#and even then i read about the people who existed there before the race to colonize everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pandapetals · 2 months ago

Text

Crush

logan howlett x fem!shy reader - slight angst, misunderstandings, struggle expressing feelings, crushes, introvert reader, x-men cameos, logan being jealous, fluff at end

You have a crush on Logan but being shy and introverted makes it hard for you to tell him that.

read on Ao3

You had a painfully obvious crush, at least to yourself. You kept it locked away, buried under layers of awkwardness and forced indifference. There was no point in admitting it, no point in setting yourself up for the kind of rejection that would leave you reeling for weeks. That’s why they called it a crush—it hurt. And you’d rather avoid the sting altogether.

Logan, of all people, would never look at you that way. Why would he? The man was a living embodiment of rugged confidence, the kind of guy who attracted the attention of bold, sexy women without even trying. Women who exuded confidence, who knew how to flirt without stumbling over their words or turning beet red at the slightest hint of interest.

You were not that woman.

You were awkward, sometimes downright clumsy with your words, and whenever Logan was nearby, you either avoided him completely or turned into a jittery mess. The few times you’d actually spoken to him, you’d kept it short, clipped even—anything to hide the way your heart raced whenever he was within arm’s reach.

But today? Today, fate was not on your side.

"Hey," Logan’s low, gravelly voice cut through the air, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts.

You jumped, nearly dropping the stack of books in your arms as his voice startled you. A squeal escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you cursed under your breath, feeling heat flood your cheeks.

"Hi!" you blurted out, avoiding his gaze as if your life depended on it. Your eyes darted anywhere but at him, settling on the wall, the floor, even the damn ceiling—anywhere but on Logan’s piercing hazel eyes.

You stood there, clutching the books like they were some kind of shield between you and him, your heart hammering in your chest. Logan stood in front of you, his hands casually in his jacket pockets, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. His brows furrowed slightly, probably trying to figure out why you were acting like a deer caught in headlights.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff, though there was a hint of amusement in it.

You nodded quickly, a little too quickly, your palms suddenly sweaty. "Yep, fine," you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Just busy.” You gestured vaguely to the books in your arms as if that explained your entire existence.

Logan's gaze lingered on you, those damn intense eyes scanning your face, trying to read something in your expression. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to act normal, but normal wasn't exactly your strong suit when he was around.

"Right," he said, his tone skeptical but not unkind. "You sure? You look like you’re about to bolt."

You forced a laugh, though it came out more like a strained chuckle. "No, no bolting," you lied, though the urge to flee was strong. Your nerves were screaming at you to make up some excuse and leave before you made an even bigger fool of yourself.

Logan didn’t move, didn’t let you off the hook that easily. He stood there, hands still in his pockets, watching you with that calm, unshakable presence that made him impossible to ignore.

"So, I was thinkin’," he started, his voice a little softer now, almost hesitant—something you weren’t used to hearing from him. "You and me, we should... hang out sometime."

Your heart nearly stopped. Hang out? Logan wanted to hang out with you?

Your brain went into overdrive, trying to process the words, but instead of the cool, collected response you wished you could give, you blurted out, “Why?”

The word came out sharper than you intended, and you immediately winced, mentally kicking yourself. Of all the ways you could’ve responded, why was probably the worst? It sounded rude, and defensive, like you couldn’t believe he would even suggest it.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why not?”

You blinked, feeling your face grow even hotter. “I-I don’t know, I just—” You stumbled over your words, trying to backtrack but only making it worse. “I mean, you don’t usually talk to me, and I figured you’d rather—uh—hang out with someone else, you know?”

The smirk on Logan’s face softened, his eyes narrowing slightly in the way they did when he was trying to figure someone out. "I’d rather hang out with you," he said, his voice low and steady, without a hint of hesitation.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t mocking you. He was... serious and that realization only made you more nervous.

You shifted on your feet, clutching the books tighter. “I’m... not exactly the best company,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze again. “I’m awkward, and—well, I’m not really good at this kind of thing.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and almost warm. “Darlin’, you think I’m lookin’ for someone perfect to hang out with? I’m about as rough around the edges as they come.”

You hesitated, sneaking a glance at him from under your lashes. He was still watching you, but there was something softer in his expression now, something that made the knots in your stomach loosen just a little.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, feeling your voice wobble under the weight of everything unsaid. Uncertainty hung in the air between you and Logan, thick and suffocating, making your chest tighten with every awkward breath.

Logan stepped closer, his usual gruffness softened by the unspoken question in his eyes. His hand moved toward your face, almost instinctively, but he stopped short, his fingers lingering just inches from your cheek, as if he was afraid to touch you—afraid of crossing a line. His jaw clenched the hard edge of frustration in his expression barely masked by the vulnerability he wasn’t used to showing.

“Do you hate me or somethin’?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, so sudden and raw that they knocked the wind out of you. Hate him? Your throat tightened as you stared at him, the disbelief written all over your face. How could he think that? How could anyone hate Logan? The idea was so far from the truth that it left you speechless for a moment, caught between the shock of his question and the overwhelming desire to fix whatever misunderstanding had led him here.

“No—” You shook your head, the word falling out of your mouth clumsily, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt that flickered behind his eyes.

Logan’s face hardened, that familiar guarded look slipping back into place like armor, shielding him from whatever pain he thought you were hiding. He shifted his weight, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that felt more like a barrier than anything else. “Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, his voice low, almost resigned. “You don’t talk to me. Hell, you barely look at me.”

You winced, feeling the truth in his words like a knife twisting in your gut. He wasn’t wrong. You had been avoiding him, dodging his gaze in hallways, keeping your conversations short, brushing him off whenever he tried to get close. But it wasn’t because you hated him—not even close. It was because every time he looked at you, your heart raced in a way that terrified you, a way that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.

The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone who could never want you the way you wanted him.

Logan took your silence as confirmation of his worst fears. His jaw clenched tighter, the hurt in his eyes hardening into something closer to anger, though not quite—more like frustration and resignation rolled into one. “Look, if I’ve done somethin’ to piss you off, just say it,” he said, his voice rough around the edges, but quieter now, like he was trying not to let the hurt show. “But this whole… act? This avoidin’ me all the damn time? I don’t get it. I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve this.”

His words cut deep, guilt gnawing at the edges of your heart. You could see it now—how your awkwardness, your fear, had been misread as rejection. How Logan, of all people, had been standing there, arms outstretched, only to be met with walls you didn’t even realize you were building.

You opened your mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t know how to explain the mess inside your head, the way you’d convinced yourself that keeping distance between you and him was safer, easier, than admitting how much he affected you. How much you wanted him, despite everything telling you it could never work.

Logan’s eyes flashed with frustration as the silence stretched between you. He ran a hand through his hair, his rough fingers tangling in the strands like he was trying to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. “You’re really not gonna say anything, huh?” His voice broke a little, rawer now, like the frustration had finally worn him down.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the weight of his words suffocating. The look on his face—the quiet hurt, the way his eyes flickered between anger and something far more vulnerable—was too much. It was too much to bear, too much to know that he’d spent all this time thinking you hated him when the truth was the exact opposite.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but they carried more weight than you realized.

Logan stilled, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for something—some hint of truth, some explanation that made sense of all the confusion that had built between you. “Then what the hell is it?” he asked. “’Cause I don’t get it, darlin’. One minute you’re actin’ like I don’t exist, and the next you’re—” He stopped himself, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to find the right words. “I just don’t know what the hell I did wrong.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, at the way he seemed so sure he was the problem. The truth weighed heavy on your chest, but fear kept your mouth shut—fear that once you said it, once you admitted how you felt, there’d be no going back.

Logan wasn’t going to wait forever. He took a step back, pulling his hand away from where it had hovered near your face, his eyes flickering with something close to disappointment. “Forget it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna beg.”

He turned as if to walk away, and panic surged through you, your chest tightening with the fear that you’d let him leave without explaining, without fixing what you’d broken. Your hand shot out instinctively, grabbing his arm before you even realized what you were doing.

“Wait—Logan, please.” Your voice cracked, your grip on his arm tightening. He stopped, glancing down at your hand, then back up at you with those sharp hazel eyes, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

He waited. His silence a heavy, painful thing as you struggled to find the right words. “I don’t hate you,” you repeated, more firmly this time, your heart pounding in your ears. “I… I just—” You swallowed hard, your chest aching with the weight of what you were about to admit. “I didn’t know how to be around you.”

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied your face. “What d’you mean?”

You bit your lip, your mind racing for an escape, any way to pull yourself out of this vulnerable moment. You could feel the truth bubbling up inside you, threatening to spill out, but fear clenched around your chest like a vice. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t tell him.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, your voice tight, forced. Your eyes flickered to the floor, your stomach twisting as you scrambled for something, anything, to steer the conversation away from the truth. A lie formed on your tongue, half-formed and desperate, and you latched onto it before you could stop yourself. “I’ve just been... distracted.”

Logan’s frown deepened. “By what?” His voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness to it, a need to understand that made your stomach churn. He was getting too close, too damn close.

Panic surged through you, and before you knew what you were saying, the words tumbled out. “It’s... someone else.” You cringed inwardly as the lie left your lips, feeling the weight of it settle between you like a barrier.

Logan’s expression shifted, confusion flickering across his face, and then something darker. He tightened his jaw as his eyes hardened. “Someone else?” he repeated, his voice low, carefully controlled.

You nodded, your heart sinking. You couldn’t stop now. The lie was out, and you had to commit to it. “Yeah, um... it’s just—I’ve been kinda... into someone from the team.” The words felt foreign, clumsy like they didn’t belong to you. You hated how easily they fell from your lips, how they felt like a betrayal of everything you actually wanted to say.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he studied you. “Who?” The word was clipped, sharp, like he was bracing himself for something he didn’t want to hear.

You froze. Who? You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Your mind raced, and in your panic, you blurted out the first name that came to you. “Scott.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Logan’s reaction was immediate—his jaw clenched so tight you thought you could hear his teeth grind. His eyes flickered with something hot and dangerous before he quickly masked it. He took a step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his posture rigid. “Scott, huh?”

You nodded, swallowing the guilt that rose in your throat like bile. “Yeah,” you mumbled, hating yourself more with every second that passed. “I mean... I know he’s kinda, you know with Jean but...you can see why I didn’t want anyone knowing—”

Logan let out a sharp breath, cutting you off. His eyes, usually so intense but warm, were cold now, narrowed and unreadable. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” His voice was rough, edged with something that made your heart ache. “Because you’re into Scott?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You just nodded, the lie sitting heavy on your chest, suffocating you.

Logan’s laugh was humorless, more of a bitter scoff than anything else. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his movements tense, almost angry. “Well, should’ve seen it.”

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too big, too empty, the weight of your lie pressing down on you like a heavy stone. Logan had left without looking back, his words still ringing in your ears—“Should’ve seen it”—and you wished, more than anything, that you could take it all back. But the damage was done, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret.

You slumped into a chair, burying your face in your hands, replaying the moment repeatedly, wishing you’d had the courage to just tell him the truth.

Meanwhile, Logan was storming down the hallway, his mind a tangled mess of frustration, confusion, and something he couldn’t quite name. He wasn’t one for feelings—hell, he’d spent most of his life trying to bury them—but this? This hit him differently. The thought of you having a crush on Scott had thrown him, and for his life, he couldn’t figure out why. What the hell did you see in the guy?

His footsteps echoed through the mansion as he made a beeline for the training room, where he knew Scott would be. When he pushed through the door, the room was mostly empty, save for Scott, who was busy adjusting one of the control panels near the Danger Room entrance.

"Summers," Logan growled, his voice low and sharp as he approached.

Scott turned, eyebrows raised beneath his visor, clearly not expecting Logan to barge in like this. "Logan," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "What’s going on?"

Logan stalked closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Did you know she had a crush on you?" he demanded, his voice rough with barely contained frustration.

Scott blinked, clearly confused. "Know about what?"

"Her," Logan snapped. "She’s got a crush on you. You knew about that?"

Scott looked completely taken aback, his mouth slightly agape before quickly composing himself. "Wait, who are we talking about?" he asked, genuinely bewildered. "Are you talking about... her?"

Logan clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking beneath his stubble. "Yeah, her. She told me she’s been into you, and now I’m tryin’ to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on."

Scott’s confusion deepened, and he shook his head. "I had no idea," he admitted, sounding as baffled as Logan felt. "I thought she had a thing for Kurt."

Logan's scowl deepened. "Kurt?" he repeated, the name coming out like a low growl. "You’re sayin’ she’s into Nightcrawler?"

Scott shrugged. "That’s what I thought. I’ve seen them talk a few times, and she seemed... I don’t know, shy around him. Figured she liked him."

Logan’s frustration flared even higher, his temper fraying as the conversation spiraled further away from what he thought he knew. First, he’d thought you were into Scott, and now Scott was telling him you might have a crush on Kurt? None of it was making any sense, and the knot in Logan’s chest tightened.

"Thanks for nothin’, Summers," Logan grumbled, already turning on his heel and heading for the door.

Scott held up his hands, his visor catching the light. "Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what I saw."

Logan grunted in response, barely acknowledging Scott as he stormed out of the training room, his mind racing. If Scott didn’t know, and if you weren’t into him... then maybe Kurt had the answer. Logan’s jaw clenched at the thought, a surge of jealousy he hadn’t expected twisting in his gut. He needed to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

Logan found Kurt in the garden, perched on a stone bench, lost in thought. The air around him was peaceful, the soft sound of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves in the wind providing a calm backdrop to the scene. But Logan wasn’t here for calm.

"Kurt," Logan called, his voice cutting through the serenity like a blade.

Kurt looked up, his yellow eyes widening slightly as Logan approached, clearly sensing the tension rolling off him. "Logan," he greeted cautiously, his tail twitching nervously. "Is something wrong?"

Logan stopped a few feet away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. "You and her," he said bluntly. "There somethin’ goin’ on there?"

Kurt’s brows furrowed in confusion, his tail curling around the leg of the bench as he tilted his head. "Her?" he echoed, trying to follow Logan’s line of thought. "Who are you talking about?"

Logan huffed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "The girl," he growled. "You’ve been talkin’ to her. Scott thinks she’s into you. Is that true?"

Kurt blinked, completely thrown off by the accusation. "Into me?" He shook his head quickly, standing up from the bench. "No, Logan, that’s not true. We’ve spoken, yes, but nothing like that. She’s... well, she seems reserved around everyone."

Logan’s jaw tightened. "So you’re tellin’ me you haven’t noticed her actin’ strange around you?"

Kurt smiled gently, trying to diffuse the situation. "Everyone acts strange around me at first, Logan. But no, I don’t believe she has feelings for me. I think you might be mistaken."

Logan let out a frustrated sigh, feeling no closer to an answer than when he’d started this ridiculous search. "Great," he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "First Scott, now you... I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on."

Kurt watched him for a moment, his expression softening with understanding. "Perhaps," he began carefully, "you’re looking for answers in the wrong place. If you want to know who she cares about... maybe you should ask Ororo."

“Why would I ask her?” Logan growled, more to himself than anyone else. “What’s she got to do with this?”

Kurt, ever patient, tilted his head and gave Logan a knowing smile. “Because she and Ororo are friends. I’ve seen them spend a lot of time together. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s her.”

Logan grunted, rolling his shoulders, his tension palpable. He didn’t want to involve Ororo—didn’t want to turn this into more of a thing than it already was. But if Kurt was right, and Ororo knew something… well, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Thanks,” Logan muttered, already turning to leave.

Kurt nodded, watching Logan go, but his yellow eyes were filled with something more than amusement—something that hinted at the truth Logan was too stubborn to see for himself just yet.

Logan found Ororo in the greenhouse, tending to a row of plants that thrived under her careful touch. The humid air clung to him as he stepped inside, the smell of earth and rain filling the space. Ororo didn’t look up at first, her focus on the delicate leaves of a blooming flower, but she knew he was there. She always did.

“Logan,” she greeted calmly, her voice like the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. “What brings you here?”

Logan wasted no time, his frustration still simmering just below the surface. “I need to ask you somethin’,” he said, his tone gruff as usual.

Ororo finally looked up, her serene expression unwavering. “Go ahead.”

He hesitated for a second, feeling foolish now that he was standing in front of her. Ororo wasn’t the kind of person you grilled for answers, but he was desperate. “You and her,” he started, his eyes narrowing. “You two are close. Has she… said anythin’ to you about someone she’s into?”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Why do you ask?”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He hated this dance, hated feeling like he was walking into a trap he couldn’t see. “Kurt said you’d know. I’m tryin’ to figure out if what I heard is true, that she’s got feelings for Scott.” The name came out like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Ororo tilted her head, her expression softening. “Logan, what exactly are you trying to figure out?”

Logan scowled, feeling the question cut too close to something he hadn’t fully confronted. “I just… need to know if she’s into someone. That’s all.” His words were clipped, defensive.

