as a breathtaking grin cuts into his face, “Then you owe me.” 

~

And fix it he did. You helped him, not that you had a choice, to carry the man- corpse down the hallway and into a parts and service room. From there he took charge, instructing you to clean the mess, inhumanly explaining the need for cold water to wash the blood out of your clothes, and bleach for the floor. After you did so and returned, there was nothing to be found, the body was gone and you daren’t ask him where it was. Truth be told you didn’t want to know.

Once everything had been taken care of you started crying again, the emotions catching up to you and corroding your entire system. He watched you for a while before moving close to you, smirking at how pathetic you looked, shivering with emotion like a kicked dog. “It’s taken care of, y/n. It’s fine.” Again he talked down as though you were a small child. 

“I- I know but… I can’t just… I feel-” He cut off your sobbing by taking your hand and your gaze snapped up to him. 

“You’re shaking, sweetheart.” He strokes the back of your hand, the intimacy of it making goosebumps prickle your skin. “Let me guess, you feel dulled. You feel like you’re not yourself anymore because you wouldn’t do that.” You stare at him in confusion, that's exactly how you felt. “Well, love, you fucking did it. That emptiness is hard to live with. But I can help you feel something.”

[mamayan]

👉👈👀 feisty unwilling darling being tamed by gentle force of their yandere... I'm starving, Yanny 😭 please, I beg you- feed me with a KNY man!

(don't have to but you made me thirsty now)

Chef Yan prepares the dish—

Yandere Kyojuro Rengoku x GN! Darling!

★Patience★

Trigger Warnings: Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Yandere Themes • Implied Kidnapping • Implied Imprisonment • Isolation/denial of interaction • Manipulation • Psychological breakdown

He’s a patient man despite what the young slayers who assist him on missions or the kakushi who follow behind might assume.

He’s patient with the civilians he saves, letting them ramble out their gratitude and whimper their fears. He’s patient with his younger brother, never rushing his training or pushing when he shouldn’t. He’s patient with you the most though.

It requires a certain level of patience to come home to your screeching. The curses and hissed insults tossed his way, the way your eyes burn with hatred and lips spit vitriol. He’s patient even when you devolve into something less than human, an animal fighting in its enclosure, unable to come to terms with its capture. Clawing at his flesh when he tries to feed you, knocking down bowls and plates until they clatter on the tatami mats. Your squeals and battle cries as you head-butt him and snarl your victory when blood trickles down his face, staining the new yukata he’d gifted you for the spring season you wouldn’t get to see.

He’s a patient man until he isn’t. He’s no without temper himself, and while he’d found the fight amusing and even adorable in the beginning, he sees it’s not dying like he presumed it would. You’re like a flame, finding anything and making it your kindling, burning all within your path as you ignite even simply looking at him. Fires can’t burn without fuel though, and while it makes his teeth ache as he clenches them in concentration, he manages to avoid seeing you that day.

You went without food or even a glimpse of blonde after a particularly foul tantrum. You’d screamed that death would be better than this hell, but Kyojuro truly felt annoyance at the statement. How was a beautiful home he’d had built entirely for you a living hell? The food he does his best to make, though admittedly you eat professionally prepared meals more often than not, that was hell too? Was his presence so disgusting you must scrunch your lovely features up when he appears?

He’s patient, even when all he wants to do is comfort and hold you when he hears your angry cries the first and second night, staying away and only delivering the necessary food for your survival. Bread and water. Sometimes a watered down vegetable soup. You’d begun destroying dishes less, screams dying down in favor of saving energy as he watches you curl more into yourself each night. He’s heart broken by the sight of your flames dying, something he feels guilty for doing, but what else could he do? Let you go? You could be killed, eaten by a demon, harassed or assaulted, any number of true hells that he could think of. He couldn’t let you get hurt, but starving you of contact, comfort, and affection would only help you appreciate what he does provide.

It lasts longer than he hoped for. Months pass and each time he checks in, curious of your reaction each time, he’s left crushed by your boiling rage and renewal of hatred. You have so much bite to each word, unafraid of anything as you stand up to him like a slayer of equal standing and strength. He’s impressed as much as he is disappointed. How beautiful you look is always what stuns him. Like a warrior prepared to die in battle your eyes shine, even as the bags beneath them grow. How patient can you be? Will he outlast you?

He begins to worry you might win. That he’ll break first and you’d return to the way it was in the beginning. Him spoiling you and you hating every second.

Until a storm hits while he’s away on mission. Senjuro helping ensure you’re fed and safe from a distance as instructed by his brother. It leaves the area a bit flooded, the lighting shaking the structures of homes as the wind howls with vengeance.

Kyojuro returns with apprehension, anxious to see you safe and sound but dreading the look of disgust in your eyes he’s sure he’ll find.

Only to find himself weighed down the moment he enters. Your body shaking and clutching onto his uniform for dear life, eyes looking up at him with tears and he’s shocked to his core to see desperation and a plea in your depths. The way your face melts into a pout as you senselessly beg and apologize as if your life truly depends on it, begging him not to leave you again, pleading for mercy as you tug on his clothing. He catches you with strong arms when you collapse, holding you to his chest while you scramble to sink deeper into the embrace.

He’s too stunned to do much else but shush and coo at you, trying to calm you down as you wiggle and attempt to crawl into his skin instead of claw it off like usual.

“Little flame, I’ve got you, hey, look at me.” He’s forced to sit on the floor and to bring you into his lap, his hands free to cup your cheeks and turn your face up to meet his steady and calm gaze. “I won’t let anything hurt you, I’ll stay as long as you like, okay?”

You’re calm enough to hear him, sniffling and nodding your head as you melt in his hands like he’s never seen before.

“As long as I’m around, nothing bad will happen.” He’s not ashamed to whisper in your ear, adoring the shiver of fear which wracks your poor body. He’s holding you tight, not giving you an inch even as you realize slowly the price of his kindness.

He certainly loves everything about you, from the fire which blazes inside you to the little breathy whimpers you make in the night, but he loves you most when you don’t fight him so hard all the time.

Of course, he’s always happy to remind you why you shouldn’t test his patience.

[niuniente]

PICK A CARD WITH NIU Choose an image (or more than 1) and read below a message meant for you from The Spiritual Realm. Only take what resonated with you and leave the rest.

I thought that since I can't keep up with the Youtube channel, I can allow some simple pick a cards here.

☕ 1: Tea and Pulla Sweet Bun 🥐

A saving grace is right on the horizon. This is the famous 11th hour, when the door finally opens and the solution arrives just when you have given up. To reach this liberation you're seeking, you need to allow yourself just to be. It's OK not to know. It's OK not to have the answers. This is a card of a positive surrender where you throw your hands up in the air and admit that you've done all you can - now the rest is in the hands of some higher power. Once you surrender and allow currents to take you, you can finally get your solutions, answers and have the doors opening. Imagine this as a situation where you try to pull a door open. You have been trying too hard. You've tried all you can imagine to get that damn door open. Finally, all tired and frustrated, you give up and just toss yourself against the door with a shout "I give up!". And, you know what? That door was a push door. It was never going to open by you pulling it but you were so busy telling yourself that you have to get this door open and giving all you've got and some beyond to get the door open that you never realized that it was a push door. 

Same kind of letting go is needed now. Letting go of the reins is scary but worth it. If your life has already been in chaos and you have already surrendered, then know that it will pay off. Likely faster than you realized.  This need to let go of control and trying too hard can fall into any area of life; work, school, relationships, love, hobbies, interests etc.

Remember that no matter how many setbacks you've had, no matter how often you have failed, no matter how hard you have tried, you have not been abandoned. You're on the right track. The Universe will step in and set things for your favor, no matter how impossible it would seem to you. Relax and let this storm pass, as you can't tell a storm to stop or go away. You've got this. Be more gentle with yourself and give yourself credit for; life has been hard but you've gone so far. It will get better. If it didn't, you wouldn't be reading this message now.

If you want a personal private reading, order one from my Etsy.

🐤 Picture 2: Bird and Cherry Tree 🌸

Congratulations are in order! A lucky strike is about to hit you! Things will turn into your favor and you can literally see some sort of a figurative spring arriving to your life, maybe after a figurative winter. This is a good time to take risks, gamble and most importantly remain optimistic and positive. Have a sense of ease and fun, as things will work out for your favor, in a way or another. This lucky strike can fall on a certain area of life or on multiple areas of life at the same time; health, work, study, relationships, love, finances, move etc. If you are an adult and hoping to get pregnant, this is a good time for pregnancy. For singles, go out there and mingle!

You are asked to feel the thrill of victory and gratitude towards this win of yours, even if it wasn't here yet. Just like a child on a birthday or some other occasion, where you know something wonderful will definitely happen and you don't even second guess it. Allow yourself to take this good luck, this golden ticket from Lady Luck. Don't feel guilty for being victorious and having things working out for you. If you are in a situation where all is at ease and life is easy, fun and abundant to you, don't feel guilty or ashamed of this. You feeling miserable because someone else is miserable and unlucky will only have two people - you and the other - feel miserable.

