#after years of feeling like you're being dismissed because people keep telling you to do those things when you talk about being depressed

[thethingything]

so CBT never worked for us in therapy. basically every instance of it was therapists trying to get us to stop being anxious about very real problems that were very likely to happen. like, situations that were not only likely, but would be very dangerous if they did happen. sometimes even things that had already happened and were likely to happen again.

meanwhile we have an app on our phone that guides you through various CBT exercises and it turns out when we use that for the kind of shit where we already know our brain is being irrational and we just want to get our thoughts together and work through the issue by writing it out, it works really fucking well and oh look suddenly we've been doing CBT for an hour and processed the root cause of several key emotional issues we've been having for years.

funny how that works. it's almost like we can actually figure out for ourselves when something is irrational and when it's an actual real problem that could put us in danger and shouldn't be dismissed. who'd have fucking thought it

[traegorn]

Girl you can rant and rave all day but we all know for a fact you can't vote your way out of this mess so your "genuinely, what else can we do?" sounds like pure cucked defeatism. This downward spiral of American fascism has proven stable, so no, voting isn't going to stop it. The democrats will never be pushed left - as proven by blatant history. I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Voting isn't going to solve any of this, and no voting isn't going to "clear the way" or make it easier to resist. Democrats have proven over and over and over again they will use the full force of violence to stop anything that truly threatens them and the ONLY WAY to stop American fascism is to threaten them, to threaten the very foundations of the system itself.

You exert all this effort, have all this pained frustration, over the weakest political action you can take. You are not challenging fascism or tyranny or helping any of the people harmed under bipartisan violence. You ignore these people and focus on "harm reduction" for the few who do benefit from the pitiful social safety nets democrats eke out only to be undermined in the next four or eight years as republicans INEVITABLY take back power. Such is the case of a two party system, as history proves. You're staving off the inevitable by exerting all this energy into electoralism, and the people you "save" by electing democrats are inevitably hurt anyways when republicans INEVITABLY take back power - because that's what the system guarantees.

You exist in a cycle of abuse with the American government, a punishment-reward system under the 2 parties that keeps you afraid of punishment and too desperate for reward that you ignore how the hand that feeds you is also putting kids in cages and blowing up babies overseas. You, and everyone who thinks like you, will never be the ones to save anybody.

Idk I was pissed and now got all sad again after writing this. Just so you know my being sad at the state of your ideology isn't a representation of my passivity that people like you like to construe - I am painfully politically active. But it's just...sick. You're stuck in an abusive cult and now I just feel bad for you

I'm usually a lot nicer when I reply to folks, but you brought a certain energy that deserves a different response. I want to be clear to any passersby who I'd normally be polite to in this kind of conversation: This energy is reserved only for chucklefucks who bring this kind of shit to me. Please do not take this as a reflection as to how I'd treat people willing to engage honestly and civilly with me. This anon came to me unprovoked, so they're getting a rather unique response.

So here we go.

Oi, shit head. This was the stupidest thing I've read all day.

Democrats 100% have moved left in the last 40 years. Are we still recovering from when they got dragged right by Reagan in the 80s? Yes. But we've made headway getting things back on track. You claim a lot of stuff here, but don't cite a single example. Likely because you just repeat what someone else told you on TikTok that one time. You couldn't find your way through actual theory if it smacked you in the face with its dick. But you don't want me to actually justify it.

Because your own words told me you'd dismiss any evidence I provided:

I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Bitch, this shit is a sliding scale. Trump authorized more drone strikes than Obama did in eight years. Are they bad? Yes. But if you're telling me you want more murders, Trump's your guy. Guess what, living in America means dealing with the fact that you've been complicit in genocide this whole time. Look at the land you stand on -- it is soaked in blood. Look at the smart phone you're reading this on, it literally came out of a genocide.

You bathe in blood every day, fucking figure it out.

We do our best to minimize harm. And if you'd ACTUALLY read or watched anything I've said, your two half dead braincells would have noticed the part where I constantly say "voting is not the end of your activism." It's the fucking start.

Either Harris or Trump will be the next President. Trump will be worse. If you aren't doing everything you can to stop him, you're not a leftist, you're a grandstanding piece of shit who doesn't care about anything other than the smell of your own farts.

You want to fuck up the two parties? Great. Put in the fucking work -- because the Presidential election ain't it, shithead. Build a real movement from the ground up. Build community, build a party system, run local candidates. When's the last time your ass went to a city council meeting or a school board meeting? Do you even know when they're held where you live?

But let's face it, you couldn't coalition build if you tried because you're so far up your own ass you kiss your small intestine goodnight.

Daddy Revolution ain't coming, shithead. There's work to do, so get your head out of your ass and do it.

You want Trump to win? Netanyahu would kiss you on the lips for it. Fuck off.

[lcriedlastnight]

Hello! I was hoping I could request a fic where the reader is Oscar's best friend and the reader is really anxious about being in the paddock and almost passes out but Oscar catches her and once she's okay, he confesses? Thank you so much!

as a nervous girlie, i love this idea

1.1k words

if there was one thing that oscar wouldn't shut up about, it was getting you into the paddock for a race weekend. "it's basically your duty as my best friend" he would complain but you knew deep down he didn't really think that. and it wasn't that you didn't want to be there to support the love of your life your best friend, it's just that you didn't think that you could take being surrounded by that many people with that many cameras and that many different opinions of you.

when you had admitted this to oscar he of course jumped in to ease your fears and let you know it wasn't that bad.

"yeah but you're used to people taking pictures of you and swarming all around you and thinking bad things about you and-"

"i know i am but it doesn't mean that it doesn't still get to me." oscar cuts you off with a gentle uttering of your name. his hand comes to grip yours on your lap as he talks through all your worries and concerns about his way of everyday life.

"it's difficult but you learn to live with it. i can help you, even if it's just one time. if you hate it that badly then i'll never ask again i promise you."

the way oscar puts it makes it seem easy but that might just be an oscar thing because with the way he talks about driving his mclaren on race weekends makes it seem like you would be able to do it in your sleep. you do trust him though so that's maybe how he sees the cracks in your resolve and how he can spot from a mile away that you're about to finally give in after years of him basically begging you.

in the end it's that day that convinces you to join him in the paddock for the next race. he just didn't tell you that the next race was las vegas and was going to be full of people pestering you both.

oscar has a strong grip on your hand as he practically drags you through the paddock, past all the fans, past the reporters with the big professional cameras that scare the living daylights off you. oscar keeps one hand in yours and another on your lower back, guiding you through the masses to the safety of the mclaren motorhome, ignoring all the things people are shouting at the both of you, oscar tells you to keep your head down and keep walking.

somehow in the middle of all of the chaos, you lose grip of oscar's hand and the one of your back disappears. that's when you realise that you are stood in the middle of a massive sea of people who are trying to either push past you to get to oscar or get information from you. either way people were shouting and shoving and the only thing you were one hundred percent certain of was that your heart rate was spiking and your breathing was getting heavy.

you thought it would be easy to spot oscar in the crowd of people but many of them were fans and were wearing that exact same bright papaya orange that he was. you had thought about calling for him but that idea was quickly dismissed as you heard everyone around you shouting for oscar for multiple different reasons. you think through all the commotion you hear your own name being shouted but you can't hear well enough to know if it was real or if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

suddenly the air around you seemed too thick to breathe in and it was much harder to inhale than it was before. you felt the panic rise and you felt yourself get lightheaded. you had never fainted before but you thought that this must be what it felt like. even more panic adds to the existing because who wants to faint in general, never mind in the middle of a massive crowd like this..

just as you feel yourself start to lose balance, a hand appears on your shoulder and navigates you out the crowd and straight into the motorhome you and oscar were headed to. your hazy brain detects that it is in fact oscar who got you to safety but you find that even out of the crowd, you don't feel any less light headed.

"c'mon, honey. deep breaths for me, yeah?" you can faintly hear oscar through the cloudiness even though it feels like he's so far away.

you register that the breathing pattern oscar has adopted is one that you should probably copy, so you do. slowly inhaling together, then exhaling. as the fog of panic clears and you start to feel less dizzy you can see the guilt on oscar's face become more and more apparent.

"that's it. you're doing so well." oscar's praise makes you feel a little dizzy again but this time it isn't the bad kind so you push it to the back of your mind, like always.

"m'sorry." you mumble, pushing yourself forward and into his chest for comfort that you know only he can provide for you. oscar isn't slow to wrap you up in his arms and to push your head into the safety of his neck.

he doesn't reply for a while, seemingly letting you calm down as he rocks you from side to side, hands making little shapes on the patch of exposed skin of your back just below your t-shirt.

"i'm the one who should be sorry, sweetheart. i knew how anxious you were about this and i bring you to the race where everyone is practically insane." oscar apologises so softly, like anything louder will shatter you into a million pieces (that he wouldn't even mind picking back up).

he doesn't give you a minute to respond before he's speaking again. "i freaked out when i let your hand slip out of mine. i was so worried about you. god, i just- i love you and i don't want to be the reason you're like that ever again."

it's your turn to freak out because oscar has just said that he loves you and it doesn't even seem like he knows he has said it. you let your brain explode for a minute before you think of what to say back. do you bring it up (like you really want to) or or do you just ignore it too?

"you weren't the reason i was like that." you speak up, not moving your head from it's position so your words are a little muffled because they are said directly into oscar's collerbones.

from his chest you can feel the breath he takes as he gets ready to fight you on how this was all his fault but you know the exact thing that will shut him up, so with all the confidence you have in your entire body you mutter a quiet "i love you too."

and you were right, oscar was silent. better than him blaming himself for this, you supposed.

[krakenartificer]

Who wants a really sad Leverage headcanon?

Was re-watching the Gimme a K Street Job -- Season 5 Episode 5 -- and a couple of things stood out to me.

1) Nate says "Let's go steal some congresspeople", and then sends everyone on the team (except Parker, who's being a cheer coach) out to con one of their targets. But it feels like there's a profound mismatch in who gets which mark.

For the "not like other girls" feminist congresswoman who's inclined to dismiss cheer as worthless and demeaning, you need Eliot to come in looking like a man who very much knows what does and does not count as a sport, and be his tiny angry respect-women-juice self about how regardless of what you think of their choice of clothing they are working as hard as any other athlete and they deserve safety as much as anyone else. But instead they sent Hardison.

For the "Yes I am very busy and important; admire me" chairman, you need Sophie, who is better than anyone else on the planet at making you feel admirable when you're doing what she wants, and scummy and low when you're not doing what she wants. But instead they sent Eliot.

For the "Look I am trying, but I need corn subsidies or I won't be able to do anything else" newbie congressman, Hardison could happily have gone on an infinitely recurring series of fetch quests until he sees the place where they loop around and bottom out and every problem solves every other problem. But instead they sent Sophie.

2) Eliot struggles the most, so Nate works with him the most, but he doesn't help him out hardly at all; he just keeps saying, "So what's your next play?" and then revealing that he's already anticipated Eliot's next play and has all the materials in place to enact it. And of course, they do eventually get the dude on board, and it all works out, but afterwards, Eliot tells Nate, "I trust that some time soon you'll tell me why you had me slogging through all that when you already knew how to hook him."

And of course, knowing what we now know about how season 5 ends, it makes sense that Nate is trying to train the OT3 to work without him, looking for his replacement.

Except.

If the plan is to fuck off into the sunset with Sophie, then why did he throw Sophie into this uncomfortable not-my-wheelhouse scenario?

No, Nate's preparing the entire team to carry on without him. He's forcing them to learn how to plan, learn different ways of approaching problems, to think about bigger pictures and approach them strategically.

...

I think Nate just got the first diagnosis of the disease that's finally going to kill him. And again, we -- the audience -- now know that he's going to live for many years after that initial diagnosis. But he doesn't know that, at this point. He knows he's tested positive, and he knows it's eventually going to kill him, and he has no idea how long he has.