Ororo’s eyes sparkled with quiet understanding. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watched him with that unnerving calm that made him feel like she could see right through him.

When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle but firm. “Logan, if you’re so concerned about who she’s interested in, perhaps you should ask yourself why.”

Logan stiffened, his muscles coiled tight. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ororo’s smile softened, but she didn’t back down. “You’re chasing answers about her feelings, but I think the real question is about yours.”

He blinked, thrown off by her words, but before he could snap back with his usual gruffness, something clicked—something that made his heart tighten in his chest. Jealousy.

Was that what this was? All this running around, demanding to know who you were interested in, snapping at the thought of you liking someone else… it wasn’t about figuring out the truth. It was about him. It was about the way his heart twisted at the thought of you being with anyone but him. The way he couldn’t shake the anger, the gnawing insecurity, because deep down, he wanted to be the one you were looking at, thinking about.

Ororo watched the realization settle over him, her gaze steady but compassionate. “You’ve been chasing the wrong answers, Logan,” she said softly. “If you want to know how she feels, ask her. But first, figure out how you feel.”

Logan stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, the weight of her words sinking in. He didn’t respond, didn’t know how to. Instead, he gave a curt nod, turning on his heel and stalking out of the greenhouse, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions.

The rest of the day, Logan couldn’t get Ororo’s words out of his head. Jealousy. He wasn’t the type to get jealous. He’d lived too long and seen too much to get caught up in feelings like that. But damn it, whenever he thought about you with someone else—Scott, Kurt, anyone—it made his blood boil in a way he couldn’t explain.

By the time night fell Logan had had enough. He needed answers. He needed to know the truth, not just about you, but about himself.

With a deep breath, he made his way to your room, his pulse thrumming with a mix of frustration, confusion, and something he wasn’t quite ready to name yet.

When he knocked on your door, he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps inside. A moment later, you opened the door, looking surprised to see him standing there. The expression on your face quickly turned to confusion when you saw the intensity in his eyes.

“Logan? What’s going on?”

He didn’t waste any time. “We need to talk.”

You frowned, your hand tightening on the doorknob. “About what?”

Logan stepped closer, his voice low and rough. “About you. Who the hell you’re really into?”

Your eyes widened, panic flashing across your face. “W-what are you talking about? I already told you—”

Logan cut you off with a growl, his frustration boiling over. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve been runnin’ around all day trying to figure this out—askin’ Scott, Kurt, even Ororo. And you know what? None of them know a damn thing. So I’m done with the guessin’. You’re gonna tell me the truth. Right now.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure Logan could hear it. The weight of his words, the raw frustration in his voice, wrapped around your chest like a vise. This was it—the moment you’d been running from, the one that made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and terrified.

You couldn’t run now.

You swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “Logan... I don’t like Scott. Or Kurt. That was just—I panicked,” you confessed, the lie sitting heavy between you both, a truth finally dragging itself into the light.

Logan’s eyes, usually so unreadable and guarded, were stormy with confusion and something sharper, something closer to hurt. He stared at you for a moment, trying to make sense of what you’d just said. “Why did you lie?” His voice was rough, almost accusing. “If you hate me, then just admit it.”

The way he said it—the bitterness in his tone—cut through you like a knife. Hate him? The idea was ridiculous, absurd, and yet it was clear Logan had convinced himself of it as if you avoiding him, your awkwardness, could only be explained by disgust.

“I don’t hate you!” you blurted, more forcefully than you intended. Your voice cracked with the weight of your own emotions, and you immediately took a step back, trying to gather yourself, but Logan wasn’t letting you go that easily.

“Then why does your heart race every time you see me?” Logan pressed, his voice low but intense. He took a step toward you, the space between you growing smaller, the air thick with tension. “I must scare you, right? You must be terrified of me because you hate me.”

The words hit like a wave, your breath catching as his eyes bore into yours, a mix of frustration, vulnerability, and anger swirling in his gaze. He was waiting for you to confirm it, to say what he thought was the truth—that you couldn’t stand to be around him.

Your throat tightened, your pulse hammering in your ears as you struggled to find the right words. How could you explain what you felt when even you didn’t fully understand it? The confusion, the fear of rejection, the way being near him made you feel so exposed like he could see through every wall you’d ever put up.

“You don’t scare me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Logan, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” His voice was still rough, but there was a flicker of something softer underneath—like he was holding on to the hope that maybe there was more to this than he thought.

“I don’t hate you,” you said again, your voice steadier this time, though your chest still felt tight. “I just... I didn’t know how to act around you. Because every time I see you, every time you’re near me, I—”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Logan didn’t move, his eyes still locked on yours, waiting, watching, almost daring you to finish.

“I feel something,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And it scares me.”

Logan’s expression shifted, the anger fading as something else settled in—something that made your stomach twist in anticipation. His jaw clenched, his fists relaxing at his sides, and for a moment, he just looked at you, really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time.

“What’re you sayin’?” he asked quietly, almost hesitant like he didn’t trust himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.

Your breath hitched as his question hung between you, the truth teetering on the edge of your tongue. You had been running from this moment for so long, hiding behind your awkwardness and your fear. But now? Now you had to say it.

“I’m saying...” you began, your heart pounding as the words finally came, “that I could never hate you because I don’t know how to handle…you.”

Logan’s eyes softened, the frustration melting away as the truth hit him. He took another step closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but not in the way you feared. It was grounding, steady, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running.

“I make your heart race because... you like me?” he asked, his voice low, the disbelief in it unmistakable.

You nodded, your chest tight with anticipation, your eyes locked on his. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

Logan exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again, softer, more open than you’d ever seen it.

“All this time,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of something raw, something you weren’t used to seeing in him. “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy, and I thought—” He stopped himself, his lips curving into a small, rueful smile. “I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

You felt a wave of relief crash over you, the weight of your unspoken feelings finally lifting. “I couldn’t stand being around you,” you admitted with a nervous laugh, “because every time I was, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, like a quiet rumble from deep in his chest. He took another step closer, his hand reaching up, this time closing the distance and gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was warm, his fingers rough but careful as they lingered there.

“Well, now I know why you kept avoiding me,” he muttered, his smirk softening into something more tender. “Guess I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as you looked up at him, the tension between you shifting into something deeper, something that felt like it had always been there, just waiting for the right moment to come to light.

“So... what now?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with something unreadable, but his smile stayed, slow and easy. “Now?” he murmured, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Now…I would really like to kiss you.”

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours for a heartbeat, waiting, giving you the chance to pull away—but you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your heart racing as his lips finally pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment he thought he’d never have.

The kiss was gentle at first, cautious, but it didn’t take long for the heat between you to build, the months of longing and tension finally breaking through. When you pulled away, your breath shaky, Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Should’ve told me sooner,” he muttered, his voice low, teasing but soft.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “Yeah, well... better late than never, right?”

Logan smirked, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Right.”

#fluff #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x you #x men logan #x men wolverine #logan x reader #james logan howlett #marvel #mcu #x men #hugh jackman #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #the wolverine #logan x you #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fic

1K notes · View notes

hoshifighting · 3 months ago

Note

is it possible to have a super jealous mingyu and a super clueless reader 🙏 they’re not usually close (and maybe that’s what frustrates gyu) but they’re from the same circle of friends!! reader is nice though she just doesn’t know how to approach him sometimes </3 (she’s actually a shy mess and has a crush on him but shhh) you can end it with some steamy stuff too hehe thank u sm 💗💗

where super jealous ! mingyu finally gathers the courage to confront you because he's totally crushing on you. he's jealous of how friendly you are with everyone and really wants your attention—he craves you so bad, but you are so clueless about it... — WARNINGS: smut, rough sex, jealousy, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, nipple bite, reader have a lil crush on him, mentions of body fluids; cum, kitchen sex, g'spot/clit stimulation.

mingyu’s always been a little too hard to read, like there’s something he’s holding back every time you’re around. maybe it’s just because he’s mingyu—tall, handsome, popular, always surrounded by people who seem to hang on his every word. you’re just… you, quiet and unsure around him, too shy to know how to even start a conversation half the time. it's not like you're intimidated. okay, maybe a little. but still, every time you try to approach him, your throat tightens up, and you end up awkwardly shuffling away.

you guys aren’t exactly close. you’ve been part of the same friend group for a while now, but it’s like there’s this weird, invisible wall between you two. you see him laugh and joke with everyone else, and you wonder why it feels so different when it’s just you and him. he’s always polite, sometimes even too polite, like he’s keeping a distance, but you catch him staring sometimes—like, way more than you think he should be. but every time you try to catch his eye, he looks away like nothing happened. it’s confusing as hell.

he gets weirdly tense when the other guys are around, though, like he’s on edgge. tonight’s no different. you’re at a party, and your friend seokmin is telling some dumb joke that has you laughing way too hard, your hand playfully hitting his shoulder as you double over. you’re not even thinking about mingyu until you glance up and see him across the room, staring. his jaw is clenched, brows furrowed, and there’s this almost angry look in his eyes as he watches the way you’re touching seokmin.

you blink, your laughter dying out as you lock eyes with him for a split second before he looks away, jaw still tight. what the hell is his problem?

you’ve never been sure if he likes you, like actually likes you, or if he just tolerates you because you’re friends with his friends. sometimes he’s so distant, so cold, and other times, like right now, he’s burning holes through you with his stare, all while pretending like you don’t exist. “you okay?” seokmin asks, nudging you gently. you shake yourself out of it, giving him a small smile and nodding, but your mind is already elsewhere—on mingyu, on how weird he’s been acting lately.

the night goes on, and you try to avoid mingyu, but it’s impossible. every time you turn around, he’s there, hovering nearby, watching. the party’s winding down when you find yourself alone in the kitchen, grabbing a drink and trying to calm the nervousness bubbling up inside you. you can feel his presence behind you before you even hear his voice.

“you and seokmin… are you close?”

his voice is low, almost too casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes your heart race. you turn around slowly, and sure enough, there he is, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes unreadable as he stares down at you.

“uh, i guess?” you say, your voice coming out more uncertain than you’d like. “we’re friends. why?”

mingyu’s jaw tightens again, and he looks away, shaking his head slightly. “just wondering. you seem… real friendly with him.”

there’s something about the way he says it that makes your stomach twist. is he jealous? no, that can’t be it. why would mingyu be jealous? you’re not even that close.

“he’s a friend,” you repeat, a little firmer this time, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “just.. a friend.”

mingyu looks back at you then, and there’s something intense in his gaze that makes your breath catch. he takes a step closer, his towering frame suddenly way too close.

“is that all you are to him?” he asks. “just friends?”

your heart is pounding in your chest, and you don’t know how to respond, so you just stare at him, wide-eyed and confused. why is he acting like this? why does he even care?

“mingyu, what—what’s your deal?” you ask, your voice shaky as you take a small step back, trying to put some distance between you. but mingyu doesn’t let up. he moves forward again, closing the gap, his eyes boring into yours.

“my deal?” he repeats, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “my deal is that i can’t fucking stand seeing you with anyone else.”

you freeze, the words hitting you like a truck. what?

“what are you talking about?” you ask, barely able to get the words out. mingyu’s hand reaches out then, cupping your face gently, but his grip is firm, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

“i see the way they look at you,” he murmurs. “the way they fucking touch you. and you just… let them.”

you’re stunned into silence, your mind racing to catch up with what’s happening. mingyu’s jealous. of you. of the way you are with other guys. it doesn’t even make sense—you barely interact with him, let alone give him any reason to feel this way. but there’s no mistaking the possessiveness in his voice, the way his fingers tighten slightly against your skin.

“i’m not—i don’t—” you stammer, trying to find the words, but mingyu’s already moving again, his lips brushing against yours, softly at first, almost like he doesn't wants to scare you. but then he kisses you hard, his hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you against him as his tongue slips into your mouth. the kiss is desperate, almost angry.

you moan into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer. mingyu groans against your lips, his hand sliding down to your ass, squeezing roughly as he presses his hips against yours. you can feel how hard he is through his pants.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing heavily, your lips swollen and wet from the the kiss. mingyu’s grip on your waist almost bruising as he stares down at you. “nobody else gets to fucking touch you like this. got it?”

you nod weakly, too overwhelmed to do anything else. mingyu’s lips crash against yours again, and this time it’s even rougher, his hands roaming your body like he can’t get enough of you. he breaks the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his hands immediately moving to your breasts, squeezing them roughly as he groans into your neck.

“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, did you know that? bet you do.” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slide down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them and shoving them down your legs. you’re left standing in just your underwear, and mingyu’s eyes darken even more as he takes in the sight of you, his lips curling into a smirk. his hand slides down to cup your pussy through your panties. you can’t help but moan, your body arching into his touch. mingyu’s smirk grows wider, and he presses his fingers harder against your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that have you panting and writhing against him.

“say it,” he demands, his voice rough as he leans down to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “say you want me.”

“i want you,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he continues to tease you. “mingyu, please…”

“fuck,” he groans, his hands moving to yank your panties down before he lifts you up, carrying you over to the counter and setting you down on it. you barely have time to process what’s happening before he’s kneeling between your legs, his mouth on your pussy, licking and sucking.

you cry out, your hands flying to his hair as you throw your head back. mingyu growls against you, his tongue flicking over your clit, wet and filthy.

“you taste so fucking good,” he mutters, his voice muffled as he devours you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep you in place. “i could eat you all fucking night.”

he stands up then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks down at you with a smug grin. he pulls you to the edge of the counter, lining himself. mingyu's hands grip your waist as he presses his cock against you, teasing you with slow thrusts that have your thighs trembling. when he finally pushes in, the stretch is almost too much. he’s big—bigger than you expected—and the way he fills you has a choked moan escaping your lips before you can stop it. you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, feeling the heat flood your cheeks as embarrassment starts to creep in.

mingyu notices immediately, his brow quirking in that cocky way of his as he watches you struggle to hold back your sounds. “nah, none of that, princess,” he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. “i wanna hear you. don’t hide from me.”

he lowers his head, mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking and licking in slow, wet circles that have you gasping. the stimulation has your back arching, your body betraying you as a loud moan slips out. “that’s it,” he groans against your skin, thrusting deeper into you, making your head spin. “so fucking pretty when you moan for me.”

you’re overwhelmed—his mouth on your tits, the way he’s thrusting hard and deep, filling you so perfectly. you barely notice the way your body’s moving, writhing under him, the counter cold against your bare skin, and you realize—fuck—you’re not alone in the house. the thought slams into you like a brick wall, and you push weakly against mingyu’s chest, your voice trembling.

“m-mingyu,” you stutter, your hand pressing against his firm chest, trying to get his attention. he freezes immediately, his hips stilling as he looks down at you “what’s wrong? did i hurt you?”

you shake your head quickly, biting your lip, your heart racing as you whisper, “there’s—there’s people. we’re not… we’re not alone.”

for a moment, mingyu stares at you, and then he bursts out laughing, the sound throaty, rumbling in his chest. “oh, baby,” he says, grinning as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “i already kicked everyone out. it’s just you and me now. so relax, okay?”

the relief soaks over you, and your body melts into the counter. mingyu chuckles, his hands sliding down your sides, thumbs brushing your hips. “there you go,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “now, just relax f’me, princess. let me take care of you.”

his hand snakes between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles that have your hips bucking up into him. you moan, your elbows giving out behind you, making you arch your back from the cold counter. mingyu watches you, “fuck, you look so good like this,” he groans, thrusting hard and fast into you, balls slapping your ass, echoing on his kitchen walls.

you’re too far gone to respond, your head spinning as you feel yourself clench around him. you can’t stop the moan that tears from your throat, your whole body trembling from the strength of his thrusts. mingyu’s grunts mix with your whimpers, and you feel like you’re on the verge of something explosive, that you can barely breathe.

and then he does something—thrusts deep and grinds against you, his hips rolling in a way that hits you just right, and you gasp, your breath catching in your throat. your eyes roll back, your mouth hanging open, and for a second, you’re not even sure if you can breathe.

mingyu freezes, his hand stilling on your clit as he watches you, “hey, hey, you okay?” he asks, his voice quiet but gentle as he strokes your cheek, trying to bring you back. “breathe, baby.”

you nod weakly, gasping for air, but the way he’s looking at you—like he knows exactly what he just did to you—makes your stomach flip, the arousal pooling even more between your legs.

he chuckles, his lips curling into a smug smile as he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back in, harder this time. you choke on a moan, your body arching into him as the pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“yeah? that feel good?” mingyu growls, he starts moving again, picking up the pace, thrusting into you with a rhythm that has you curling your toes. “fuck, i knew you’d like that. let’s see if you can handle it again.”

he grinds his hips against you, hitting that spot over and over, you’re trembling, your legs shaking as you cling to him, your nails digging into his back. it’s too much, too intense, but you can’t stop, can’t even think about stopping.