This win feels very personal. It is possible that you can't share this with others, like for example the pregnancy I mentioned earlier; only you or your partner can be pregnant with the baby meant for you. Only you can get that job. Only you can graduate now. Only you can take that trip. Only you can win something meant for you. If you get a financial windfall, invest into your own self first. Be generous towards yourself. You've earned this!

If you want a personal private reading, order one from my Etsy

🌏 Picture 3: The Planet and Stars ⭐

You might have set your eyes on a goal (or plan to do so) which will require hard work and loving discipline. Hard work and patience is needed with this goal, and it is possible that this goal is either a bit hard to reach, takes a long time to reach or it's rare in a way that not many have gone after it. Such a goal can be anything from saving money for a big purchase, learning a new skill or a new language, exercising for a certain body, painting a gigantic mural, transitioning, wanting to cover yourself with tattoos, or even just growing your hair really long.

You are asked to have a sense of success and abundance as you go towards this goal; I can do this! I've got what's needed to obtain it! I can make it! It's worth it! This goal might be something which has been on your mind for a long time and perhaps you have tipped your toe in its waters but now, the time seems to be right for this journey - all the way to the victorious end goal. You've grown, you've planned, you've investigated, you've given yourself time to consider this. This card gives me a feel of a mature decision, whether this goal of yours is a new style or a business of your own. Whatever is calling you, it is calling you for a reason. This call is positive.

You might need to let go of something or someone to obtain this goal, because it's going to ask for either a bigger transformation or more of your time and resources. If you, for example, learn a new language you need to clear space from your daily schedule for it. Or, if you are going to save money for something big, you have to cut down your expenses. Or, perhaps you want to obtain a job, a home or an education which is available in a different city/state/country and it requires you to move. Also, moving from singlehood to a relationship or from a bad relationship to a singlehood is this kind of a shift this card is talking about. Don't hesitate to let go of things and make room for this change. Keep going, you can do this and in the future, you will be happy that you kept going and allowed yourself to explore this option.

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[anghraine]

I think I've talked about it before, but there's a pretty beloved book!Darcy line that's ... maybe not objectively misread, but often read in a very different way than I interpret it:

"But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you."

I've seen this interpreted as a romantic concession that Darcy's love for Elizabeth and concern for her were his true motives for intervening with Lydia. Less often, I've also seen it read much more uncharitably as an indictment of his principles—he only cares about this whole thing at all because Elizabeth does and he cares about her, so it's ultimately selfish.

And those readings (which are ultimately related) do make a certain amount of sense if you analyze the quote by itself. He outright says he was only thinking of Elizabeth! Yes, this is in specific reference to her family, but still, he's pretty clear that his true motive was Elizabeth's peace of mind.

In this case, his claim to the Gardiners that he was principally motivated by his sense of guilt over Wickham would simply be a lie—perhaps a benevolent one to protect Elizabeth from feeling pressured, perhaps a necessary one in the circumstances, but still not an actual motive and not truly an aspect of his character.

Interestingly, though, when Elizabeth receives Mrs Gardiner's account of the Lydia affair in her letter, she does not doubt that Darcy was telling the truth about his motives, even if his feelings for her also affected him:

he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it; and though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she could perhaps believe, that remaining partiality for her might assist his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially concerned.

Elizabeth is in a lot of turmoil and uncertainty at the time, so it does make sense that she might not fully realize, or dare assume, that she really was his primary motivation—even if it means that she's largely wrong about him all over again.

...except, a mere two sentences before Darcy says "I thought only of you," he says something else that's often excluded from the romantic (or anti-Darcy) use of the original quote.

"That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny."

So in this very passage, he says that he had other motives than Elizabeth's happiness, but that the possibility of making her happy strengthened his other motives. That is quite similar to what Elizabeth concluded when she read Mrs Gardiner's letter (even the phrasing is similar). She did underestimate the strength of Darcy's feelings during that whole phase of the story, yes—he certainly feels more than "remaining partiality." But she's not getting him fundamentally wrong at this point.

I think that, like Elizabeth, Darcy did feel guilty about Wickham (both of them disproportionately to their actual culpability, IMO). I think that this really was a driving motive for his intervention with Lydia—first in trying to get Lydia to leave Wickham, and secondly in arranging the marriage. Of course, his feelings for Elizabeth would strengthen that drive, and did! But I don't think he was mostly lying to the Gardiners or that Elizabeth's analysis of his actions and character were all that wrong this time.

IMO, when he says he was only thinking of Elizabeth, he's speaking specifically in the context of her attempt to voice the gratitude that her family (allegedly) would feel if they knew the truth of what he had done. He respects them as human beings at this point, but he wasn't acting for the sake of the Bennets as a group and doesn't feel like they really owe him anything. The only person he was particularly motivated by was Elizabeth. He also doesn't want her to feel like she owes him something, but if she's going to thank him personally, it should be for herself alone; anything else is kind of wrong and fake.

In that sense, he was only thinking about her—that is, as opposed to thinking about other people. But given his longer speech, in which he explicitly says he had other motives, Elizabeth's happiness being the only person's he was really preoccupied with doesn't prevent him from having more complicated, abstract, layered motives overall. It can be romantic without necessarily being simple.

[esoteriamaya]

The Sun's Creator : Create Your Reality

WHICH PICTURE OF THE SUN DRAWS YOU CLOSER TO CREATING YOUR BEST YOU?

Hey so I designed a beautiful pick a card reading on how to find the best way to create a stronger bond for yourself. What do you need to know to know right now? Its best to give ourselves a chance to breathe some new light, so just enjoy the picture and the message is right below :)

PILE 1 - 'Do you get me? I'm right around the corner.'

Picking up where we left out sometimes gives us the chance to find our new wings. Because the climate is chilling, you cover yourself up to keep that warmth inside your belly, but it only keeps trying to show its weight. Because you're accustomed to the usual. You've become light headed to whats in front, but not the deepest parts in it. Change is around the corner for you, full on differences and expansions of the imagination will keep you moving forward in this horizon. Places you felt not so sure of will bring down the uncertainty you've been carrying for the past several weeks. Charming experiences will show soon as you've let out a big roar to yourself and for others to appreciate. Congratulate yourself for the work that you've BEEN doing because its been a lengthy road. That hidden joy is soon to pop through as you continue to awaken the force that continues to knock inside of yourself.

PILE 2 - 'Look at me now, I was chosen for this path.'

Pat yourself on the back boo! You're incredible. Your appearance is changing and you feel that beautiful light showing itself on a daily. Please, keep it that way. Look forward to the shifts you've been creating for yourself. You were meant to soar, forgiveness is needed and appreciated. Taking a jog and getting a full on exercise will help your mind feel more clarity. Get a camera, and take some new pictures of yourself for these next few weeks-months so you can feel the gratitude of being in the moment, being connected to a life that you could remember.

Enjoy the surface, the waves are magical.

PILE 3 - 'Can I get you something? Guilty Pleasures, & Formatting A New Love For Life.'

There's many opportunity we get to pick from, sometimes not every choice is going to get us the good one. That's okay, at least you learned something. Enjoying your familiarities and picking and choosing when to go saves you from a lot of problems in the long run. Because you've kept quiet about certain things to enjoy the love, you've made a promise to the ethers that you could forgive and for bide by a new law of justice inside of yourself. This world was created for us to become the versions of ourselves that was hidden in the shadows; There is another way to go than the ones from before. Thank the universe for allowing the lessons to bring more fullness, more creativity, more power, more love and more light in your heart. A thousand times plenty. Abundance can formulate deeper bonds inside of you, relationships, etc. Financial rewards coming in larger quantities than before. Congrats, would you like someone to get you drink? You've been eaten them up this hol' time ;)

[deepestnightcolor]

Hi! I love your writing and how you picture Sam 💛 Could I make a request? Like Sam taking the farmer to Zuzu City? Could be something romantic? Something else 👀 Sam sharing part of his past maybe? It's up to you, thank you 💖

ᴀ/ɴ: Hehe...So I can explain, really! No, I can't really. I don't know what happened here, my fingers had a mind of their own and this just happened! I hope you will enjoy! Thank you so, so much for your request and the compliment <3 I love writing Sammy Wammy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x GN!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2608 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: trauma, angst, daddy issues(?) THERE'S ALSO FLUFF AND SOFTNESS!

☾ ʙʟɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☽

He was fidgeting next to you in his bus seat, and he had been for the last half an hour, worsening the closer the two of you got to Zuzu City. It was either his leg bouncing up and down, or his fingers wandering through his hair, just to comb it back into place moments later. Every now and then he shifted around on the seat as he tried to get comfortable, just to return to bouncing his leg.

You had been watching Sam, your hand wrapped around his, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin. You had rarely ever seen him so nervous. Energetic, yes, but this was pure and simple nervousness. Still, you hadn’t dared to ask about it just now, knowing that he would tell you about it when he was ready.