And in some sense, it doesn't matter how long he has. Three months or thirty years, that kind of revelation makes it stunningly clear that taking care of the people you love means making sure that they can take care of themselves.

So that's what he does: he throws them into new, uncomfortable situations where they'll have to grow and support each other without him, so that no matter what happens, they'll be able to keep going. Because he's not a nice person, Jimmy Ford's son, but by God does he know the importance of protecting your family.

[schrodinger-swriter]

Can I Ask for Husks fluff alphabet?

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, Z preatty please?🥺

(I'm sorry I almost hit the limit. I'm obsessed with him😭)

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, and Z for Husk

No need to apologize! If I wanted a smaller limit I would have said so in the original post! Nothing wrong in wanting to get the most out of something C:

I hope you enjoy this, Anon, it was fun playing with Husk's personality in this! He reminds me of a grumpy grandfather.

Confession, I thought for the longest time Husk was a.. well dog. I.. Don't know why I thought that, perhaps it's the face markings and his name being "Husk" (Like Husky) that caused my confusion. For two years after the pilot I was... rather dumb..

What do you mean Husk is 75.

ATTRACTION:

He enjoys those who are more honest with themselves and aren't pushovers. He can hardly stand those in denial. He calls it as he sees it when he's pushed to do so. This is less of an attraction thing, but I feel he would be most compatible with someone he can be real with and can be able to deal with his bluntness. In a way, you keep each other in check.

CUDDLES:

Small and soft, warm too. He's a cat, so it feels like snuggling into a large cat! I don't think he would be too deep into PDA, the most he would be comfortable with doing is quick kisses when someone else is passing by.. usually... more on that later. Though, now that it's mentioned, I don't think he would be too big on physical affection all that much.. now don't get me wrong he loves a good back massage every now and then, but it's going to take him a while to curl up next to you for cuddling. Little spoon.

INJURY:

Would ask you what the hell happened while wrapping your wound.. Goes from scolding you for being a jackass if you just. Threw yourself into danger, but will go on to say you have some guts. Stern when it comes to you taking it easy so you can heal properly... is not phased by any false play ups of your pain, though depending on his mood he might let it pass. For a bit..

If he's the one injured he's stubborn, insisting that it's not that big of a deal. Dresses and cleans it appropriately, all while nursing a bottle of booze. Dismissive when talking about what led to the injury. Might be a little standoffish if you try to take care of him, especially if you come off as trying to baby him.

JEALOUSY:

He deals with his jealousy the same way he deals with all of his other problems. Alcohol. He sees another man chatting you up? Alcohol. Sees you laughing a little too much at some chumps joke? Alcohol. Someone talks brings up how you seem so lively around another person? Alcohol. I think you get the point. However, if it's a case of you being pushed into a situation you don't want to be in, he's going to pick up on your discomfort and drag you away... does not make it seem like you have somewhere else to be, no, he just tells the other person to fuck off as he takes you away. His fur sometimes fluffs up in annoyance. Pulling that pin from the C section, in regards to PDA, he will tug you to his side to further push the effect that you're taken.

KISSES:

Bunny kisses. You know, you two touch noses and nuzzle a bit. He doesn't allow it often, but it is something you two do every now and again. He defaults to kissing you on the mouth, quick pecks usually aren't for him, though... Sometimes leans over the counter of his bar to steal a kiss when no one else is around. This goes for both giving and receiving!

NO:

He can't be with someone who heavily relies on physical touch, it's simply not for him and he can only compromise so much. That's not to say he wouldn't try, because he would. However you can only sacrifice your comfort so much before it becomes a problem, you know? I don't think he would do well with people who complain.. not vent, more so whine about everything. He seems far too irritable to be able to deal with that in his day to day, outside of the bar.

As for actual deal breakers within an established relationship... I think it would have to be a stubborn person. Funny, coming from him since he's stubborn. But Husk appears to still go with the flow of everything, even eventually befriending the rest of the cast. No, when I say stubborn I mean people who can't take their heads out of their asses to see that there's other things to worry about and shit like that. He can only give you so many reality checks before throwing in the towel. Bonus negative points if combined with the complaining thing.

PETNAMES:

Do not call him "Kitten" he might actually be upset by that. On top of that, it's so... basic... predictable. It's not special. No, something that basic wouldn't work on him... and that's not considering the fact he himself isn't too big on petnames. Though.. seeing that he died in the 70s, I enjoy that the thought that he defaults to names from that decade. I believe he would call you "Dollface" or even just "Doll"

It'd take him a while to grow used to the idea of being called anything other than his.. name.. but he looks like a "Pumpkin" or a "Lovey"

.. just don't call him that around Angel, he won't hear the end of it..

ZZZ:

Tends to sleep either sprawled out of curled into a ball. Really it depends, though more often than not he sleeps sprawled out. Doesn't like being held while he sleeps, so cuddling while you guys doze off is off the table. Though, he wouldn't mind you scratching between his ears or shoulder blades sometimes... maybe you'll even hear him purr. Will take a decent amount of time before you get to the "sleeping in the same bed" stage. Old man snores, so good luck with that.

[raayllum]

scene of all time. to me

I'm gonna be circling back to Rayla and Callum's argument/talk over the dark magic use over and over again in the next 6ish months (if not years) so this is not all of it, but everything I feel ready to articulate right now. Let's go

First off we have Rayla's concern being at the forefront of her mind — dark magic almost seemingly killed him the first time, "it puts [his] life in terrible danger," she wants to protect him and doesn't want him to be hurt, etc. Callum tries to put moral qualms onto her (and we'll get to his in a second) and see if that's her reasoning, but Rayla doesn't take it cause she hit that turning point way back in 2x08 / 2x09.

I also think the framing of "Because it makes you vulnerable to the thing you're most afraid of" is interesting, because I don't really believe Callum when he agrees.

Between "I think deep down I knew, I just hoped if I didn't think about it" and "When you were under the ice I was so scared, I thought I was going to lose you like we lost her" and "I'm afraid that he'll use me [...] and hurt people I care about," I think what Callum is most afraid of is Ezran or Rayla dying. Full stop. After all, he was more unwilling to live in that reality than he was in one where Aaravos took him over.

Gonna talk about her asking why in a bit, wanna talk about Callum's outburst and dismissal first.

C: It doesn't matter. I did it, I'm ruined, it's too late for me, who cares?

He spirals hard with his anger and upset over everything, and you can tell by her face how worried she is. Even the fact that Callum looks away from her repeatedly in this scene, similar to how he avoided looking at her when she first came in 4x03, to have those emotional walls and distance up. It likewise makes me think of Callum insisting "There has to be a way to make it right" in 1x02 only for Harrow to inform him "No, it's too late for that". There's also some semblance of "well I made my choice so I'm just Like This now" that we saw/see from Viren (and Aaravos) as well, which of course isn't true, but that's how it feels. Why Callum is so adamant about this is another thing I'll get to in a minute.

But contrast the "I'm ruined" with Rayla's "you're a good person Callum, maybe the goodest" in a couple of episodes, and the "who cares?" when Rayla is right there, caring about him as he pulls a, well, her of sorts.

Then we have Rayla reaffirming for the 4th time that she wants to know why Callum would keep doing something that's dangerous, that hurts him, that puts him in terrible danger (almost like how she Leaves to protect him or uses herself as a shield constantly or something).

What is his 'good reason' (5x01) because the only thing that makes sense to her is that he'd have one? What could Possibly be worth that cost and level of risk to him, of the thing she believes he's scared the most of?

Wasn't the one she was expecting, we can say that much.

C: Finnegrin was going to kill you. I didn't have a choice, because... I would do anything for you.

Now, there's two ways to read the above line. You can read it as Callum trailing off in "I didn't have a choice, because..." his love for her compelled him to act, and there was no other option he was willing to consider. This best fits with the condensed/cut lines from Finnegrin's Wake of "It seems to me like love has a tighter grip on you than those chains around your wrists, so I'll do you a favour and set you free" where Callum could either lose Rayla but 'be free' or keep loving her and stay 'chained'. Then, "I would do anything for you" is a reaffirmation of how he feels and his vow of sorts to her. This is the one I lean towards if I had to pick definitively between them.

The second way we can read the line is "I didn't have a choice because I would do anything for you," which is that his capacity for the 'anything' removes his agency. This is definitely the one that's in line with the mindset of dark magic creates, which is that if I can do something, if I can save/help/protect/cure someone, then how can I not, no matter the cost or sacrifice?

Rayla processes the reevaluation of the vow and its boundaries.

He did it for her, risked all of that and himself for her, in order to save her life. "Am I supposed to thank you?" And I think again we see the parallels between her leaving to protect him, and how she would've rather died than have Callum use dark magic again (as she's about to say in a minute) but this really stood out to me in comparison to Viren and Claudia and Viren and Soren later this season.

Claudia mandates "You have to stay! You have to [do what I want]! I saved you! You owe me your life!" in 6x01. We learn in 6x06 what, precisely, Viren did to save Soren's life, and Soren then offers up his heart to Viren for Katolis in 6x08, something in Claudia's vein of logic (though not to her herself) Viren would be entitled to. But Viren, and Callum, make it clear that Soren and Rayla don't owe them anything just because the two mages saved their lives with dark magic.

Then Rayla switches gears and gets to the heart of the matter.

Now this was really exciting to me for a few reasons. The first is that I always wanted the "Make the sacrifice" angle from Viren-Aaravos in 5x09 to come back around for Rayla and Callum in a future season since I love that fourway foils dynamic a lot. Rayla refusing to kill him, and Callum refusing to let her be killed/sacrificed in some other manner. You don't have characters say shit like this (nor have this be what causes Callum to stumble and the ship starts breaking) unless you plan on going there for both of them, which is likewise what I've always wanted since even before S4 came out. The fact that this is also spearheading us to talk about Rayla's ideas of sacrifice and of herself ("Cause I know you Rayla, you never do anything for yourself") is especially beautiful and exciting.

Ergo, this argument is the scene of all time. To Me.

[monster-disaster]

Hey! Saw that your requests are open and wanted to submit a request (more of a general idea, really):

A human reader who’s lover is a high-ranking demon/Archdevil/Prince of Hell. Because of his position in the infernal hierachy, he’s quite serious and doesn’t always grasp irony or figures of speech. Like the fact that humans say they hate someone doesn’t necessarily mean they wish ill fortune for that person. Or their "love" for something isn’t equivalent to love between partners.

Just a serious demon monarch confused by human rhethorics. Thanks!

I’d say you’re doing the Lord’s work but that might be an ufortunate choice of words on my part…. Anyway, keep being awesome! :)

Thank you for your request! :)

demon!Vinar x human!Reader Good to know: high school stereotypes

now The recognition strikes you with a gasp. "It was all you!" Your voice is accusing but not angry; you're too shocked to be angry. "Took you long enough, love," Vinar sounds proud. He even smiles as he opens the car door for you. "Vinar!" You gasp again, mentally retracing every mishap and misfortune of the night. It was all him the whole time! The curve of his lips slowly disappears as he frowns at you in confusion. "What?" The demon asks. "You hate them."

not long ago Vinar's arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as you struggle to keep your jaw from hitting the floor. You both stand near the bar, each holding your own drinks. The fruity cocktail your boyfriend ordered for you a few minutes ago still lingers on your tongue. "What the hell is happening here?" You breathe out, shocked. Vinar smiles at your choice of words but remains silent. The demon tries to conceal the satisfied curl of his lips behind his drink. Little do you know, you've just answered your own question.

When you received an invitation to your high school reunion a few weeks ago, your immediate reaction was dismissal. The four years you spent with them were more than enough, and there wasn't a fiber in your body that wanted to experience it again.

But the thought didn't leave you alone.

