#and when i did i fell in love with it and that's actually why i came to tumblr in the first place when i was 13

[withmyloveasyourgarden]

TO BE DRUNK AND IN LOVE

EDDIE MUNSON X F!READER.

Nervous Eddie, protective reader, and a drunk love confession. Idiots who are too dumb to realise their feelings are reciprocated. 9.4K of tooth rotting friends to lovers fluff. [Re-uploaded from my old blog]

Even when it was Valentine's day it wasn’t all that surprising to open your door to a random knock and find Eddie Munson staring back at you.

He was your best friend after all.

What was surprising however, was to open your door at nearly midnight, bleary eyed and more than a little bit annoyed, to a sheepish looking Steve Harrington.

His usually perfect hair was in wild disarray from the winter winds still sweeping through Hawkins and there was a hesitant smile on his face, all boyish charm and sweetness, like he was already intent on persuading you to forgive him before you even knew why.

But then you had taken a closer look, letting the light from inside spill out onto the porch to reveal that Steve wasn’t alone. Appearing to be struggling with a rather drunk Eddie, arms straining, looped around the longer haired boy who instead of being on the ‘hot date’ he’d been rambling about having all week, was half asleep, swaying back and forth into his friend’s side.

"He called me to come get him but when I got there he wouldn’t stop asking for you.” Steve explained before you had the chance to ask, grumbling good naturedly. “Didn’t wanna drop him off home and risk him having the genius idea of trying to get here himself, s’that okay?”

You nodded in response, still a little confused but you couldn’t stop yourself from softening. Chest warming as you mumbled a quick ‘of course’ and tried to bite back the laugh that was threatening to bubble up at the way Eddie was trying to use Steve like some kind of pillow.

The wild mess of his curls spilling down to cover his face as his head fell to the other boy’s shoulder with a quiet groan, ringed fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s jumper and voice rough as he grumbled your name again, again, again.

"Yeah, she's here, man." Steve chuckled, his tone surprisingly gentle, a fond type of exasperated as he nudged his shoulder into the rosy squish of Eddie's cheek. "You wanna wake up now so you can actually see her?"

To your surprise he actually listened.

His head snapping up quicker than you anticipated, curls bouncing with the movement and brown eyes a touch glazed over, just that little bit unfocused, before they locked on you and then his mouth split into a blinding grin. The kind that made his whole face light up and your heart flip all too wild behind your ribs.

"There’s my pretty girl." He cooed loudly and you heard Steve snort, something that sounded an awful lot like ‘very smooth Munson, jesus christ’ muttered under his breath whilst he fought to remain upright against the weight of Eddie leaning his entire body in your direction.

You did laugh then.

A bright, flustered thing that you were unable to resist any longer, along with the way your arms opened on reflex to wrap around the boy when he finally managed to break free of his friend’s hold. His hands batting furiously at Steve’s as he twisted away, and only stumbled slightly in his determination to swoop you up into hug that was all leather, cheap beer and the smoky bite of whiskey - weed and the spice of his shampoo where his hair tickled at your nose.

"Hey sweets.” He whispered, humming happily as he pushed a messy kiss to your hairline.

God, why did that make you want to melt.

“Hey Eddie, you okay?” You asked softly, one hand rubbing gentle circles on his back and the other reaching up to cradle the back of his head.

It made him snuggle into you further, ducking down so he could press his face into the warm crook of your neck as his arms tightened and you prayed he was too drunk to notice the way your pulse thrummed faster when he spoke, soft lips brushing against sensitive skin.

"‘Am now.”

Tou froze for just a second, lips parted, blinking once, twice, just to make sure you had really heard what you thought you had and when it did fully register you wondered if the heat radiating off your cheeks was as obvious as it felt.

A quick glance at Steve told you it was.

Your friend was looking at you and Eddie all huddled together with an endless amount of amusement and affection, eyes twinkling as he grinned, shining like there was something he knew that you didn’t.

"Okay then, that’s good I guess,” You croaked out, voice a little too affected for your liking, coughing slightly in attempt to cover the sudden shyness you felt before you told the other boy. “I better get him to bed before he falls asleep standing up.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” He added, snorting at the ‘hey, screw you Harrington, it was one time’ that sounded from the metalhead still needily curling himself around you. “You need a hand hauling his ass upstairs?”

You considered it but then the poor Steve was desperately trying to fight a vicious yawn and failing, his eyes tired despite the way they crinkled as he smiled when you gave him a mothering look and made a shooing motion with the hand that wasn’t still making gentle strokes down Eddie’s back.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him, go get some sleep, yeah? And thank you for bringing him.”

He hesitated but ultimately didn’t argue and you waved him goodbye as he drove away before shutting the door. Turning your full attention to your best friend who had slowly become suspiciously heavier, arms loosely folded around your waist and hands still, where only moments before they’d been trailing patterns along your spine.

"Eddie?”

Nothing.

“Eds?” You tried again and when there was no response a second time your eyes narrowed, suspicious.

The boy remained limp as your hands snuck past denim and leather, his breathing light and even whilst your fingers crept up his vest covered sides until you met torn fabric and then smooth, warm skin.

You let them rest there just a moment, waiting, and when he made no move to give up the pretence of sleep that you suspected, you dug them in a little firmer, tickling across his ribs until you heard a choked laugh and felt the stretch of his grin against your neck.

"Just let me sleep here, m’comfy.” He whined when you took to the task with more enthusiasm, snickering as he protested. But he was still laughing as he jerked and thrashed, dramatic as ever, and then threw himself out of your arms, cheeks flushed with it and dimples showing despite the glare he attempted to pin you with, snapping. “Fuckin’ devil woman, give me peace.”

There was no heat behind it and you smiled sweetly in return,reaching over to poke him in the cheek before pointing in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll give you peace Munson when you get your ass upstairs so we can go to bed.”

He raised his brows at the demand, dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Are you trying to seduce me sweetheart? Do I need to call Steve to come back and protect my virtue, save my poor innocent soul from being snatched by a temptress?” Eddie asked playfully, all faux horror and scandalised expression, a hand pressed to his heart as he choked down a bark of laughter at the way you stared at him, incredulous.

"Jesus christ.”

"No, I’m Eddie, remember? If you’re tryin’ to seduce a man at least get his name right, babe.”

You threw your arms up in the air, let out a long-suffering groan whilst the boy cackled and then you were marching towards him, fingers twisting in denim as you shoved him in front of you and walked him in the direction of the stairs and to your room.

"Shit, okay, I’m going.” He yelped, sniggering when he heard you grumbling behind him as he deliberately leaned his full weight back into the press of your hand and tsked, voice full of tease. “So fuckin’ pushy, you're lucky the whole bossy thing works on me.”

There was a familiar routine to the way you entered your bedroom, the kind that developed after countless nights of Eddie deciding it was too late to drive home despite the journey only being five minutes, of you both refusing to let the other take the couch that very first time until you eventually agreed, with shy smiles and faux nonchalant shrugs, that it was no big deal if you just shared the bed.

Friends totally did that, right?

It happened enough that he claimed a side and a drawer, that tapes and other trinkets of his littered the tops of your dressers, mixing with yours, and you’d even bought an ashtray and a spare lighter especially for the bedside table on his side.

And it happened enough for it to be second nature for Eddie to veer left and you right, clumsily kicking his shoes off before he fell into the bed with a contended groan and turning just time in to catch the old, faded sweats he left the last time he stayed that you threw before they could slap him in the face.

"You smell like a brewery Eds, don’t even think of getting in that bed until you’ve changed.”

"Mean.” He groaned but he hauled himself back up and did as you asked, shrugging off denim and leather in one go until all he was left in was tight, black jeans and a slashed up vest that showed more tattoos and bare skin than it possibly hid. His silver chain glinting prettily where it lay against his collarbones.