“Oh, look, a baby cow!” You called out, leading your intertwined hands to the window to point at the passing baby animal. A chuckle rumbled from next to you, a pair of blue eyes being mirrored by the window. “Like you don’t have some running around your farm almost every year?” He teased back, making you smile at his reflection. “Well, you see me almost every day and still get excited like a lovesick puppy when you see me, don’t you?” Another chuckle, lighter than the first one had been. His chin found its way on your shoulder so he could follow the blur of scenery with you; his voice now incredibly close to your ear. “Guilty as charged and yet blameless,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, pressing a soft kiss to it, falling back into his seat.

Sam had surprised you with his wish to go to Zuzu City pretty much the evening before. He wanted to show you something, he had explained. Refresh some memories, maybe. He had been very vague in his reasoning, but the look in his eyes had told you everything you needed to know; that he needed you there with him. And who were you to refuse your Sammy boy? You had gotten up a little earlier than usual to care for all the animals, even early enough to get under the shower and throw on a fresh change of clothes before meeting Sam at the bus stop. He hadn’t been nervous then, but there had been a rubber band around his hand, which meant there was something he didn’t want to forget. Instead of asking him, you had pressed a kiss to his lips, enjoying his bubbly conversation as you got on the bus. However, his flow of words had slowly begun to cease the further you had gone from Pelican Town, and instead, his nervous fidgeting had picked up.

“Look, Zuzu.” His words were barely audible. A mere whisper, almost drowning in the sound of the growling motor. Still, you had heard it, and you had looked ahead to see the city building up in the distance. The sight always filled you with a feeling of dread and thankfulness. Memories of Joja cooperate bleeding into the feeling of hope you had when you took the leap and started your journey to become a farmer. You were pretty certain these conflicted feelings would have an impact on your voice as well, but Sam’s was filled with a hint of fear, an edge of respect. It made you wrap your arm around him, press a kiss to his cheek. Whispering “You’ll be fine, I am here,” in his ear. Sam gave you a smile of gratitude, almost shooting up from his seat when the bus came to a halt.

Hesitation kept him in place, but then his hand reached out for yours again, only moving forward when he felt the warmth of your palm against his, and how your fingers ghosted over his skin. He wordlessly took the bag you had brought, shouldering it while the two of you hopped off the bus.

There was no need to ask the blond what you would do now; his long legs set a fast pace, leaving you no other option but to follow. You stumbled through streets that you had once known and that seemed to be natural to Sam. He weaved the two of you through the onslaught of pedestrians, working against the flow like he had never done anything that wasn’t this. Every five steps he looked over his shoulder to check if you were still following him, as if his hand didn’t hold you to him like a leash. Not that you minded, quite the contrary; While Sam seemingly had no problem navigating through the masses of bodies, through the twists and turns of the city, you certainly weren’t used to this anymore.  It was loud and fast and felt like everyone was pulling you away from your beloved, like they were tugging at you. Too many bodies, too much noise, and you could have sworn that the two of you were getting lost in the city’s gaping mouth- until you weren’t.

Sam had abruptly halted in front of an apartment complex, his eyes searching the rows of windows for a particular one. Suddenly, his hand flew forward, pointer finger leading your gaze to a window that seemed like all the others, but had the man’s finger trembling. “That’s…That’s where it all started.”

If this had been a video game, you would have been sure that any moment now a soft soundtrack would start playing, underlining the impact that this place had taken on Sam, but also pointing out the trust he must feel toward you to be sharing this with you right now.

“We were living here. That was the window to my room – if you squint closely, you can still see the imprints my stickers have left on the window…I put them there when mom wasn’t looking. We didn’t get them off- not until we moved, anyway. When we moved they complied almost immediately. It felt hopeless when I peeled them off. Like the last act of rebellion was giving in…”

He bit around his lower lip, obviously considering if he should go on. Really share this with you. What if you thought he was weird? Melodramatic? But then there were your words. So soft, so understanding. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me…But I am here. To listen. To support you.” Since there wasn’t any music, you pressed around his hand, trying to underline how serious you were. It seemed enough for your boyfriend.

“We moved around a lot, you know? And I always…Ya know, I always was the class clown in school, but that didn’t mean I had many friends,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “moving around a lot meant changing schools a lot. And this… this was the first place I erm…I felt good to be at. I didn’t feel completely hopeless when entering like I did everywhere else. We got settled here. Mom really worked on making this place our place. It felt like…Yes, like we would settle. Even my grades got better, hah! I don’t think I ever got grades that high again.” His knuckles turned white with how hard he was holding on to his backpack strap, the fond smile that had been adorning his lips now a bitter grimace. “It was summer. Hot and loud, like today. I think Vince was about three when we got the letter. I picked it up, and it felt like…Like it was fucking burning my hand. I don’t know. It felt weird, it gave me the urge to throw it away. But it was my father’s, and who was I to throw my father’s stuff away? Especially a letter? Now I wish I did, but- but I didn’t. I brought it to him, I was happy that awful shit of paper was off of my skin and the feeling slowly stopped prickling on my hand…But when I saw my father’s face. Fuckin’ hell. He looked at me like I had told him I had gotten three girls pregnant and was running away from them – so disappointed and angry. He told me to go to my room, and really, fucking really, I had never been so confused in my LIFE.”

Sam had now begun wandering up and down in front of the building like an animal caught and chained to a wall, too nervous and fierce to sit still and accept its fate, but too weak to break free and run away. You followed his steps, attempting to show him that you were here by kissing his arm and sometimes knuckles, by just humming and caressing him, and it seemed to work as he slowed his steps.

“Turns out – he was called in for the war. I delivered the news that my father was going to war, you know? My dad, a garbage man. Drafted for a war. From then on out, it was like doom had moved in with us. Mom and dad kept having screaming matches in the bedroom. My mom didn’t know what she should do, my dad screaming back that he would serve, as that’s what he needed to do. For this country, for us. My dad, barely able to look me in the eye anymore. Me, not knowing what I had done, why I was to blame.”

There was a smile on his face, this time sour. “Can you believe blaming your kid for having to go to war?” He sighed, and you only now realized that he was sweating. You felt helpless, as if you saw the little blond boy right in front of you, so pained, so confused- “I tried to make it up to him first because I felt like I had to. Showing him my best grades, showing him the new skills I had learned. Showing him projects I started, but he didn’t- he told me he had more important things at hand. The screaming matches kept up, and I- I don’t know. I stopped paying attention at school again. The friends I had were the only comfort I had – my dad apparently hated me, and my mom was so busy with Vincent and preparing for my dad’s absence…Don’t get me wrong. She did everything for us. But- I didn’t feel seen. I felt invisible at home, but I had my friends.  At some point, though, they sat me down and told me we would move. To Pelican Town, where it was safe. Safer than here, at least. I threw a complete temper tantrum, kicked the table, yelled at them. I even ran out on the streets. When my mom found me the next morning, she had a similar look in her eyes as dad, but she was…defeated. Done.”

He inhaled sharply, a quiver making his voice unsteady. “. We packed our stuff, we packed our car and then we went to Pelican Town, it didn’t matter how much I begged. It didn’t matter that I barricaded myself in the room. It didn’t matter that I told them that this was home. We packed, and we went.  The car ride was so, so silent. Eerily so. Not even the radio played. I…erm. I believed that at least the doom that moved in with us would stay behind, in that small apartment in the city. But it followed us. Mom and dad didn’t scream anymore. They seemed…done. I think the implications of dad going to war, the possibilities…They finally kicked in. They kicked in for me, too. What I had delivered to my dad that day. What it meant. What it could lead to.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Sam.” “I know that now. I have always supressed this memory, always supressed that guilt. My dad even hugged me when he had to go and told me he was sorry. That he loved me. But… the ghost of these last memories here have been haunting me, and…and I needed to let them go. I needed to bring them back here and let them go.” Sam finally turned around to you, allowing you to see his face. Tears had left a trail behind on his heated-up cheeks, and more were falling from these precious blue eyes that you had fallen in love with. You wrapped your arms around him, which had something snap in Sam. His shoulders tensed as he sobbed into your neck, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, scared you would fade just like the good memories in that apartment had, good slowly being replaced by the darkness of the threatening unknown. But you wouldn’t fade.

You allowed Sam to cry in your arms, holding his shaking body to yours, making yourself his rock in the turbulent seas of his emotions, making yourself steady for him so he could break down. Sam held you and sobbed, tears flowing into your shirt. “Wasn’t your fault, Sammy,” you whispered, kissing his head.

You didn’t know how long you were standing there, holding Sam to you while he cried. You didn’t care, either. At some point, though, loud sobs ebbed into soft sniffles, the stream of tears ceasing against your soaked shirt. Sam’s shoulders slumped, his grip on you slowly loosening, instead holding you now as well. He held you like you held him, before slowly lifting his head. He swallowed thickly, slowly looking down at you, who was still holding him. You were still there. You smiled up at him, rubbing your thumb over his wet cheeks. “How about…we replace those memories with some good ones? Some that make you feel good when thinking of Zuzu?” Sam didn’t have much time to answer you, because this time, you dragged him along. If you still remembered correctly, there was an old music shop around the main street somewhere, and you had the feeling some sweet music would do your pained beloved just right. His eyes went big when he saw the shop, his pace almost immediately picking up. “Fuck, I always wanted to come here!” You laughed as you followed along, allowing your boyfriend’s sudden burst of excitement luring you in. You were watching your boyfriend stare at the records in awe as he wandered the aisles. “Look, babe! The song that reminds me of you!” He called out, holding up a record. Cursive letters revealed Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, blue eyes that still held a hint of the boy you had seen just mere moments before now slowly sparkling at you. Like sunshine catching in freshly fallen raindrops. And Yoba, how you loved him.