High school was long years ago, and you left your awkward teenage years behind after graduation. Things changed for the better, and a not-so-small part of you wanted to show it to them. Curiosity also played a role. You made sure not to follow anybody on social media, but now that memories flooded back, you couldn't help but wonder how their lives turned out. Did they make their dreams come true?

So after thinking it through, you decided to accept the invitation. It's just a night anyway, you told yourself. Whatever happens, you can survive it.

You're still preoccupied with watching the ex-cheerleader limp to the restroom, completely oblivious to your boyfriend's suspicious satisfaction. Her ankle seems to bend at an awkward angle every few steps as she hurries away, hunched over. Maybe it's rude of you, but you can't find any sympathy for her misfortune in yourself. After all, the only reason she approached you upon your arrival was to shamelessly ogle Vinar. It took all of your self-restraint not to snap at her to stop drooling. So no, you don't feel bad about her heels.

"Do you think she will come back?" You ask your demon, still staring at the narrow corridor where she disappeared moments ago. Vinar scoffs. "If she wants to leave, she has to come out at some point." "The heels of her shoes just come off," you tell him. "Both!" The male's chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle as he looks down at you. "Are you laughing?" "No," you lie, deciding to drown your amusement in your cocktail before anyone notices it. After one of your ex-classmates leaned down and tore the bottom of his trousers, you are not sure people would appreciate your reaction. You glance at the man from the corners of your eyes. He stands at the wall with his friends, making sure he can hide his accident. "It's certainly not their night," Vinar hums under his nose.

He is definitely right, and the icing on the cake comes when the man who was the football star of the high school once upon a time reaches his alcohol limit and starts vomiting on himself, not sparing the others around him. "Oh my god!" You gasp, eyes wide. "Oh god!" Your boyfriend grimaces at the sight, slipping his large hand to the small of your back. "I think it's time for us to leave." "Yeah," you reply, putting down your glass. "We should." "Do you want to say goodbye?" You scan the room with disinterest. You barely talked to anyone more than a few words, and to be honest, you're fine with it. Some of them have changed, and some of them haven't. A lot of them have families now, with kids, while others are busy with their jobs or with anything that interests them. Now that you've met them, you don't even remember why you were curious about their lives. "No," you tell Vinar, letting his fingers curl around yours. "We can go."

You leave the building side by side. It's already dark outside, and the parking lot is filled with your ex-classmates' cars. The city is bustling around you with people and long rows of traffic, but your attention turns back to the building behind you when a muffled thud reaches your ears. "What was that?" The demon shrugs. His posture is easy and relaxed. "Who knows." You frown at him with a new-found suspicion. "It was a strange night," you comment. Vinar grins. "It was."

now Your eyes follow him as he rounds the car to take his place behind the steering wheel. His smoky, dark scent fills your nostrils, and for a moment, you forget everything. You calm down and let yourself rest in your seat. Every tension you carried the whole night fades from your muscles. A soft sigh leaves your lips before you start speaking again. "Vinar…" "What?" he asks again. "You told me you hate them!" The tall demon, the prince of hell, the love of your life, almost sounds like a kid who knows he's in trouble but still tries to get out of it. "I'm not angry," you tell him, putting your hand on his thigh with a reassuring squeeze. The black fabric of his slacks feels soft under your palm. "But do you remember when I said I love that orc who plays in my favorite rom-com?" A grimace pulls on Vinar's face. "Yes," he grunts. "What did I tell you when you threatened to kill him?" There is a slight amusement in your voice as you watch his profile. Your gaze wanders down on the slope of his nose and the hard line of his jawline. "That it doesn't mean you would leave me for him." "Exactly! I love his talent, not the male himself." You feel like you have to remind him again. The topic of you loving others besides him and your family is still a sensitive spot. "And when I ranted about how much I hate my job?" "You said it doesn't mean you want to lose your job." The demon licks his teeth in distaste. He doesn't like this conversation. "So, do you think I wanted to ruin their night and almost put them in danger just because of some bad memories?" He grunts in answer. "No." "That's right." "Are you really not angry?" He asks, glancing at you. You squeeze the hard cords of his thigh again. "No. But let's go before they find out it was you the whole time." There is a laugh in your tone that makes his rigid posture relax. "As if they could do anything about it," the prince smirks arrogantly.

[ghouljams]

Heya Ghoul... I have a question.

How do you tell if you've been like... affected by something? My ex practices Wiccan stuff and she is very obsessive and still texts my old number and like... yeah, I'm worried about her doing something. We were together roughly two years and she's still trying to contact me after a year of no contact and she's saying how like I'm her soulmate and stuff and I'm just... not into her at all anymore. Like she gave me emotional trauma and stuff, almost convinced me to move up to where she is (long distance, manipulative) and I'm not comfortable going out of state right now because that's a huge reset I don't want to do again...

Not to ramble here too much, I'm sorry if it's too weird or something so feel free to ignore this, but I really don't know who to ask in terms of the practice. I'm also not really sure how to bring up the topic of spells or hexes or whatever, I'm not trying to be dismissive in any way but it's like talking about just feels stifling and awkward. We (ex and I) never really talked about her practices and stuff, but sometimes she'd talk about a ritual she did or wanted to do, or spell jars she wanted to make... I never really learned how to talk about it, either, in general so maybe it just feels weird because it's foreign. I don't doubt it exists, but it's not something I understand very well.

I didn't intend to dump this on you but I did so in sorry about that. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a great day.

Hello hello you have come to the right witch.

First of all FUCK WICCA that shit is just magic stollen from other religions and closed practices, plus it was created by some random white dude in like the 80s so it's not even this deeply ancient practice that people think it is.

Anyway Wiccans also have this whole thing about "do no harm" but lemme tell you something, i am not Wiccan and I will do harm. So here's what you're gonna do.

We're going to start with a cleanse. I like doing a Limpia, since that's the most hands on and accessible.

You're gonna get an egg and rub that Thang all over your body. I mean all over, and try to focus on "cleaning" yourself off with it. Be careful not to break it but make sure you rub it over the top of your head, sole of your feet, stomach/heart/hands, you wanna get anything you think feels bad. Then we're gonna crack the egg into a glass of water.

Now you can read the egg and see if she's actually hexed you, but for your purposes it doesn't matter because even if she hasn't we're gonna throw some salt, ceyanne/chili powder/red pepper flakes, and some garlic into that water. Then you're gonna toss the whole thing down the toilet, close the lid and flush it.

Cleanse done.

Next your gonna take a jar or a bag and you're gonna put anything sharp that you have in your house and you're willing to get rid of into it. Nails, thorns, thumb tacks, needles, pins, toss it in there. If you're using a jar add some vinegar, if your using a bag don't. Then we're doing hot stuff again: chili powder, red pepper flakes, anything spicy goes in your ward. Add some salt. Spit in it. Write a warning on a piece of paper "anyone who sends harm my way will get it back 3 fold" and shove it in there. Then bury that thing. Preferably you do this at the edge of your property but if you can't bury anything out it over your door.

Done.

Other witches get real fancy with their wards but I'm lazy and most people don't have a ton of fancy witchcraft stuff, so we work with what we've got.

Otherwise. Idk magic isn't real, the worst she can do is just like keep trying to contact you and being annoying. She'll get bored eventually and move on to tormenting someone else, but if she does send anything your way or you feel like you're not acting like yourself, do a cleanse.

[escarlatellie]

my heart's mistaken ; ellie williams. (4.9k.)

⤿ f!reader, modern!au, anxiety attack (you), lowercase on purpose, hurt/comfort (?) confessing your feelings & misunderstanding trope my favorite!! title inspired by heaven / troye sivan.

⤿ returning to your hometown after leaving for five years, you're met with a mix of kindness, worry, and rage. when dina ends up scaring you away (though she has the best of intentions), you crash into the one person you'd run away from all those years ago, and end up having to face the feelings you'd been so afraid of.

“thanks for letting me crash,” you whisper, only half paying attention to whatever kdrama dina has playing on her old flatscreen. you shoot her a look, and she responds in kind with the one-finger salute before getting back to chatting with whoever she’s on the phone with; you’re not self-centered enough to try and drag her away from it, since you’re technically the one intruding. 

a part of you worries, briefly, that your being here is a problem. understandably so, since you’d up and left everything and everyone here without a word of goodbye five years ago. typically, you’d expect all of your old friends to be pissed, right? you’ve had years to consider going back, reason winning over the fear that you’d harbored when you left. you’d given dina just a couple days' warning, which felt good enough regardless of the hovering anxiety surrounding the idea that she’d call everyone and tell them. 

you weren’t ready for that, and it seemed as if she knew that too. 

your bag had felt heavy, slung over one shoulder as you rode the elevator up to her quaint little apartment, which you’d taken the liberty of looking at on her social media; something she had every right to keep from you after so long, but offered up anyway. your eyes water at the distinctive warmth of home you get from being back here, the security you feel settling into a place you haven’t been in in a while. 

what was great, actually, was the way she’d greeted you. dina’s just sweet like that. she’d had her phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, a birman cat cradled in her arms, clawing at her top as she swung the door open. regardless of what you presumed was absolute chaos on her end, she smiled at you, reached out with her just barely-freed hand and pulled you into her place by the shirt. when the door shut, you’d barely had time to collect yourself before the small birmin was cuddling up to your legs and inviting you in.

there was no awkwardness, just a sense of familiarity as dina cooed her cat and gestured towards the hall’s tiny little closet; hang up your stuff there, she mouthed, just as excruciatingly hospitable as she’d been five years ago. you figured any dismissal or worry you showed would be shut down the moment you spoke on it, because dina’s just..like that, so you did exactly what she told you to do, hung your stuff up, and had been promptly dragged to her little living area and thrown onto the couch. 

just let me finish cooking, she’d mouthed once again before getting back to her call, and off she’d gone. that left you here, knees pulled up to your chest as you pondered what exactly it was you were doing here, or what you planned to achieve by coming home. you had a whole life back where you’ve been staying, a place you could call home even though it hadn’t felt as..safe as here did. something was calling you back, a gut feeling which had been nagging at you for a while and it’d been long enough for you to think screw it, pack your stuff, and figure out where you could stay before taking the nearest train back home.

if you were being honest with yourself, you knew what was calling you home. though life back where you were living was good, the one thing lacking was love. it’s not as if you weren’t loved by the friends you’d made there, nor as if you hadn’t tried, because christ, you’d tried so hard to find someone, but every attempt had been a massive fail. most of the time, they were great people, mature and committed, but nothing had ever felt right and you’d grown to accept the fact that you weren’t built for it until you went through some of your old stuff and found a picture of you and an old friend all those years ago. 

you’re not exactly sure what it was about the picture that triggered it—perhaps it was the pose, your expressions as you two fucked around, or what was going on in the back—, but now, for some reason, it was folded nicely in the back of your phone case and you were back home looking for this person. ellie williams, you thought, thumbing at the case and wondering whether or not it’d be weird to take it out right now, where dina could see it. god, you’d seem like a creep. 

williams, for all you know, could’ve run off and started a life of her own outside of the city. williams, for all you fucking know, could’ve crashed her car and died in a fucking ditch, never to be seen again. williams could’ve gotten over you long before she stopped trying to call you. she could hate you, now. she might not even be the same person she was all those years ago. god fucking knows what she’s up to, and you might just be wasting your time looking for her here. 

you think back to what’d caused this mess—it was one night, a stupid choice while the two of you had been drunk out of your minds just after your second-year first-semester finals. you’d tumbled into ellie’s bedroom, messed around a little, then next thing you knew you were waking up at hell in the morning sore all over with ellie’s arm draped over your waist. 

it was a fucking nightmare because as you’d tried to sneak out, joel’d caught you and sat you down for coffee in their little, horrendously well-decorated and lived-in kitchen as he sat oblivious to your dilemma of when the fuck is ellie gonna wake up, when can i get out of here, and only let you go once he heard ellie’s footsteps and a faint call of your name from upstairs. 

you’re not even sure if he knew, if anyone knew that you two had anything going on. you hadn’t stuck around long to find out, as you’d practically raced out of their house and ghosted the poor girl. you’d barely spoken to any of your friends aside from the occasional i’m okay messages you’d shot to dina right up until you left. then, you stopped speaking to everyone because as a fucking nineteen-year-old, you were falling for someone—you had fallen a long time ago—, your best friend, and said best friend was in love with someone else.

really, how was dina so chill about you coming over after so long? you knew she was a good person, but even the best of people would have completely lost it. she’d left you alone when you’d come in, had been kind enough to let you relax and get used to being here again, but a part of you knew the second she got off the phone, she’d be on your ass about it. 

it wasn’t as if you’d expected anything different. as a matter of fact, you’d been prepping yourself for it since you boarded the train hours ago. telling her why and explaining the circumstances along with your feelings at the time would probably end you up in shambles, but she deserved to know. despite the effort you’d put in to try and forget her, too, she was the only person who’d worried about you the entire time. it was hard to forget someone like that.

that urges a pang in your heart; obviously, you’d never really gotten over ellie.