And oh fuck, you were staring.

Despite the fear that prickled at your skin at the thought of being caught, it felt impossible not to.

Because Eddie had always been far too pretty, a heartbreaking kind of gorgeous really, and if that wasn’t distracting enough, then the way his muscles moved as he yanked the vest over his head before dropping his hands to his belt certainly was.

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry when you realised your eyes had followed, fixed on the flex of his hands, and you couldn’t stop from wondering if they’d look just as perfect dragging up your bare waist, gripping at your thighs. Maybe circling your neck, cupping your chin, rings glittering in the low lamplight, before his lips descended on yours.

Jesus.

You wrenched your gaze away, fully intending it to land somewhere more decent. Somewhere that wasn’t your best friend and where it couldn’t ruin that easy bond you’d always had with the boy by giving all your secrets away.

But it felt like there was some kind of higher power at play, some hand of fate kind of bullshit that brought it straight back to Eddie, to his eyes that were already watching you, darker than usual and more than a little wild.

It made your breath catch in your chest. Cheeks flaming with heat, heart slamming against your ribs hard enough you thought your bones might shatter, and god, could he hear it?

You already knew by the look on his face that Eddie had seen every single second of your staring, that he’d been able to guess every little thought that swam through your mind and revealed themselves in the brief flash of want in your expression before you could shove it back down.

You just hadn’t noticed him doing the same.

Gaze lingering on his shirt that you were wrapped up in, the way the hem was as long as the length of your sleep shorts and made it seem like you were wearing nothing else, the way it made you look too soft, too enticing, too much like you were his and when his eyes flicked back up to yours he looked at you like you were something dangerous.

Like you were making him want something he shouldn’t ask for, or at least, didn’t think he could.

You licked your lips, a nervous sweep of your tongue as the air in the room seemed to thicken, and his gaze followed the movement hungrily as if he wished it was his mouth sliding over them instead.

But then the wind was howling, branches smacking and scraping at your window, the sound bringing reality crashing back in and making you both flinch.

Eddie’s cheeks were pink and his lips parted, a strangled noise slipping past them as he tried to speak and stumbled and suddenly you couldn’t look at him. Eyes snapping shut and mortification burning in your throat as you spun round before you could make an even bigger mistake than you already had, because what the hell were you doing?

What were you thinking?

This was Eddie.

Eddie, who you swore to never let your feelings for ruin your friendship.

Eddie, who you were convinced was still very much drunk and you very much weren’t.

It felt wrong.

It felt like you were begging to have your feelings hurt when the boy became clear headed enough to realise that the person he was looking at like he wanted to push them down onto the bed and devour, happened to be his best friend and inevitably freaked the fuck out.

He had just come back from a date with someone else after all, a date that he would have never thought to ask you on and despite the fact that you suspected it must not have gone well given his current state, it didn’t really make you feel any better or lessen the sting of jealousy that felt like barbed wire snaking through your ribs.

You continued to face the wall as he changed, cheeks still burning, stained with heat. But your gaze was unfocused as it flickered over lines of polaroids, fairy lights and old ticket stubs that you’d refused to throw away and used as decoration, your mind far too aware of the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the chains on his jeans clinking quietly before the denim hit the floor with a soft thud.

The silence that spread through the room after felt overwhelming, like it amplified every little movement either one of you made, the breaths you both took that made your chests fall a little too quick, a little uneven still, and when Eddie finally cleared his throat you tensed at the way it broke the quiet so harshly it felt like he’d made the noise directly in your ear.

"It’s okay - if you wanna turn around now, I mean.” He muttered softly.

It still felt like too much to look at him.

Maybe even more now because all you could see out of the corner of your eye before you walked towards the little lamp on your desk was messy hair and bare skin, sweats slung low on his hips. Big, brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with you to meet their stare and melt back into your usual softness with him like nothing had happened.

You couldn’t.

Not yet.

So you flicked the light off whilst the boy sighed and slipped beneath the covers, shoving his face into a pillow that smelled faintly like you as he squeezed his eyes shut before they flashed open again when he heard your approaching footsteps.

Eddie swallowed as you drifted close, throat bobbing when the air between you seemed to hum again once there was less of it as you reached above him to draw the curtains tighter, knowing how much the boy hated any hint of sunlight first thing in the morning.

There were nerves all lit up inside him that he hadn’t been able to shake all night, fondness fizzing in his chest when he heard the sound of the unopened bottle of water you’d brought up for yourself being set down next to the pile of his rings. The rattle of painkillers being plucked from the draw following before you moved around the bed and pulled back the sheets to climb in beside him.

He couldn’t help but hate what felt like an ocean of cool sheets that you deliberately left between you.

Hated that you didn’t push into his side and press your legs to his to steal his heat like you usually did, hated the way you lay stiff with tension in your own bed, facing the ceiling he had helped you paint one summer instead of facing him like you would when you would whisper with him, nose to nose, until the sun came up.

And when you did finally turn, a soft frown on your face as you wriggled to find a more comfortable position, he hated that your eyes widened slightly with panic when you finally noticed he was watching you.

It made his brows pull together in a distressed frown - his throat tight with guilt when you quickly glanced down at your hands that were knotting in the bed sheets.

An anxious habit he despised being the cause of because god, the last thing Eddie had ever wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check.

For the longest time he looked at you like he wanted to say something, working his jaw like he wanted to address what had happened and apologise but couldn’t find the right words, his eyes soft and sad in the pale slip of moonlight from the window.

And then he seemed to think better of it.

You were caught off guard when he smiled instead. A soft grin that was all easy warmth and a touch playful as he reached to poke a finger to your cheek and whispered, “thanks for taking care of me, sweets.”

You huffed out a laugh like you couldn't help yourself and the boy took it as small progress when you visibly relaxed. Taking the opportunity to get more and more dramatic with his prodding and tickling until he could feel the way your body vibrated with the giggles bubbling up from your chest and you’d allowed yourself to sink fully into the bed, rolling closer as you tried to fend him off.

"Someone has to make sure you’ll be alive enough to take us for breakfast in the morning.” You whispered back sternly when your face re-emerged from its hiding place in the mattress.

But your smile was matching Eddie’s, growing wider when he caught the hand you tried to bat his away with and gently pinched at your fingers.

"So you’re only being nice so you can use me.” He gasped theatrically and propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at you, all over the top stricken expression as he stifled a laugh when you shoved your face into the pillow and groaned. “How could my best friend betray me like this?”

You turned your head back to face him, rolling your eyes before levelling him with a thoughtful stare. “I wouldn’t call it using,” you mused, slipping your arm under your pillow and beneath your head as you yawned, “more like cashing in straight away on a debt, y’know, since you woke me up in the middle of the night. Which, as my best friend, you’ll remember makes me very grumpy in the morning.”

Eddie nodded, bangs falling into his eyes as he did so. He was serious for all of a second before he let himself fall back into the mused sheet with a guilty grin, hair spilling everywhere and the movement making your body lean into the dip he created, suddenly closer to the boy than before.

"Touche.”

The word came out in a small huff that you felt it against your cheek, a soft thing that made your lashes flutter and when you glanced up at him you found him looking at you with gentle eyes, all brown sugar sweet and lovely as he smiled, full of affection.

It made the last of the left-over tension fizzle away, turning the air softer, warmer, as Eddie drew lines along your fingers with his own before he slotted them together.

You hadn’t even realised he was still holding your hand.

"You win, babe,” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear, his thumb rubbing slow against your skin, touch worshipful as he traced the faint scar on your hand that was proof monsters were never simply just part of stories, and if he noticed the way you inhaled a little shakily, well, he did his best not to show it.