“mingyu,” you gasp, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust. “i’m—fuck, i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he groans, his fingers rubbing your clit faster, his hips slamming into yours. “cum all over my cock, princess. show me how good you feel.”

his words send you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you under his command, your body convulsing as you cry out, your voice breaking as your vision blurs, the world spinning around you. mingyu doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own orgasm. you can feel him pulsating inside you, his cock twitching, growing thicker inside you as if he was ready to explode.

“mingyu, please,” you whimper, your voice hoarse as you cling to him, your body too sensitive, too overwhelmed. “i can’t—i can’t take it anymore.” mingyu’s grip tightens, his rough hand slipping to wrap around your throat, just firm enough to make your breath hitch, pushing you back into the counter when you try to rise. “almost there, baby,” he pants, his voice rough and hoarse, edged with desperation as his hips slam into you again and again. he’s so close, you can feel it, his thrusts sloppy and erratic.

you barely even register the overstimulation, your body too far gone, too sensitive, too full. every thrust feels like it’s pulling you apart, but fuck, it feels so good you can’t even find it in yourself to complain. instead, a dumb, satisfied smile starts to tug at your lips, your head spinning as mingyu fucks you deeper into the counter, his cock dragging against your walls, stretching you out in ways that have your brain melting into a pile of mush. he’s panting hard now, his breath coming out in shaky gasps, and you can hear the faintest little whines slipping from his throat. mingyu, the guy you’ve been lowkey crushing on for what feels like forever, is fucking you so nasty in his kitchen—your mingyu, usually so composed, moaning like a bitch as he loses himself in the feeling of your tight, dripping pussy.

“fuck, look at you,” he mutters, his voice wrecked as his hand slides from your throat to cup your jaw, forcing your head up so you’re looking into his eyes. “you’re smiling like a dumb little slut, huh? feels good, baby?”

you don’t answer—can’t answer—the words caught in your throat as he fucks you harder, his cock stretching you to your limit, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. the heavy weight of him inside you, the way his thick cock weighs down, presses deep into your slick, swollen cunt, makes you dizzy. your honey’s sticking to his pelvis, every thrust coating his skin in your wetness, slick and messy and so fucking obscene. you’re lost in it, him filling you up so completely, so perfectly, and your body reacts without thinking—arching into him, pulling him closer, as though you need even more, even though you know you can’t take it. but fuck, you want it. you want everything he has to give, every rough, deep thrust that makes your toes curl and your mind blank out.

“mingyu—” you manage to choke out, but it comes out more as a moan than anything coherent. the way he’s moving inside you is almost too much, the pressure, the friction, the way his hips grind into you with every thrust—each one pulling a shaky gasp from your lips.

his hand on your jaw tightens just enough to make you focus. “yeah?” he breathes, his chest heaving with effort, his lips brushing your ear as he groans. “say it. tell me how good i’m fucking you.”

you don’t even need to think. the words spill out of you like they’ve been waiting for this moment forever. “fuck, mingyu, so good—” you gasp, your voice shaking as he hits that spot deep inside you, over and over again. “you’re fucking me so good.”

he moans at that, his cock twitching inside you as if your words were all he needed to make him cum, you can feel him starting to unravel, the control slipping away, and that’s what gets you, that’s what pushes you over the line—seeing mingyu, your crush, losing his shit over you, fucking you like he’s about to die if he doesn't. “almost there, baby,” he groans, his voice rough and broken as he leans down, his lips grazing your collarbone. “just a little more—fuck, i can feel you, you’re so close. gimme one more, yeah?”

you can’t say no, not to him, not to his cock that is stretching you open and making you feel so damn full. and then you feel it—a jaw-dropper pleasure so strong it almost knocks the breath out of you.

“fuck—mingyu—” you gasp, your body shaking, legs trembling as you feel the orgasm slam into you again, wetter this time. your pussy clenches around him, your vision blurring as you cry out, your voice breaking.

mingyu’s breath stutters, his hips faltering for just a second before he starts to thrust even harder, “shit—fuck—” he groans, his voice tight and ragged, he slams into you one last time. his whole body trembles, and you feel it when he finally lets go, when he spills inside you with a whiny moan.

you’re both panting, mingyu’s body collapsing against yours, head laid between your boobs, the weight of him pressing you into the counter, his cock still buried deep inside you as he comes down from the high. then he raises up his face, looking you with the charming smile with the two sharp fangs shining at you, his eyes all nasty, before he bites one of your nipples.

“god, mingyu!”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #kim mingyu x reader #svt x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x oc

1K notes · View notes

starkwlkr · 9 months ago

Text

was i such a fool? | mark webber

part 1 part 3

ENGLAND

You felt embarrassed. You didn’t know who was the person who spread the confirmed rumor around the paddock, but you knew that being in the paddock was the last thing you wanted to do.

Your daughter, Grace, had been reading in her room while you were in your home office replying to some emails. Zak had let you get some time off, which you were hesitant to take at first but you knew how chaotic it was going to get in the paddock if you were present.

“Mommy!” Grace called for you from her room.

“What is it, my love?” You asked, closing your laptop as you stood up and walked to her room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, i finished my book. Can we go to the bookstore and get more?” Grace asked.

“Of course we can, baby.” You replied. As you were about to leave to go back to your office, Grace spoke once again.

“Can I go to a race?”

Grace had never attended a race before. She knew what your job was and why it required you to travel so much, but she never once attended a race. It surprised you that she even thought about it.

“A race . . .” You sighed. “You really want to go to a race?”

Grace nodded. “I want to see the fast cars.”

You thought about it for a second. It would be nice for Grace to see a race after years of only seeing it on tv. But then again only several people knew that she existed and you liked it that way.

“I’ll think about it.”

TIME SKIP TO ABU DHABI 2023

MCLAREN GARAGE

Grace watched as several men dressed in orange with helmets on sat in their chairs. She was introduced to the pit crew by you. Everyone on the team was more than happy to meet her. She was extremely excited to be able to watch her first race in person.

“I’ll be over there watching the race, okay? Stay here with Lucy.” You told Grace. Lucy was an old friend from school. When you explained that Grace wanted to attend a race, she offered to look after the girl while you worked.

“Okay. I love you.” Grace gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you more, my love.” You replied and hugged her before you left.

From a distance, Mark watched the girl wave goodbye to you. It made him feel like the worst person ever. How could he do that to you? You never deserved it. You were always so supportive of him, comforting him when he needed it and that all changed the second Mark kissed someone else.

He thought about going up to Grace and making small talk, but he knew you wouldn’t like it. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t want to upset you even more. Seeing her, so close yet so far away, brought sadness to the older man’s heart. She had his eyes, his smile, they even shared the same laughter, something you loved when you were dating Mark.

By the end of the race, he had decided to talk to you.

He tried to find you, but it seemed like you knew he wanted to talk so you hid from him. Only it wasn’t like that. Grace wanted to walk on the track so you took her. Lucy was tired so you told her that you would meet her back at the hotel. She held your hand as you and her walked around. It was a perfect moment for you and your daughter.

“Did you enjoy your first race?” You asked.

“Yes! The cars go faster than on the tv, it was so cool!” Grace exclaimed. “Can I go to another race?”

“You’ll have to wait until next year, my love, and you have school. I don’t want you missing a day of school because of a race.” You explained.

“Okay. . .” She sighed. “Who was the man that was in the garage?” She suddenly asked.

“There’s a lot of men in there, Grace.”

“He didn’t wear orange like the rest of the team. He had one of these too.” Grace pointed to her paddock pass. “I think Lucy said he used to be a driver.”

You had an idea of who Grace was talking about and you didn’t like it.

When you made it back to the Mclaren garage, you saw that it was almost empty. A few members of the pit crew were cleaning up, but that didn’t catch your attention. It was Mark that was pacing around the garage.

“Mommy, that’s the man I was talking about.” Grace whispered to you.

Mark noticed your presence and stopped pacing. “Hi.” Was all that he said.

“It’s getting late, Mark. You should go back to your hotel room, get some sleep. I know you don’t like early morning flights.” You said to the Australian.

“Hear me out, please. Just this once and I’ll leave you alone. Give me five minutes.” He pleaded. The remaining pit crew took that as a sign to give you privacy so they left.

Grace held onto your hand even tighter. “Who’s that?” She whispered again to you.

“His name is Mark.” You said.

Four words was all it took to break Mark Webber even more. He was just Mark to his daughter and he had to accept that.

“Three minutes and that’s it.” You said.

“I’ll take that.”

@glow-ish @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @viennakarma @pear-1206 @nathalielovesonedirection @jaydaaasworld @shimmermotorsport @honethatty12 @a-beaverhausen

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 #mark webber one shot #mark webber x reader #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #mclaren team principal!reader

1K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 8 months ago

Note

hii i just read your kissing the batboys out of the blue and i loved it!! i was thinking that maybe you could one of how they react when they realize they’re in love with the reader? tysm!!

Jason had a feeling that he knew he was in love with you, he had read enough romantic novels to know that what he was feeling was romantic.

He thought of you day and night.

Everything reminded him of you.

He couldn’t wait to be near you, craves it even as his mind raced with all the things that you could do together in his apartment as though you were an already pre-established couple.

He practically ticked off every box imaginable and he knew it but he wasn’t quite sold on this alone until he woke up to you cuddled up into his side, looking as though you belonged there, even tightening your grip on his shirt when he dared to move even in the slightest.

‘Five more minutes.’ You muttered into his neck, causing him to freeze but he was quick to relax and throw his arms over your waist to keep you close.

It was the domesticity of the moment that made Jason realise that he was in love with you, deep unadulterated love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life waking up to you and falling asleep with you in his arms because you fitted together like two missing pieces.

You were what he was missing and he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon, not when he was brought to realises that he couldn’t live without you, not anymore. Jason swore to himself that he’d protect you no matter what while he finds a way to tell you of his feelings, but until then Jason was more then willing to keep it to himself as to remind himself that he now had someone to fight for.

Dick didn’t know he was in love with you until someone brought it up to him about how often he seemed to bring you up in conversation regardless of its relevancy.

You’ve had a flirty relationship with one another that Dick had lead himself to believe was strictly platonic all the while wanting more at the same time. He wasn’t fond of commitment, it was an issue of his but you made it all the more worth it if it meant he could get the chance to call you his.

‘You sure do talk about them a lot.’ Garth said.

‘Who?’ Dick asked, confused.

‘Them.’ Raven gestures towards you and immeditly sees the way Dick’s eyes practically glowed when they looked at you, she looked over at Gar who saw the exact same thing as she did and was looking at her for confirmation that he wasn’t seeing things. Their wild theory has been proven to not be so wild after all.

‘It’s not my fault they’re an awesome teammate.’ Dick replied as he looked back at Raven and Garth as they looked back at him knowingly.

‘You often talk about them as though you’re in love with them.’ Raven countered.

‘I don’t talk about them like I’m in love,’ Dick laughed before looking over at Garth, ‘do I?’ He asks and Garth hummed. ‘You do. If you like them so much why don’t you ask them out on a date or something?’

Garth’s question stayed with Dick for the rest of the day as he recalled the times where he talked about you nonstop and wanted to smack himself for not seeing it before, he was so hellbent on never committing to something that he didn’t see that he was practically confessing his feelings for you in other ways.

Dick was scared, genuinely scared. So he decided to keep this revelation to himself and hope that one day it would fade away but he knew all too well that he was in too deep for that to be the case. Now he just keeps a tight lip on what he says to certain people in hopes that they don’t go back to you and spill everything.

Dick wanted to tell you himself but he fears that he might bring himself to do it in time.

Tim would be spending time with you when he realised he loved you.

Being with you just felt natural for him as he let you press up against his side as you did your own thing and he did his own on his laptop.

You could both exist in peaceful silence together without it getting awkward and that’s what Tim liked the most about you, he didn’t have to force anything to keep you engaged in anything he liked.

He even liked how you could match his sarcasm at times while also being caring about his well-being and mental health.

‘When was the last time you actually had decent sleep?’ You asked.

‘When did this become an interrogation, and a lacklustre one at that.’ He replied as you raised your brows to look at him. ‘Since you keep thinking it’s fine to neglect your basic human needs, wise ass.’ You told him. ‘keep this up and I’m wouldn’t be surprised to find you passed out on the floor somewhere.’ You add before putting down a glass of water and a plate full of food before leaving the room.

Tim glances over at the water and food and feels a warmth spread throughout him when he saw that you remembered his favourite meal.

Tim could show you anything technical and while you may not understand everything that was being said, it was the fact that you even bothered to continue to listen to him that made him realises that he might be in love with you. Your eyes held intrigue as he went over how his weapons worked, even giving you live demonstrations, but he couldn’t help but feel a little exposed under your gaze, you looked at him as though he was the most interesting person alive and he could feel his cheeks burn.

Tim knew he was in love with you for a long while but it just took that one moment for it to click within him.

1K notes · View notes

bea-does-stuff · 6 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐱 𝐘𝐍)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 696

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩𝙮, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙮𝙣'𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 ^^

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

Arguments with him are nothing less than common, with his genius complex and snappy attitude, you both end up initiating an argument about something neither of you truly care for, and of course, you're the one who usually ends up apologising, even when he was in the wrong

This being said, one time, there was one time, he went too far

“God! I truly wonder how you manage to exist and function with that sad excuse of a brain!” veritas snapped, you were use to him saying stuff like that, and you knew he never truly meant them, but it was getting so repetitive you had enough

You didn't even bother responding, you simply slammed the door and headed outside for a break, and as for veritas, he probably cooled himself off with a relaxing bath

It was only when he was done destressing, when he realised the horrible way he spoke to his dearest partner

Upon your arrival, he initially tried to give you space, he stayed in his library reading, as you did your own thing, but the guilt stabbing through his chest slowly became too intense for him, and he quickly rushed to where you were

“Dearest,” he mumbled, you didn't give him an answer, he didn't deserve it

He huffed at your comment and left house, which left you stunned initially, until he returning home with a bag full of your favourite foods, as well as flowers and a plush of your favourite animal

It was so clique, but he didn't know much about this topic, he was always superior, he never had a need to apologise to others, but he wanted to apologise to you, out of respect for you

You sighed and nodded “its fine, veritas” he looked away, scoffing as his cheeks bloomed a faded pink

“Good. that is good.” he whispered, you had to know dr ratio pretty well to sense the relief in his tone

“I must say, this is a very thoughtful way of apologising, 5 points” you teased, he rolled his eyes, fighting back the small smile crawling up his face

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

He is prideful, very prideful, and when he has an opinion, he leaves no room for others input or objectively wrong opinions, which makes it almost impossible for him to apologise

Arguments with him feel like speaking to a wall, on very rare occasions will he say anything, almost making it seem like this situation was…meaningless to him, like your feelings were meaningless to him

This one day made you snap, and you actually began to sob quietly while you were arguing

This made him glance back at you, a look of surprise and…dread on his face

“My angel…” he mumbled, but you rushed out before he could say another word, leaving him alone with his racing thoughts

Despite being a cold, rational and controlling serafin, he is a very paranoid individual, and his mind began to flood with possibilities of you leaving him behind to find someone better, or thoughts of you growing to hate him and seeing him as the control freak others label him as.

Because of this, he let you have your space, and spent an hour or two asking his dear sister robin for advice, she was a lot more well versed in tending to people's feelings and apologising for making someone hurt

Once robin was done lecturing his brother, sunday returned to the house, finding you buried under a layer of cushions and blankets

“Angel…i…” he took a deep breath and looked at you with those…piercing yellow eyes

“The way…that i disregarded your feelings…it..it was unacceptable and cruel” you slightly lifted the blanket on your face, staring at him, still slightly upset

“I…deeply apologise, you don't deserve such cruelty from a man who dares call himself your lover”

You sighed, a sad yet relieved smile on your face “you apologising is a strange occurrence, so i know you mean it”

He brought you to his arms, his wings fluffing up due to how happy he was to have finally worked up the courage to apologize and make you smile

Robin would indeed be proud

#fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #dr ratio hsr #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #sunday #sunday hsr #sunday fluff #sunday x reader #hsr angst #angst #angst to fluff #comfort #hsr comfort #gn reader

906 notes · View notes

phoenix-creates · 6 months ago

Text

Genshin Impact, Both the Game and the Community, Cannot Hide Their Colorism or Racism Anymore

This is going to be a long read. I refuse to stay silent.

I've played Genshin Impact on and off since 2021 when I was first introduced to it. I drew fanart but rarely participated in the fandom, as Genshin has one of the most toxic and racist fandoms that takes pleasure in driving off content creators of color, perpetuating racism within the communities, as well as harassing and threatening people who dare try to speak out about it. But, for as racist as the fandom is, what can I expect from them considering Hoyoverse as a whole has it's own set of racial problems.

It is clear from the release of Sumeru to the recent teasers of Natlan. Hoyoverse has colorism problems and racism problems and we're going to take a look at them here.

Before we begin, I want to take a moment to say that there will be a lot of information presented in this post. I ask that you read carefully and be considerate of every talking point presented.