It had taken hours for you to wander the city, your bag on Sam’s back had been joined by several others you had gathered on your shopping spree. One of his hands was still holding onto yours as you passed the house again. The blond slowly came to an halt mustering the building with a sense of melancholy. He had had to leave a safe space, but he had found new ones. In Seb, in his house in Pelican Town, in Vincent, and most importantly; in you. Finally, he was ready to let go.

He drew in a long breath, his eyes wandering to the window above you one last time. With a tilt of his head, he realized that the imprint of the stickers he had once left there were no longer there; faded like the curtains that fluttered in the wind. “I…I think I am ready to go.” “Are you? We can stay for a little longer if you want.” He shook his head, wiping over his eyes. “I am ready to go home.”

[memoiich]

I demand your Maul headcanons <3

Im going to split this up in 2 parts

Part 1 : star wars

Maul is extremely talented at drawing. He leans more into it after Savage and him are travelling together.

His memory is top notch , hes the kinda dude that remembers what he ate 5 months ago at 4 in the morning ( if he has a lover i can see him using this to get them like niche ,one time mentioned gifts)

His sleep schedule is none existent. He tried a few times to fix it but since palpetine needs him 24/7 , he hasn’t yet . After Savage gets him back , he tries to help Maul and it goes pretty well . (Like 6 hours per night on average)

The biggest problem is nightmares. He has ALOT of nightmares. Some are from his childhood, he thinks he’s stuck in the gray room on Mustafar or he sees the fish in palpetine tanks dying. It gives him alot of stress and anxiety. Some nightmares are about Obi Wan, he isn’t scared of him but more of the fact that he didn’t win . He gave his entire childhood and didn’t win against someone that was raised by loving people that cared for his wellbeing.

He dreamed as a kid alot about Dathomir.

He is a mercifull killer , he normally doesn’t play with his prey . He tries to kill them as quick as possible ( look at the fish even qui gon ) this mentality gets ingrained into his mind after he got cocky with Obi Wan .

Maul is smaller then most zebrak males because he was malnourished as a child . Savage has asked about this before but Maul reflects by stating its for his fightstyle.

Maul horns are terribly kept. He never met another zebrak before he was like 24(?) so he literally never knew he had to take care of them . Savage is horrified by the state of his horns when he finds him . Later he helps him out with that and now they are alright.

ALSO his tattoos are fading and need a going over.

He feels extreemly guilty towards both his brothers for leaving them behind. He never knew Feral and he hates himself for that . He sometimes wants to know more about him but hes convinced Savage will be hurt so he hasnt .

He is extremely confused towards his mother Telzin . He feels a certain sense of gratitude towards her for bringing him back but he hates for what she did towards his brothers and for giving him away . ( I actually love the legends version where he has a human mother (Kycina ?) even more but clone wars made it work better so….)

Part 2 : modern au

To me it makes sense if him and his brothers had a tattoo parlor or like a piercing shop.

Or like a business salesman

He drives a red and black kawasaki ninja 400 .

Maul still has a lot of scars mainly on his abdomen . He got into a lot of streetfights as a kid/ teenager.

He loves to give gift . He generally doesn’t think that people will stick around for just him so he sees it as paying them for their service.

He has a pet reptile a Bibron’s Coral Snake . Because he finds them cool .( he ended up in the hospital one time because of her)

He hates obi wan because they have a work rivalry.( will rend to his lover about this )

Im going to keep it here for now . I have some more but this is long enough

{masterlist}

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸. 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, allusions to and depictions of mental/emotional/financial abuse, high functioning alcoholism | WORD COUNT: 3.3k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: When your friend shares some exciting news, you fear this is yet again someone in your life who will move on and leave you behind. Joel reflects on how far he's come in life after running into an old family friend.

“Here’s a nice tip for you, sweetie,” Mrs. Baker chirped with a bright smile. You watched her wrinkly, dry finger scoot a shiny half dollar across the counter towards you. You fixed your expression into a million kilowatt smile of gratitude. “Oh, that’s so kind of you, Mrs. Baker, but we can’t accept tips.” You’d told her this every week for the past several months – every time she came into the grocery store where you worked.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she giggled with a conspiratorial wink. You felt rather certain of that, if your growing suspicions about the state of her memory and mental clarity was anything to go off of. The fact that she was still making these weekly trips by herself was enough to make you uneasy, and the fact that she was the one driving herself here presented an entirely new level of concern.

It was one of the few reasons you’d managed to compile when you were looking for ways to cheer yourself up over having nothing but your old cruiser bike for transportation. You were nowhere near what you needed in savings to even begin thinking about affording a car and all the expenses that came with it. All the progress you’d made previously had been wrenched from you when your dad had found the jar hidden in your closet. It had made him feel vindicated in his “random searches” he liked to conduct on everyone’s rooms. It gave him some sense of justification whenever something cropped up, no matter how rare it was.

But, hey, at least your door hadn’t been beat off its hinges like Calum’s had. And, hey, maybe by the time you can finally afford a car, insurance, gas money, license and registration fees ….. well, maybe you won’t have to worry about encountering Mrs. Baker on the road. You feel a little guilty the moment you think it and feel even more guilty as you shrug and take the half dollar from her. “Thanks, Mrs. Baker,” you say quietly.

You tuck the coin into your jean pocket that doesn’t have the hole at the bottom and finish loading her groceries into her cart. You laugh to yourself when she just starts walking off - you assume the direction of her car. You hope she can remember where she parked it. Your coworkers and boss Jeremy were never as patient with old, confused ladies offering you insulting bits of change in exchange for bagging up all their groceries just the way they like, loading them up into the cart, following them to their car, and offloading everything into their trunk. You always pointed out that it didn’t really take that much time away from your duties and probably made a big difference for someone like Mrs. Baker to have that sort of help. Jeremy would always roll his eyes and mutter something about “not my circus, not my monkeys.” You were just glad Mrs. Baker always came when it wasn’t very busy. 

The 17 minute bike ride to and from work was shaved down to a clean 14 with a bit of encouragement from the gloomy clouds rolling in behind you. It’d been a wetter than usual summer according to the weatherman, and it was expected to continue into the fall and maybe even winter. Combined with the fast approaching daylight savings, you’d be in for a wetter, darker commute. Bad news for someone who relied on a bike for transport, but you tried not to dwell on it. You’d just have to divert some of your secret savings and buy a heavier coat, one close to the color of the lightweight one you already had so hopefully your dad wouldn’t notice a new purchase and demand an explanation.

“Dad, I’m home!” you call out. No answer, but that was typical. After all, it wasn’t him who was required to announce every movement in the house. You walked into the kitchen to find him hunched over the table with the paper. You carefully place the six pack on the middle of the counter, casual and unassuming as though it hadn’t become a learned habit after too many times of you having to deal with him running out. His eyes drift up from his work and land on the offering.

“What’s that?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know. You aren’t sure what the trap is or what you’ve done wrong, but you also know there’s no other option than to find out what grievance you’ve committed.

“Just saw it on my way after clocking out,” you lie. You had to double back across the store to pick it out. “Couldn’t remember if there was still some in the garage or not,” you lie again. There was plenty in the garage, but “plenty” in your terms and “plenty” in your father’s terms didn’t always align. Better to play it safe than have to bike in the rain to replenish his stock.

He leans back in his chair now, having decided what exactly he’s going to take issue with. Because it’s always something. “You got a real talent for just throwin’ money away,” he sneers.

You steady yourself as you wash your hands at the sink. Slow movements. Nothing challenging in your response. He loved to lob these decentering comments at you, a sort of puzzle you weren’t really intended to be able to solve. The takeaway was always meant to be that “the obvious” was right there and shouldn’t have to be spelled out for you, but you were just too dense to figure it out. His statement was vague enough that it could be taken multiple ways, all of which inevitably pointed to some failure on your part. At least you always knew that was going to be factored into the answer somewhere.

Was he saying you weren’t good with money because you’d bought more beer when there was already some in the garage? Was he saying that spending money on full priced beer was like throwing your money away? Was he saying that spending money on something frivolous like alcohol was a waste in and of itself in the grand scheme of things? You decide to go with your first interpretation. It felt safest.

“I guess there’s some out there then? I couldn’t remember, sorry.” Accepting some of the imminent blame was sometimes enough to soften the edges of whatever was going to be launched at you. Sometimes it backfired and just added to the fire: you can already see how you deserve this censure, so at least you understand your shortcomings are why this conversation is having to happen in the first place.

“Ever heard of buying in bulk?” he huffs. As if he didn’t stock up every other week at the wholesale store regardless of if it was on sale or not. “Price per unit?”

“Oh, yeah,” you respond in feigned recognition of your so-called error. “Sorry, dad. I guess the 24 pack is just sort of hard to balance on the bike. I’m always nervous it’s going to fall off the handlebars when I get the bigger sizes.”