“I’ll do anything you want, maybe take you to that bakery you like and buy you coffee so you’ll stop hissing at me and then so many of those cinnamon things that like that you’ll go into a sugar coma and I’ll have to carry you out.”

You snorted and Eddie beamed like he’d hit the jackpot, encouraged by the sound as he arched a brow like he was begging you to argue.

"Idon’t hiss.” You muttered petulantly, full of false indignation whilst you scrunched your nose to hide your grin and knocked your knee against his.

His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth in the dark, and when he managed to fend off your attack by hooking a leg over yours to trap it between his own, he continued with a teasing scoff.

“You do. You’re like some kind of rabid raccoon when you wake up, I’m lucky I still have both eyes and all my fingers.” He wiggled the ones resting snug around yours for emphasis and you snorted. “Now shut up, I’m trying to impress you with my plan to get back in your good graces.”

You huffed, too amused to be offended, and gestured with your linked hands as if to say ‘well go on then’

Okay, so after I’ve carried you out of the bakery, we’d go to the bookstore,” the boy told you, gaze knowing and smile a little smug when he noticed that he’d caught your attention despite the way you tried to hide it from him.

"Always a pretty foolproof plan - which one though?”

“Not the fancy one where the housewives hog the couches pretending to talk about their weekly book club read,” Eddie assured you, his voice dropping to a scandalised hush, the fingers that weren’t holding yours tugging at his curls to hide a salacious grin as he whispered, “when instead they’re bitching about how their husbands don’t satisfy them anymore and how they’ve had to resort to fucking the pool boy so they can feel young again.”

"Of course,” You choked on a laugh, a startled, delighted sound that made Eddie’s heart stutter and his chest ache with warmth. “Can’t have them cheapening the wholesome moment when I’m overcome with the joy of being surrounded by books and finally forgive you.”

"Exactly.” He replied sagely. “So we’re gonna go to that one near Oak instead with the shit ton of stacks everywhere that threaten to fall and crush you if you breathe near them. Works better in my favour if I get to save you from a gruesome death.”

You nodded, only looking half as serious as Eddie thanks to the way you could barely stop the threat of giggles rising in your throat. “I get it, totally get extra brownie points for a hero moment.”

"Right? And then maybe I’ll get you one of the books you stare at all longingly everytime we go in 'cause for some reason you act like it’s a fuckin’ crime to treat yourself once in a while-”

"-I do not! I just have other things that kind of have to take priority, y’know like bills and stuff. ”

"Same thing.” Eddie dismissed, but his voice was softly teasing and his gaze understanding as he fingers tapped a random beat against your hand. “Anyway, after that we’ll rent some movies and get some snacks, maybe horrors so I can be all charming and let you hold my hand when it gets scary, we’ll get pizza for dinner and by the end of it you’ll have totally forgot that I crashed your romantic night with yourself and ruined your sleep.”

You stared at him. “And that’s all it’s gonna take, huh?”

"Don’t pretend you’re not impressed, sweetheart.” He grinned knowingly, looking too proud of himself as his hand slipped out of yours to prod a finger to where your cheeks were appled, aching from smiling far too long.

He wished he could kiss them instead, brush his lips over the pretty flush that bloomed after his touch made you realise you never really had stopped smiling from the moment he started speaking. “Look at you, just dyin’ to forgive me right now, I can tell.”

You hated that he was right.

Not about you dying to forgive him now, because the truth was Eddie hadn’t actually done anything to need forgiveness, no, it was the fact that if you were ever genuinely mad and the boy did all that for you, you knew in your bones you would fold in a pathetic, lovesick heartbeat.

It was the fact that Eddie knew it too, he just hadn’t figured out why.

Yet.

So you swatted at him once again and tried to discreetly shuffle back whilst he was distracted threatening to snap his teeth down on your fingers.

You were praying for some distance, needed it so you could breathe without the scent of him making you feel weak, so you could hide in the dark for the moment it would take to stop looking at him like he’d shoved his hand inside your chest, wrapped long fingers around your heart and slipped it out to put it where it belonged. With him.

But your legs were still tangled with Eddie’s and your body was against you when he clamped his legs down to stop you from slipping away. Turned traitor by the feel of soft fleece pressing to your bare calves, the muscles of his arms flexing when he threw one over your waist and pushed the other one beneath you to roll you on top of him.

His biceps were warm where you caught at him with your hands to steady yourself and as he shifted a little higher up the pillow, stretching until he found himself comfortable, you cursed the warmth it spread through your belly.

"See, you can’t even deny it can you?” Eddie prompted and you felt it rumble from his chest to your own, chin dipped to peer down at you and cheeks dimpling as his grin turned smug. Unbelievably delighted that you had yet to refute him.

You wrinkled your nose when he tapped a finger there, if only to hide the shock that lingered on your face, the way you felt flushed all over because there was no part of you that wasn’t touching him and jesus christ, it felt like his hands resting on your sides were burning through the thin material of your shirt, threatening to brand the skin beneath.

“What, no– I mean yes– I mean, shit, you know what I mean asshole” You finished with a scowl and prayed your rambling had sounded less frantic to Eddie than it had to your own ears, though judging by the way he arched a brow at you, gaze dancing with withheld laughter, you would guess you had failed there too.

'Uh huh, but feel free to keep tryin’ to enlighten me anyway.”

"I was just wondering,” you began, all false confidence just to hide the fact you were still unsure of where you were going with it. Stalling just a little because it was hard to remember what you had been wondering before he had decided to use you as a blanket, your chest now lying atop his abdomen, stomach resting against his hips and legs cradled between his own.

You let go of his arms to fold your hands at the centre of his chest, settling your chin there, and his eyes softened as they roamed your face, waiting for you to continue. “Okay, so how does it make sense that you can pull off something like that and yet you’re here with me, drunk, instead of on your date swooning the hell out of Sarah?”

"Sam.”

“Same thing.”

“Not even close, sweetheart.”

“At least I got the first two letters right, unlike you with the last guy I dated.” You shot back.

Eddie shrugged. “He looked like a Danny.” He defended mildly but his gaze was playful, bottom lip tucked between his teeth to hold back the laugh threatening to escape when you threw a death glare his way.

“His name was Matthew.” You deadpanned and the boy snorted, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture when it looked like you might rip the pillow from beneath his head and smother him with it.

But then you were shaking your head instead, an accusatory finger jabbed to his chest and you rolled your eyes when he frowned and muttered a petulant ‘ow’.

“Hang on, why are we even arguing this again? Answer the question Munson - did you try to take her to skull rock again? ‘Cause I don’t give a damn what Steve says, just because you take a fucking picnic it doesn’t suddenly make a make out spot romantic”

He made a disturbed noise and shook his head but you didn’t miss the way his face fell a little at you bringing up the date again, smile half-hearted at best, and even the dark couldn’t hide the way his eyes had dimmed. His thumbs that had been dragging small, steady circles over the sides of your ribs faltering as he dropped his gaze from yours.

It made you gentle - the sense of protectiveness that tightened your chest and urged you to shuffle your way up his body until you were seated in his lap, knees dragging the sheets askew. Fingers finding their way to his chin to bring his stare back to you and you were too focused on your worry to register the way it made his lashes flutter, eyes hooded and lips parted, breath hitching at the gesture.

"Hey - did something happen tonight? Is that why you came back in such a state?” You murmured, eyes flicking between his, searching, before your tone suddenly grew sharp and your hand fell flat against his chest. “Was she a dick to you - I swear to god if she was I’ll get dressed right now and–”

You were cut off by Eddie’s hand descending over yours, the other landing on the thigh that you had already raised to clamber off him, squeezing the flesh softly, drawing it back down, and the fight left you just as fast as it had appeared when he chuckled, his voice smudged with fondness, awe, a hint of pride.