Now, let's talk about Sumeru.

Sumeru, the fourth region released in Genshin Impact, draws a lot of real world inspiration from Middle Eastern culture, with even the geography mimicking the real world geography of China and India. The characters, music, food, and geography all draw inspiration from various different real world cultures, and just from a few glances, it is easy to see exactly where and what cultures they’re taking from.

Candace for instance, from name to appearance, draws inspiration from kandakes, which was the title of a queen mother in Nubian kingdoms. Even her accessories, her talents, and her weapon take pieces from other aspects of Egyptian culture.

Cyno, another character from Sumeru, is dressed in garb that mimics depictions of Anubis, the ancient Egyptian God of funerary rites and protector of graves. As with Candace, his talents and abilities reference Egypt.

Even Sethos, a newcomer to the game and also a Sumeru character, has clothes, skills, and a name that alludes to either the Egyptian God Set, the god of the desert and storms, the Egyptian pantheon in general, or the Ancient Egyptian King Seti/Sethos.

These three characters are tanned, anyone can see that, but if you take a closer look you'll notice that they're all around the same shade. Considering all three of them take inspiration from real world Egyptian culture, it is insane to me that they're all a similar shade of the same slightly tanned tone. It is unacceptable that they're all a shade or two away from white when all of them has some aspect of Egyptian culture in their character.

To further shed light on Sumeru's racist sins, there exists a long standing conflict in Sumeru regarding The Eremites, a race of people descended from the ancient, now-collapsed civilization who primarily live in the desert. These people are the enemies in the game. You read that right. The desert dwellers are the enemies and not only that, but unlike the treasure hoarders who disappear into smoke when defeated, the Eremites collapse to the ground like the Fatui.

Why do the Treasure Hoarders, a band of pale skinned thieves, get away but the Eremites, treated as if their culture is lesser, presumably die?

Worse than that, there is a long quest in Sumeru where a white academic from Sumeru spends nearly the entire length of the quest insulting an Eremite. The quest I'm referring to, Golden Slumber, is a multi part quest that has the Traveler accompanying a researcher named Tirzad who is exploring the ruins in the deserts of Sumeru. Throughout the quest, Tirzad spends most of his time complaining and insulting Jeht and Jebrael, calling the latter an uneducated brute whenever Jebrael tries to do anything. And the Traveler is no help, with dialogue options remaining neutral instead of rightfully telling Tirzad to stop.

What we have here is a white man stereotyping a man of color and assuming things about himself and his race due to his own racist biases.

Many players have called out the racism in Tirzad’s actions and this quest overall, but Tirzad at multiple times fails to see the error of his ways and leads the group into life threatening situations simply because he can’t believe an “uneducated desert brute” could possibly know more than him.

I could sit here and pick apart more aspects of Sumeru and it's failures to properly represent the culture it's using, but I want to get into the inciting incident of this entire post, which is Natlan.

When the teaser for Natlan was released, it was just another failure on Hoyoverse's part. To understand why, we can break it down into parts, starting with the character leaks:

Mavuika, presumably the pyro archon, with a name inspired by Māori fire deity Mahuika.

Ororon, a mispelling of the Yoruba god Ọlọrun, the creator deity in the Yoruban pantheon.

Kinich, named after the Mayan god of the sun.

Iansan, another character whose name comes from the Yoruba pantheon.

Xilonen, this name coming from one of the aspects of the Aztec goddess of maize and the goddess of sustenance.

Kachina, name inspiration directly lifted from the religious beliefs of the indigenous Pueblos people.

Chasca, name coming from the Incan goddess of dawn and twilight.

Citlali, a name derived from Nahuatl, which is a language from ancient Mexico.

Are you seeing something interesting with these characters?

Hoyoverse has shoved multiple different cultures under one region and whitewashed every character. They did the bare bones work of lifting names and small design inspirations from so many different cultures and using them in the laziest way possible. If not pale white, the few characters who are tanned are a mere shade darker than Cyno and almost the same shade as Kaeya. There is nothing darker in sight with any of these characters.

Cultural representation matters. If Hoyoverse can explore the cultures of Germany (Mondstadt), China (Liyue), Japan (Inazuma), and France (Fontaine), it is insane that the same sort of love couldn't be given to both Sumeru and Natlan, both nations where we should rightfully be seeing more people of color.

(Side note, we should be seeing more people of color in the previous regions as well, even as NPCs. Bi-racial people exist all over the world, not just in America. Quick google searches will show what I mean.)

I can already hear the arguments against me.

"But Hoyoverse is an East Asian company! They don't need to/don't care about representation!"

Oh really? Because Lilithgames, the company behind Dislyte, is a company based in Shanghai, China. And when you compare the variety of skin tones of Dislyte to Genshin, you cannot make the argument that a company based in Asia doesn't care about diversity. Hoyoverse does not seem to care, but don't make it a blanket statement for all companies.

Still not convinced? Bluepoch, a small Chinese company behind Reverse:1999, is responsible for this character:

Smite, a game published by Hi-Rez Studios and Tencent Games (A Chinese publisher), has a character based on Olorun. And they did just fine in their depiction of him:

And the director behind Tekken 7, Katsuhiro Harad, shared concept art of an Arab fighter they want to add to the game. Why? Because he wanted to make sure he was respecting Middle Eastern culture and asked for feedback to see what can be improved. He posted this concept art and asked the community for input to make Shaheen as accurate as possible:

But sure. Asian companies don't care.

"It's a fantasy world! It doesn't have to 1-to-1 mimic the real world!"

Oh really? So why are characters named after real world cultural figures, why is the food based around real world food, why are outfits somewhat inspired by real world garbs then? If you're gonna draw inspiration from something and use the real world in your game, the world is a diverse place. It is not all white nor all slightly tanned.

"You can always stop playing the game."

I could, but that would mean letting them win and get away with their racism. It would mean letting Hoyoverse think this is the norm instead of the outlier. It would mean staying silent during injustice. I can do a lot of things, and exposing their issues is one of them.

"It could be difficult for them to implement dark-skinned characters."

It actually is not. Look at all the examples from other games and companies discussed previously. It's not hard. Plus, take a look at Wriothesley's concept art:

Originally, he had a different skin tone. So characters with different tones existed but got lightened and changed over time.

"I don't want [insert race here] in my fantasy game/it doesn't matter!"

Honey, you're just racist.

"Wow, I get it now. This is bad. What can I do to help?"

There are several ways:

Use Surveys and Feedback when you log into Hoyoverse games. This problem extends past Genshin, into HSR and ZZZ (a game whose ads promote itself with rap music and yet noticeably lack playable dark skinned characters so far). Use the platforms that they gave us in order to spread the word. Tell them that you're dissatisfied with the cultural appropriation and disappointed in Hoyoverse for taking certain cultures and whitewashing them. Email [email protected] if the feedback buttons aren't working for some reason.

Stop putting money into the game. A lot of companies listen when there's monetary loss involved. Show them that you mean business and stop supporting their business. You can also leave a one star and a review with your thoughts on their cultural appropriation.

Amplify the voices of those speaking out. There are plenty of posts out there better worded than mine that go in depth into a lot of these problems. Multiple voice actors of all ethnicities and backgrounds have spoken up about Hoyoverse’s injustices as well (many of the VAs from the game, including the voices of Albedo, Sucrose, Layla, Beidou, and even VAs for smaller NPCs have spoken out). When you see those posts, share them. Spread the word. Get those voices out there.

Shut down those silencing others. For as many posts out there trying to bring more light to this issue, there are others who try to shut us down. They continue to be racist and double down that nothing is wrong with Natlan. Do not let them get away with this. Show them this post or the myriad of other posts that exist. Tell them to shut the fuck up. Call them out. But don't let them silence anyone else.

If you've made it to the end and learned something, I'm glad. If you've made it to the end and want to further support me or anyone else in this fight, share this post and others like it.

Thank you for reading.

EDIT: As noted in this ask, the naming conventions of characters from other regions as opposed to Sumeru and Natlan. I’ll be adding a separate reblog to this post with a full list of naming conventions from each region.

#genshin impact #natlan #sumeru #genshin #hoyoverse #vent post #genshin cyno #candace genshin #sethos genshin #kaeya genshin impact #colorism #antiblackness

625 notes · View notes

moonsaver · 5 months ago

Note

Thinking back to a post you once made about Aeon Sunday… Imagine being someone who knew Sunday in the past before his ascension, only to then receive the gaze of Aeon Sunday later in life

Oh my god. I love this. This is simultaneously creepy AND oddly romantic.

Theres a lot of possibilities for this – was reader sunday's crush? A suitor? Maybe just someone he shared small talk with and actually liked it more than usual? Ooohohoho

Im not sure if its yan or not, so i just kinda.. kept it variable(?)

This ones a bit longer because i desperatley need to wordvomti . Thanks.

Achieving an aeon's gaze is strange, your discipline, morals, ideals, lifestyle, something has to deeply resonate with their followed path. Let us assume Sunday is something similar to a "dreamlike" aeon [maybe it's mentioned in his boss form description, all i remember is the embryo of Philosophy ;;]

But again, it's not exactly stated how you'd be able to achieve an aeon's gaze; i still have no idea how acheron did it [IX is literally a black hole??], because i cant for the life of me read through those huge blocks of texts in the dialogue.

So lets say Sunday's able to pull his own strings and maybe even force you on that path. He's an aeon – who's stopping him?

Its the middle of the night, you're awake in bed, tossing and turning. It feels like something in your chest is pulling, a weird sensation you've been trying to put off. Your eyes are burning from the lack of sleep, but your mind seems restless. You try to calm yourself down and think about one thing and then another, one by one, until you remember Sunday. You wonder what was going through his mind, his in-between words in that one conversation, what he could have meant..

And like that, you fall asleep. Your bones sink into the bed, your weight relaxes into the pliant surface.

And then you awake. But somewhere else. It's not your bedroom – not the familiar ceiling, nor the corner of your room with piled clothes or a messy table. It's the cosmos, littered with stars. It's strange. You almost don't notice until you try to move – you're floating in space.

You turn, and he's there. That recognizable golden halo, stretching out into the dark expanse like the inside of a star plunging into the depths, golden eyes that peer down at you; with recognition, understanding, almost sympathy, and something you can't quite place. Your ribs ache and your lungs burn when you're reminded to breathe – this is the man you were thinking about before you slept.

You wake up, panting, shooting up in bed. The familiar space of your room greets you this time. The night is young outside your window ‐ not much time seems to have passed in that brilliant moment.

You were ready to chalk it up to a dream, like the ones where you feel like you're falling and wake up with a racing heart. But then you look down, and see a strange symbol on your body, something akin to an eye.

It seems you've earned his blessing to follow his path.

And even more? It seems like you're the first person to actually follow this path.

It's strange and isolating in a way. You can awaken from the sweetdream paradise your beloved Aeon seems to have put penacony under. You gain this strange, superflous, iridescent ghost of a halo, and you realise you can use it to communicate.

You can communicate with Sunday.

But a part of you finds it pointless. you can't understand what he's saying anymore; Aeons' existence transcends language. You can only hear whispers of people speaking to you, as though it's from the corner of a room, somewhere in the distance, with one barely audible male voice standing out in the whispering; it might be sunday's real voice, but you're not sure. At least, to some degree, you've managed to make out a few words.

Some words give you information. You can monitor the true handiwork of your aeon this way. Every person's dream — sweet, deep slumbers, exquisitely woven by deft fingers, all in 7 days. You figured this when you phased out of the dream, looking down at your own sleeping body and freaking out, when Sunday communicated with you for the first time, instantly calming you down. Dream. Woven. 7 days. Those words were evident in the cacophony of whispers.

Some words carry warnings. Or rather, they're not exactly words.

When your curious hands boldly trace the surface of a particularly fragile dream, you hear breathing. In close proximity, too, as if its right behind your ear. Sometimes, if you try to wake someone, you feel the breathing; warm, and languidly flowing down the back of your collar. You've chosen to not find out what happens when you don't listen.

Sometimes, when you decide to simply phase out of the dream to take a look at your own body in reality – you talk to Sunday. You tell him what you think, who you met in the dreamscape, what he can do to make it better [since.. well, you can't exactly do much to awaken anyone or oppose an aeon]. You assume he doesn't hear you, since you don't get your whispery response, but after you catch a few glimpses of your suggestions in the dreamscape, you realise he's just a good listener.

Perhaps, even if you may be the only follower of this path for now.. it may not be as isolating as you think.

446 notes · View notes

rotthepoet · 5 months ago

Note

Need theo and lorenzo head cannons 😔

Good morning sweet pookie, i gotchu!! I needed a little break after that threesome so I did some random, some silly, some fluffy, and some smutty, kay? It’s really just a big brain dump on how I characterize the boys <3 Hope you enjoy, love ;)

P.s. if I have any reoccurring anon’s, if you want me to differentiate you, please feel free to assign yourself an emoji <3 unspoken rule i thought i’d say out loud

Theodore Nott

I agree with literally everyone on this app, he is a smarty pants, but i refuse to believe he sits down and studies

It’s not that he doesn’t care about his grades, he just doesn’t have to try to get good marks. Queen absorbs information like a sponge and retains that shit forever. Doesnt have to waste time with a boring textbook because he commits everything to memory.

That being said, he will remember everything about you. Your favorite movie you mentioned in passing, he saw you eat something particular multiple times he can infer its your favorite and will buy it for you often, he knows your habits, your aspirations, your desires. All of it. Does it for his close friends and lovers <3

Huge smoker. Like. Oral fixation final boss. Needs to have something to smoke or at least chew on at all times

I mentioned before how I think Mattheo and him laugh at people who vape, but Theodore Nott is a two faced LIAR and actually keeps a menthol alto with him at all times. For convenience sake. If you ask him, it’s different because its not a fun lil fruity flavor.

Speaking of Mattheo, those two are best friends. Like ride or die. Like. These two are bread and butter, inseparable and delicious.

Will internalize everything. This is why he gets so worked up and fights people. It may seem like him getting pissy over nothing, but this boy has some unresolved trauma and unmedicated issues.

Theo has ADHD prove me wrong and fuck you for trying(jk love you, but i will die on this hill.) severe anxiety issues, def some depression going on, hes working through some shit.

Theo can process a lot of stimulus at the same time. Watching him hold 3 steady conversations while reading a novel at the same time is a sight to behold.

Smokes weed a lot too. Mostly bud, but he’s smart and keeps a cart on him too for quick bathroom breaks when he needs to chill tf out. It slows down all the thoughts racing around his head. Lets him relax. Lets him feel peace. Let him feel comfortable. He’s been searching for that feeling his whole life.

Mommy and daddy issues check?

Anyways!

Theo is a player, and its not even because he tries to be.

Girls flock towards him, and he needs an outlet.

Sex is a good outlet.

Sex and drugs? Now we’re cooking

He doesn’t care much for the dating scene, didn’t think he was cut out for it. Bad home life. No mom. Depressed and emotionally distant evil dad. Friends and his family are all death eaters? Causes some bad views on relationships as a whole.

Omg but when he falls in love it takes forever but its so hard. Its so devastatingly hard.

It goes from “wow they really make me happy” to “omfg i need to marry them they make me feel complete and comfortable and it feels like i can finally be myself around someone this is the feeling i have been searching for my whole life” really fast when he falls

He’d never love at first sight. Refuse it. He might think someone is pretty or handsome, but he won’t ever describe it as love at first sight.

100% friends to lovers

He’s a quality time kinda guy i think

Just likes co-existing really

Stay in the room with him in silence as he reads and hes so golden

But that will bump up several notches and enjoy every other love language too

He wants to make you love him. He’ll do anything for you. Buy anything for you. Tell you everyday how wonderful you are

He’s being so genuine too

His friends would know

He never shuts up about you

If you had never spoken to his friends, never met them, they’d be able to come up to you in a grocery store and say “oh. You’re <you>, right?”

And dear god he genuinely cries a little in relief when you finally say yes

He’s buried his face in your hair and hugging you so tightly and he tries not to cry because he finally has everything he needs in his arms

He’s such a good boyfriend

Will never question you(at least not at first or without good reason)

Literally worships the ground you walk on

Will apologize first immediately after every meaningless petty fight

Thats different about real fighting though. Stubborn ass bitch

Anyways

Dotes on you everyday

Calls you so many sweet names in Italian

Has an Italian accent but sometimes tries a British accent to throw everyone off.

Argues in italian

Lowkey hates snow

Runs super cold so loves lovvesss hot weather

Will take you to Italy over the summer

Demands you go

Fucks you on the balcony of his family home

Fucks you stupid on the beach

Sorry where was I going with this

Ah yes anyways

Runs super cold so like is a big fan of cuddles. Lots of sweaters for you to steal

He likes turning cuddles into more slow and intimate things

Slowly fingering you as you spoon

Cockwarming in the morning or late at night<3

So much worship.