“hey,” 

dina’s voice whips you out of your own thoughts. she’s holding two dishes, presumably the food she cooked though she’s standing and is too high up for you to be able to see. she sets them both down on her little coffee table and curls up on the other end of the couch, lower lip tucked tightly between her teeth as she figures out what to say. honestly, you figure you should spare her the trouble and start with your well-practiced, yet still unbelievably nerve-wracking apology, not because guilt is eating away at you (though it is), but because she deserves it. 

so does everyone else, but one thing at a time. 

“dina, i’ve kinda accepted the whole i’m an absolute piece of shit thing, so don’t try and deny it or anything, okay? jesus christ, it was so fucking stupid. cutting you guys off like that was so screwed up, i can’t even imagine how you felt. you didn’t deserve that,”

you’re about to continue, pausing to take a breath when dina cuts you off with one of her disgustingly sympathetic chuckles. nothing has changed, you think, because this is something you’ve already prepped yourself for; one of dina’s lectures, spoken through teary eyes, has been long expected since even before you’d messaged her for the first time in a while. 

“yeah, no one did, you idiot. we were all so fucking worried about you. do you know how often ellie called me, before you dropped off the face of the fucking planet, to ask if you were okay? god, she was crying,” dina cuts herself off with another laugh, this time watery, a stark contrast to how she’d greeted you earlier. the idea that she’d been just as scared as you, though, is shoved back promptly at the heartbreaking image of ellie, your best friend, bawling her eyes out, because you left her after sleeping with her, for fuck’s sakes. 

when you zone back in, dina’s still going and you’d be completely open to listening to her if guilt wasn’t already causing tears. her voice has lost any sympathy, and it sounds a lot more emotionally driven than it had been when she’d greeted you earlier. “i don’t get it. you left us, you didn’t even say goodbye– you ghosted ellie—”

“i was scared, dina,”, you cut her off, and this time regret makes its presence known in your gut.

“of what? your best friend? just cause you slept with her once, god,” dina mutters your name under the hand she has over the lower half of your face in disbelief. if anyone, the person who should be in disbelief is you, you think, because shit, dina knew? 

how many other people did, you let your mind wander, and shit, your fight or flight instinct is kicking in.

“she told you,” your wide-eyed gaze was enough to scare dina out of her outrage, because even if you deserved to be berated for this, she still considered you a friend—family, if she was being honest with herself—, and seeing you afraid felt like a dagger stabbing through her chest. she’d already figured you’d feel bad for it, leaving just like that, that you’d regret it, and at first wanted to comfort you before the sight of her best friend sobbing in her arms makes its return, ellie’s watery gaze as she crowded into dina’s apartment five years ago looking for you because she couldn’t find you at your place fueling her rage; who leaves their best friend, just like that? you just… you were gone.

if dina reacted like this, your thoughts wander, and it hurts. how is everyone else going to react? 

you glance over at her tiny little analog clock, seated just under the tv, on a cute little shelf that you would’ve liked to look through under different circumstances, to check the time. it reads 3:09 pm, and the scared little kid in you is sure that if you run you’ll make it onto the next train by 3:30 and make it home by dusk. 

“yeah, she did,” you hear dina say, but it sounds distant, far away, because you’re panicking. you don’t even hear her mention ellie coming over, or the fact that no one else knew, as far as she’s aware through your rush to get up and out.

dina shouts as you rush to the door, left unlocked and you swear you’d turn around and yell at her to be more careful, and to lock her doors if you weren’t so intent on leaving, but you just tear it open and slam it shut on your way out. you try not to think about the fact that everyone knows and might hate you or the fact that everyone knows and must have figured you were in love with her, because both are causing your heart rate to stutter and pick up in your chest, but it’s rather difficult when you’re quite literally surrounded by memories. 

dina’s calls of your name echo down the hallway, but you’ve already turned the corner and are making your way down the stairwell before your guilty conscience can pull you to a stop. you almost pull open those heavy-duty parking garage doors, only belatedly realizing you went too far down but craving fresh air so badly that you don’t care. you collect yourself enough to realize it’s a fucking push door, chill the fuck out as you push it open and let the cool air engulf you.

what comes as yet another surprise, though, is the heavy metal door’s collision with a whole person on the other side. you hear them curse as it knocks into them, sending them stumbling a couple of steps back just before you let go and slip out yourself, the door closing quickly behind you—practically slamming—thanks to the impact it made on the unsuspecting stranger.

“fuck, ow, shit, jesus christ, ow!”

now that you’re not caught off-guard by their existence, the stranger’s voice strikes you in a way no other person’s voice has. their consistent stream of curses easily brings you back to instances years before, when the possible love of your life had put herself into the same kinds of unfortunate situations and couldn’t control her language. 

then, you realize, this sounds like her, reminds you of her, because it is her, and your heart rate is picking up for a whole different reason entirely. ellie williams is in front of you and you just smacked her with a door. if you’re lucky, she won’t recognize you until she ends up seeing dina because why else would she be here and you can go about your life pretending this never happened, but then the idea that she’s coming to see dina because they’re together pops into your head and you’re frozen to the spot. 

“i’m so sorry, christ, that was so stupid. are you okay?” 

you find your body speaking for you before it can consult your brain, and then ellie’s eyes are on you rather than the floor as she clutches whatever’d been damaged in that collision. you really don’t want to describe your gazes colliding as anything magical or relieving because it was anything but; it only heightens your anxiety and brings about the sudden worrying of your lips and ellie’s shocked countenance. 

you’re terrified.

“um, again, i’m so sorry, but i have somewhere to be, so,” you bow your head slightly and turn to leave through the stairwell even though that’s exactly where you came from, and likely where ellie’s going, and god, you must look so fucking stupid right now. maybe it’s not even ellie, maybe your anxiety’s peaked so far up you’re starting to hallucinate and you just decided to walk away from a random stranger who you’ve smacked with a fucking door—

you don’t even realize the guest keycard dina’s sent you on your phone isn’t properly aligned with the scanner in your rush to get out.

ellie’s utterance of your name must be your breaking point, because all of a sudden tears are springing to your eyes and you’re having trouble breathing. this is why you ran away, this is why you hadn’t even considered coming home, this feeling is fucking terrifying because the only person that has ever pulled it from you is ellie and her being oblivious to how much you love her. 

ellie fucking williams is reaching out and trying to fix your shaky hold on your phone so you can open the fucking door when her hand is just as shakey as your own.

“if you didn’t wanna see me, i’m sure dina could’ve just—”

“you’re blaming this on her when you knew i was coming?” your voice comes out weak, but loud, and you see her flinch at your tone because ellie has never been the type to avoid being where she wasn’t wanted, but when it came to you she’d respect what you wanted no matter what. she’d been the only person to sit with you as you went through shit like this, and now she must think she was the cause.

“no, no! i didn’t, fuck, what’s wrong with you?” she asks. it’s not meant to be accusatory, a part of you knows that ellie just sucks at being all open and vulnerable—at least the ellie you knew did—, but the other part is afraid and feeling defensive and it wins against the other in a fight for reason as you choke out a disbelieving laugh, turning around and shoving her as far away from you as she can get.

“nothing’s wrong, i just have somewhere to be—”

“this is the first time we see each other in five goddamn years, and you say you have somewhere else to be?!”

ellie’s voice breaks at the question, and you swear you feel your heart shatter in your chest once you see the look she gives you; it’s true, pulling the i have places to be card was a dick move, but you’re in the midst of what feels like an anxiety attack and arguing with the supposed love of your life is not what you need right now. honest to god, all you want is to leave, get the fuck out of this town, and pretend nothing happened in the first place because being back there is ten times better than dealing with your fucking feelings and facing rejection head-on.

“don’t you!? this is dina’s place, i’m not stupid!” 

“what the fuck are you talking about!?”

she should know, you think, the two of you had spent hours either on-call, out, or in either of your respective bedrooms talking about ellie’s massive crush on dina and how she was going to ask the girl out. every day, you’d urge her to just get it over with because there’s no way she doesn’t feel the same. 

understandably so, because had anyone else seen the way the two of them looked at each other all those years ago, they would think they were a match made in heaven, too. perhaps to ellie, you think, it wasn’t that big of a deal and was an easy little crush to forget about, but to you? the best friend who had been in love with ellie since she was, at the very least, sixteen years old and struggling with comphet? it was like being shot over and over again until you were completely numb to it. 

it was your whole world, and you haven’t let go of those childish and immature feelings yet. 

“i’m so glad you got the girl, ellie, god knows i was rooting for you,” 

you see her face fall. “...what? dina and i, we aren’t..”

“you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, jesus christ, i’m not some stupid—”

“shut the hell up for a second,” ellie cuts you off. this time, she’s putting up an act, you can tell. what she’s using it to hide, though, you’re unsure of because ellie has always been really good at pretending when she actually wants to. 

you can’t tell if she’s trying to make you feel any worse by laughing, though. it’s not gleeful, or amused, in fact it sounds aggravated and it’s scaring you a little bit, because ellie’s only ever laughed like that just before she swung at a couple idiots in high school (like the idiot she is, really) or before cursing out some bigot in the middle of a busy club or group outing. 

“you need to fucking breathe,” she exhales, and it feels like your airway opens just a little at her words alone. ellie’s care has only ever been shown to those she’s close to, since she’s always been too afraid to open up and show that kind of vulnerability, so the fact that she’s showing it to the person who ditched her and fuck—you’re reminded of dina’s words—, the person that made her cry, gives you the kind of relief you don’t feel like you deserve.

“i’m not…with dina. she’s pregnant with jesse’s kid, for fuck’s sake.” 

the admission makes your heart stop, something you hadn’t even considered—understandably so, given the fact dina identified as a lesbian when you’d up and left all those years ago—even though, now, thinking back, there were pictures on those shelves, sonograms, and…

“oh”, you breathe out, feeling the sudden need to go up and check if dina’s okay because god, you’re so stupid, you made a pregnant woman—god knows how far along she is—run around her fucking apartment complex looking for you, made her stress out because you were acting like a fucking child.

jesus christ, what is wrong with you, you think, and practically collapse onto the dirty ass floor of the parking garage. you pull your knees up to your chest in a near-fetal position as every bit of anxiety seeps out of you, allowing yourself to relax, now knowing dina and ellie aren’t together but also granting guilt full access to your conscience. it’s both a relief and a nightmare all at once.