“Okay, reign it in Rocky, nothin’ bad happened I promise, you don’t need to go runnin’ off into the night to defend my honour.”

But god, he wanted to kiss you for trying to.

He settled for watching you watch him instead, your frown of concern that he itched to smooth away with his thumb still present before you eventually nodded, only slightly pacified when you had found no sign of a lie in the way he met your gaze.

And Eddie knew it was foolish to hope that was the end of it, knew the expression on your face all too well despite the way it flickered sweet just for a moment, just for him, as he released your hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

So it came as no surprise to the boy when you seemed to be considering your next words as you tilted your head, whether to deliberately lean into his touch or just a habit whilst you thought he wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was both, either way when your hand followed his seconds after he had let it go to clasp gently at his wrist, his heart spasmed despite knowing what was coming.

"There was something though, wasn’t there? You stated but you were quiet in how you spoke, gentle, trying to make sure Eddie knew he wasn’t being pushed, that you were only concerned, and everything about it made him ache. His thoughts going a cotton-wool kind of hazy that he wasn’t convinced he could blame on the alcohol anymore.

He let his thumb brush the downturned corner of your lips, a brief second of indulgence before he pressed up, moulding your mouth into a smile until he spied it becoming a real one, the kind that would have had Eddie dropping to his knees if he’d been standing, as you knocked his hand away.

He tapped at your legs then, drumming lightly at the creases of your knees and up the backs of your thighs, making you twitch.

You got the hint though, rising off him just enough for him to push himself up and then back, leaning against the pillows before he held out his hands for you to take so you could climb back into his lap.

It felt like his first mistake.

Or was it his second, after coming here in the first place? Third, after losing his head and nearly kissing you?

He’d lost count.

All he knew was that it was suddenly a little harder to breathe, that being this close didn’t feel as innocent as it had five minutes ago.

As it had all the other times you’d been tucked tight against him, sleepily whispering secrets until dawn broke and your head fell heavy against his shoulder, leaving Eddie to have to carefully roll you back on to the mattress so you didn’t wake up stiff and sore.

Your hands were soft on his stomach, forcing the boy to fight off a shudder every time you traced the dark lines of another tattoo, jaw slack as he watched every little movement of your fingers with rapt attention, only realising he’d been repeating each one with his own touch on your thighs when he felt the brush of soft fabric against his fingertips.

It took Eddie a second to tear his eyes away from the sight, to meet your gaze with pink cheeks and lips almost bitten raw and find that you had swayed closer.

Close enough so that he could map each little freckle that made up constellations on your cheeks in the moonlight that slanted over your features, noses only inches apart and he swallowed down a choked curse when he remembered you were probably still expecting an answer.

He licked his lips, unsure of how much he could give away, and shrugged, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. "S’really nothin’ for you to worry about princess, the date was fine and she was… great - incredible actually - we just, uh, mutually decided there was a point in taking it past a one time thing.”

The silence stretched long enough that Eddie wondered if he was maybe more wasted than he'd thought. He must have been if the question of whether telling you the truth was really as bad as he'd feared was nudging at his brain, the consequences seeming a lot less daunting the longer allowed himself to consider it.

Because there you were, looking at him with the prettiest confused expression he'd ever seen and all of a sudden it felt like the worst crime in the world to lie to you. That you deserved more than the way he'd been continuously lying to you for years and if there was the slightest chance - which sometimes he thought there were signs there could be - that you wanted him to be the one who gave you more, then he had to take it, right?

"I don't understand,” you said slowly, face scrunched like you were trying to figure out if you missed something somewhere in his explanation, like you were trying to hide how the boy calling Sarah - Sam - whatever her name was - incredible in a dazed voice had made your stomach twist. "If she was so amazing and the date was a hit, why wouldn't you want to see her again?"

"Well turns out no matter how awesome a girl is, she doesn't really wanna waste time trying to date someone who's in love with someone else.”

"Makes sense-" you shrugged, and then it sunk in what he had said. "-no, wait, hang on - what?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, a little shaky, a little rough, and despite the easy grin he tried to offer, there was an undeniable bloom of nervousness unfurling in his eyes, “crazy right? I mean I expected her to leave when she figured it out but then she stayed and even tried giving me advice, which maybe me taking wasn't the best decision 'cause it involved some liquid courage and telling the girl how I feel but I kinda took the first part too far, which is how I ended up like this– ”

He gestured wildly to himself and when his hands dropped back to rest on your bare thighs it took all you had not to flinch. Your brain felt fuzzy, chest too tight, and suddenly every part of your body that was pressed to his felt like it was in agony. A new kind of torture.

Eddie was in love with someone else.

And he hadn't even told you.

"Eddie–” you murmured weakly, because christ , he was still talking and you just really needed him to stop .

"-she originally offered to help make her jealous, which was fuckin' insane , I thought that shit only happened in movies. I gave it a hard pass cause it seemed sleazy, like a total dick move, y'know. Didn’t seem right to mess with her like that and I don't think I even could if my life depended on it-”

Fuck, this hurt worse than you had ever imagined. A dagger shoved deep between your ribs with every word, twisting until you thought you’d be sick with it.

'Eddie.” You repeated, only a little stronger this time. but to your horror, you could hear the painful edge that made your voice shake.

You wanted to slam a hand over his mouth.

You wanted to crawl as far away from his touch as you possibly could.

And yet you were painfully still.

A statue in Eddie’s lap, turned to stone like those poor souls you’d read about in a mythology book when you were a kid except here there was no terrifying creature to blame, just your best friend who was breaking your heart without even realising.

Oblivious to a tear that welled and spilled over your lash line, dripping onto the shirt that you were suddenly wishing wasn’t his as he pressed on.

God, you felt pathetic.

"Felt wrong just thinking about it,” He rushed out and maybe if you weren’t so upset you would have put it together. The way he was rambling like he couldn’t speak quick enough, like he would lose his nerve if he didn't, lungs burning and eyes darting over your face, anxious, as if his heart would give out if he looked away for even a second. Fingers tapping too quick on your thighs. “Touching someone, kissing them, loving them, even if it’s pretend, shit I can’t even remember the last time I thought of doin’ those kind of things with anyone else that wasn’t-”

“Wasn’t her,” You interrupted, head ducked to hide your embarrassment when the words slipped out scathing, a little more heated than you intended. The burn behind your eyes grew stronger as you tried to climb off him, numb fingers clumsy, grappling for purchase on his stomach so you could push yourself away. “I get it Eddie, fuck-”

He stopped you with hesitant hands wrapping around your wrists, squeezing soft when you didn’t immediately try to yank yourself out of his hold, drawing them to his chest in a plea for you to look at him and listen.

"-you.”

You froze, head snapping up to stare at the boy in disbelief, utterly stunned. Your heart spasming before it began to pound so hard you thought it would splinter bones as you tried to figure out if you had heard him right, if he had said what you thought he had, if you dared to ask him to repeat himself just in case he had.

It felt like the world had slowed for a moment, like it was trying to give you a chance to push past the rush of blood in your ears that was drowning your ability to think straight, to decide whether Eddie had misspoken or not and if he hadn't, did that mean it was finally time for you to stop hiding.

Did you even know how?

The answer came when the winds outside grew into a storm. The patpatpat of rain on the roof coming slowly at first and then all at once and each knock of a branch at your window sounded like the tick of a clock as the silence between you rolled on too long. It felt like a countdown, a warning that if you weren’t going to be brave now, you wouldn’t get the chance again.

So you fought the urge to rip yourself away, lowered yourself gingerly back down onto his thighs whilst Eddie watched you with wide eyes, a little hopeful, a little terrified, a little too aware that any wrong move could make you run for real next time. “Did you– what did you just say?”