So much

Just adores you.

Loves fast rough sex but honestly could go on about slow love making for hours

Literally cant stand American reality tv

The biggest kardashian hater

Knows all the gossip because he’s quiet and listens

Doesnt care to share it though

Lorenzo Berkshire

Bitchboy extraordinaire

If I met Lorenzo Berkshire he would become #1 on my shitlist so fast

I called theo a two faced liar as a joke

But Enzo actually is one

Literally puts on the nicest mask for pretty girls, but every ex, and every guy in hogwarts knows he’s a conniving bitch behind closed doors

One of the richest in the group and it shows

Flaunts his money everywhere he goes

His ears are pieced

Also he likes having his ears bitten it can make him hard as a rock in seconds

Dates, but it usually only lasts a month and Hes the worst boyfriend ever

Dumps them whenever he gets bored

But omg when a person gives him his attitude back

Well first he gets even meaner

But also he likes you so much like… that was hot

And if you ignore his existence? On you like a moth to a flame

Craves attention

Such an attention seeker

Still will fight, isn’t very good, but will try

100% a prefect

Showers his pookie with so much love and attention

When he finally gets the person he wants, hes on top of them 24/7

Never a hand straying to far

Literally obsessed

Big fan of exhibitionism

Will fuck uou on the train, the bathrooms, the common room, the classroom

Its all fair game

Would love to see you all tied up in pretty ribbons for his birthday

Ass man 100%

Likes to just get a fistfull while you hug or cuddle

Mattheo and him are the biggest gossipers

Has like 4k followers on instagram because hes so pretty

Father and mother are hirh death eaters. Does anyone know Berkshire lore because i def dont

Like fr can someone explain him to me

Pairs well with anyone in the grouo, really

Gets along especially with Theo or Mattheo

Amazing at card games, and says he’s amazing at chess too. Hes not.

Literally refuses to snack, says it’ll ruin his physique

On the quidditch team much like everyone else he’s friends with

Slays at herbology

Maybe a bit of a smoker? Not often, and def more weed than tobacco

Light weight for reals

Like severely light weight

He’s the laughingstock of the friend group for it

Him and Mattheo have a running bet on who can fuck the most women

Omg omg omg because they so do the alphabet challenge im so sorry but its factual

Lorenzo is currently winning with 15/26 letters in the alphabet but Mattheo isnt too far behind

Its because Lorenzo is so charming and Mattheo…. Is himself.

Anyways back to being his significant other

Will spoil you

Relentlessly

Lowkey expects head in return but that will wear ofd eventually

109% more likely to start a fwb situation than anything else

Treats you like a girlfriend this whole time

Kisses you sweetly, holds uou close when you sleep, mumbles about how special you are

Just being a girlfriend without the title because then it gets too weird

Loses his shit if you get tired of trying and break it off

Genuinely ballistic if he loses you

Will pull as many favors and as many strings as he can to get yiu back

Seriously considers murder for a while

Anyways he gets you back baby<3

Speaking of babies hes super good with kids

Look at that face

Amazing dad face

Scared of marriage lmao

Bad parents. Fucked up views on relationships

Its a thing for all of them tbh

520 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

Text

the elitism in magic education

HELLO 🤡 I have come to you today with an analysis of Fellow Honest's motives and what they imply about the mages and non-mages in the world of Twisted Wonderland, as well as the state of magic education as it relates to one's social status. It's a doozy, so let's get right into it! ***WARNING: Spoilers for Stage in Playful Land!!***

Fellow's resentment of the elite harkens back to something I've always suspected but also something that Twisted Wonderland has seldom gone out of its way to shine a harsh spotlight on. That "something" is the discrepancy between the "haves" and the "have-nots" in terms of magic. With the main setting of TWST being a private magic school, of course the lens through which we view many events will be from this perspective as well... and that limits what we see and hear. Most of the NPCs we encounter (even the annoying ones, such as the Magicam Monsters from the first Halloween event) endlessly praise the NRC students just for attending a famous magic school. If we look closely though, we’ll start to see cracks in the shiny rose-colored lenses (which, coincidentally, is how Fellow’s UM name is written).

To begin with, we are told that only 10% of the human population (for the sake of argument, let's assume that most other races also have low magic rates) is even capable of magic to begin with. Of this 10%, the majority of people with the aptitude for magic only have enough to barely be able to lift a cup. In order to qualify for a prestigious magic school like Night Raven College or Royal Sword Academy, you'd literally have to be the cream of the crop and get lucky in terms of genetics. Magic cannot be learned by someone that was not born with the innate ability for it, and not everyone who is the child of a mage will be capable of magic themselves. This is already one HUGE barrier for entry. We now have more to consider.

Night Raven College is notably a private boarding school. This potentially means that students may need to pay a tuition fee for classes, room, and board. Perhaps this tuition doesn't exist, since NRC doesn't take applications but rather hand-selects its students. Additionally, NRC is based on a British school, and most European schools cost little to nothing to attend. However, it's hard to believe a school as fancy as NRC is a private institution that runs solely on the charity and goodwill of donors (though we do see Crowley happily accepting donations as well, specifically from the local town and from Kalim’s family). Realistically speaking, Stuff Costs Money, and if you Want Stuff, you also Need Money. NRC is not raising these mages of the future out of the goodness of their hearts, NRC is raising these mages because there is profit and prestige to be gained from the endeavor. What if there are students who are picked to go but end up having to leave because they can’t afford it?? This point is just speculative though; I won’t count it as actual evidence since there is no in-game lore which confirms tuition. We do know, however, that students do at least have to pay for their dorm uniforms, as Ruggie has mentioned he could not afford one—hence why he wears a hand-me-down from Leona. We also know students are on their own when it comes to paying for their food, as both Ruggie and Deuce mention being low on cash in reference to buying meals/snacks. Buuuuut even if we discount that money is a factor that gatekeeps some selected students from attending or having the cash to just get by on a daily basis, what we cannot ignore is that money inherently puts some people ahead of others before magic schools even recruit them.

Because the majority of those in Twisted Wonderland are incapable of using magic, magic is not typically included in general education. This means that if your kid manifests magic and you want them to be "ahead of the curve", you'd need to seek out resources for magic training and education. Now, this could mean reading materials, private tutoring, or reaching out to mages you know of. The problem with all of these things is that they tend to require money and/or connections, which are things not everyone has access to. Idia even says in book 6 that Riddle has an “artificially large” pool of magic due to how young Riddle started his magic training, meaning that the wealthy has the resources to just produce “better” mages. The rich also have more money to throw into items to help with magical training, such as bigger and better magestones (which must sell for substantial amount in the first place since Ruggie tries to save some to pawn off later in Vargas Camp) to keep mages healthier for longer (since magestones help absorb blot). This keeps power concentrated in an already elevated class. (Note: research has shown that money opens up and expands one's connections, which still puts the rich in an advantageous position compared to the less fortunate. There are also studies that show impoverished people who happen to have rich friends have a better chance of raising their own social standing just because of the doors and connections that rich friend can open for them.) Look at who in the main cast remarks on having formal magic training: literal royalty like Leona and the upper middle class like Riddle. Again, one could say that because schools like NRC appear to hand-pick students regardless of how much formal magic training they had prior to enrollment. However, the fact remains that it simply looks better to potential recruiters (using this blanket term because we don't know how magic schools besides NRC gets its students) and better prepares the child for magic school curriculum to get an early start on it.

Looking back at the 22 boys that make up the main cast, close to three-quarters or ~75% of them come from at least upper middle-class backgrounds and quite a few could classify as wealthy:

Riddle's parents are both doctors, with Riddle's mom in particular being well-known and well-regarded in their home community.

Cater's dad is a banker; his position is high enough up that he needs to relocate every so often (presumably to service their largest or most important firms).

Leona is a literal prince. Even if he isn't destined to be king, he still has access to the resources and wealth avaliable to a royal.

Azul's mom owns the most popular restaurant in the entire Coral Sea (have you seen how large the Coral Sea is on the world map???), and his stepdad is a lawyer.

The twins' family is said to be well-off; they are able to afford luxuries like fancy clothes and Mr. Leech stresses the importance of manners and presentation. He is implied to have business associates who are also well-off and would like to get in his good graces. (Popular fan speculation is that the Leeches are a crime family.)

Kalim is the heir to a massive family fortune and trading business. He also has relatives (by marriage, I believe) who are royals.

Jamil, as Kalim's attendant, is also from a reasonably well-off family; they receive benefits unique to being closely tied with the Asims, such as exposure to elite society and lessons to acquire various skills, albeit these benefits comes with being in the lower social position of a servant.

Vil's father is an A-list celebrity, and Vil is also one himself.

We don't know the specifics of what Rook's family does, but it must be well-paying, as we learn in book 5 that the Hunts have villas all over Twisted Wonderland, as well as permissions for international travel via warp pads.

Idia and Ortho's family run a secret organization that researches blot. S.T.Y.X. is so secretive that basically only those in super high positions like Crowley and Leona would know about them. Let's also not forget that the Shrouds have ties to the Jupiter Conglomerate and the Olympus Corp, which is a tech giant in the world of TWST.

Malleus is prince AND the heir to his kingdom’s throne. He is also one of the top 5 most powerful mages in the entire WORLD.

Lilia is a renown war general and a close friend of royalty. He raised a young Malleus as well.

Silver is Lilia's adopted son and is actually a prince himself.

Sebek's parents are dentists. They must make mad money. His grandfather is also a respected knight that served alongside Lilia.

Notice how all the dorm leaders are upper middle class or higher; the vice dorm leaders have ONE normal person (Trey); in Playful Land, Trey confesses to living a comfortable life so we know he must be at least middle class.

We can try to argue all we like that NRC doesn't discriminate based on social status for their selections, but if that's the case then why are so few of the main cast from impoverished or low-income families? Only Ace, Trey, and Jack count as squarely middle class. Ruggie is the only example we have of someone from a very low socioeconomic status rising up to be among "elites". The other example is Deuce, who comes from a single parent household and has implied they don't have a lot of money (for example: how the VDC/SDC earnings will help out his family). (Epel is kind of a ??? case because depending on where in the story you are, his family could be in financial trouble or not; in book 5, they imply his entire village is having difficulties selling product until Vil promotes Harveston apples on his Magicam.) Maybe it's unfair to say that 22 students out of 800ish is representative of the makeup of the entire NRC student population (or represents the composition of all magic schools), but Ruggie confirms in his Birthday Boy vignettes that a majority of the students at NRC are decently well-off. This single digit representation of low-income students is also true of real-life elite schools. They are private schools for a reason; it naturally gatekeeps who is and isn't "allowed" to attend, leading to the majority of its students being members of the elite.

Another thing to consider is legacy students. This term refers to the increased likelihood of people being accepted into a school if they had a relative that also attended that school. We know of two instances of this happening: Ace's brother and Sebek's brother also went to and graduated from Night Raven College. Ace even makes a remark during his sorting ceremony that he ended up in the same dorm as his older brother "as expected". If magic aptitude is genetic, then perhaps it makes sense to recruit from the same families--but again, this is inherently restrictive, as you would continuously be culling from the same pools generation after generation.

Back on the topic of bloodlines and family, what about Kalim, who has an extensive family? There will be no shortage of Asim mages going to NRC just because of legacy (Jamil even alludes to the fact that the previous Scarabia dorm leader was an Asim relative, and his recommendation is what got Kalim the dorm leader seat). And speaking of Kalim, consider instances where rich families are able to bribe faculty (lookin' at YOU, Crowley) or donate a large sum to get their kid ahead or to be given priority over others that may be more qualified than them (RIP Jamil). To continue off that point, NRC itself is structured as a "dog eat dog" world. Those with inherently more magical ability have the right to trump over others. You can duel and lose your dorm seat to a more powerful mage, even if you trump them in terms of merit or leadership qualities. Students feel a sense of duty to obey those who have bested them in battle (ie Epel's servitude to Vil). Everyone fears Malleus. Your magical power is respected above all else.

Attitudes surrounding magic have notably shifted from fear of it several hundreds of years ago (around the human-fae war, back when “witch” and “wizard” were used in a derogatory sense) to recognizing it for its strengths and actively seeking it or granting some favoritism to those who have it. There is, in fact, now class discrimination in based on whether or not you can use magic. We got an early instance of this as early as book 1 of the main story, when Riddle insults Yuu for their "pitiful" education and states that they were clearly "born to parents with no great magical capability". It’s something that clearly rubs Ace, who has a magicless father, the wrong way, and he stands up for Yuu. There are other subtle hints about this divide sprinkled throughout the lore. For example, Ruggie has a voice line which he indicates that the slums where he comes from doesn’t produce many magic users. Again, recall that magic runs in bloodlines. This could potentially allude to a past where those without magic were forced into lower income neighborhoods, which results in pockets like Ruggie’s hometown with a high population of magicless individuals living in poverty. This doesn’t appear to be a large scale issue (perhaps its only an isolated case?), but this is worth paying attention to.

This could all translate into the professional world too. Some jobs are entirely locked behind magic (ie you just cannot do them or pursue them if you don't have the magical ability for it). Some jobs DO require magic (ie medical mages like Riddle's parents, magic police force officers, technomantic inventors, etc) and probably additional training that goes with it. As a result, I'd imagine that these magic-intensive jobs pay quite a bit more. There may also be overall more job opportunities for those capable of magic, since magic is so much more efficient than doing things by hand. The magic police force in particular are described as “elite” and members are REQUIRED to be mages or else you don’t qualify. It means more retention of wealth and/or more upward mobility for the few impoverished that are able to enter magic schools. (This is, of course, not including the few and far between cases of regular people who get rich in select industries, such as Kalim’s father.) Recall too that NRC requires its students to take internships during their 4th years, many placements being with very prestigious groups and organizations such as pro-sports teams, labs, tech giants, etc. Being able to attend a prestigious school with connections grants those elite students even more opportunities than the average person.

Then think about what this means for people who fall short of these standards that these magic schools set. We actually have examples of them in book 5 of the main story: when Deuce and Epel are reconciling on the beach, a bunch of delinquents from another school come along and start checking out Deuce’s borrowed magical wheel. Through the NPCs’ exchange, we learn that one of them has enough magic to power a magical wheel, but not enough to do much else. This NPC also couldn’t keep up in class and dropped out of a magic school. He then becomes insulted when Deuce implies he is “a beginner”, so this is obviously a very sore spot for him. Riddle also has dialogue that implies students dropped out of NRC prior to his reign (and since then, no Heartslabyul students have left). Additionally, consider how magic can be used to oppress and lord power over others. Deuce himself is guilty for summoning cauldrons to crush rival delinquents in fights back in Clock Town—even if those delinquents lacked magic themselves. Similarly, Epel is implied to use magic to gain an upper hand against those that bullied him back home. This all implies a social divide between those with magic and those without, and begs of bigger questions.

What happens to the ones that don’t make it? The ones that get left behind? The ones without the magic to make it “big”? This is the root of Fellow’s anger; he’s mad at a system that cast people like him (someone with very little magic) and Gidel (a non-mage) aside. They don’t get the opportunity to make better futures for themselves. They’re looked down on by high-up institutions that basically tell them they’re not good enough.

Knowing all of this, the deck appears to be stacked against the poor and non-mages. It’s no wonder why Fellow is so mad.

THIS ACTUALLY RELATES BACK TO WHAT ROLLO SAID IN 5-2 OF GLORIOUS MASQUERADE… "When you have too little [magic], you're resentful. And when you have plenty [of magic], you're arrogant. You can never content yourselves." The NRC boys are arrogant (this is the side of the story we’ve always known due to seeing the world mainly from their perspective). They are the “haves”, and we see them constantly misusing their power by fighting each other over very petty things (even if it’s against the rules to do so). But everyone else??? They’re scrounging for the scraps. Fellow falls into that former category; he IS the guy that’s resentful because of his lack of magic and how something he cannot control has already determined where he and Gidel will stand in life no matter how hard they work. They can never hope to rise out of poverty, and there’s nothing they can do about it. That must be soul-crushing.

When Fellow praises the NRC boys in that overly exaggerated way, he’s obviously being shady and facetious—however, there is also a kernel of truth behind this behavior. Most other NPCs we’ve met have spoken about the NRC boys favorably just because of their affiliation with a prestigious school. It’s the same way people might be impressed if you walked around in an Ivy League branded hoodie or something. People automatically associate you with the school’s shiny and exclusive reputation, and thus assume you are also intelligent, talented, etc. Then, in the same way being constantly put on a pedestal like this might result in the students getting swelled heads, this only further feeds into the NRC kids’ egos. They so privileged they don’t even recognize it. And that makes Fellow fucking FUME.