“i’m so sorry,” you force out, and figure this is the only time you’ll ever be able to get it out. at least you’ll walk out with no regrets; your relationship with ellie is damaged enough as is, so the revelation of your feelings will only act as another reason to forget about each other’s existence. it’s a win-win, you tell yourself, even though the idea of losing her for real is ripping you apart. 

you tug your phone out of your pocket, ignoring the stream of notifications from dina, asking where you are and, again—something that will never fail in making your throat close up and bring tears to your eyes—if you’re okay. this time, away from prying eyes, you’re free to take out the picture without judgment. your phone case falls to the floor along with the picture, and you try to pretend you don’t feel ellie’s eyes burning into the top of your head. 

all of her attention is on you and it hurts. 

“i found this. last week.” you start, and unfold the paper. your hand is surprisingly steady as you hold it out to her, anxiety pooling in your gut when she takes it from you and your fingers brush just enough to send sparks racing up your arm and into your chest; to your heart. 

“it was in a box of a bunch of old stuff. i guess that’s when i realized i missed you guys. where i am now, i guess, it felt like i was just staying there, you know? like i was visiting or some shit. it didn’t feel like a place i could call home.”

ellie’s gaze flits between your face and the paper. she even goes as far as flipping it over and reading the date written on the back; something scrawled unevenly that you’d already memorized. it was taken not long before the two of you graduated high school, and there’s still a little bit of mischief sparkling behind your eyes, your closeness evident even through a cheap piece of film. 

“i know you know i left for a reason,” you start, and cringe because you’re already expecting her to ask in the same harshness that dina did, if it was because you slept together one time. 

“fucking figured, yeah,” she mutters, but it’s her way of telling you to continue.

“i um,” you swallow past the lump in your throat, “i was missing you. i couldn’t—” and your voice breaks again, this time you don’t have the chance to stop it. “there was something missing, ellie. i ran away because i couldn’t stay after—”

“after you slept with me?”, she tries to finish for you, but it sounds wrong coming from her; her tone screams defeat, it screams acknowledgement and unbidden heartbreak, and it genuinely tears you right the fuck apart. you freeze up a little, because it was something you’d considered time and time again while you were away, the idea that ellie thinks you ran away because it was her you’d slept with, because you thought it was weird and that she’d forced herself on you, because that’s just the way ellie is, but you’d ignored it solely because being rejected would’ve felt worse than knowing your best friend was blaming herself.

man, you felt like such a dick. 

“no, ellie, i love you, you fucking idiot. i ran away because i’d just slept with the love of my fucking life.” 

the look she gives you fills you with an unbridled sense of hope, even though ellie’s given you that look before. she’s given you hope before, too, for years. honestly, even before you’d realized you were in love with her, she’d give you that kind of hope. maybe she loves me too? your teenage self would ponder, and then would have her heart broken once again every time ellie’d bring up dina and have the two of you waste your night chatting about her. 

so you shove that feeling down and try to finish. 

“i stopped talking to you because i knew i needed to get over it. i know now that was complete bullshit, and i shouldn’t have just…walked away like that. fuck, ellie, dina said you cried about it, shit, i’m so sorry—” 

“don’t.” she cuts you off, and if she weren’t holding onto the last physical memory of her that you own, you would have gotten up and left. anything to avoid her rejection, anything to avoid hearing it from her mouth and have her feelings clarified to your face—it’s going to sting, you know, it’ll feel like a slap to the fucking face even though it’s what you’re expecting.

“you’re seriously not the only idiot here. i don’t actually think i ever actually liked dina,” ellie starts, and you don’t dare look at her, staring at the floor next to your feet. she’s only saying this to make me feel better, you think, because ellie’s just like that. you realize you’ve been making that excuse all afternoon, but really don’t see a point in stopping, it’s what’s gotten you this far.

“i loved seeing the look on your face whenever i talked about her, though. you were always really into it, the whole romance thing, and it felt nice having your eyes on me, you know?” 

she stares at the paper, and god, ellie thinks, was it obvious to everyone but you? how the hell couldn’t you have noticed? the way she’s looking at you in this picture, dina—who had taken it herself—had to remind her to be subtle about it or she’d be found out immediately. honestly, ellie was a lost cause with you, but the fact that you’d run away from her because, what…you were afraid? after sleeping with her, because…

“you thought i hadn’t felt the same way.”, she says, and then everything clicks into place. ellie’s hushed utter of your name prompts your gaze on her, and she returns that look with just as much intensity. she’s not sure she’s ever wanted someone to understand something as much as she wants you to understand this right now.

“you’re so fucking stupid, you idiot. it’s always been you. i still love you.”

ellie, having gotten down onto the floor herself in the middle of her little monologue, scooches towards you and picks your discarded phone case up off the floor. it takes you a second, still… processing her words, believing them, to realize she’s holding her hand out for your phone, and you scramble to give it to her. 

she fumbles with the case and the picture, folding it up nicely so it’ll fit into the back before ensuring the case and the picture are securely back where they belong. she stares at your case, different than the one you’d had all those years ago, and figures she has to decorate it the same way she had all those years ago. 

it was her mark on you, those ugly stickers, folded-up gum wrappers, random concert tickets and any shit she’d find that’d been given to you as gifts, things that she honest to god never saw you throw out. right now, ellie’s hoping you’ll give her the chance to fill it up again, leave parts of her somewhere you’ll never forget them, and belatedly realizes you’ve never actually forgotten her even though you’d only dug up this picture about a week before.

“i’m so sorry,” you start again, and ellie’s just about as sick of hearing you apologize as someone who’s hopelessly in love with their ex-best-friend can be. so she cuts you off by tossing your phone carelessly at your face, earning a yelp of surprise, before scooching even closer to you and leaning in far enough that her chin can come down to rest on your knees.

“stop fucking apologizing and kiss me.”, she says, and the press of your lips against hers calms you like nothing else ever will.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Cinderella - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

SUMMARY: Nikolai is a party person, you're not. But he's also a fool in love, so when you quietly disappear, he wastes no time finding you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

Nikolai didn’t notice your sudden disappearance right away. He can’t exactly be blamed for that - he wasn’t given a chance to. With the mob of aristocrats and silk stockings flocking to him without mercy or patience, Nikolai’s attention could only take so much. They all wanted to shake the king’s hand, tell him a witty remark or confess how much they were enjoying the evening. He was, however, disillusioned by their pompous words - throughout years he’s learned to quickly catch on to the kernel of truth covered with layers of exaggerated epithets and sophisticated lexicon.

Only when the nobility and magnates spread out through the castle, taking advantage of the rare goods imported just for the ball, did Nikolai feel like he was forgetting something. He looked around the lavish ballroom in search of you, even just a glimpse of your dress or your hair. Alas, he saw none. Logically, he knew you were not in any kind of danger but lovers rarely are reasonable. There’s this strange itchiness in the back of his head that made his fingertips and feet tingle. In a room full of people, he felt uncomfortably lonely without you next to him; the world felt strangely wrong when you were not around.

He walked through the crowded halls asking about you - Grisha, guests, guards, no one seemed to have seen you recently. Despite the audible uneasiness in his voice, he dismissed any questions regarding your assumed well-being. Truthfully, the inquiries were only slightly misguided. You were probably perfectly fine and it was he who was sick with yearning because of your absence. Not sure what to do or where to continue his search, Nikolai simply marched forward, hoping to miraculously bump into you at some point. After all, what kind of miserable night is it going to be for him if he can’t dance even one time with his beloved queen?

Then, a gust of cold wind tugs at his clothes. His eyes look towards the direction of the night breeze only to discover one of the balcony doors being cracked open. Could it be…?

Nikolai approaches the windowed door with hopeful vigour. His heart stops for a moment, only to resume beating at a feverish pace:

As if unbothered by the grand ball, you’re leaning against the guardrail of the balcony, watching the starry sky. Moonlight washes over your silhouette, painting you more of a creature of dreams rather than reality. Cold wind tugs and waves the hem of your lavender gown but you don’t seem to mind it. To Nikolai, you appear almost inhuman like he just stumbled upon a dryad that got too caught up in looking at the moon and forgot to hide from the human gaze. It must be by the Saints’ mercy that he’s the one to not only admire the nymph but hold her heart as his own.

“You come here often, красивая девица?”

Startled, you turn around to look at the unexpected guest. Upon seeing Nikolai’s face, you sigh and let your shoulders relax - you can discard all of your facades around him without ever hearing a word of criticism. Without thinking about it, your lips curve into a smile.

“Only when I need a moment to breathe,” you answer before turning back to look at the sky again.

Nikolai leans on his arm against the guardrail. His watchful gaze studies the side of your face, his thoughts slipping away to gush about your beauty, while he’s trying to keep his focus on the more important matter that is checking up on you. The longer his eyes trail your features, the more he grows convinced that you are, in fact, a dryad and have put some kind of spell on him that has bound his thoughts to you.

“You worried me, love,” he speaks softly, as though he’s afraid his words might further spoil your mood, “disappearing so suddenly.”

With an apologetic look on your face, you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I just…” You look away for a moment, gathering thoughts. “It all became a little too much: the people, the noise. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Nikolai brings your hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on your wedding ring. “I will always worry for you.” The gold jewellery glistens in the pale, silvery moonlight.

 Part of you still finds it hard to believe that a man of his sort is doting on you. Funnily enough, he’s thinking the same - what unimaginable machinations of the universe blessed him with you taking his name?

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. The noise of people enjoying the evening is distant and muffled like it’s coming from another reality, somewhere far from the microcosm of the balcony. As mentioned before, lovers tend to belong to another species. Nikolai and you are just staring at each other with complete devotion in your eyes, silently exchanging confessions and oaths even death can’t quite break.

The sound of someone walking past the balcony door pulls you back to reality. Although the awakening is not welcome, you find it necessary. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your guests, мой царь? They came from far away to meet their king.”

“Oh, please, they didn’t come here for me. Why else attend a ball if not to admire the queen?”

“That’s your reason for attending.” Nikolai doesn’t find it in himself to lie and deny the accusation. “Most people just want to dance, talk and have a bit of caviar.”

Jokingly, he puts a hand on his chest. “Are you calling me special?”

You only shake your head and bite your lower lip but it’s not enough to stop the wide smile from spreading across your face. “I never said that.”

Nikolai frowns at your denial but the playful glint in his blue eyes rids his expression of all seriousness. “No, I’m pretty sure I just heard you say ‘Nikolai, you’re the most amazing man I have ever met’. Why, thank you. I must agree.”

His half-serious cockiness makes you laugh out loud. If he didn’t look pathetic before, he surely does now: the king of Ravka, staring at you with a soft smile and a dreamy gloss in his eyes. For a moment, he’s not noble in any way, shape or form. Nikolai is just a man - a man who gladly traded deference for love. Your laughter rings in his ears, his yearning mind hoarding the beautiful sound as though it desperately needs it for survival. Even the efforts of the talented orchestra are drowned out by your happiness as there is no other music he wishes to listen to.

Only when you’ve stopped laughing does he continue the conversation, never daring to interrupt something he adores so much: “Are you feeling better, милая?”

“I will soon.”

The orchestra finished one of the more upbeat pieces and in a true show of their expertise, they smoothly transition to a slow, sombre tune. Because of the distance between the balcony and the grand ballroom, the music is muffled as though the artists are performing their song in a nearly-forgotten dream; as if the soft tune belongs to another realm.

“In the meantime,” he says as he offers you his hand, “may I have this dance?”

You only giggle as you put your palm on top of his. Soon, you’re slowly swaying to the distant melody with his arm protectively wrapped around your waist. It’s not an actual ballroom dance, so you feel no embarrassment in comfortably placing your face against his shoulder. Out there, among lords and magnates, maybe this would be considered too casual but on the balcony, it’s the only way one should dance. The time seems to stop as you and Nikolai rock to the rhythm of the sombre tune. 

After what feels like both seconds and hours, you lift your head off his shoulder. Nikolai’s dreamy stare is following your small movements, never missing as much as a twitch of a muscle. If he could, he’d engrave your face on his eyelids, so he doesn’t have to go more than a few seconds without seeing you.