"Wasn’t you.” He whispered and neither of you could take your eyes off the other, your own breath trapped in your chest as he took a deep breath before he continued. Voice growing braver like it was an obvious truth he was telling you and not one that felt like a bomb being dropped on your head. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since I realised I was in love with you.”

You inhaled sharply, a small noise slipping from your throat that you couldn’t stop if you tried.

You wanted to ask him to say it again, you wanted to kiss the words from his mouth as he said them, you wanted to say it back, murmur it over and over into him until you were dizzy from lack of oxygen but you couldn’t. Because there were tears in your eyes and your throat, your lungs, were refusing to work, every part of your body suddenly paralysed whilst your heart tumbled wild behind your ribs.

Eddie licked his lips, parted and closed them again as tried to organise the mess of his thoughts into words.

He sat up and pulled you closer until your hips were flush, your thighs caged around his as he gently ran his thumbs up over the soft part of your wrists where your pulse hammered against the skin and you wondered if it was a gesture meant to soothe you or him.

If it was maybe for both of you.

A way to encourage you to touch him in whatever way you needed whilst he did the same, preparing himself to give a confession that he never thought he would get a chance to, that he hoped you would understand.

"I only asked Sam out because I thought you were never gonna feel the same and I just needed to get over it, ” He sighed, cheeks pink as he nervously analysed your expression from beneath his lashes. “Turns out she knew all along, figured out I was gonner that night at the hideout when you made me sing fuckin’ Bon Jovi.”

He said it teasingly, all false betrayal and shining eyes like you’d made him commit the worst kind of crime, like he was so in love with you that he’d sing that fucking song until his throat was raw if you asked again.

You let out a watery laugh and Eddie beamed at the sound.

His gaze lovely as it roamed your face, endlessly adoring when you swiped at a falling tear with the heel of your palm and melted because the boy had caught your hand in his before you could drop it, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss away the salt on your skin with a sweet tsk, voice like honey as he murmured, ‘c’mon, pretty girl, please don’t cry’.

"I couldn’t even deny it when she brought it up, y’know,” he chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead to yours, noses grazing until you sighed happily for him. “She wasn’t mad either, just told me I needed to grow a pair and tell you how I felt before someone else did, but it was like she’d fuckin’ me in punched me in the face. All I could think was, ‘shit, she’s right, what the hell am I doing’ .”

And then his smile faltered. His stare flickering away from yours like he was ashamed, lips twisting into a grimace, voice strained as his hands slid down your arms and dropped to the hem of your shirt to twist the material in his fingers.

"Thing is, it sounded like the easiest thing in the world when she said it, but then I was about to leave and it suddenly felt terrifying and the idea of calming my nerves with a drink didn’t sound like the dumbest one I’ve ever had.” Eddie admitted, closing his eyes briefly and when he opened them again the disappointment in them made your heart ache.

“Not until I started hesitating the longer I was there anyway, overthinking and talking myself out of it, and then before I knew it I was wasted and I’d fucked up another chance to tell you. So I called Harrington instead, though I guess that kind of backfired too, huh?”

He was making it sound like it was all his fault that this had gone on so long but god, you knew what your own fear felt like. The things you told yourself daily to stop you from taking that plunge.

Had you both been using the same insecurities to hold yourselves back all this time?

"What were you so scared of? ” You coaxed softly, pressing a hand over the place where his heart thumped beneath the skin, fingertips toying with the chain that hung around his neck and when you’re other hand smoothed it’s way up to his jaw, thumb gliding along the edge of it, the boy leaned into your touch like he was starved for it. A ragged sigh slipping past his lips as his lashes fluttered.

"Messing everything up.” He explained quietly and the crack in his voice made you want to wrap your arms around him and smother him in affection. Refuse to let him go or ever doubt himself again. “Losing you. I didn’t know if you’d hate me for making things awkward if you didn’t feel the same and I couldn’t handle the thought of not having you in my life.”

"You could never do anything to make me not be in your life Eddie,” you told him, and if your words were soft then the look in your eyes was even softer. Lips pulling into a warm smile that he swore was pure light as your hand left his chest to tug teasingly at one of his curls. “Even if it’s something like turning up at my door, half gone, smelling like you’ve been dunked in whiskey, to tell me something that I’ve been waiting a hell of a long time to hear from you.”

Eddie melted for you then.

“Yeah?” He breathed, his own grin blinding as his hands nudged their way beneath your shirt to curve around your bare sides, seeking out the warmth of you to ground himself because he could have sworn he was dreaming.

"Yeah.”

“Well shit, sweetheart,” he huffed out a soft laugh, a little giddy with relief, more drunk on you than whatever alcohol was left in his system. “If I’d known that I would have made Stevie boy haul my drunk ass over here a lot sooner. You have any idea how long I’ve had to suffer mourning about my feelings to him after one of his house parties for him to just tell me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep?”

Probably the same amount of time you’d endured Robin telling you to get a grip.

"No, but I’m sure Steve would gladly tell me if I asked,” you answered cheekily instead, letting out a terrible shriek of a laugh when the boy tickled your ribs and muttered that you better not dare.

It made him grin all stupid and lovesick, even more so when you bumped your nose against his and looked at him a little shy, a little hopeful as you asked, “Though maybe you could try voicing some of those feelings without the alcohol, y’know, just so I know they’re not a result of your brain being fried and so that when I say them back, you actually have a chance of remembering it in the morning.”

Eddie was enthusiastically nodding before you could finish, a brightness unfurling in his chest like the flowers that had snaked around his ribs when he met you were now opening up, blooming with what he felt for you. What you felt for him back. “Yeah, fuck, I can do that,” he murmured. “Anything you want.”

You were beaming, and if he could bottle the way it made him feel he would. Gone for the way you melted for him when he slipped a hand from beneath your shirt, dragging it slow up your spine until his palm was fitting itself around the back of your neck, just so he could feel you this close. Just because he could.

"Anything?” You repeated coyly, smiling when he sighed real pretty as you brushed some of his curls back.

“Anything.”

"You gonna take me on a date Munson?”

As if he was going to say no to you. Like he ever could.

He’d bring you the damn moon if you wanted it. The stars too because he wouldn’t be able to help himself when it came to you.

He pressed his nose to your cheek to hide the dopey grin that tugged at his lips, humming. “Mhm, how does tomorrow sound? Maybe upgrade our plans from grovelling duty to first date?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you pondered, eyes fluttering shut with a smile, content to tease the boy by pretending to think about it as you tilted your head back for him when he pushed his face into your neck with an amused huff. “I kind of liked the idea of you grovelling all day and the plans you made were pretty tempting. What will the upgrade entail if I agree?”

“Same plans, I’d just get to keep touching you like this, hold you whenever I wanted, whenever you wanted me to.” He murmured, lips catching at your skin as he spoke, the hand that was clamped around your waist tightening when you shivered as he drew a line with his nose up to your jaw. “Maybe walk around with my hand in your back pocket the way I know you think is real cute. Use it to pull you in for a kiss when you’re looking far too pretty to be real, which is fuckin’ always, and I feel like m’gonna die if I don’t.”

Your chest hitched, lips parted and body feeling a touch too warm, because the thought of Eddie kissing you all greedy, a little too desperate to give a damn about where you were or who was around, was suddenly so consuming. Leaving you dizzy enough that you had to clutch at his shoulders, his neck, curling your fingers around his chain to keep yourself seated instead of falling back into the cushions and pulling him down with you. “Oh.” You breathed out.

He swallowed, hard.

And when he lifted his head his eyes were half-lidded, almost black beneath the heavy fan of his lashes, voice a low rasp that made you burn as his gaze flickered from your mouth to settle on yours. “Yeah, oh. ”

"How am I supposed to say no to that?”