As if your difficulties getting to and from work were of any concern to him.

“So you acknowledge that you were paying the unspoken price of convenience,” he drawls. Ah, of course. The two birds one stone approach of insulting your efforts and inflating his authority as economic manager. The idea that you would pay a few more cents per unit to make things easier on yourself, to not have to worry about dropping and busting all the cans of beer because you couldn’t balance them. “At least you can admit it.”

He drifts forward again to his work, numbers and charts and graphs that you don’t understand and wouldn’t be explained to you even if you asked. The reprimand had been the short, simple kind. You quietly walk from the kitchen, place the beers in the garage fridge, and head down the hallway to your room. You lighten the load of your backpack and work shoes. The rain pelts gently against the window and is a full on staccato against the pane by the time you get out of your uniform and into your sweats. Getting ahead of the situation – making the call to get more beer without being asked or ordered to do so – had been worth it. You sigh and stare out the window. Thank goodness it was going to be a day where you’d played your cards well enough to come out mostly unscathed. Thank goodness today had been worth it.

The only upside to sweltering August days in the middle of Texas was that contracting jobs slowed a little bit. Sure, interior renovations were still in full swing, but it gave that tiniest bit of reprieve for all the decking, roofing, and sweat-dripping-off-your-balls-it-was-so-hot sort of work that he only ever scheduled for in the “cooler months.” It was the closest thing to downtime he had all year round, even though it was mostly spent on office housekeeping. Catching up on clients and completed jobs. Fostering those relationships so they’d sign Miller Contracting on for another project. Building enough good will and enough happy clients that word of mouth could not only sustain business but had helped it grow steadily over the past decade.

Joel hadn’t ever been much into religion except for Easter Sunday growing up when his mom would give him and Tommy so much chocolate they had barfed it all over the backyard more than once. Yet, he couldn’t help but think about how blessed he felt. He and his kid brother were doing well for themselves. He just wished his parents were around to see it. It would make him happy to show them all their love and hard work had eventually paid off. All those tumultuous teenage years of Tommy getting into all sorts of trouble and Joel winding up a young father without much of a plan on how to support his sudden family. They’d only been witness to the very beginning of their comeback kid storylines, and he’d kill for 5 minutes to show them he’d managed to make something of himself and made sure Tommy was okay, too.

The icy wall of air conditioning smacked Joel right in the face the moment the grocery store doors opened. As nice as it felt to be out of the heat, the jarring change of temperature was something he’d never gotten used to in all his years in the South. He made his way to the convenience section and nabbed a lemonade. He plucked another from the spring-loaded tray just before heading towards the checkout. He wasn’t sure what Jordan liked to drink since he never seemed to have anything except water to offer anybody. At least this way it wouldn’t be so obvious if Joel showed up with a lemonade for both of them.

The wall of heat smacks him in the face this time, along with the blaring sun. He squints and holds a hand to the sky to block some of the blinding rays. He hears the rattle of a cart coming his way and glances over. There’s that cute neighborhood girl he’d see every now and again if he was lucky. He doesn’t remember much about you from when he first moved in – other than that whole strange thing with your mom. He tries to remember your dad’s face in his mind’s eye. Something sort of stony and serious conjures into view. He wonders if he’s just imagining it wrong because your face is never like that. He must be thinking of someone else.

Regardless, he couldn’t remember any of your names. He used to be better at stuff like that. When you smiled at him, he returned it with one of his own and headed towards his car. Yeah, definitely couldn’t have been imagining your dad’s face correctly. No way the snobby frown of a man that came into his head was possibly related to you with your shy but deliberate smile. How on earth someone so insanely gorgeous could only find work at a grocery store was beyond Joel. He wonders if you were even aware of how much money you could probably rake in as a bartender around these parts.

“Is that Joel Miller?” a frail voice calls out.

Joel looks over to see none other than Mrs. Baker. “Well howdy there, Mrs. Baker,” he calls back. He walks over to her four door and wonders how on earth she’s still a licensed driver. She’d been friendly in the church with his mom especially, and even as a kid he was never too impressed with her driving skills. He dreads to think what they are now, multiple decades later.

“How are you, sweet boy?” she asks, all warm and bubbly. He grins back and shrugs.

“Just keepin’ busy. You know how it goes, Mrs. Baker.”

“Well that’s better than the alternative, I guess. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joel chuckles. He glances over to your retreating back as you push the noisy cart back into the store. “You got these folks so wrapped around your finger they deliver your groceries straight to your car, huh? You always were a charmer.”

Mrs. Baker joins him in a light giggle and taps his forearm. “Now now, Joel, I think we both know who the real charmer is between the two of us.”

“Hey, gotta pay the bills somehow,” he laughs in an echo of her words. Her smile widens at his teasing banter. “And, uh, your kitchen still workin’ good for ya?”

She nods and squeezes his hand. “Oh yes, it’s just as lovely as the day you finished it. You boys always do such good work.”

“Thank you, ma’am. M’glad to hear it.”

He edges around to open the door for her, partly to play his role as Southern Gentleman but mostly to get out of this conversation quicker so he wouldn’t be late for his next appointment with Jordan. She thanks him for his gesture and gives a little wave and brief goodbye as he heads to his work truck. If he made all the lights, he wouldn’t be late. 

“But there’s something else, and, I’ll be honest, it’s sort of a big deal.” Kenzie was practically vibrating in place. Her high energy was the fun, infectious kind more often than the grating, off-putting kind. You weren’t sure how she maintained such enthusiasm when all she ever seemed to have was good things to share. Wouldn’t you get tired being so happy and excited constantly? It sounded exhausting in a different sort of way, but maybe it was a good thing.

She had a perpetually sunny outlook thanks to her perpetually privileged life, but you didn’t want to rain on her parade by saying things like that. After all, who were you to take away from someone else’s joy? Not to mention she was probably the only actual friend you had these days after all your high school friends had gone off to college or took up actual jobs and move out and got roommates or got married.

Kenzie was just busy and self-centered enough to not really pry too much into your life. It was a dynamic that worked for both of you: her with a constant audience for all her triumphs and growing life experiences, and you with the comfort of never having to say much about yourself or your home life.

“Well are you gonna tell me or are you gonna make me guess?” you tease.

“Uh, definitely not gonna make you guess because you seriously aren’t even gonna believe this,” she whisper squeals.

You have no doubt whatever wonderful thing she’s about to share is very much believable. Good things happened to people like Kenzie. It was never much of a shock when another ray of sunshine came bursting through the clouds of her life. You only wish that some of that “luck” could rub off on our own life. You raise an expectant eyebrow when she doesn’t say anything.

“Okay, so–” she peeks over her shoulders from where you’re both knelt on the ground stocking canned goods “–I’m applying for this paid internship thing my professor recommended me for.”

Your brow scrunches. You thought paid internships were something that existed in the old days when you could still smoke on airplanes and down a vodka martini 5 months pregnant without anyone batting an eye.

“I know, I know, internships are sometimes blegh, but it’s like a legit office and nice company and everything” she explains, wholly misunderstanding your expression. “It’s not like those old offices off the Milton exit.”

You don’t even know what she’s talking about, but you take her word for it. “Oh okay, cool.”

“Yeah, so I’m basically, like, a shoe in for the job since my professor wrote my recommendation. It’s not a full-time thing yet since I still have another two semesters, but over winter break I should have some opportunities to have something more like a real job.” She cringes at her choice of wording. “Sorry, not that the grocery store isn’t a real–”

“–I know what you meant,” you interrupt. “Keep going.”

She shoots you a grateful smile and launches back into her tittering announcement. “So anyway, yeah, if this all goes alright then I basically already have a full-time job set up once I graduate. Can you believe that?”

Yes, you can believe that. “That’s so crazy!” You shake your head and give her a big grin. “I’m sure that has to feel amazing, Kenzie. That’s so awesome, seriously.”

She was a few months out from graduating with her degree in marketing. Or was it communications? You can never seem to remember, and you’re too far into the friendship to keep asking clarifying questions like that. Anyway, it didn’t matter much which one it was since she had pretty much already landed herself a “big girl job” with matching “big girl pay.” The ever present and nagging voice in your head reminds you that she is younger than you and already so much more successful than you’ll probably ever be.

“Hey, y’all both don’t need to be in canned goods. One of you go see what Erin needs help with, huh?” Jeremy scolds from the end of the aisle.

Kenzie rolls her eyes at you with her back to Jeremy. “Alright. You got it, Jeremy,” she replies in a chipper voice. He stomps off as she promises to text you later with the rest of the details. You give her a quick side hug from the ground and tell her again how great the news is.

You stew in it for the rest of your shift. It turns and spoils in your mind no matter how much you tell yourself you should be happy for her and not so focused on yourself all the time. By the time you make it home, it was impossible to ignore the reminders that this was yet another person in your life that you were bound to grieve once they moved on from their station in life and did better for themselves than what they had here. First your mom. Then your brother. Now one of the few people who you’d managed to befriend since graduating high school.

You were left behind. Again.