“As much as I appreciate your concern,” you begin quietly, as though raising your voice might burst this little bubble of careless romance, “you don’t have to run after me anytime I need to get away for a moment.”

Nikolai answers in an equally low voice: “I also don’t have to kiss your beautiful face but I just can’t help myself, you know?”

You’re still giggling when you feel his lips against yours. It’s sweet and tender and absolutely consuming. There’s a certain intensity to this kiss - the passion known only to those obsessed with something, whose intrinsic instincts can’t just casually enjoy the object of their desire. His warm lips feel perfectly moulded for yours as he’s silently pouring the contents of his heart for the world to see.

____

красивая девица [kra-see-va-ya de-vi-tza] -> beautiful girl

мой царь [moy tzar] -> my tsar/king

милая [me-la-ya] -> 1. darling, sweetheart 2. cute

[drysdaleknieslee]

could you write some fraser minten smut? i am living off scraps rn🥲

Mirror Mirror

Hello my love, sorry for responding so late. Finals are finally over and I have time to focus on my inbox.

Our Minten doesn't get enough recognition so I'm glad I got this request!

FraserMinten x female!woc

Warning Disclaimer!: oral (f receiving), penetration, mirror, body dysmorphia, Minten being a sweetheart, slight exhibitionism

"One more time ladies! This dance needs to be perfect for the recital next week! Oh, and y/n_"

Your head shoots up at the sound of your instructor's harsh voice, "Your solo better be PERFECT." she states before starting the music again. You've been going to this ballet academy for almost a year now. You've learned a lot while I've been here. Your teacher usually gave other girls the solos and you've usually always been...in the back. But you've been working harder to make my presence and talent known so that she could realize you were meant to have a solo.

All the hard work paid off, but you weren't prepared for the pressure that came with it. Being front and center was a lot but you deserve this spot and you'd fight to keep it.

After about five more repetitions of the routine, we were dismissed for the day. You planned on staying later to work on the routine some more and work on my solo. You needed this to be like muscle memory. When you went out to refill my water bottle you stopped when you heard giggles near the fountain.

"I still can't believe SHE got the solo of all people." "Misses probably gave it to her out of pity." one voice said with a laugh.

"Did you see her when we did our Temps Levé's? I thought she was gonna break the wood in the floor." one voice said causing all three to simultaneously break out into laughter.

"She can wear as many tights as she likes, but her thighs are still gonna move regardless. Surprised she hasn't burned a hole in them yet."

The laughter continued and faded as they got further away before there was nothing.

You ran back to the studio room and just crumpled to the floor. The only sound is your soft sobs. You always felt a little self-conscious of yourself. You weren't skinny but you weren't small either. Your thighs touched, you had a bit of a stomach pouch, and you knew you'd never be less than 150 pounds.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. You walk over to your bag to grab it.

'Minty 🩵'

Oh no. He's gonna know if you're feeling off just from your voice. He's bringing you dinner and probably calling to see if you remembered.

"Hey babe."

"Hey." Your voice clearly sounded off causing him to pause before continuing. "Who do I need to fight y/n?"

"No one," you try to mask a sniffle, "are you outside?"

"Yes. We'll talk more when I get there." You start to panic and quickly wipe your cheeks and get all the sniffles out. Your eyes were still puffy and redder than usual and your your locs were a mess from running your hands through them. You jump a little when you hear the door open and you turn to face the serious face of your boyfriend.

"Fraser-" "Who did it?"

"It's nothing-"

"It is because you have been crying and your slightly shaking." You start to tear up again but before you can he's already walked across the room and takes your face in his hands and forces you to look in his eyes.

"Baby please tell me what's wrong."

Your tears finally spill and he just puts your face into his chest and he just holds you and caresses your head. When you've got all your tears out, you finally tell him about the conversation you overheard. You told him you knew they were talking about you as your the only girl in the class who's slightly bigger than everyone else.

"I want you to listen to me and listen well, you are more than qualified to be here. I've seen you dance and your far more graceful than any of these other girls."

He wipes your cheeks while he continues, "And there's nothing wrong with your weight. I love your thighs, your stomach, everything about you."

You giggle lightly. "You're just saying that Mints."

"You want me to prove it? Get on the floor and face the mirror."

You look at him to see if he's joking but his seriousness doesn't waver. He wasn't asking. You get on the floor and sit facing the mirror.

"Lift your knees." You raise your knees slightly.

He then gets in front of you and hooks his fingers in the waistband of your tights and starts to pull them down.

"You should never need to wear three pairs of tights. I like it when your thighs move." His voice has dropped a whole octave since starting this and to say you don't feel something in the pit of your stomach would be a lie.

He gets your tights off and tosses them towards my bag. He starts to leave feather-light kisses from your ankle, slowly moving up your legs to your thighs and he stops.

"I'm gonna make you feel pretty." Your heart rate picks up to a dangerous speed at the sound of his voice.

"I want you to watch yourself while I eat you out. I'll stop if you close your eyes," he explains. "Do you understand?

You nod your head slowly before letting out a shaky "Yes".

At your confirmation, he puts his focus on the wet spot that's formed on your panties before moving them to the side to insert his index finger.

You hold your breathe, trying to be as quiet as possible, while also trying to follow his instructions and look at yourself in the mirror.

Your cheeks have a slight tint to them now, beeps of sweat have started to form on our forehead, and your chest is rising and falling heavily due to your shallow breaths. Your mouth suddenly drops open when you feel Fraser insert another finger and add his tongue.

You grab his hair for leverage and try not to break eye contact as you do not want him to stop contrary to belief. You and him had never explored this before, but the thought of seeing your boyfriend treat you so tenderly and being able to actually see your face did give you a boost of confidence.

"Mints-"

"I know, I know."

He quickens his pace while he kitten licks your clit. He adds another finger and curls his fingers upward. You let out a silent moan and tug his hair lightly when you climax. It hit you so intensely your vision blurred for a moment.

"Remind me to do that again if it's gonna make you do that each time."

You smack his chest playfully and you try to hide your face in the crook of his neck. "Let's go to my place. You practiced enough today. We'll warm up the food, watch whatever movie you want and i'll pamper you for the rest of the night."

"I like the sound of that. Thanks Mints."

While he goes to grab your stuff you get an idea.

"Mints?"

"Yeah?"

"...Can we buy a mirror for the house?"

[a-libra-writes]

Op...can you do a romantic headcanon for Mordecai from Lackadaisy please ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Yes indeedy ♣️

Reader is GN, pardon the length haha, it got away from me... like ...really got away ............................

I will preface that this would be a ... very slow burn, we're talking the flame is barely there for a long time because that's just how Mordecai Is About Feelings. No, never mind feelings - the trust has to come first, and that's difficult for him. It'll take years, really. You might have an easier time of it if you had a similar upbringing, if you're also Jewish - but that's just slightly easier, and it's not as though he's opening up about himself. It's mostly you talking and being vulnerable first, then he'll begin to volunteer (little bits of) information once he trusts you.

How can you tell he's trusting you? At that point, you've been around him long enough to pick up on Mordecai's mannerisms. He's not as stiff around you, he isn't watching you like you might turn on him, he's calmer and actually talks. You start to pick up what certain glances or gestures mean, when he's relaxed and when someone makes him suspicious. To outsiders, it may seem like you both only tolerate each other.

In fact, you two have something of a secret language with certain looks, gestures, body language and so on. It's especially handy in a gunfight or when you're trying to communicate something across a room. It sort of just came about after years of relying on and trusting each other.

Now, onto the feelings. Mordecai literally blames the feelings on everything but what they are. Was he becoming suspicious of you? No, he trusted you - even if he couldn't say it out loud, he did - perhaps it was a sickness, then? It only alleviated when he was away from you for a long time, but then another awful feeling would replace it, and that only alleviated when you were back. He will pathologize and overthink for literal months (or LONGER if you're a man) before finally conceding that maybe, maybe ... ... it's a crush.

Horrifying. He wants to throw up. Only the thought of the mess he'd have to clean up is keeping him from doing so.

(And obviously he never, ever wants to tell you and figures if he buries it down deep enough it'll just go away)

To anyone at Lackadaisy whose familiar with him, they may notice that he allows you to touch him. It's nothing big at first, and to be fair, he reacted strongly the first few times. You might clean some lint of his coat that he insisted wasn't there, you gently nudge him away from an awkward situation, you softly nudge him and tilt your head to a person you're suspicious of. The first prolonged touch was when you two were utterly exhausted after a run and just leaned against each other in the car, too tired and hurt to move for a while. He didn't say it, but that was probably the closest he'd been to someone in a very, very long time. It almost felt intimate. Thinking back to it made his hair stand on edge for a few days... or a week.

Those who know him may also notice how unusually irritated he gets with men or women "presuming too much" and being too cozy with you. If you're really uncomfortable with the flirting, he'll just outright stand in front of you and dismiss the person with a sharp, green-eyed glare. Mordecai didn't notice he was doing it until Mitzi pointed it out, and he had plenty of excuses ready. Once you both have an "understanding", he's even less tolerant of other people invading your space and being too forward - quite interesting, considering if someone is coming onto him, he's far less aggressive and far more awkward about it.

A lot of being with Mordecai is having to accept that sometimes, you won't hear what you want. Sometimes you have to pay attention to his actions and intentions. Sometimes you won't have a clear idea what he means or wants at all, at least not for a while. Mordecai is aware of his flaws, very aware. More than once he has thought that he isn't deserving of your feelings or the things you do for him.

(you are one of the few people in this cold world who gets the rare Mordecai Approving Smile, but don't say anything! just enjoy! It'll be gone as quick as it came)

The sort of things you do that give him butterflies are as follows: Taking his glasses off the desk, cleaning them and putting them back beside him. Getting into a debate or a discussion-that-turns-into-a-debate, you two getting more and more heated until your faces are two inches apart and you're shoulder-to-shoulder because you're both so invested in the topic. When you're both in close quarters, and your tail or ears accidentally brush against his. When you gesture at something symmetrical with a little smirk on your face. When you bring him warm food while he's working at his desk, something filling and just the right temperature. When you both enter a suspicious place, guns drawn, and you go ahead but glance back with an expression that says with absolute certainty, I trust you.

If you're in physical distress or danger, Mordecai can fix that. He can jump to action and shoot and kill whatever is doing this, and he's confident in that. If it's something emotional, that's the rub, isn't it? He can linger close, he can bring you blankets and food, he can keep others from bothering you, but what else can he do? What can he say? He wasn't good at these kinds of words.

It's these times when he'll touch you first. It'll be a hand on your back after sitting next to you for a long time, listening to you talk about what upset you. If you're in danger, he'll yank you by the arm to safety. He'll sigh, take your hands and show you how to properly hold your gun because why do you keep doing it that way you're going to give him grey hairs this is the best way to handle the recoilsdjsjfjd--

It's not his choice of expressing affection, that's for sure, but that's okay. More often, he finds himself drawn to things that both interest you and could be useful to you. He'll stop by your place with ingredients for a dish you love, he'll "come across" a new coat in your size because your old one got bullet holes. You'll find your guns cleaned and your ammo replenished, you'll notice your apartment has been tidied and dusted. He really appreciates it when you keep your space clean, or at least temporarily for his sake. The first time he was in your apartment for dinner, a spider crawled on him and he FLIPPED. A chair may have been broken. You just took it outside in a cup and continued on like nothing weird happened, even when he insisted on washing the cup like four times.

Also, sometimes Mordecai will associate things so strongly with you that he can't separate them in his mind - a scent, a specific color, a flower, a book, and so on. He might find something that's one or more of those things and keep it with him. Because. Just because. No other reason.