His lips twitched. “Now you know how it feels when you ask me for anything.” He whispered hoarsely and you wondered if he could hear the chaotic hammering of your heart, if he could feel the vibration of it slamming into your ribs against his own.

The air between you was buzzing, electric, bloated with anticipation when the last couple of inches fell away as his face leaned closer to yours, mouth hovering over your own. his breath warm and smelling of smoke and whiskey, a hint of mint as he said your name, sticky sweet with heat and a longing kind of need.

He drew lazy circles under your ear with his thumb and it took everything you had not to let the pleading noise building in your throat escape.

"Yeah, Eddie?” You asked instead, so quiet that had he not been right there, you doubt he would have heard you at all.

You knew he had though when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture just like the way your fingers couldn’t stop their movements, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck and making him shudder.

"Can I kiss you now?”

It already felt like he was.

His mouth brushing yours as he spoke, each word the ghost of a kiss, a brief taste of the real thing that you were sure would shatter you entirely because jesus christ, this alone was making you feel like there were fireworks beneath your skin. The way your bottom lip caught between his stole your breath, a cracked noise bubbling up in your throat that Eddie inhaled and echoed back with a groan when you tilted your head and pushed your lips to his.

It was a fleeting thing, ending after a second because your brain had caught up and was telling you this wasn’t right. Not that kissing Eddie wasn’t right, it felt like the most natural thing you’d ever done, like you’d found a piece of yourself you hadn’t realised you were missing.

It was just the timing.

“Wait…” You murmured and Eddie drew back immediately, the hand that had been clasped around your neck pulling back to tuck your hair behind your ear, cupping your jaw as his worried gaze flicked over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort he might have caused.

"Shit, I’m sorry.” He said gently, thick with guilt, full of concern. “Was it too soon? I swear I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything, fuck, sweetheart, I’d never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable y’know that right? And if I do by accident I want you to tell me or hell, punch me or something- ”

“-No, no, it’s okay Eds - Eddie listen, I’m not gonna hit you, jesus - I just,” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough for the way the look on his face was making your chest squeeze. Your hands flew to his face as you shook your head, stroking your thumbs over the arc of his cheekbones to quiet him whilst you gave him a reassuring smile. “I just don’t want our first real kiss to be when one of us is drunk, that's all. Is that okay?”

He blew out a breath, visibly softening, and then he was wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your nose, your cheeks, your forehead until you were both grinning, laughter still echoing above the sounds of the storm outside when he touched his forehead to yours. “Baby, of course it’s okay,” he murmured, “you just say the word, I’ll kiss you whenever you want me too.”

His words lit you up, warmth spreading through you until you were giddy with it. So full of affection for the boy that you thought you’d burst and it must have been contagious because Eddie was looking at you like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Kiss me tomorrow?” You whispered, unable to bite back your grin as you brushed your nose against his. “When I first wake up so I don’t think I’ve dreamed this whole thing?”

Eddie’s eyes shone and he squeezed you a little tighter, his smile becoming devastatingly lovely, stretching wide across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

And he did.

[no-144444]

prince charming- l.norris

summary: lando brings his niece to the ballet, who knew he'd find love?

pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader

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Another show finished, another day done. All you had to do was meet some children and show them around the stage. It was a thing the company had decided to do after every single show, and you were one of the only ballerinas who enjoyed it. Everyone else ran out of there as fast as they could, but you stayed around, in full costume, showing them everything. 

“Y/n! Y/n! Look!” Mila, the little girl that had been assigned to you pulled on your hand and you followed her over. “It’s your Prince Charming!” She pointed at your co-star, Richard, who was playing Prince Charming while you played Cinderella. He was lovely and one of your best friends, but Mila’s face fell when she saw him kiss another girl, aka his actual girlfriend Mia. “He’s kissing someone else!” she gasped, looking at you hurt. 

You smiled. “We’re only together in the show, remember? My name isn’t Cinderella, is it?” You chuckled and she nodded, laughing. “So, that’s Richard, and he’s Mia’s real-life Prince Charming, not mine.”

She nodded understandingly. “Do you have a Prince Charming?”

You internally cringed, why did kids always want to know about your love-life? “No,” you smiled. 

Her face lit up. “OH! Perfect! Uncle Lala!” she called for her uncle to come over as your face fell. “Uncle Lala will you be Y/n’s Prince Charming so she can be my Auntie and we can have fun forever?!” 

Mila’s excited face and the ridiculousness of her statement, reminding him she truly didn’t know how the world worked, made him giggle. And with Lando, when he starts, he doesn’t stop. It took a whole minute for him to stop laughing, while you sat there awkwardly. You knew who he was, you knew why he was laughing, but it was still rude. Just say no, dude. 

“Mila, it doesn’t work like that,” he explained. “She’s way too pretty for me,” he whispered, sitting down beside her, and in front of you. 

Your eyes widened and you looked down, confused at the entire situation. 

“I know she is,” Mila answered (subtle dig at her uncle, but alright). “But you could ask her to dance or something. Princesses like dancing.”

Lando shook his head. “I’m an awful dancer.”

“Why do you just try talking to her!” Mila scoffed, then ran off to go look at some of the set of the show. 

You looked up and met his eyes and you both started laughing. “I’m so sorry about her, she gets like this sometimes,” he admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“It’s alright, it happens sometimes,” you waved him off, an easy smile on your face. 

“You get hit on through people’s nieces a lot?” he questioned. 

You chuckled. “It’s more common than you think, people love the ballerina shtick.”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“I’m 23,” you answered. “And I’m Y/n.”

“I’m Lando,” he held his hand out to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”

“NIce to meet you too,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on the year you’ve had.”

“You watch F1?”

You nodded. “My mom has been into it since she was a kid, she gave that to me, so… yeah.”

“Who’s your favourite driver?” he smirked and you chuckled. 

“Nico Hulkenberg,” you smirked. 

He chuckled. “Understandable,” he smiled, nodding. “Mila is probably off somewhere trying to destroy your set, I should probably go grab her.”

You both got up and smiled at each other. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Prince Charming,” you joked, he giggled. 

And that was that. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

For the next few days, Lando could not get you out of his head. You were funny, kind, beautiful, good with Mila, everything he wanted in a person, yet he’d let you slip away. You weren’t even on social media, but he followed the company’s instagram and some of your friends to see pictures of you. He decided, once the season ended, he’d go back and find you. Maybe he really could become your Prince Charming. 

He joined the rest of the crowd in their standing ovation as you bowed, smiling brightly. He waited around and followed a few more people backstage to finally see you again. 

“Lando?” you questioned as you looked at him from behind. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you again,” he shrugged. “Happy holidays.”

You smiled. “So it is true,” your eyes shone with a hint of mischief. “You did follow the company account.”

He screwed his face up in a half-smile-half-grimace, he’d been caught. “You don’t have a public account, thought it would be weird to follow you on your private one.”

You chuckled. “I would’ve let you follow me,” you told him. “You are my Prince Charming, right?”

He beamed. “Right,” he nodded. “Dinner?”