You were never going to make anything of yourself like everyone else seemed to do.

You were going to be stuck in this place for the rest of your life.

You do your best to control the hectic breaths that start squeezing your chest, but you’re well into a full blown panic attack before you can even pinpoint when it started.

This was going to be the rest of your life, and there was nothing you could do about it.

[chichiscloset]

STOP DOING THESE 6 THINGS ON YOUR LEVEL-UP JOURNEY

Many things can hinder your level-up and femininity journey. If you are serious about levelling up, here are 6 things you need to stop doing on your journey.

Focusing So Much On Your Outward Appearance And Forgetting To Work On The Inside: Most of the time, we focus on our outward appearance without considering our internal well-being. It's fun to spend money buying new clothes, trying new hairstyles, getting our nails down and playing around with makeup, and it is important to spend time levelling up our outward appearance, but it can't be the only thing you work on if you truly want to level up. You need to spend time working on things like building your self-esteem, learning to communicate better with others, learning how to handle your emotions in healthy ways, working on your manners and building healthy relationships with friends, family and your significant other.

Needing External Validation: As you go along on your level-up journey you must let go of your need for external validation. External validation is when your feelings of self-worth are dependent on the approval of others. If you are looking for others' likes and comments on your Instagram posts to make you feel good about your outfit, hair or makeup, approval from your parents towards your life choices, or attention from men before you can feel like you are attractive and worthy of love, you need to learn how to self-validate. Get to know yourself. Learn what your values and goals are, and most importantly learn why these are your values and goals. On this level-up and femininity journey, you are going to meet a lot of people who don't understand or argue with you, so take the time to analyze why you seek validation and how you can let go of it.

Comparing Your Life And Journey To Others:  Stop comparing your life and level-up journey to others. We all move through life at different paces. It can be hard to see others accomplish the things you also want, especially when it seems like it came so easy for them when you try so hard. With social media, it's especially easy to fall into the trap of comparison. If you find yourself in this trap, take a step back from social media and focus on yourself. Spend time in gratitude and look back at what you have been able to accomplish and how far you have come.

Chasing Perfection:  Stop trying to be as perfect as possible. If you are on your level-up journey you don't have to strive to be the perfect woman. You don't have to always be perfect, have the perfect outfits, hair, makeup, and attitude. It's ok to be human and make mistakes sometimes.

Self-Doubt:  Stop doubting yourself and your abilities. If you want to level up you need to believe that you can do so. Self-doubt leads to insecurity and will keep you stuck in the same place you are trying to get out of. You need to let go of your past mistakes, your fear of failure and comparison if you want to be able to really let go of your self-doubt.

Feeling Guilty For Working On Yourself:   Stop feeling bad for working on yourself. You may need to turn people down, step back from relationships with certain friends or family members or even spend more time for yourself well on this journey. You must know that it is ok and important for you to take time for yourself and set any boundaries you need to guard your mind, heart and spirit. So don't feel guilty about that.

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[soapoet]

quick energy reading #0601

short and sweet for your convenience.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

you'd be a gold medalist if overcoming obstacles was an olympic sport. it's really been one thing after the other, huh? i sense some snakes in your garden, but they'll never harm your roses unless you let them. safeguard your energy and don't feel guilty if you need to weed certain people out of your life. if something or someone has overstayed their welcome and no longer support the life you want to lead, let them go. you deserve much better than what you've been getting, in all areas of your life. take some time when you can in june and turn inwards. honour your soul and give praise to the good deeds and qualities with your name on them. you haven't given yourself a genuine, honest pep talk in a while. and i'm not talking about affirmations repeated compulsively on the go and in your darkest hours. genuinely stop and have a word with yourself. show yourself how beautiful you are and don't stop until you break the barrier around your heart and bring yourself to tears. those tears will help you heal your self-worth and help you rise to the next level. you are strong and beautiful, so don't let the world wear your heart down.

02.

look at you! filled to the brim with marvellous ideas. have your projects been stalling lately? if you've been lacking in resources, the way forward should be clear soon. don't be afraid of asking for help when you need it. you should see your words and actions towards others reciprocated soon. buckle up and get ready for new opportunities in june, especiallyif you've felt like a rock to everyone around you lately, whilst being left to drift at sea alone when you've needed a rock, too. make sure it's not all work and no play this month. you may find inspiration in your oldest joys, so seek out nostalgia and let it fuel your soul. if you procrastinate, don't beat yourself up over it. it's okay, i promise. if you need a breather then take it, and do not entertain any feelings of shame or guilt over it. if someone calls you lazy, just smile and wave. you know your energy reserves the best. can you do the thing when you're at 50%? sure, but if you'd rather take the time to charge up to 100% before you dive back in, then so be it. don't let anyone tell you how and when to do what and why. you're the main character of your own life, and you reserve the right to act like it.

03.

wow. your energy is highly magnetic. be careful with your thoughts and feelings in june, as your manifestations are happening faster, and i see that there may be lots of things testing your patience. remember that you're not responsible for your first reaction to situations, but the second one is all on you. step back and into the role of the observer to avoid the drama around you. when something less than ideal occurs, just say "damn, that's crazy", then move along. life is too short to get stuck on hiccups. there are bigger, better things in store for you. keep your goals in your peripheral where you can still see them regardless of the 3d, and glance over to them and show gratitude towards them throughout the day, especially when what's in front of you looks a little rough. i also feel the need to tell you that you're beautiful. like, there is something ethereal about you. if you've been manifesting things related to your appearance, energetically it's showing tenfold! avoid getting hung up on any perceived flaws. they're simply not there.

[pandorasprongs]

INTERLUDE | are we still friends?

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

SUMMARY: after months of ghosting, reader finally gets to talk to jamie again at the end of her second year.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: so we're going back in time to when reader's in uni and early in jamie's man city career :) hope u all enjoy! (also i know frats aren't a thing in the uk but i didn't find that out till after i published the prologue rip) i'd also suggest listening to 'are we still friends?' by tyler the creator for this chapter too just for the vibes — also!! thank you so much for 200 followers it's insane so many of you enjoy my fics :))

Age 19

"And that's it for this semester! Congrats everyone!" Your professor greets the room as the last person finishes their presentation. The room cheers, — albeit weakly given that most of the students there were coming down from their finals week caffeine addiction, — and everyone soon starts filing out.

You pass by your professor on the way out with Liv and hand her the trinket that the two of you planned on giving out to all of the professors you've had this semester. Some out of gratitude, some to make them feel guilty for the low marks they've given. This certain professor, a lady in her mid-40s who has been in the STEM area of research for years, had designated the two of you her favorites.

"Thank you so much, ladies. It was such a pleasure having the two of you in my class." You both give her a warm smile before heading into the hall. 

When you make it outside of the building, Liv lets out a cathartic scream of relief. "It's finally done!" You laugh at your friend's reaction. You were glad too, but not enough to yell in public.

As you headed back to your student hall, you pulled out your phone. It had become routine to message Jamie every time you were heading back to Manchester, which you were the next week when your parents picked you up.

Hey Jamie! How've you been? How's Man City? Saw the match with Cardiff, you did great.

You press send before adding on, If you're still here, maybe you want to meet up before you go back? I'm heading back to Manchester next week too if you want to meet up then instead. 

You send that too and type out I miss you, but after glancing at the rest of your unread messages, you delete it and sigh in defeat.

You don't even know why you're still trying. You haven't spoken to Jamie in months. No, it's almost been a year. The last time you did was when you went home for the summer holiday after your first year of uni, but even then, Jamie seemed distant and cold. He left the lunch early too after he got a call from his manager, much to your dismay. Even before that, his messages to you were getting less and less frequent till he finally stopped replying a few months into your second year.

Maybe it stung more knowing it was around the time you left that you realized how really felt about him. It wasn't just platonic love anymore; you might've actually been in love with your best friend then. But those feelings have since disappeared, at the same rate that Jamie disappeared from your life.

So now you were in a pub, supposedly celebrating the end of your second year in uni, but you couldn't stop staring at your phone, waiting for a reply. You've been re-reading your message to him and staring at that delivered in the corner until you finally broke out of the trance thanks to one of your friends calling out to you.

"Oi! You're not even tipsy. Are you playing or not?" Tina asks and you shut your phone before shifting your focus to the conversation. Right, you're playing Never Have I Ever.

"Shit, sorry," you apologize before lifting your hand. "I am now. What's the last one?"

"It was never have I ever slept with a footballer," Liv explains quickly, but the entire group had this knowing look on their faces that told you everything they thought of you.

Maybe it was fueled by the anger directed at said footballer or the fact that you knew they all thought you were a prude for not having hooked up with anyone the whole time in uni, — as far as they knew, — but you give them a knowing look that caused everyone's expressions to shift.

"No fucking way, you have?" Sam asks and you take a shot as confirmation.

"Technically yes," you explain but decide to hide which player it was. Because if they knew it was one of the up-and-comings of the Premier League, you'd never hear the end of it. Plus, one of them was bound to snitch to a newspaper for sure. "Back when I was 17 and before I left for uni, I slept with someone who ended up getting scouted." You neglect to mention that someone was your best friend, who agreed to be your first time because you were sure you'd make a bad decision the moment you stepped foot in a uni.