And again! It's so difficult for him to just say and express his feelings for you. It's more likely the two of you will just fall into a sort of odd are-they-or-aren't-they unspoken "understanding", especially if you don't express your feelings and just wait on him. You'll have to make the first step in that direction. Someone would have to torture him to get any serious information about you, especially his feelings. If someone untrustworthy comes asking about you and him, someone prying for a weakness - it's easy for Mordecai to brush off. He can act aloof, or better, callous. He'll say it right in front of you, if that's what keeps you safe. He'll say you're nothing to protect you.

For once, the words come easily, but it's the action he can't do.

It's agonizing the whole time he does it, like dying over and over. Getting beaten and shot was easier than this. Mordecai wants to see you as soon as it's over, even if he has no idea what to say anymore... If you even to see him again. Perhaps he should've expected this is how things would end. You knew what this kind of life would lead to, didn't you? He did. He thought he did.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 8. An Offer From a Gentleman

Summary: He wanted me when he thought I was a lower-class girl. He wanted me, and now I want him. Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 2,150 Listen to: 'Gorgeous' -by Taylor Swift A/N: Do I hate Ben's book? Yes. Does it stop me from using its title? No, it fits perfectly with my fic -Danny

Dear Diary,

When I decided Mr Bridgerton would be my friend, I did not consider the fact that he is, quite terribly, a handsome, well-built man. Lady Danbury warned me he and his brothers were the most sought bachelors of the ton and I could see why, but only until that moment in the garden I saw Benedict Bridgerton for what he is, and now I feel a fool.

I cannot dismiss him, not when he's just warmed up to me and all eyes are on us. People will think I dismissed him for a fault and no matter what I say, they will not believe it. I cradle Benedict's future in my inexperienced hands, and I cannot toss it away. I'm his patron and I wish to look after his interests, not only for the way my chest tightens when he smiles at me, but because he didn't ask for it.

What am I to do now? Do I relish this attraction, or do I stomp on it? I could pretend to be a spoiled brat and he would keep his distance... but if I'm only to stay one season, there is no harm in a little fun, is there? He wanted me when he thought I was a lower-class girl. He wanted me, and now I want him.

Benedict finds himself on the swing set, lazily pushing back and forth while plans slowly take shape in his mind. He's to see a townhouse a few streets down first thing tomorrow, and if he likes it, he'll move in this very season. He won't worry himself with country houses just yet, he might visit Genovia first and see if it's all it's made out to be.

"I thought you'd gone back to your nightly escapades," Eloise sits on the swing to his left.

Benedict stops his swinging. "I think I'm happy. Happier than I've been in... years, really. The Princess is like food for thought."

"That must be the highest compliment you've ever given to a woman." Eloise arches an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure is a compliment," he admits.

"You make it sound like one. What is it about her that is so... supplementing?" Eloise teases him.

"She could look after herself, yet I'm not sure she knows it," Benedict looks at his sister. "And before you nag me about belittling women, she admitted to worrying about being left alone in our country. I don't think she knows how smart she can be and it frustrates her not to know what we expect of her."

"Nothing. She's not our princess, is she?" Answers sensible Eloise. "I would care if I were Genovian and she had no idea of how to handle herself on the throne, don't you think?"

"Both are important to her," Benedict defends her. "She doesn't strike me as the kind of royal who only cares about looking good on paper. She wants to be good. Do you think I should help?"

Eloise laughs. "Have you suddenly become a model of propriety?"

Benedict rolls his eyes. "I was thinking of offering... friendship. Someone she could talk to and trust that no word would be given away without her consenting it."

"A friend? To the princess?" Eloise is too baffled to be kind. "Do you really think she would ask you out of all people to be her confidant? She would show you the door the second you attempted to get close."

Benedict glares at his sister. "Do you ever listen to yourself or is your relationship with words just like a parrot's?"

His sister wraps herself tighter in her shawl, scoffing a little before speaking. "If you're so sure you understand this woman then escort her to this week's ball. If she takes you then I'll stand corrected."

"Hardly. You'll stand suspicious and demand me to tell you what I did to get her to succumb to my charms."

"Never!" Eloise brushes it off. "But artists do have a tendency to obsess with muses, Benedict. Colin is naive, Anthony is frigid, and I consider you the smartest of all three, but all of you succumb the moment a beautiful woman enters the scene. Is she your muse?"

"She's a princess." It's all the response he decides to give, but your long, lush braid has been the subject of several of his sketches for the past two days. Before she can sense his avoidance, he adds, "Have you made peace with Penelope?"

"Never." She snaps, leaving her swing in a hasty movement.

"Would you consider escorting me to the ball this week?" 

Benedict's mouth falls open as the words are taken before he can utter them. His sketchbook slips his grip and he's quick to catch it, resuming his walk to reach you. "The ball?"

"Something about innovations, I forget," you shrug it off as unimportant. "My sister isn't interested in the activities preluding it and I happen to be more excited about those than anything else."

"And you want me to keep you company?" He insists, feeling torn between delight and anxiety.

"Yes. I've also heard everyone is invited, so it'd be nice to see Hyacinth again, and meet the rest of your family, of course."

"Of course," Benedict echoes, wondering if he's developed an ability to make things come true by saying them out loud on the swing set.

"Of course?" You press. "Of course, you'll take me, or...?"

"Of course," Benedict makes a face and pushes the words out, hating to sound so idiotic. "Yes, I'd be honoured, Your Royal Highness. Do you know they're bringing a balloon?"

"Yes," your beam. "I'm quite eager to see it. I heard they're bringing the man who figured it out and I've read about him, of course, but I can't wait to hear directly from him, perhaps even ask questions."

Benedict smiles. "I didn't know you were a woman of science."

"I'm to be Queen, Mr Bridgerton, I'm a woman of progress."

"Benedict."

"Pardon?"

"You may call me Benedict," he says before his terror takes it back. "Please."

There is a brief silence that feels like an eternity for the both of you. You glance down at his hands and notice their tight grip on his sketchbook, but you're ignorant of the reason why he's holding it like that, you're ignorant of many things the moment your eyes wander over his body.

"If you insist..." you utter, struggling to maintain eye contact.

He nods, and that lovely crooked grin appears on his face. "I do. And I'll come to you the day of the Hawkins ball, and we'll speak to your aeronaut."

"I hope this isn't too much trouble, you can speak and dally with anyone you want, and I'll try my best to mingle. After all, that is the reason why I'm asking you to escort me. You're a friend to many."

"I know my way around," he says, not fully agreeing with your statement but not wanting to upset you. He considers telling you that he could be your friend too, if so you wished, but that bloody self-doubt holds him back. "Shall we start the lesson?"

You sit, much lighter than when he stepped into the garden. While he gets his things ready, your eyes glimpse at his profile, a wicked little smile appearing on your face at the thought of holding onto his arm for a whole day.

Someone drags open the curtains and you growl, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face on the pillows. Footsteps approach your bed and you hear a person huff. "Well, Your Majesty, this won't do. A few weeks away and you're already losing your good habits?"

Your eyes snap open and you turn around smiling from ear to ear. "Paula!"

Your maid smiles back at you. "Arrived in one piece and all. Did you miss me, Your Majesty?"

You squeal, pushing the sheets aside to hastily crawl over to where your old friend is standing, squeezing her in your arms. "Oh, you're a sight for sore eyes, Paula Weaver, my angel!"

The tall blonde chuckles and kisses your cheek. You have promised to behave accordingly and leave behind your childish familiarity with one another, but Paula has been your loyal companion since you were fourteen, and this older, wiser girl is so easy to love that you forget you're supposed to keep your distance.

"There now," she pats your cheek. "Let's get you ready for breakfast, hm? And you can tell me all about London."

"Oh, I don't have much to say..."

"Perhaps not much, but you sure have something to share," Marie enters unannounced, still wearing her nightgown. "Hi, Miss Weaver."

"Your Royal Highness," Paula bows in greeting. "Did I wake you as I walked past?"

"Of course not, my dear, it was this crow of a woman," Marie gestures in your direction. "She squealed like a pig getting slaughtered."

Your spirits are far too high to be embarrassed or annoyed. "Perhaps you should be the one sharing our experiences here in London, since you're so tired of my voice?"

"I'll start with the dashing male you've gotten yourself for the season," she smirks.

"Oh! A man, Your Highness?" Paula asks excitedly. "You must tell me everything! Is he handsome? Is he wealthy?"

"It's not like that!" You glare at your sister while Paula helps you step out of your night clothes. "Benedict is teaching me to draw..."

"Benedict?" Paula says playfully. "Do you speak of all your tutors with the same familiarity as you would of friends, Your Majesty?"

You blush. "He insisted on it."

"He insisted on it," Marie repeats bemusedly, walking to your bed and plopping down, facing the ceiling. "Wouldn't do for you to be moaning 'Mr Bridgerton!' while he has you pinned against the rose bushes, would it?"

"Marie!"

"Roses are too prickly," Paula debates as if that were the reason why you're complaining. "Ivy walls are better."

"Ivy walls are easier to get tangled in," Marie argues back.

"I won't ask how either of you knows all of that," you reply, stretching out your arms while Paula covers your body with a nice olive dress, "if you promise to keep a secret."

"Is it naughty?" Marie wriggles her eyebrows. Paula shakes her head grinning.

"Maybe," you look at her over your shoulder with utter severity. "But you mustn't tell, I mean it."

"We promise, Your Highness," Paula eases you sweetly as she buttons the back of your dress.

"There is a level of... carnal interest... when it comes to Mr Bridgerton," you acknowledge with a feeble voice. "But I should like to find out more about his temper before I consider getting closer."

"I could help," Paula offers. "Servants talk, Princess Y/N, and they'll want to talk to me the most, you know? Being a new addition to the lot, they'll be dying to hear the dirt I have on you."

Marie rolls to lie on her tummy, supporting her chin on one hand. "And what do you tell the servants about us, Miss Weaver?"

"Amongst other things, how insolent both princesses are," she replies with nothing but warmth and love in her speech.

"I'd like to be fair to him and not go behind his back," you resume, "I believe there is something he's hiding, given the reaction I got from him, and I want to respect his decision of not sharing it with me."

"And you'll trust him nonetheless?" Marie raises a brow.

"Well, we're to be around for just a season, I don't see why I should insist on getting to know all about him," you assure with utmost confidence.

"What if he's hiding a secret beau?" Marie says dramatically.

The thought makes you falter, but you push through it. "Well... I suppose I wouldn't blame him if he did, a handsome man like him, I'd be more surprised if it turns out he's got no one."

"And if he's got no one?" Paula smiles. "Would you pursue him?"

"Pursue," you snort. "I'm a princess, I don't pursue. I offer."

"What a scrumptious offer he'll be facing if it turns out he's single," Marie grins. "He'd be a fool to reject you."

"I'm being a fool just by thinking about it," you push your hair back and sit in front of the vanity, "so that would make us even."

"There is nothing even about a man of his kind mingling with a royal princess," Paula says smartly. "He'll be getting more from it than you."

You chuckle. "Oh, Paula dear, if I get him, I'll take all."

"A man-eater, this one," your sister says sarcastically. "Been with a man before this one and suddenly she's a weathered minx."

You toss your brush at her. "I'm only saying I intend to have fun! Wasn't that what you wanted?"

Marie rolls off your bed and hides behind the other side of it. "It is!" She picks up the brush and stands, handing it to Paula. "But you speak as if you had it all figured out, and you don't really know this man, you just know he's handsome and you like him."

"And that's all I need to know," you press, turning to face the mirror and meeting your determined expression. "I'll keep it as simple as that, and there will be no harm done by the end of it."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@babypink224221 @Booknerdlife @djsporks @lght-roastcoffee @marii-ren @mythical-goth @omgsuperstarg @creepytoes88 @sarahskywalker-amidala @23victoria @shadowolf993 @squirreljoe @syxtiramishuui @stargirl-mayaa @dolllol2405 @aemondslove @inspiringwaves @optimisticsandwichgladiator @alloof @sydney-m

[nottoofondofgaypeople]

xerith u know ima take advantage of the scene rewrite offer. hit me with that s2 ep52 scene where laurance cuts off aphmau in her (very demeaning and dismissive) spiel to basically let her know that he can’t ignore the idea of the portal nearby

Went back and rewatched the episode. Realized Laurance doesn't even know the portal is fully opened. Got mad about it. Bone appetit.