Look back at Fellow's dialogue. He is constantly mentioning the prestige of the school the boys go to, or adding on extra compliments about their status and skills. He's ass-kissing to his boss, who is also wealthy or part of the upper class, then insults the boss once he hangs up. Fellow is always in a position where he HAS to be subservient to the upper class in order to make his money and get by, and he finds that entirely unfair. Imagine having to simper and placate people you absolutely despise and blame for your problems every day, people who are gorging themselves on luxuries, coasting by in life, taking everything they have for granted while you get by on pennies—that has to get frustrating.

I want to briefly mention here that, in addition to praising the NRC students to high heaven, Fellow also talks down his own skills. He cheerfully calls himself a loser and says that no matter how much he trains, he could never reach their caliber of magic. Yes, Fellow is exaggerating to get the kids to think they’ve won, but I also have to wonder if he’s parroting the same phrases he was told long ago, from people who doubted him and never thought he’d make it. If that’s the case, then I get the sense that Fellow is in a way “reclaiming” his autonomy and power by adopting those same cruel words and using them as a strength. He admits to being “weak” but is also proud of the fact that he can utilize his magic along with his natural charisma to get a leg up over others. It further fuels his new belief that going to an elite school doesn’t matter, it’s practical skills that will serve you well.

Okay, back to talking about his shitty work situation! Fellow’s employer clearly doesn’t treat him with decency. They berate him, make unreasonable demands, act impatient, etc. They are a typical depiction of a toxic workplace and boss. This can also be read as shorthand for the relation between the rich and the poor, and how that may have shaped (or worsened) Fellow’s views on others of the privileged class. He makes many assumptions about the NRC students without really getting to know them, calling them entitled brats. Why? Because these descriptors likely apply to the higher-ups Fellow has always slaved away for. This, in combination with his own experiences in being rejected from magic academia, has created a person who feels trodden on by society and by the upper echelons who run it and benefit off the system.

Fellow himself is the perfect example of someone who was failed by said system. He has dialogue stating that he was never given the chance to learn because his magic was not considered strong enough. Still, he tried to make an effort to earn that chance among to elites and to study among them. Fellow was rejected, ridiculed, and told he had “forgotten his place”, what he had been born into. There were expectations he couldn’t meet, and so Fellow was thrown away like a broken toy. He has failed not because he didn’t try, but because he was denied the opportunity to begin with. This is where is rage stems from. Fellow despises the students of those same kinds of institutions who kicked him down, students who don’t realize how fortunate they are for their educations and will likely continue to perpetuate the system.

What, then, does that means for his signature spell, which is closely tied to one’s identity? Let’s take a magnifying glass to it. As previously mentioned, the name for Fellow’s spell is written as “Rose-Tinted Dream”, but it is said out loud as “Life is Fun”. The chant for it is, “Come on to the theater” (notably said in English rather than in Japanese). Both the spell and the incantation are references to the song Honest John sings in Pinocchio, Hi- Diddle-Dee-Dee. And… well, the whole UM in of itself is one big cruel joke given his circumstances now.

I think this spell is representative of a young Fellow still full of hopes and dreams, looking forward to studying at a magic school. But then those dreams are shattered and he has to commit terrible crimes to survive day-to-day, and he seems to have given up on his dreams. He even goes so far as to protect Gidel from having the same hopes he once did, telling Yuu to not put silly ideas in his head when Gidel expressed curiosity about school. At the same time, he delights in crushing the hopes of those he deems his enemies (stating that he wanted to betray Kalim to “teach him a lesson” about how cruel the world is). Fellow knows the truth: that life isn’t fun, that it will disappoint you and will put you down. His actions are very cowardly as well—he uses tricks and deception, he runs away from his problems instead of properly addressing them, the NRC students remark on his lack of pride. Fellow has had to throw away so much to scrape by. Yet his UM symbolizes someone brimming with hope—so perhaps it’s a UM he manifested when Fellow still thought he had a chance?? And then people made fun of him for it being so weak?? Alternatively, maybe he didn’t get his UM until after his dreams were crushed so he’s looking back on those nostalgic days of blissful ignorance with rose-colored lenses (which is, again, maybe why his UM magic name is written as “Rose Tinted Dream”). A UM that is a reflection of one’s true self, yet that same identity is one that has been forced to be discarded. That’s the reason why, despite all the swindling and scamming, I don’t think Fellow’s enthusiasm for fun is a lie. That’s the one “real” part of him, but even that’s been repurposed to help him live on scraps, something innocent twisted 😭 and that’s really sad to think about…

But also??? You could argue that Fellow still has a little bit of that lost inner child and hope left in him. He tries to defend Gidel’s understanding of the world and has goals of starting his own school despite how poorly he originally spoke about these institutions. (So Fellow does appear to care about children and their futures.) He also has a childish streak despite being an adult, demonstrated by his use of cowardly tactics, taunting kids, and abruptly quitting his job to then destroy his workplace. Fellow himself states that he “just tries to live a free and fun life”, thus his pursuit of money and pleasure. This could all play into being what defines Fellow and thus his UM. It embodies a spirit of playfulness even when he has been crushed under the weight of an unglamorous life.

I’ve heard people saying that while Rollo is Idia’s dark mirror and Fellow is Ruggie’s. They have similar backstories but ultimately their fates are different and left the former two down far more sinister paths. Just as Rollo is an Idia that turned his anger outward instead of inward, Fellow is Ruggie had he not been given a chance to receive an education to elevate his social status and job prospects. Fellow and Ruggie both cling to rich, powerful benefactors/bosses and do their dirty work to get on by—a big difference is that Leona, while he does also work Ruggie to the bone, also has some conscience. Something else to consider is that while Ruggie prioritizes making a life for himself by studying and securing a stable, well-paying job, Fellow is focused moreso on the accumulation of wealth itself (as he suggests to Kalim he’ll take a bribe to let him go free and quits when there is no longer money to be gained from his boss). Both don’t really care how they get their money (even if it is by dirty means), but ultimately Ruggie’s way of making cash is more sustainable in the long run. Yet Fellow ultimately realizes the importance of school deep down despite constantly denying it when the NRC students tell him of it. Fellow is in denial because that’s the only way he can cope and justify his lifestyle. He’s confused when finally confronted with students who are his ideal of “happy and free”, even when they’re in an educational system that he views as shackling people into strict roles. The way he laments about not being able to go to school is also very reminiscent of an adult mourning a lost or unfulfilling childhood, which is quite a depressing scenario…

Fellow is the one that got the short end of the stick in life. Ruggie met Leona, and Leona technically uplifted him in his endeavors, tutored him into getting decent grades and giving him hand-me-downs and money in exchange for his services. Fellow never had that kind of support system, he was just insulted and bullied into giving up and had to find an alternative way to keep himself going 😔

Personally, I think Fellow could also be a dark mirror to Kalim, no?? They exist on opposite ends of a social spectrum. Kalim has everything and Fellow had nothing. What’s more, Kalim is still wide-eyed and trusting. He is the only one willing to try words instead of fighting him and instantly labeling him as the enemy. Meanwhile, Fellow has become bitter because of how the world has betrayed him. He wants to take that trust Kalim has and show him how cruel everything truly is. Why is he fixated on that? Why even offer in the first place if he never intended on going through with it? Why does he want to rub it in Kalim’s face in particular? Maybe it’s because Kalim seems rich and dumb, as Fellow claims, but maybe it’s because there is envy there. Sure, Fellow is upset about Kalim being a sheltered brat that faces no challenges in life, but I also feel like he’s jealous that Kalim can still afford to think this way. That he can still afford to be cheerful, that he can still be a dreamer. Fellow was alluded to be like that once—but he can’t be like that anymore, not when he has to look out for himself and Gidel.

Side note, another comparison! Recall that Kalim’s Oasis Maker is also a UM that uses a little bit of magic. However, Kalim does not know of many creative ways to use his spell, as there is no real reason to since his home country has lots of canals and irrigation. He therefore deems his UM as pretty useless. Fellow meanwhile has what most consider a weak UM but he fully utilizes it to his advantage and pairs it well with his natural charm to maximize its effects. He had to develop these skills because he was in pressing circumstances in which they would benefit him. This contributes to the “mirror” theme between the two.

Fellow and Kalim have a notable similarity as well, and this is where I feel they can connect. They are both older brothers to a child or children who are magicless. Fellow only has one, and Kalim has many—but the number here isn’t what is important. What is important is that Fellow and Kalim think the world of their siblings and want to support them. To that end, Fellow is willing to be cruel and step on others, and Kalim is all sunshine to keep their spirits up. Fellow has suffered through great poverty and insults and Kalim has survived so many attempts on his life, yet they’ve developed distinctly different approaches to the worlds that have embraced them. Kalim’s wealth could afford him protection and luxuries, so he’s able to live carefree with others tending to his needs. The same isn’t true for Fellow, and so he came out far more spiteful and resentful.

Thinking about it, it’s ultimately Kalim’s words that convince Fellow to turn on his employer. (The other boys certainly wore Fellow down and planted the seeds of doubt, but it’s Kalim that I believe fully resonates with Fellow.) He can so happily talk about why he loves school, even though he doesn’t do well at it (something I presume is also true of Fellow, since he is lacking in tons of magic). It’s not said in a particularly articulate manner, but it’s so candid in its presentation. Kalim is relating to him based on similar skillset (or lack thereof) and sharing fond memories of his time at school, reviving the hopeful “lost child” in Fellow. Kalim is probably the first wealthy person in a long time that was friendly, kind, and supportive to him. And here he is, reassuring Fellow his dreams are still possible, to not give up. That’s the final nail that allows Fellow to be “honest” with himself and his inner child. It’s what leads to that slew of irresponsible actions at the end of the event (letting people free, blasting the amusement park, driving a sinking ship, etc.).

At the end of Stage in Playful Land, we see that Fellow never really let that childlike side of him fully die. (It seems to have been concealed under a desire for money and appeasing his boss.) He shares his dream of creating his own great school to give educational opportunities to non-mages and mages with low magical reserves like Gidel and himself, a school that teaches practical life lessons. He wants to promote his own ideals and to change the system he hates from the inside out. This was never communicated to us before most likely because Fellow had renounced those ideas in favor of blind hatred and a lack of faith in the world and those that dominate it.

Fellow also acknowledges that life may be even more difficult for him and Gidel going forward, as now they lack the money for even food and no longer have jobs. Furthermore, they need to worry about their ex-employers coming after them for what they’ve done. Even so, Fellow faces it all with a smile and reassures everyone that they can transfer or visit to play… “on this shining stage called life”. He and Gidel are able to walk away with their whimsy preserved, and can still be that which they’ve always wanted to be: dreamers.

All of this is to say that Rollo was right all along about magic, he never misses—

2K notes · View notes

kaces-graham-crackers · 2 months ago

Text

Trick or Treat, Kiss or Keep - Halloween Special

Astrid Deetz x Reader

Warning: The following themes appear in this story: Bullying, Slight Swearing, Lots of Emotional Stress, and themes leaning towards psychological horror (Please be wary if you read any further!)

Summary: You and Astrid Deetz were once close, but everything fell apart. Now on Halloween night, both are left vulnerable, forced to confront the past. Old feelings resurface, secrets are revealed, and you must navigate the emotional fallout. Be careful what you wish for—everything can change in an instant.

Word Count: 7.4k

Miss Shannon’s School for Girls was buzzing with excitement as Halloween approached. The grand halls were filled with the usual chatter. You were at the center of it all—popular, outgoing, and well-liked. People gravitated toward you, and it wasn’t something you thought too much about. It was just how things were.

But in the midst of all the noise, there was one person who barely seemed to exist in the social sphere.

Astrid Deetz.

You glanced over at her as you walked down the hall, noticing her sitting quietly by herself at the far end of the courtyard, scrolling through her phone, her headphones on. She was always in her own world, a stark contrast to the person she used to be. Once upon a time, she was your best friend. You used to share everything—laughs, secrets, and the occasional mischievous prank. But that was before everything fell apart.

Before her father died.

You sighed and turned away, focusing on your friends as they talked about the big Halloween party that everyone was buzzing about. But no matter how much you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept drifting back to her—to the person Astrid used to be, and the person she had become.

She pulled away, you reminded yourself. I tried to be there, but she didn’t want me around.

At first, you hadn’t understood why she distanced herself. You had offered her comfort, a shoulder to lean on, but she walked away. And after a while, you gave up. What was the point of trying when it seemed like she didn’t want you in her life?

But what hurt more than the loss of friendship was the realization that your feelings for her had shifted. That the crush you had ignored for so long had always been there, lingering beneath the surface. You were so used to pushing it aside that when the distance grew, it felt like you had lost more than just a friend.

Now, as you climbed the stairs toward your next class, you saw Astrid again, walking toward you, head down, focused on her phone. She wasn’t paying attention, her mind clearly elsewhere, and before you could step aside—

Crash!

The two of you collided, sending her books and papers scattering across the floor. You stumbled back, barely catching yourself as you looked up, your heart racing.

“Sorry!” you blurted out, immediately crouching down to help her pick up the things she had dropped.

Astrid didn’t even look at you, her dark hair falling over her face as she mumbled something into her phone. She seemed annoyed, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

The girls nearby—your friends—began to laugh, thinking it was all some kind of joke. Julia Ripley, ever the instigator, smirked and leaned in closer. “Nice move, Y/N. Didn’t know you were so eager to knock her down.”

You shot Julia a look, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you muttered, picking up Astrid’s phone and handing it back to her. “Sorry, Astrid.”

Astrid finally looked up, her gaze hard and distant. She grabbed the phone from your hand, barely acknowledging your apology. “Watch where you’re going,” she said, her voice sharp.

Her words cut deeper than you expected. It wasn’t like you meant to bump into her, but the coldness in her tone stung, bringing back the old wounds you thought you had buried.

“I wasn’t the one on my phone,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but instead, she just shoved her things into her bag and stood up, her body tense. The girls around you snickered again, feeding off the tension.

You felt something inside you crack. It wasn’t fair—you had always been there for her. You had been the one to stand by her when her world fell apart, but she had pushed you away, and now she acted like you were nothing.

“You know,” you said, your voice louder than you intended, “I was always there for you. You’re the one who didn’t seem to want me around.”

Astrid’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need you,” she spat, her voice dripping with bitterness. “I never did.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could feel the hurt bubbling up inside you, but you refused to let it show. Not in front of her. Not in front of everyone else.

Your heart shattered, but you didn’t let it show as you muttered, “I was always there for you, Astrid. Always.”

She turned to leave, her head held high, but before she could take more than a few steps, you noticed something taped to her back.

Kick Me.

Your stomach dropped as you realized what had happened. The girls—the same ones laughing at you now—had probably put it there without Astrid noticing.

You pulled the sign off her back and crumpled it in your hand. “Well, I’ll keep that noted,” you said quietly, holding back the anger that was building inside you. You pulled out a small box from your bag—the one you had been holding onto for years, unsure if you’d ever give it to her. “I promise I won’t bother you again.”

Astrid stopped, turning slightly, her expression confused as she glanced at the box you were offering. You handed it off to her and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but she stayed silent, watching as you walked away, leaving her standing there, the crumpled sign still in your hand.

Without you there to shield her from the worst of it, the bullying came back with full force, creeping into every corner of Astrid's life. It started slowly at first—a whisper in the hallway, a subtle snicker behind her back. The same girls who had once stuck close to her, laughing with her at lunch, had turned on her, mocking her with cruel smiles. They no longer treated her like one of them. Instead, she became their favorite target

"Bad friend." "Such a freak." "Dick."

The names came faster, louder, no longer just murmurs. They trailed behind her as she walked to class, a never-ending barrage of taunts and jeers. Each one stung, each word a reminder of how quickly she had fallen from whatever thin pedestal she had once stood on. The girls would throw fake smiles her way in passing, only to tear her down the second she was out of earshot.

In gym class, they’d intentionally leave her out, pretending not to see her as they picked teams. At lunch, the spot they had once saved for her at their table was gone, replaced by smug looks and snide comments.

"Guess you're sitting alone again," Julia Ripley sneered one day, loud enough for everyone in the cafeteria to hear. The rest of the group erupted into laughter, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Astrid clenched her fists, her stomach turning as she moved to the far corner of the room, sitting at a table by herself. It wasn’t like she was ever one to seek attention, but the isolation stung in a way she hadn’t expected. It reminded her of everything she had lost. Of you.

You were the one who had kept the worst of this away from her. You had stood between her and their cruelty, even when she didn’t notice it. Even when she had been too blinded by her grief and her anger to see that you were protecting her all along.

The realization hit her hard one evening, as she walked through the hallways after class. She overheard one of the girls laughing with her friends. "God, remember when Y/N used to hang around with her? I swear that's the only reason people didn't mess with her back then."

Another voice chimed in, "Yeah, totally. Y/N was the only one keeping her from being a total loser."

Astrid’s heart sank. It wasn’t just their words—it was the truth behind them. You had been her shield, the one person who had protected her from the relentless bullying that was now pouring in from every direction. And she had pushed you away, thinking she didn’t need anyone. Thinking she didn’t need you.

But now? She was alone.