If they knew where you were from, they would've figured it out instantly. But you didn't have a Mancunian accent and none of them had ever bothered to ask where you were from over these two years — except Liv, who was no longer paying attention to the whole game and just scrolling on her phone, — so you were basically in the clear.

They moved on from your grand revelation quickly and continued with the game. At the end of it, you were probably the most sober out of all of them, so you ordered a Cosmopolitan. Maybe alcohol led to bad decisions, but at least it kept you off your phone.

You continued to talk with your friends till Tina gasped. You all turn to her to ask what happened when she exclaims, pretty loudly, "Looks like all of us have a chance at checking 'hooking up with a footballer' off our lists tonight." She giggles before leaning back into her seat.

You join the rest of them to look at what Tina had just seen and realize that not one, but two teams' worth of players had just walked into the pub. From Cardiff City and... Man City.

You already feel your heartbeat quickening and your eyes instantly start looking for Jamie in the crowd. The thoughts of 'he has to be here,' and 'he can't be here,' battle it out in your head, but when your eyes finally land on your former best friend, you don't know if the butterflies in your stomach are a good thing or not.

"Well, fuck it." You hear one of the girls you're with say as she downs another shot and gets up from the table. Some of the others join her in the group, but you're still frozen from nerves. Best way to heat up? More cocktails.

You watch with the other girls from a distance as the braver ones take their chances with the footballers on the other side of the bar. But for most of it, you can't take your eyes off Jamie. 

He looks really different, like bad different. He's loud and boisterous, but not in the way he was before. You watch how he talks to his teammates and you can almost see how his overconfidence masks the level of insecurity he has with much older players. Or maybe you're overthinking it. You haven't seen him in a while.

When your friends get back to the table along with some new drinks and stories, you try and listen intently. But you really couldn't stop looking behind them.

You don't think Jamie's felt your eyes on him, so you weren't worried he'd turn and see you staring. But if he did, you wondered how he'd react. Would he go wide-eyed and stare back or just look away as if he didn't just spot his best friend of a decade at a pub? You were about to find out.

After downing one of the drinks in front of you, — you weren't even sure if you were the one who ordered that one, to be honest — you excuse yourself from the table. When they saw where you were walking over to, they decided to start cheering. It did help your nerves, even though you were approaching them for different reasons.

"Jamie!" You get his attention and the moment his eyes land on yours, shock fills his face. You almost scoff at that. He goes to the place where you're studying and assumes that he wouldn't run into you?

You didn't even plan out what you were going to say, so instead you sarcastically greet, "Nice to see you here. In Cardiff. Where I go to uni."

Jamie doesn't say anything and just continues to stare at you. His cocky facade almost slips too, till one of the other Man City players rests his arms on Jamie's shoulders and he suddenly tenses. You've seen him before, probably in one of those tabloid articles, judging from his overall demeanor. He seemed like the type to get into those scandals.

"Ah fuck, I thought we got rid of you lot already. Don't you have enough drinks from your friends over there?" George, you finally remembered his name, states and you're taken aback. He must've seen you coming from that direction.

"No, I'm not here for that." You answer bluntly before turning back to Jamie, starting to get annoyed. "Are you seriously not going to say anything?" 

The Jamie you knew would be the first to defend you, even if it was just over someone knocking into you in the halls or stealing your pens. But it wasn't that you were after, honestly. You just wanted him to say something, anything at all.

"You know her, Tartt?" George scoffs and looks at Jamie. When Jamie continues to stay silent and just looks down at his feet, he chuckles and nudges the younger footballer. "A past hook-up, huh? Judging by your reaction. No need to be embarrassed, Jamie," he glances back at you and tries to whisper, "She's quite fit. Well, by your standards."

You roll your eyes, the anger starting to bubble. Now, Jamie had to say something right? But seeing no reaction, you correct him yourself. "Look, I'm not one of his bitter exes. I'm his..." You actually don't how to end that sentence.

George takes advantage of your pause and by now, some of the footballers around them had turned their attention to the scene. "Look woman, I don't care who you are to him, but take. the. fucking. hint."

You still don't remove your eyes from him. "Jamie," you whisper, almost pleading at that point.

Jamie looks up and seeing the multiple eyes on him at the moment, he finally speaks up, "You want an autograph or something? We're trying to enjoy our night, so I'll sign a napkin for you and you can be on your way."

The coldness in his response causes you to stumble and you take a step back. What did he just say to you? You try and search his face for any sign of remorse or guilt. Something that says, 'Please don't hate me, I didn’t mean it.' Nothing.

The sounds of the other footballers laughing don’t help either; it only contributes to the rising feeling of heat and embarrassment in you. You can feel the tears starting to form. There's no reason for you to break down in front of all of them, so you answer quickly, "Right. No need. Sorry for disturbing your night." 

You turn around quickly, but not without hearing George ask Jamie who you were. For a second, you almost thought he'd give him the truth.

"Dunno, probably some fan I met before." That breaks the dam and the first few tears drop to your cheeks. A crying girl isn't an irregular sight at a bar, but you really didn't feel like staying in the same place as Jamie anymore.

You approach the table to grab your things when you notice that most of your friends had already scattered across the pub. The only one left there was Liv, — who was the designated driver for tonight despite your university being a 5-minute walk away — who notices your tear-stained face and is quick to rush over to you. "What's wrong? What happened?"

You shake your head. "Don't worry. I just want to head back." Liv hadn't even known you for two years, but she knew that you weren't one to talk about your feelings. Instead, she nodded and offered to help you out of the pub, but you shook your head once again. You had a relatively high limit and partner it with what just happened with Jamie, you were practically sober. You grabbed your clutch and coat before rushing out of the place, furiously wiping the teams from your face.

Fuck Jamie Tartt. Fuck those Man City losers. Fuck everyone involved in turning your best friend into whoever that was. The boy you once knew was gone. Fully and completely gone. You had to accept that.

But even then, you thought you'd hear the door open behind you. You thought it would be Jamie. You thought he'd chase after you. You thought he'd pull you into a hug. You thought he'd apologize for what he did and for everything. You thought he'd cradle your face as he did so. You thought he'd plant a tender kiss on your lips as an apology too. You thought he'd re-enter your life as if nothing had changed.

But he did none of that. 

And you went home alone.

—

"(Y/N)? It's Liv, again!" You hear from the other side of your door, but make no attempt to move from your position in your bed. It was just too comfortable, perfect for wallowing in when you've officially ended the longest friendship you've ever had. Liv continues, "I'm heading home soon, but I asked Donna if she could keep bringing food for you to your door till you head home."

You were touched by the gesture but knew you weren't going to touch any of those bags till late at night when the hall was completely deserted. Till then, you'd be sleeping. Your parents had delayed picking you up till the last day and you've never been more glad about that.

"See you next semester! Love you!" were Liv's parting words and once you heard her footsteps recede, you fell back to sleep.

In all honestly, you've lost track of time at that point. Yeah, it was pathetic sitting in your room as if you were mourning the death of a loved one, but it's not like anyone cared. Well, Liv did, which is why she started bringing you food when she realized you weren't leaving your room, but she was heading home to London. Your parents had no idea what happened and you intended to keep it that way. The rest of your friends were off with their own lives, not even giving you a second thought. Jamie sure as hell didn't care what happened to you. He made that clear.

So for the rest of your time left in the hall, you just stayed in your room. Like a hermit. Jamie would've found it funny, you thought once, till it caused you to burst into tears once again. The more you tried to forget Jamie, the more you thought of him, which was the worst loop you could be in.

He's even in your dreams. One of them felt so real because you were in your exact position in reality when your phone rang. You saw his name as the caller, but 'dream you' just pressed decline. Even deleted the missed call notification. Good for her.

Then, you wake up to a missed call and a text from your mom. On route to Cardiff! Can't wait to see you, sweetie. 

Ah, fuck. Had that much time really passed? You jumped out of your bed and start fixing up. Technically, you had 3 and a half hours to do so, but counting showering, cleaning up your suitcases from your dusty closet, and shoving almost a years worth of items into said suitcases, then you were in a bind and never prayed for traffic more in your life.

And from the sheer fear of your parents giving you a sermon in front of the entire building, you almost forgot about your former state of wallowing in self-pity. Then you were faced with taking down the decorations on your wall. 

There was a mix of everything from school banners, even flyers, and pictures you'd taken with your friends and parents. You started with those first until the only ones left were the ones related to Jamie. You had pictures with him from multiple stages of your life. There was one from the first football match of his you ever attended and one from your graduation, too. 

You had kept the note he made you when you were 16 and you joined your first individual debate tournament. ‘Fucking smash it!’ was scrawled in his handwriting on a post-it note, which you've hung on your wall since your first year of uni. 

Even the rings he used to buy you for your birthday till his mom told him to find something new. You slowly pulled them from your desk drawer and realized there were only four. One missing. They were old anyway. You end up shrugging it off and placing them into your suitcase.