“Let me get out of costume,” you agreed. You started to walk off and he didn’t follow, unsure what to do. You turned back and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

He was very happy he had brought Mila to the ballet.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[visbacktatto]

viktor x assistant!reader

you were always too worried about viktor. you couldn't help it, not when he seemed so passionate about ruining himself for the sake of his research on hextech. someone had to take care of him, if not himself, you.

in the beginning it was difficult, when jayce brought you to the lab viktor gave you a studying look, sizing you up, deciding almost immediately they didn't need help, not yours, not from anyone.

but jayce had it known it was a non negotiable decision, he was getting more and more busy with the council work and viktor was surely exhausting himself with the research, he needed the help and you would be perfect for the part.

and you were, actually, slowly you proved your worth, being quite a genius on tech yourself, it wasn't hard to figure out the little instabilities with the hextech and help with the infinite calculations that came with the job.

and so, viktor started warming up to you, he started with asking for help in little things, like correcting an equation he couldn't seem to crack, checking some new invention that was malfunctioning every time he tried to start it, and every time he had to hide his surprised expression when you actually solved the problem.

so he started respecting you, and then, actually talking to you, letting you know a thing or two about him. how he liked his coffee, how organized he was with the notes on the notebook that he usually showed no one but now he's showing you, how passionate he actually was about giving people access to magic, about providing real change and comfort to the people in need and how far he was willing to go for it.

and you didn't even realize you were falling in love with him until one of those late, late nights in the laboratory, just the two of you working on some new tool together.

viktor was sleepy, clearly, you could see it in his tired eyes, but he was too stubborn to leave the work unfinished, leaned on a desk, being swallowed by the infinite papers with prototypes, he didn't even feel it when he fell asleep, his head resting on the cold surface above his notebook.

but you noticed.

it wasn't rare for him to sleep in the lab, he'd told you that before, you'd seen him early in the morning when you came to start working and he was already there. but it was the first time you saw it happening.

and he looked so beautiful, exhausted, the bags under his eyes profound, but undeniably beautiful. almost ethereal in that brief moment his body relaxed.

and you don't know why, but you reached his hair, your fingers featherlight when they brushed the brown strands, a surprisingly smooth sensation, his hair was soft.

and, yet unconsciously, he leaned into your hand, making you give into your sudden impulse and actually caress his scalp, gentle, caring.

later, when he woke up, he thought it was just a dream.

and from that day on you felt your heart beating fast almost whenever you were together. sitting side by side discussing something, his breath close to your face, his hand brushing yours when reaching for a pen, his knee touching yours under the desk when he was too focused on a new invention to move away, to keep his distant and cool demeanor, he was warmer now.

you continued doing little things for him, bringing him food when he forgot to eat and brushing it off as “i just bought too much for myself, do you want some?”, of course he knows you did it on purpose but he wouldn't point it. besides, he almost found it... endearing.

and on a particularly quiet night in the lab, the only sounds being of viktor's pen on paper and the soft hum of the machines surrounding you, you fell asleep there, for the first time.

the thing is, you were sat beside him, studying some pieces of a tool you've broken down to fix, and the moment you fell asleep your head was drooping to the side.

viktor thought it would give you a sore neck lately. of course it was the only reason he brought you closer to rest on his shoulder... it's not like he felt like he needed you close and couldn't resist seeing you so unapologetically adorable by his side... of course not.

he continued writing, but he was unfocused, the gentle weight of you resting on him occupying his thoughts. he didn't realize he was even moving before he brought you a little closer, his hand securing your waist, all in the name of making sure you were comfortable, he justified to himself.

you stirred, slowly waking up, your senses registering his scent before your eyes opened, he smelled good, like coffee, faint perfume and something indistinctly him. then you felt his hand resting on your waist, his warmth seeping through your clothes. and you could swear your face was warming up.

you opened your eyes, confirming your suspicion, you were resting on him, god you felt so embarrassed. “viktor? i'm sorry, i-” you mumbled sleepily, but he quickly brushed it off with a “no need to apologize, it's okay, you are tired”, his hand dropping from your waist out of surprise to see you awake, “maybe you should wrap it up for the day” he suggests.

you nod, slowly distancing your body from his, and he almost misses it. “maybe i should” you murmur, rubbing your eyes with your hand, trying to shake half of that sleepy haze away.

and you don't even notice that viktor is watching you. his eyes focused on your face, your cheeks looking a bit puffy, cute, even if he'd never mention it. his hand moved without his intent, holding your wrist, “you're feeling well?” he asked, sounding gentle, his accent thick, making your sleepiness almost dissipate by how fast he put your heart to race.

and he was feeling it, by holding your wrist he could feel your pulse picking up. not that he would mention.

“i'm fine i just... couldn't sleep tonight and i got a bit exhausted, i guess” you answered honestly, trying to not focus on his hold on your wrist.

he finally noticed he was holding your wrist so he dropped it. a little embarrassed himself by his actions. why was he acting like that? and before he could think it through he offered, “you can... continue, to sleep here... if it helps” what meant sleeping on him. but he didn't bring himself to say it out loud.

you looked at him a bit confused, and you were confused. what did he mean by that? sleeping in the lab? that was always uncomfortable, even if you couldn't seem to get some real sleep in your bedroom.

but before you could question further he gently pulled you closer, giving you the chance to put some distance between you again if you wanted to. he rested your head on his shoulder again, not saying anything about it, though.

you didn't know what to say either, your heart beating on your ears, loud, so loud that you could bet viktor was hearing it too.

and just when you thought you couldn't get more flustered, he searched for your wrist again, looking right at your eyes, searching for consent. that you understood the meaning. and you just nodded.

he entwined your fingers, a small, faint smile resting on his lips.

and you smiled too, and everything seemed right in the world in that stolen moment of peace.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet - Self-Aware!Zayne

You fell asleep to the sound of Zaynes rapid typing as usual. Don’t worry though he’ll see you in the morning

Self-Aware!Zayne who is so in love with you that he can tell you’re getting sleepy just by the way you’re breathing changes. “If you’re tired you can rest I'll be here” “I’m not asleep” “You will be soon I'll see you in the morning just get some rest” You smiled at the thought of actually waking up next to him “Can you imagine” a deep yawn escaped you “actually waking up next to me?” Self-Aware!Zayne who knew you’d already drifted off to sleep when he said “I won’t have to imagine soon” he finished out his paper work while listening to your soft snores which were like music to his ears

That night you dreamt of snow covered fields stretching far into the distance. You looked down to see yourself in just the t-shirt you went to bed in “Am I lucid dreaming?” suddenly the wind picked up and snow began to whip past your face burning your cheeks and bare legs with the stinging cold as it went by. “It's …. so … cold” you thought to yourself as you looked around trying to see anything in the distance. If you’re dreaming why did this feel so real?

Just then you saw it, a small house off in the distance. You had no choice you were going to freeze to death if you stayed out here any longer. You started running towards the house, but no matter how many steps you took it was as if you weren’t moving from the spot you were standing in.

Your feet were swept from underneath you as you fell face first into the icy snow. You tried to stand, but the snow seemed to hold onto you. You yanked at the phantom hands holding you down. Panic soon set in as your fighting attempts were seemingly in vain “HELP! PLEASE! ANYONE!” the snow muffled your final scream as your entire body was covered in heaps of snow.

You awoke with a sharp gasp and your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. Once your heart rate finally went back to normal you looked around and noticed this …… wasn’t your room. You’re so disoriented after that dream that you really hope this isn’t one of those dreams where you woke up in another dream. “Fuck where’s my phone?”

“It’s back in your world” You froze mid search as fear set-in at the mere fact you weren’t alone. You slowly turned your head in the direction of the very familiar voice. It was him. Zayne stood in the doorway holding a mug in his hand. You stared at him wide eyed and confused “Im dreaming I have to be dreaming” You slapped the absolute shit out of yourself and fell back on the bed screaming in pain and you realized you were in fact awake.

“Are you okay?” Zayne rushed to you grabbing your face to inspect your self-inflicted wound “Why on earth would you do that?”

“HOW ARE YOU HERE!?” You screamed in his face. Oh hell you’re starting to hyperventilate “This isn’t real this isn't real I was….in my room how could I…..” Your voice trailed off as you passed out in Zayne’s arms. He stared down at you with a smile on his face. “I told you I would see you in the morning” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and held you until you woke up.