The girls who once stood by her side had turned into her tormentors, and the rest of the school followed suit, treating her like an outsider. The isolation weighed on her more than she ever thought it could. She found herself dreading every moment at Miss Shannon's, wondering when the next sneer, the next insult, would come. She had no one to turn to now—no one to sit with at lunch, no one to talk to during class. The people she once thought were her friends had abandoned her the moment it became convenient.

And you? You were the only one who had ever been real. The only one who had cared, even when she didn’t deserve it. Even when she had lashed out, pushing you away with cruel words. The memory of the argument echoed in her mind, the way you had looked at her with hurt in your eyes, the way she had said things she could never take back.

"I don’t need you. I never did."

The words tasted bitter now, and the weight of what she had done gnawed at her. How wrong she had been. She didneed you—she always had. But she had thrown that away, and now she was facing the consequences.

Every cruel word, every mocking glance, every laugh behind her back—it all felt like punishment. And she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

One evening, as Astrid sat at her desk, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on her, she noticed the small box you had given her earlier that week. She had shoved it aside after your argument, not even considering opening it at the time. But now, with everything swirling around her—guilt, regret, and the growing realization of her mistakes—her curiosity got the better of her.

With trembling hands, she reached for the box, her fingers brushing against the lid. A part of her didn’t want to open it, knowing that whatever was inside would only remind her of what she had lost. But another part of her—a part that missed you more than she cared to admit—couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Slowly, she lifted the lid.

Inside was something she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just any piece of jewelry or a token of the past—it was a small animal tooth, crafted into a pendant. The sight of it hit her like a wave, memories flooding back instantly.

She remembered the day you had found it, the two of you exploring the woods near the school, laughing as you pretended to be on some grand adventure. You had stumbled upon the tooth—an old keepsake of the forest, worn and weathered—and immediately decided to keep it. She hadn’t thought much of it back then, but you had been adamant, saying it would bring you both good luck.

And now, etched into the bone, were the letters “Y/I/H x AD 4Ever.” A promise, a bond that had once seemed unbreakable.

Astrid’s fingers traced the engraving, her heart sinking as the weight of the memory settled over her. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the sense of belonging she had only ever felt with you—it all came rushing back, tinged with the bitter sting of regret.

Why did I push you away? she thought bitterly, gripping the bone tightly in her hand. Why did I let this all fall apart?

She clenched her jaw, trying to hold back the wave of emotions crashing through her. She had been so angry, so hurt after her father’s death, that she had pushed you away without a second thought. She had convinced herself that she didn’t need you—that she didn’t need anyone. But now, looking at this simple, meaningful piece from a time when things had been so much easier, so much better, she realized how wrong she had been.

You were always there, she thought. And I threw it all away.

Astrid’s grip tightened on the pendant as her guilt deepened. She didn’t deserve your friendship. Not after everything she had said, everything she had done.

Later that night, as Astrid sat at her desk, her thoughts clouded with memories and guilt, she heard a faint rustling at her door. The soft sound barely registered over the hum of her own mind, but when she glanced down, she saw an envelope—plain, black, and unmarked—slipped under the doorframe.

Curious, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. There was no name, no sign of who it was from. She opened it slowly, pulling out a glossy, printed invitation:

Halloween Party at Julia Ripley’s House This Saturday—Be there or be forgotten.

Astrid scoffed under her breath. Of course, it was from Julia. It was always her, throwing lavish parties and acting like she owned the school. The thought of going made her stomach turn. The idea of being surrounded by people who whispered about her behind her back, who made her feel like an outsider in every room she entered—people like Julia and her friends—it was the last thing she wanted.

She tossed the invitation aside, rolling her eyes at the pretentiousness of it all. What’s the point of showing up to something where you’re only going to be mocked?

Astrid hadn’t been to a party in ages, and she had no interest in the social scene anymore. Not after everything that had happened. The halls of Miss Shannon’s were already hard enough to navigate, and the idea of facing the crowd outside of school, where the insults weren’t whispered but spat directly in her face, was exhausting.

But then, a stray comment floated through her memory—something she had overheard in the hall earlier that day.

"Yeah, Y/N’s definitely going to Julia’s party," one of the girls had said, laughing about how they couldn’t wait to see what costume you would wear.

Astrid’s heart had lurched at the mention of your name, and now, it did again. You were going.

She bit her lip, glancing at the small black box still open on her desk. The pendant inside—the one with the animal tooth and your initials intertwined with hers—sat there, a reminder of what she had thrown away. The realization that you had never really given up on her, even when she had given up on herself, had shaken her to her core.

The guilt had been gnawing at her for days now, ever since you had walked away from her after your argument in the hallway. She hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but it hurt, knowing how badly she had hurt you. She had pushed you away in her darkest moments, convinced she didn’t need anyone, least of all you. But now, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had lost.

You were always there for me, and I was the one who left you. The thought kept repeating itself in her mind, over and over again, a painful truth she could no longer ignore.

And now…you were going to be at that party. The chance to see you, to explain, to finally apologize for everything she had done, made her heart race. Maybe—just maybe—this could be her chance to make things right.

She stood up from her desk, pacing her small dorm room as she debated what to do. Part of her wanted to forget about it, to hide away in her room like she always did these days, to avoid the crowd and the stares and the inevitable whispers. But another part of her—a deeper, more desperate part—wanted to see you. She needed to see you.

What if this was her only chance? What if you never spoke to her again? What if the door she had slammed shut so long ago could finally be cracked open, even if just a little?

The thought of you, of the friendship—and maybe more—that she had ruined weighed heavily on her chest.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, her heart heavy with indecision. Could she really face you after everything?

The memory of your face, hurt and betrayed during your last confrontation, flashed in her mind. She had been so cruel, so blinded by her own grief and anger, that she hadn’t realized how much she was hurting you in return. But you had never stopped trying. You had never given up on her, even when she had been at her worst.

And that necklace—the pendant—it was proof. Proof that, even now, you still cared.

Astrid looked at the invitation again, staring at it for a long moment. She had no idea what she would say if she saw you, no idea if you’d even want to hear her out. But she couldn’t hide forever. She couldn’t keep running from the mistakes she had made.

Her fingers tightened around the invitation, determination creeping into her chest. She would go to that party. She would see you. She would find a way to apologize, to make things right, no matter how difficult it might be.

But what she didn’t know—what she couldn’t have known—was that the party wouldn’t be what she expected. Nothing could have prepared her for what was waiting for her when she walked through the doors of Julia’s house.

The night of the Halloween party arrived, and Astrid found herself standing at the bottom of the grand, sloping driveway of Julia’s house. She looked up at the looming structure, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and dread. The house, which always had an air of old-world elegance, had been transformed for the occasion. Black and orange streamers lined the walkway, fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing jack-o’-lanterns grinned wickedly from every corner.

The house itself was a strange sight—a looming, gothic-style mansion with towering spires and a stone façade that seemed to absorb the moonlight. It looked like it had been plucked straight from a haunted movie set, with vines creeping up its walls and the shadow of bare, twisted branches looming overhead. The front porch had been decorated with fake tombstones and skeletal figures, and the grand windows glowed brightly from the lights inside, cutting through the eerie atmosphere.

Despite the elaborate decorations, it was the sheer size of the house that made it unsettling. It felt as though the windows watched her, almost as if the house itself had its own pulse—one that beat in time with the heavy, thumping bass of the music coming from inside.

Astrid hesitated, lingering at the edge of the driveway. She could hear laughter and chatter filtering out through the open windows, the muffled sound of party-goers enjoying themselves. Everyone was probably in some over-the-top costume, laughing and taking pictures, oblivious to the person standing outside, contemplating whether she should go in.

Her grip tightened around her phone, the weight of the invitation pulling at her again. You’ll be there, she reminded herself. Maybe this is my chance.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and made her way up the steps. The porch creaked beneath her feet as she approached the door. A skeleton animatronic on the porch swung its bony arm, a hollow, mechanical laugh escaping its jaws as it greeted her arrival. She forced herself to ignore the knot of unease forming in her stomach and pushed open the door.

Inside, the party was in full swing. The interior of the house was just as elaborately decorated as the outside—blood-red lighting washed over the grand foyer, casting long, eerie shadows against the walls. A giant chandelier hung overhead, draped in fake cobwebs, while ghostly figures dangled from the ceiling. The air smelled like a mix of too-sweet candy and perfume, and the sound of people talking and laughing filled the space, almost drowning out the pulsing music that seemed to shake the floor beneath her feet.

She stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room for a familiar face. But she didn’t see you. Instead, all she saw were people dressed in elaborate costumes—vampires, witches, zombies—mingling in groups, none of them even noticing she had arrived. A part of her wanted to turn around and leave, but she stayed, rooted in place, determined to find you.

Astrid kept to the shadows, moving along the walls to avoid drawing attention to herself. She wasn’t here to socialize or make small talk—she was here for one reason, and that was to find you and apologize. The weight of everything she had done, everything she had said, hung heavy on her chest. She didn’t know if you would forgive her, but she needed to try.

Suddenly, the music cut off.

Astrid froze, her heart skipping a beat as the house plunged into silence. The chatter of the guests grew quieter, murmurs of confusion rippling through the crowd. For a moment, all that could be heard was the soft rustle of costumes and the shuffling of feet. Then, the lights went out, plunging the entire room into complete darkness.

Gasps echoed around her, followed by the sound of people shifting uncomfortably. There was an eerie stillness in the air, as if the entire house was holding its breath. Astrid felt her pulse quicken, her hand instinctively reaching into her pocket for her phone.

Suddenly, the sound of a recorded voice crackled through the speakers, filling the dark space. It wasn’t the music that had been playing before. Instead, it was the sound of people gasping and whispering, their voices faint but filled with an edge of fear. It was as if the very walls of the house had come alive, replaying the reactions of the party guests as they stood in the dark.

Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t like this—not one bit.

She stood in the corner, frozen, unsure of what to do as the whispers and gasps continued to play on repeat. For a moment, she wondered if it was just part of the Halloween decor—some kind of haunted house effect Julia had set up to scare the guests. But something about it felt off.

She pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight to cut through the darkness. The bright beam of light flickered as it swept across the room, illuminating the faces of mannequins—twisted, grotesque mannequins—that had been scattered throughout the house. They stood motionless, positioned in strange, unnatural poses, their faces twisted into eerie, silent screams. Some had limbs missing, others had blood-red paint dripping down their plastic faces. Each one had a sign hung around its neck, scrawled in dripping red letters.

Bad Friend. Liar. Asshole.

The words stared back at her, harsh and biting, like cruel accusations carved into the very mannequins themselves. Astrid’s stomach twisted with unease. The mannequins hadn’t been there before, had they? She would have noticed. Right?

As she swept her phone’s light across the room, her breath quickened. More mannequins lined the walls, their distorted figures positioned in grotesque mockery of real people. It was as if they were watching her, judging her. And the worst part? Every single mannequin bore a name—her name.

Astrid Deetz.

It was written on every sign, alongside the cruel words: Bad Friend. Asshole. Dick.

Astrid felt a lump form in her throat, her heart racing as panic began to settle in. This wasn’t just part of the Halloween decor. This was something more. Something meant to get under her skin, to humiliate her in front of everyone.

Her hands trembled as she turned in place, the light from her phone casting long shadows on the floor. She could hear the recorded voices growing louder now—mocking whispers, cruel laughter, as if the house itself was laughing at her. The walls seemed to close in around her, the once festive atmosphere now twisted into something sinister.

Astrid’s breath came in ragged gasps as the reality of the situation sank in. This was a prank. A cruel, calculated prank, meant to make her feel like she was nothing. And it was working.

She stumbled backward, her legs shaky as she tried to move away from the mannequins, her light flickering as it caught more of the red-painted words.

BAD FRIEND. ASSHOLE. YOU DESERVE THIS.

The whispers in the recording grew louder, harsher, until they were ringing in her ears, drowning out her thoughts. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the noise, but it only seemed to get louder.

And then—right in front of her, projected on the wall—was the worst thing of all.

A photo of you, standing with Julia Ripley, her arms draped over you, leaning in as if to kiss you. You were blurred, but the image was clear enough. It was meant to look like you and Julia were together—meant to hurt her, to break her down even more.

Astrid’s knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor, her heart shattering at the sight. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream, to tear down the image, to run. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

She could only sit there, frozen in place, as the world around her fell apart.

The party had dragged on, and you were on the verge of giving up. Astrid hadn’t shown, and as the hours passed, the hope you’d been clinging to slowly dissolved. You were about to grab a drink, resigned to the idea that maybe tonight wasn’t the night to fix things, when something strange caught your eye.

A crowd had gathered around the large TV in the corner of the room. It wasn’t the usual video games or party antics playing on the screen—it was something different. Something wrong. The air in the room felt heavier, the laughter quieting into hushed whispers, and you pushed your way through the crowd, anxiety creeping up your spine as you tried to get a better view.

And then, you saw it.

On the screen was a live feed of Astrid, kneeling in the middle of some dark, abandoned room. Her body was shaking, her hands covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. In front of her, projected on the wall, was a cruel, photoshopped image—you with Julia Ripley, standing too close, her lips almost touching yours. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the chest, the knot of horror tightening in your stomach. This wasn’t some innocent prank. This was deliberate. This was cruel.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and the reality of what was happening crashed down on you all at once. They had set her up. This wasn’t a party invitation—this was a trap, designed to humiliate Astrid, to break her down in front of everyone. Julia Ripley was behind this.

You whirled around, scanning the room, your blood boiling as you spotted Julia, sitting comfortably in a lavish chair she had dragged out—her "prom queen" chair, a symbol of her self-obsessed reign over the social scene. She was sitting at the front, watching Astrid’s breakdown on the screen with a smug expression plastered on her face, completely unaware of the rage building inside you.

Without thinking, you stormed toward her, anger boiling over with every step. Julia saw you coming, and before you could even speak, she reached out, her arm moving to wrap itself around you in a flirtatious, almost possessive way. She looked at you with a sly grin, as if she expected you to join her in her twisted satisfaction.

But you were beyond furious.

“You went too far,” you said, your voice low and sharp, your hands clenched into fists as you shoved her hand off you, disgusted. “When you said you invited her, you meant to a prank party, didn’t you?”

Julia’s smirk faltered. Her hand recoiled, but she tried to play it off, huffing in annoyance as she leaned back in her chair. “She deserved it,” she snapped, her voice dripping with condescension. “After the way she treated you, how can you still defend her? You deserve better.”

You couldn’t believe the audacity, and the rage inside you boiled over.

You clenched your fists tighter, every muscle in your body trembling with anger. “Deserve better?” you echoed, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury. “I could never be your girlfriend—I’m in love with Astrid! I always have been, and I always will be.”

Julia’s eyes widened in shock, and a hush fell over the room. The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but you didn’t care. You had held it in for too long, and now it was out, ringing in the air for everyone to hear.

“I’ve always been in love with Astrid Deetz,” you repeated, your voice firm, filled with emotion. “Because unlike everyone else in this room, she’s real. She’s the realest fucking person I’ve ever met. Yeah, she can be a dick sometimes, but she’s mourning. She’s going through life with a mother who is too busy to acknowledge her and a father who was the only person who ever truly understood her, now gone forever.”

The room was dead silent now. You could feel every pair of eyes on you, but all you could think about was Astrid—how broken she had looked, sobbing on her knees in that abandoned house.

“At least Astrid’s dad loved her for who she was, not for what she could do for him,” you continued, your voice growing louder, more passionate with every word. “He didn’t need her to win some meaningless trophies to impress other middle-aged women going through their midlife crises.”

Julia’s smug expression melted away as your words hit her like a sledgehammer, her face paling as tears welled up in her eyes. The entire crowd stood frozen, the weight of your words settling over them like a heavy cloud.

Everyone was silent. The only sound that remained was the faint, echoing sobs from the live feed of Astrid on the TV.

You turned back to the screen, the tears now welling up in your own eyes as you heard the sound of Astrid’s broken confessions playing over the speakers. Her voice, fragile and filled with regret, crackled through the room, cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Where is she?” you demanded, your voice shaking. You turned back to Julia, who had nothing left to say. She stared at you, tears streaming down her face, but you had no sympathy for her. You didn’t care about her tears.

All that mattered was Astrid.

Julia stammered, trying to pull herself together, but she was too flustered to form words. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to find Astrid, and you needed to find her now.

Without another word, you rushed toward the door, your heart racing as you prepared yourself for what came next. Astrid was out there, alone, broken, and you weren’t going to let her suffer any longer. You had to save her.

As you sprinted through the streets, your heart racing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Astrid—how broken she looked, how badly you needed to find her. You heard snippets of her confession playing on the live feed, her voice choked with emotion as she admitted her guilt and sorrow.

“I was a terrible friend,” she sobbed. “I didn’t deserve her… She was always there, but I pushed her away. I didn’t know how to handle it… And now, it’s too late. I’m so sorry.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you heard her words. You had to get to her. Now.