When you started inserting the rest of the items into an envelope, you continue to look at that picture with Jamie from when you were seven. Suddenly overcome by an emotion — rage, pity, nostalgia, you're not really sure, — you crumple it with your two hands and hold it like that for a few seconds. 

You finally let go and see the two distorted faces, you're suddenly overcome by feelings of guilt. 7-year-old Jamie didn't do anything wrong; what was the point of taking your frustrations on a picture of him? Maybe you can throw darts at a printed photo of the current Jamie when you get home instead.

You flatten the picture as best you can before putting it back into the pile in the envelope. You finish packing your desk and place all the items into one of your suitcases. You look around the room, satisfied. Sure, your sheets weren't made yet, but you were going to leave the place anyway and you needed to shower. It was 40 minutes till your parents would knock on your door, — as seen in the picture they sent of the GPS — so it was more than enough for you to get ready.

Time passed by quickly and soon, your dad was helping bring your bags down to the car while your mom talked about how much weight you've lost while you were away, like they always did. 

"Oh! Jamie, he had a game against Cardiff last week, right?" Your dad remembers as he starts the car. You almost freeze at the name, but turn to look out the window to avoid your parents catching whatever expression you had on your face. You were too tired to mask it properly.

"Yes, he was amazing!" Your mom exclaimed before asking. "Georgie said she told him to meet up with you here. Did he?"

"No," you answered quickly. You never lied to your parents, which is probably why they accepted your response so easily. You don't look back at them and continue to look at the passing trees. "Must've been busy."

A/N: yeah... and there you go! here's what happened that night in the pub and hopefully it makes me much more clear why reader still holds something against jamie! we're going back to the present day timeline for the next one so stay tuned!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamietarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @taytaylala12 @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

[peachypinkygloss]

hi :)

I'll try to make it short because I think not many people follow my activity anymore (as if there is anything to follow LOL) and so I believe this will only reach the ones who still cares about me hehe

i have no desire to update on this account as for now. it's been like this for a few months, and it only decreased as the days passed... I felt and still feel very guilty because I've done so many things here and I really thought this would last A LOT longer ahah but as you may know, I'm still young and discovering myself.

I won't lie that I've been feeling like my work was never very valued for what it was, or at least only valued when I discussed certain topics and members... but I fussed enough about that in the past and I don't want to bother about it anymore, hence why I'm sort of taking a break from Tumblr (or rather this account)

"sort of" because I don't know if next week I will suddenly find the motivation to update here again. I don't want to leave this account because, well, I've accomplished more than I thought I would ever in a life time and I know damn well I'm gonna go through another phase where I will be very active.

I'll be active on my side blog, which I'm planning on moving into another logging so I don't have to bother with peachypinkygloss' notifications. it's definitive, so I will give it some thinking.

I've written this really last minute lol but oh well.

P.S.: I don't really care if I haven't been able to finish what I started, and ngl it shouldn't matter to you either. it was never a promise and I have a life outside Tumblr (surprisingly lmfao). please, never harass an author about updates guys, it's seriously the most discouraging thing ever. I've gotten a lot of that and it killed my mood, especially when nobody really showed genuine gratitude.

[corpsekiller]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧) — 𝐭.𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. thomas shelby x fem!reader (maid!reader)

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. angst, seemingly unrequited love, pining, mentions of blood and weapons

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. you should have been more careful when you started working as a maid for thomas shelby, but how could you know that you'll fall for someone you can never have?

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.355 words

MASTERLIST PART 2

“Mr. Shelby, can I assist you with anything?” You quip cheerfully, setting down the silver tray loaded with tea and pastries on his desk. He didn’t ask for a glass of whiskey, but you brought one anyway and carefully push it into his direction — it’s been a stressful day and he seems rather grateful when he takes the drink with trembling hands and takes a tentative sip before he shakes his head, offering you a half-hearted smile instead.

It doesn’t quite reach his eyes and seems forced, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. Such an act of courtesy may be simple, perhaps even meaningless to him, but after working under his name for nearly half a year, you’ve learned to treasure the rare occurrence of a faint smile, especially directed at you. A man like him certainly doesn’t need to approach people below his position with any kind of respect, yet he still shows efforts to treat you well, even if it’s just a twitch of his lips that hints at his gratitude.

You suppose his compassion comes from old memories of his childhood — you’ve heard the older maids tell stories about his earlier life, about his father and his deceased mother, about a young man who went to war and worked himself to the bone after he returned, all for the company. Everything he owns comes from dirt and blood beneath his fingernails and the callouses on each knuckle prove that he truly earned it.

Because he knows what it means to have nothing and that makes him kind.

You’ve always admired him for this, that tender spot in his heart that remained despite the blood he has spilled, despite the men he has slaughtered without hesitation, and the sins he committed for the sake of his family. No, he’s certainly not a good man, but he isn’t bad either. Many might disagree, but you couldn’t care less. Most of them don’t get close enough to see him, really see him as he is, and not what he pretends to be.

Not even you did, but there were moments when you caught a glimpse of what lies behind the facade of arrogance and violence he carries, those silent minutes when you brought him tea in the middle of the night, caught him staring blankly into space, too deep in thought to notice your presence until you dared to knock on the door or spent a peaceful moment together at dawn when he smoked by the window to watch the sun rise and allowed you to stay in his study after you served him breakfast.

It isn’t enough.

Your longing for him can’t be satiated and you doubt it ever will because you’ll never get close enough — Thomas Shelby is impossible to love and impossible to reach, yet you still yearn to be close to him and so, you choose to be content with watching him from afar, even if it hurts. You wonder if his dead wife felt the same. Sometimes, when you pass her portrait hanging above the staircase, you feel her deprecating stare burning in the back of your neck and you can’t help but whisper a guilty apology, hoping that she’ll forgive you and your desire for her husband.

“I’m in no place to ask this kind of question, but are you certain about attending dinner with your family this evening? You seem tense.” Your eyes trail over his features, the dark shadows beneath his lashes and the sharp curve of his cheekbones until they find his lips. They’re pale, bitten bloody in concentration and you’d love nothing more than to sweep your thumb over the abused skin and remind him that he doesn’t have to do this on his own, that he could find comfort in you and-

“It’s fine, Y/N. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me,” Thomas sighs warily and gently presses his fingers against his temple to ease the pounding headache that has been plaguing him since this morning. His patience runs especially thin today, you can see it in the restless fiddling of his fingers as if he’s toeing the line between his usually calm resolve and the anger he keeps locked in his chest, growing over weeks of tiring work and sleepless nights like a deadly tumor that slowly eats away at his sanity. It’s only a matter of time until he breaks and still, he doesn’t stop.

You asked Frances once, shortly after you moved into the country house to take on your new job as a maid, why he’s working himself to death like a madman, even though he has enough money to pay others to get their hands dirty for him. She had looked at you with a glint of fear in his eyes and pressed a wrinkly finger to her thin lips, quickly glanced over her shoulder as if she’d expected Mr. Shelby himself to stand behind her before yanking you closer.

'Don’t ask any questions about his work,' she had whispered. 'And stay away from him, dear child. The devil is a charming man and he’ll ruin you if you aren’t careful.'

She meant well, but she didn’t know that he already had you wrapped around his finger. Even before he first touched your hand and asked for your name, repeating it back to you and forming each syllable with his tongue, you belonged to him — all he had to do was look at you.

Perhaps that’s why you began to do more work than your job requires. Such a dutiful maid, staying up all night to be of service to him, although he never asks for more than a single glass of whiskey. In fact, he made it clear to his employees that their schedules only include keeping the house clean and presentable to unexpected visitors as well as preparing meals for him and his family, yet you still dare to step out of line to take care of him and his personal needs.

A pathetic attempt to catch his attention, though you know it’s in vain.

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” you nod timidly, struggling to remember what he said before you got lost in your own thoughts. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you. You can go and freshen up for this evening, love. I need you to be with me later,” he mutters and takes a plate of biscuits out of your hands, brushing over your knuckles in the process. Your heart pounds in your chest and your cheeks flush in embarrassment, betraying your true emotions in a matter of seconds and when he looks up, you recognize some sort of amusement in the endless blue of his eyes.

“Oh.”

Just like that, he knocks the wind out of your lungs. You think he has that effect on everyone he meets, pulls the words out of their mouths with his cold gaze and sharp tongue, but this time is different — his voice isn’t as keen as the razorblade sown into the rim of his flat cap, no, it’s gentle and warm, almost pleading if you listen close and your foolish heart slams against your ribs as a spark of hope ignites.

“Oh,” you repeat, a little breathless. Your mind reels for a response, something, anything, but every thought seems to slip out of your grasp and the words that tumble out of your mouth are barely distinguishable. “Thank you, Mr. Shelby. I promise... I promise I’ll be there.”

Your cheeks burn when you turn around on your heels and rush out of his study. Blood roars in your ears and your hands tremble, fiddling with the hem of your skirt, bunching the fabric and smoothing it back out until your knees give out and you find yourself hunched over on the bottom of the stairs. I need you to be with me plays in your head like a broken record and no matter how many times you try to tell yourself that it’s a lost cause, that there is no deeper meaning, you can’t stop yourself from hoping for more.