I'm gonna start off the rewrite of this scene with some dialogue from the original that'll lead into the better version of the scene.

Bit of context, at this point Irena and Laurance are still together, but their relationship has become increasingly strained due to a mixture of the calling, Garroth being gone, the general horrors of MCD storytelling, and Laurance killing all those people at that wedding.

"I can't stand seeing people be forced to do something," Laurance expressed, running an uneasy hand through his hair. It was starting to get long again... "It reminds me too much of what happened in the Nether." His heart ached. "A-And it wasn't just me. Vylad, Zenix... Maybe even Vincent..."

"Laurance," Irena started carefully, hesitating before she put a hand on his shoulder. "I understand what you're trying to do. And my answer is yes, you may turn into a Shadow Knight in order to learn how to control it. But please... Please..." Her voice broke slightly on the second please. "Don't let your emotions control your actions."

"I-I'm sorry. I think I'm just... Off." His eyes drifted to the cave entrance. He could feel the energy present pulling him in. Calling him. It was stronger than it had ever been. He couldn't tell if it was because of himself or the portal.

"It's okay. Just let me handle it." She pulled her hand away, the warmth present from it evaporating in an instant. It left Laurance feeling cold.

"What, the portal? I-I've been to the Nether, I feel like I'm the best to assess it."

"Laurance, I don't... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because who knows if it's active or not--"

"You know." Irena froze. "You know because you activated it."

"Vylad told you?"

"He wanted to make sure I knew before I approached it." Laurance looked back to her, basically forcing eye contact despite the lack of need for it.

"I was trying to seal it..."

"You should know you can't do that."

"It worked before, didn't it?! I saw the wolves do it!"

"The wolves were trained to do it, Irena. Their elder was an expert in realm magic, that's why he looked after the portal. Don't you realize you put yourself in danger with a stunt like that? What if it had rebounded onto you and hurt you?" Irena looked away, even taking a step towards the portal.

"Still, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go to it."

"Don't avoid the conversation." Despite being blind, he reached perfectly for her shoulder, forcing her to stay even if she couldn't look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I--"

"And don't tell me that you didn't think it was important." Irena went silent. "How long were you planning on lying to me?"

"...I wasn't lying to you."

"You just weren't going to tell me the truth."

"Laurance, I-I didn't want you to worry about it. I figured we'd come up with some solution eventually to close it--"

"And you thought I wouldn't want to help with that?!"

"We don't know what'll happen if you go near it!"

"Vylad said he was fine standing next to it!"

"But Vylad has 15 years of controlling this! I didn't want to risk you losing control if you got too close."

"If that's the case, why didn't you tell me you tried to seal it in the first place? Why didn't you tell me it got worse? What if I had gone in there and it started working on me before you could catch me?"

"But that wouldn't happen--"

"Because you'd keep me on a short enough leash."

"N-No, it's not like that--"

"Then what is it like, Irena?! What was your plan here?!" She finally looked at him. Sage green eyes stared back at her. Not a hint of red in them. This wasn't the calling or the portal pulling on his anger. This was just Laurance. Knowing that, she turned away, putting her hand on his.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." She removed his hand from her shoulder. "I won't stop you from going to the portal if you want to, but please, try to maintain control." Laurance took a shaky breath. He was tired of her running, but she wasn't going to stop. Not while they weren't home. He'd have to confront her later.

"How bad is it?"

"Vylad already told you everything, didn't he?"

"I'm not asking Vylad. I'm asking you."

"It's... Bad. Worse than any portal I've seen. The magic may not have rebounded onto me, but it did rebound. It's a portal large enough... for an army." Laurance sighed, stepping ahead of her, but stopping short.

"Next time... Please don't lie to me." She didn't respond. It made Laurance angrier. "Irena--"

"What?! What do you want from me? To lie again by saying I won't lie to you?!" He turned around in a fury. Still his eyes remained the same.

"I want you to feel like you don't have to lie to me! I-I want to have a conversation with the love of my life where I don't second guess what she tells me! How can I trust anything you say when you can't even pretend like you won't lie to me again?!"

Laurance's words echoed in the valley nearby. They echoed in his mind as they always did, as they always had since her first thought of them. Since he first found out from Vylad she didn't tell him. At first he gave her the benefit of the doubt, there was a lot going on at the time. Her focus was on the safety of her sons. But then... She still didn't tell him. And then she tried to keep him from it. How much was she going to "forget" to tell him before it was intentional? How much was he willing to tolerate?

The inability to answer those questions, the inability of both of them to answer Laurance's questions, it made him turn away. It made him walk away from her, even if he faintly heard a sniffle from her. It brought him just to the edge of the cave. He could feel the pull of the portal, like another person grabbing his arm and leading him to it. The hands even felt familiar. They felt like Gene.

Instead he turned away again. Took his stance outside the portal room with crossed arms and a furrowed brow. And even though he knew it wasn't necessary, even though he knew that he couldn't see her like this, he still narrowed his eyes at Irena as she walked into the portal room. He still glared at her when she left. He hated being angry with her, but it's all he could feel. It's all she let him feel when she tried to brush him off like that.

Irena's tendency to try and ignore unfavorable subjects was something Laurance was intimately familiar with. She did it all the time with Shadow Knight and Nether related stuff. She tried to focus on the positive and only address the negative when it was literally banging down her door demanding action. He remembered arguing with her over the chances of going to war with O'Khasis, how dismissive she was of the idea because she didn't want to believe O'Khasis would truly do that. He remembered the conversations they and Garroth had about this very issue.

The hope was that she would get better, that she would talk to them about serious issues, that she would address them properly with them. But ever since Lilian meddled in things, turned Garroth against her over a single instance, she seemingly regressed. Refused to talk to anyone about these issues unless they forced her hand. Laurance hated forcing her to do anything. He'd rather she feel comfortable just... telling him things.

That was the day Laurance started coming to terms with the inevitable fallout. Whether he wanted to or not, he knew that things were only going to get worse from here. He wasn't going to be able to be nice about this for long, and Irena always reacted badly when someone pointed out her shortcomings. What had once been a fun quirk of their banter was going to snowball into something capable of ending their relationship. He couldn't stand the thought.

[gold-rhine]

please share correct opinions on alhaitham and kaveh👀

genshin leaks tw i guess. they are both right and they are both wrong actually. like fans will be like omg this ship is canon bc their quest name is "Pride and Prejudice" and then literally not look at what that reference means, as if P&P entire thesis wasn't on how two leads both have to get over their flawed perception of each other and grow personally after admitting their own shortcomings

the whole throughline of them being narrative foils and mirrors for each is like. yes, alhaitham was right about kaveh martyring himself for selfish reasons, and kaveh was so appalled to hear that bc he wants ppl to think he's perfect. which like yeah, was his trauma response mechanism, but no, it doesn't mean it's healthy and shouldn't be challenged. being close with someone doesn't mean they don't see your flaws and think you're perfect, it means they DO see your flaws and love you in spite of them. yes, kaveh has high ideals of combining beauty and practicality and of everyone participating in creation, no, it doesn't mean that him carrying other ppl or people-pleasing at any opportunity is good way to reach his ideals, it obviously doesn't work like that. yes, kaveh is lonely, but he 100% put himself into this position, he has ppl who would be willing to support him, he hangs out with cyno, tighnari, brags about having friends and fans, he's literally akademiya celebrity, he could reach out and ask for help at any moment, but that would ruin his facade of perfect success, so he doesn't. literally he opened up about his problems one time and alhaitham immediately took him in despite their broken friendship. the only reason he doesn't actually own the part of this same house is because he refused out of pride, he obviously wants to feel superior to alhaitham, and he used his social standing and popularity as proof, which is why he's so shocked and dismissive of the idea that alhaitham can have friends or do smth heroic, and now the only way he has left to feel superior is to insist he's better bc he's empathetic, while alhaitham is not, so kaveh keeps falling for every scam despite being a genius. bc he sees this as him being good and that's the last refuge of his ego. tldr great ideals, clown execution

but alhaitham is also performing clown behavior. he's not ambitious like kaveh, yes, but his flaw of pride is in pretending that if he's right he can sound like an asshole. bro has "language is the ultimate tool and weapon" all over his stories, he knows that how you word things fucking matter and he knew that kaveh is fragile about his ego and emotions, yet he didn't try to talk to kaveh on the terms he could accept and help him reach the conclusion, but bluntly poked him into the weakest spot instead. and yes, alhaitham has feelings and they were obv hurt and he's still obv highkey cares and lowkey bitter at kaveh at the same time. fellas, is it rational to meet your worstie drunk and miserable in a tavern, learn he's bankrupt, and immediately take him home as a roommate. and like explain that you don't care about him, but you did it to have another genius through whose presence you can perfect your vision of the world. and then every time you talk you tell said genius that he's devolving into a fungus and shit like that. which is how perfecting a world vision works obviously. yeah sounds very logic, very rational, very objective, and no confused feelings to me.

no, their fight is not bc they have incompatible ideals and can never understand each other. they can understand each other very well, they can't get over their egos. kaveh spent years wanting to take back his words to his father and vowing to never hurt anyone again, yet he refuses to see realize what he said years ago hurt his best friend and he doesn't take it back despite them literally living in the same house and having that opportunity every day. he accuses alhaitham of being an egoist, yet he his own ego makes him pretend to have perfect life and have no problems instead of opening up to ppl. alhaitham accuses kaveh of being irrational and in denial about his true motivations, yet is in denial about his own motivations for becoming roommates, instead facetiously framing it like it was strictly for his own purely academic goals. they are mirrors, but they refuse to actually look at each other.

if hoyo has an ounce of sense, this is obv a setup for character arcs of them growing and getting over their pride and prejudices to be able to work together and combine alhaitham's strategic thinking with kaveh's groundbreaking designs.

[my-castles-crumbling]

um so i came out to my mom two years ago and my dad last year no particular reason for the difference just happened like that and anyways they're supportive and all we talk about the girls i like over dinner or otherwise they still think i should focus on my education and think about my sexuality after i get into a good college or whatever but that isn't really from a place of homophobia. here's the thing though they're always like "keep an open mind bc you might not be gay" bc they think that the primary reason i like girls is because i go to an all girls school and have probably interacted with maybe fifteen boys outside my family in the fourteen years of my life and i mean they say they'll support me no matter what and i know that but at the same time i wish they didn't tell me to keep an open mind and shit bc my other friends who had interacted with less guys irl but a few online knew they liked guys even though they were in a girls school but my parents think most of the people from my school who say they like girls say it because we go to an all girls school but that's not the thing i've never really felt much attraction to guys maybe once when i was nine but never since then and if i think about a future with a guy all that comes to mind is one of those pictures you find on google of a stereotypical straight white couple doing shit together and i'm not even white so 😭 and i can't really ever picture myself kissing a guy fictional celebrity or real like i always use someone else as a placeholder but i can imagine vivid makeout scenes with girls so yeah i know with certainty that i like girls and not guys and my parents being kinda dismissive of it kinda hurts.

Hi!

That's so frustrating :( I feel like non-queer people say that type of shit a lot and don't understand why it's so upsetting. I definitely understand why you feel the way you do, and I'm so sorry <3

Have you tried to flip it back on them? Either saying, "Would you tell me to keep an open mind about being gay if I was straight?" or even (though this is a bit more sassy, probs not as good of an idea) "Oh, you guys should keep open minds too! Maybe you're actually gay!"

Naming you fearless anon