Miraculously, You had found the abandoned building. This was the second option for the Halloween party if Julia’s dad wasn’t leaving for a yacht trip. You vaguely remember the room Astrid was in and raced through the abandoned house, your heart pounding. The air was thick with the smell of decay, and the dimly lit hallways were littered with mannequin limbs and scattered decorations. The floor creaked beneath your feet as you pushed open a cracked door, your chest tightening with fear.

“I don’t deserve her… I pushed her away because I didn’t know how to deal with it…,” Astrid’s voice, thick with emotion, echoed through the room as you sprinted through the dark hallways of the abandoned house. Her confession played on the live feed, each word pulling at your heart. Tears pricked your eyes as you heard the depth of her regret, and with every step, the urgency to find her grew.

You finally pushed through the door, in the center of the room, under the faint flickering red lighting of the chandelier, Astrid was kneeling. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably in front of the photoshopped image of you and Julia. You could feel the anger bubbling inside you, wanting to scream at Julia for orchestrating this awful setup, for making Astrid feel so broken. But as soon as you saw Astrid, all that mattered was getting to her.

You knelt beside her, gently placing a trembling hand on her shoulder. Astrid flinched at the touch, her body tensing, but when she looked up and saw it was you, her devastated expression deepened.

“Why are you here?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have come… You don’t need to see me like this.”

Your throat tightened as you fought to keep your voice steady. “I’m here because I care, Astrid. I’ve always cared.”

She shook her head, her eyes filled with regret and self-loathing. “I don’t deserve your care. I don’t deserve you.” She let out a broken laugh, her voice raw with guilt. “I’ve been horrible to you. I said… I said I didn’t need you, but I didn’t mean it. I was just so angry at everything—at the world, at myself.”

Her words cut deep, but you could see the pain behind them. The guilt had been gnawing at her, consuming her from the inside, and now, as you knelt beside her, you realized just how much she had been carrying alone.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “ I know you didn’t mean those things. You were grieving, and I should have understood that. But I never stopped caring, Astrid. I never gave up on you.”

Astrid looked at you, wide-eyed and tearful, her breath catching in her throat. “But I was so awful to you…” she choked out, her hands shaking.

“You were hurting,” you said, gently wiping the tears from her cheek. “And I know that now. But I’m here, Astrid. I’m still here.”

Her sobs began to quiet against your shoulder, her body trembling as the weight of everything she’d carried finally seemed to lift, if only slightly. For so long, she had been drowning in her pain, and you could feel the relief in the way she clung to you, her fingers gripping your shirt like you were her lifeline, afraid to let go in case she sank back into the darkness.

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, letting her sobs subside into quiet, steady breaths. Your hand moved gently through her hair, offering her the comfort she had denied herself for so long.

“I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered eventually, her voice hoarse and heavy with regret. “I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to handle anything anymore. I was angry. I was scared… and instead of asking for help, I turned into someone I hate.”

Your heart ached at her words, hearing how much she had struggled, all the while shutting you out. But now, here she was, vulnerable, her walls crumbling around her as she finally let you in.

“You were hurting, Astrid,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. And I forgive you. We can fix this.”

Her eyes searched yours, wide and tear-filled, as if trying to grasp the truth of your words. “But how can you forgive me after everything? I treated you like you didn’t matter. I threw away our friendship, pushed you out of my life… How do we come back from that?”

You smiled gently, brushing away another tear that escaped down her cheek. “We come back from it by starting right here, right now. You’re not alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

Astrid’s lip quivered, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against yours, her breath shaky as she let out a soft sigh. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her voice breaking with emotion. “But I’m so grateful you’re here.”

You smiled, tightening your embrace around her. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Astrid. With you.”

She closed her eyes, resting her head against your shoulder again, her grip on your shirt loosening as she let herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension between you faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of being together—finally, after so much time and distance.

As the sound of her steady breaths filled the room, you realized that it wasn’t just the apology or the confession that mattered. It was the fact that you were still here, together, ready to rebuild what had been broken.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Astrid nodded against your shoulder, her body calming as the weight of her guilt began to lift. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a second chance with you,” she said, her voice raw but grateful. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

You pulled her even closer, holding her tight as your heart swelled with love and relief. “You don’t have to do it alone,” you whispered softly. “We’ll do it together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Astrid let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

After a long, tear-filled confession, you and Astrid left the abandoned house. The chilly night air hit your skin, the weight of the tension left behind in that eerie place still hanging in the air. The house itself, with its broken windows and crumbling walls, seemed to watch you both as you walked away. Its dim, flickering lights and twisted mannequins were now just a distant memory, but their haunting presence clung to you. The cracked door creaked one last time before closing behind you.

The air felt heavier, but for the first time in a long while, there was also something new between you—hope.

You guided Astrid back to your place, her hand tucked into yours. She was silent most of the way, her fingers tightening around yours every so often, as if she was afraid you might disappear. The long walk through the dark, empty streets felt almost comforting after the night’s emotional chaos, the streetlights flickering softly, casting long shadows on the ground as you both walked side by side.

When you finally arrived at your house, the warmth of the familiar environment enveloped you. Your parents were already asleep, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around you like a protective blanket. You led Astrid to your room, offering her a soft smile as you turned on the small lamp by your bed.

“Come on, let’s get you settled,” you said gently, watching as Astrid glanced around the room with an almost shy expression. She looked so different now—vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. But there was also a kind of peace in her eyes, like she was finally letting herself breathe again.

You both climbed into your bed, wrapping yourselves in the warm blankets, and for the first time in what felt like forever, things felt... okay. You lay next to each other, sharing quiet conversation as the weight of the night slowly faded away.

At one point, you admitted, “I heard most of your confession, you know.”

Astrid stiffened beside you, her eyes widening as she turned to face you, clearly embarrassed. “You did?”

You nodded, your gaze soft. “I did. And I’m glad I heard it, Astrid. I needed to know how much you’ve been hurting.”

Astrid’s face twisted in regret, but before she could speak, you gently wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You don’t have to say anything else. I’m just glad you’re here.”

She held onto you tightly after that, her body relaxing against yours as the tension melted away. But then, as you shifted slightly to make room, Astrid’s hand gripped your shirt, stopping you from moving any further. You blinked, confused for a moment, until she pulled you back toward her.

And before you could even react, she crashed her lips against yours.

The kiss was soft at first—gentle, almost hesitant as if she was testing the waters. But soon, it deepened, growing more heated and passionate. Her hands tangled in your shirt, pulling you closer as her lips moved against yours, and you responded in kind, matching her intensity.

The kiss turned sloppy, her fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer. The heat between you both was palpable, the passion years in the making, but just as things started to intensify, there was a sudden creak at the door.

Your mother.

The door opened slightly, and Astrid, in a panic, shoved you so hard you fell right off the bed with a soft thud.

“Oh my goodness!” your mom squealed from the doorway, her eyes bright with surprise. “Astrid, honey, is that you?” She didn’t seem to notice you, sprawled out on the floor, as she focused entirely on Astrid. “Are you staying over tonight? I’m so glad to see you back!”

Astrid, flustered and embarrassed, stammered, “Uh, no—no, ma’am. I’m not staying.”

Your mom beamed, already half out the door. “Well, you must stay for dinner. You’re looking a bit thin! I’ll go tell your father to break out the good china tonight! It’s so good to see you again, sweetie!” With that, she closed the door, leaving the two of you in stunned silence.

Astrid peered over the edge of the bed, looking down at you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

You, still dazed from the sudden shove and your mother’s enthusiastic surprise, could only mutter, “You kissed me…”

Astrid burst out laughing, rolling onto her back as she covered her face with her hands. Her laughter was light and mischievous, her embarrassment melting away into something playful. “Duh,” she said between laughs. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You stared up at her, feeling a mix of disbelief and affection swirl in your chest.

“Now,” Astrid said, her laughter still bubbling in her voice, “come on back up here so I can ruin your dinner with some more sweets.”

Grinning, you scrambled back into bed, leaning in to kiss her again, the warmth of her lips meeting yours once more. This time, the kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with everything you hadn’t been able to say before. It was perfect.

The next day at school, the change was obvious. People stared as you and Astrid walked through the halls hand-in-hand. The whispers didn’t bother you. They couldn’t. Not when Astrid was right there beside you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You walked her to class, stealing a quick kiss before she disappeared inside. She blushed slightly but smiled at you as she waved you off.

As Astrid made her way through the day, she started to notice something—the bullying had stopped. There were no cruel whispers, no mocking looks. Instead, people seemed wary, like they knew something had shifted but couldn’t quite place it.

Later, after classes, Astrid found you waiting for her by the lockers. She was curious, the confusion evident on her face as she asked, “What happened today? Did you… do something?”

You shrugged casually, pulling out your phone and showing her a video. It was of you, roasting Julia Ripley in front of everyone at the Halloween party the night before. You had confronted her, tearing into her with the same fiery passion that had always defined you.

Astrid’s mouth dropped open, completely gobsmacked as she watched the video. “You did this?”

You smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just kept it real. Like you would.”

Astrid’s shocked expression slowly morphed into a smirk. She leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, "Guess I’m rubbing off on you...knew I would eventually." leaving you blushing as she walked ahead, as you followed suit.

#x y/n #x fem!reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday addams x reader #reader insert #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x you #astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz #kaces-spooky-corner

278 notes · View notes

fishnapple · 14 days ago

Text

What can bring true satisfaction to your heart?

Let's end this year by hearing what your heart yearns for. And also trying out my new AAB (Animal Advisory Board) set for divination ✨️

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ORANGE

On the surface level, what feels like satisfaction for you is recognition for your hard work. You feel a sense of lack when it comes to your material possessions, that that sense of lack can affect your sense of self greatly. You could feel that the more you have, the more confident and safe you are, you find safety in a familiar physical world. Working, earning money, and then being recognised for your effort can elevate your "worth" in this world, or so you believe. And being worthy is the solid proof of existence and meaning. But you will soon find that in chasing success and recognition, you risk burning out and losing your vitality, your jest for life. Being too focused on a goal, a task can narrow your perspective and make you feel like life is just a race, a competition. You want to show your best, to be known as the most hard working person, the one who contributes the most, the one who can take on any tasks without fear, the one who shines the brightest. Life seems like a stage where you have to perform constantly, even when you're alone, your actions are being observed by an invisible audience.

But your inner self disagrees with that approach, and it will demand a change from you. You can't keep running in "the race" forever because there's simply no race for you to run, just a life for you to be in and to live. A part of you is sleeping, latent inspirations are trapped inside without the means to be expressed. It's quite contradictory, on the outside, you look so busy and active, always doing something, but on the inside, the energy is stagnant and inactive. This feeling will continue to pile up until you can't take it anymore and want to burst out, to take off. The feeling of true freedom, of flying for the first time will open up a floodgate inside you, you will begin to nurture a different perspective, you will want to slow down your run and look around, suddenly you will find so many interesting things around you that you haven't noticed before.

By being free, you will also have a different view on relationships. Your heart yearns for freedom, freedom to be yourself, and freedom to love. You will want to bond deeply with people, to seek comfort in the emotional sense, not in the physical sense anymore. You seek true understanding, of yourself, of the other person and the world you live in. Deep connections can bring the most satisfaction, something that you might have been oblivious to up until now. You won't seek recognition from the general crowd anymore, you will seek the transparency of being seen completely by a loved one.

WHITE

For this group, I see a lot of images about predators attacking prey. This can mean that you are having contradictory thoughts and feelings inside yourself, like an inner critic, always watching and judging your every wish and action. This creates lots of unnecessary fears in you, you're held prisoner by your own mind. You desire many different things, or said in a different way, many different things can bring you satisfaction, but they can be at odds with each other. The solution for you is to go ahead and do them anyway, no matter how much your mind protest or try to "talk" you out of it, which sometimes can be in a really aggressive way. Your mind can create visions of people ridicule or criticise you for your decisions. What you need to do is triumph over those visions, shoo them away, and just do what you instinctively feel drawn to do and then see for yourself, with you own eyes, the actual outcome, only then will you have solid "proof" to chase away those intrusive thoughts in your mind. For you, getting over your myriad fears will be your biggest achievement and satisfaction. For every victory over your fear, no matter how small, you deserve to get a pat on your back. Be gentle with yourself, but firm enough to give yourself a chance to grow.

About your many desires, one is about receiving and giving love. You might just focus on romance and dating right now, without much serious thought about a long-term commitment and building a family with someone. But in the future, when you allow yourself to grow more and gain new perspectives, the thought of commitment will naturally arise in you. You won't just desire love and affection alone, you also desire a place to call home, a place where someone will be there to welcome you. You will want to nurture someone, and be nurtured back, work for the connection, and see your effort grow into a deep bond. You're working hard right now, but mostly to build your own foundation, later in life, you will want to work hard to build that foundation with another person. Your heart will flourish in the nurturing environment of a steady relationship.

For now, just focus your energy on getting to know yourself, every nook and cranny. Come to your rescue when your mind begins to nag, especially when you want to rest and contemplate hidden things behind the veil of mundane life. Use your resting time to let your mind explore foreign subjects, coax it gently when it tries to resist learning new things. The more you explore, the more your mind will soar, the more your heart will feel tranquil and happy.

PINK

Does the question of whether the person you're attracted to romantically can also be your friend ever cross your mind? Or the question of whether that person can truly connect with you on a mental level? I see the people who chose this group are ardent lovers. The kind that would focus their all on a connection, passionate and gripping. You might be the person who loves falling in love, the feeling of romance and relationships brings you great joy. But the pitfall here is that you tend to idealise the other person and the connection to the point of overlooking some glaring incompatibilities. On a surface level, a person might seem fun and physically ideal to be your partner, but let some time pass and look closer, you will find that you don't really connect on a more deeper level. A telling sign would be that conversations are lacklustre, there's an uncomfortable silence between you, the subjects of the conversation are superficial. In the long run, this can create dissatisfaction in the relationship.

What you might not realise is that a deep bond, especially forged over many conversations, is essential to your feeling of overall happiness about life. Friendship matters, even love should be built based upon friendship. Having many people who you can call friends is actually more satisfying than having many lovers, friends who come from many walks of life, from all around the world. Having a group of close friends who can go on adventures with you, who can nurture you, who can build you up, who can make your mind buzzing, who can be your family, that's what brings true satisfaction to your heart.

Can you see the stag nipping at a tree while the peacock is facing the opposite direction? I think right now, the way you express yourself can be like a form of reaction to the specific person whom you're interacting with, rather than just communicating who you are in general. In conversations, you might try to act more cool, showing the best of yourself in order to build a favourable image, which is what all of us do to some degrees, consciously or not. But this shape-shifting energy can be detrimental to really connect with the other person. Instead of letting the other person provide you with 'nutrition' for your mind and heart, you're busy impressing them. This can happen in all your interactions, whether with strangers, acquaintances, friends, family, lovers. You should take a more relaxed approach, allowing the words to seep into you leisurely, building friendship as if growing a tree, then you will have a flourished heart.

GREEN

The word 'Success' has a lot of meanings to you, and all meanings have weight that defines your life. For you, being successful doesn't have to be about earning lots of money of being famous, though that is a part of the 'Success' that you pursue, it's not all. You want to leave behind your legacies, the proof that you exist, the proof that you have lived hard and well, that your life has meaning.

Throughout your life, you will encounter various stumbling blocks that require you to reinvent yourself, like ascending a stairway, each step bring your higher, closer to your ideals. You're willing to change yourself, to bring about a complete overhaul, allow yourself to play various roles, don many masks, life is a big stage and you're a magician, a jester or a seller, who always has something to dazzle and sell to the audience. This 'performance' is not fake or disingenuous at all, it's what you're born to do, to achieve prestige and finally reach the top of the stairway.

You have a core that's very malleable and agile, constantly moving, though it can help you be flexible and move through situations with ease, it can create an inner confusion. You feel like you have to be at all places, here and there, never settle down, forever swimming, nothing can hold you down and keep you in one place for long. This fuels your desire to find an anchor in the physical world. To know what you've done, what you've achieved, where you need to go. You need external structure and stability so that your internal spirit can swim freely. You can move a lot, but you need to feel a sense of home wherever you're. And that's not easy to achieve. But you have the knack to connect instantly with people, you can make the most distant stranger your friend in no time. The more people surround you, the safer you feel. Community and sense of camaraderie soothe you nomad heart. As long as you have people around you, everywhere can be your home.

And in that hope will you work your magic, working tirelessly to build your foundation. Even though your spirit is a nomad, constantly moving, you have trouble letting go of things and people, gradually, the stuff you pack with you gets more and more heavy, slowing you down. The challenge for you is to learn when to let go, to travel light. What your heart truly wants is the feeling of ascending the ladder, of knowing that you've done something meaningful and left a mark, of giving away the fruits of your labour, not the feeling of possessing and holding on to as many things as possible.

394 notes · View notes