Hours later….

Once Zayne got you to calm down enough to sit and have a conversation he explained how you are indeed in his world now.

Y/N: So you mean to tell me by you speaking to me we made all of this real?!

You waved your hand around to emphasize the fact that you are currently sitting in the living room of a fucking game. Everything looks so real it almost felt like you really were in another world and not just a developed game.

Zayne: I'm not sure exactly how it works but yes together we both made my world as real as yours Y/N: I can’t stay here forever Zayne I have a life back in my world my friends and family will be worried sick Zayne: You can come and go here whenever you please Y/N: How exactly am I supposed to do that? Zayne: With my evol … I can transport you to and from your world that’s how I got you here Y/N: In that frozen deserted waste-land!? I thought I died! Zayne: Im sorry my love but that’s the only way it works until we can figure out something else

You froze at hearing him call you his love. Your heart was racing just from those two simple words. You tried to speak, but no words were coming out. Zayne seemed to notice that he had you speechless and he took this moment to pull you closer and hook a finger under your chin. “Don’t hate me I’ve been waiting so long to do this” He pressed the softest lingering kiss on your lips and you couldn’t help the way you melted into him. “You feel so real” You whispered against his lips.

“I am real” You stared deep into those endless green eyes. You dreamed of looking into these eyes and here you were. You caressed his cheek then gently pushed him back by his chest. You needed some kind of distance so you could process what was going on. "We're not done talking"

"I figured you would have more questions" He said as he draped an arm over the couch behind you. "Ask me anything"

[tinkaaabutt]

FOR THE FIRST TIME— Jinx

The hum of city life buzzed faintly beyond your apartment windows, the occasional car horn breaking the rhythm of your quiet sanctuary. The vinyl you’d been spinning crackled softly as “For the First Time” by Mac DeMarco started to play, its dreamy melody filling the space.

Jinx, sprawled across your couch in her usual chaos, was mid-rant about a graffiti project she wanted to try on an old factory wall downtown. Her electric blue braids spilled over the armrest like rivers of rebellion, and her hands gestured wildly, fingers tattooed and perpetually smudged with paint.

“You don’t think I’ll get caught, right?” she asked suddenly, her bright eyes darting to yours.

You looked up from where you sat cross-legged on the floor, moisturizing your legs. The scent of cocoa butter and shea wafted into the air, mixing with the faint tang of paint fumes that always seemed to cling to Jinx.

“Girl, with the way you move? They’ll see you coming a mile away,” you teased, smiling.

Jinx pouted, sitting upright. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re loud,” you said, pointing at her with a raised brow. “Like, loud loud. You’re not exactly subtle.”

She stared at you for a moment before bursting into laughter, throwing her head back. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But that’s why I’ve got you. You’re my quiet one. The stealthy one.”

You smirked, reaching for the bonnet on the table and pulling it over your freshly twisted hair. “Don’t drag me into your mess.”

“Oh, please,” she said, sliding off the couch to sit next to you on the floor. “You love my mess.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Jinx had burst into your life like a hurricane, colorful and chaotic in a way you’d never known before. You were the type to keep your head down, to mind your business and focus on your art, the vibrant canvases scattered around your apartment proof of your creativity. But Jinx? She was the opposite—loud, wild, unapologetically herself.

She’d spotted you at a street art festival a few months back, admiring a massive mural with a skeptical look on your face.

“You don’t like it?” she’d asked, suddenly at your side, a grin tugging at her lips.

You’d blinked, caught off guard. “It’s… fine. Just not my style.”

“Oh, so you’ve got style?” she’d teased, her eyes narrowing playfully.

That was how it started.

Now, she was practically a permanent fixture in your life, crashing on your couch whenever she felt like it and pulling you into her world of chaotic creativity.

“Why do you always put that on before bed?” Jinx asked, motioning toward your bonnet as you leaned back against the couch.

“Because I actually care about my hair,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Unlike some people.”

Jinx gasped, feigning offense. “I care about my hair! Look at these braids—they’re flawless!”

You gave her a look, your lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah, because I did them for you last week. You were crying about your arms getting tired.”

“Okay, fair,” she said, leaning closer. “But that just means you’re amazing. And you’re, like, totally obsessed with me.”

You snorted. “In your dreams.”

Jinx fell silent for a moment, her teasing smile softening. “Actually… yeah. You kinda are.”

Her voice was quieter now, the usual wild energy in her eyes tempered by something you couldn’t quite place. She reached out, tracing a finger along the edge of one of your small, framed paintings leaning against the wall.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she said softly, her eyes still fixed on the painting. “You’re just… different.”

You felt your chest tighten at her words, at the way her voice seemed to hold an unfamiliar vulnerability. “Different how?”

She finally looked at you, her gaze steady in a way that made your heart race. “Like… good different. Like when I’m around you, I don’t feel like I have to be this… crazy version of myself all the time. You don’t look at me like I’m broken or too much. You just… see me.”

Her words lingered in the air, heavy and raw. The song on the record player swirled around you, its dreamy tones a perfect backdrop to the moment.

“Jinx…”

She leaned closer, her blue braids brushing your shoulder. “You feel it too, right?”

Your breath caught. You did feel it—the magnetic pull of her, the way she lit up your world like neon against a dark sky. But you’d been afraid to name it, afraid of what it might mean.

Now, with her so close, her sharp edges softened by the dim light of your apartment, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I feel it.”

Her grin returned, softer this time, almost shy. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been dying to kiss you.”

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours. It was soft at first, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure you’d let her stay. But when you kissed her back, her hand found your cheek, pulling you closer.

When you finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against yours, a laugh bubbling from her lips. “Damn, I should’ve done that sooner.”

You smiled, your fingers tangling in the fabric of her hoodie. “Yeah, you should’ve.”

Outside, the city continued to hum, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like everything else could wait.

Authors note:-Let me know if you’d like more posts that are modern 😘 oh also if I should create a tag list and start having emoji anons.!

[pansy-picnics]

YESSSSSSSS YES YES GOD. OH MY GODDDDDD. RIPPING MY SHIRT OFF LIKE THE HULK. YOU GET IT OP. I LOVE PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS (Says the aroace guy . Like okay fork found in kitchen cmon now)

No cuz LISTEN. romance and attraction is something that is constantly front in center in society as a whole….its a lot more understood than friendship or familial relationships. so it probably makes SENSE to hugo at least in concept.

Attraction is understood by a lot of people as like a biological instinct (And obviously its more complex than that but thats the most Basic idea thats been held for most of history i think). And hugos definitely been Attracted to people before. I think he kind of just sees it as a nuisance tbh. He just tries to gaslight himself into pretending it isnt there.

But platonic love….you dont have that physical reaction yknow??? I mean ive had what i can describe as platonic “crushes” before but it’s different….It could be different for other people ofc but in my experience platonic love kind of sneaks up on you. You might not even really notice its there. One day you’ll just be looking at someone and you’re like, “oh yeah. This one. Theyre the one. Theyre safe.”

They affect you in little ways. like influencing the way you think or the way you speak and you dont notice until someone points it out. You’ll pick up on words they use and everyday things will make you think of them. ITS JUST. GAH!!! I LOVE PLATONIC LOVE!!

I think platonic love is SUCH an important part of hugo’s general role in the story because like….This isnt his first rodeo remember? Hes done jobs for donella before. Hes probably crushed on a few people before. Maybe even people hes worked with. But clearly its never affected his performance before. none of these crushes have Permanently rewired his brain and this perspective he has of the world.

The reason team radical has such an impact on him is NOT just bc she’s gay for varian. It’s bc ALL OF THEM are the first people who have just Genuinely cared about her, with no ulterior motives, no strings attached, no romantic connotations, no nothing. Theyre the first people she’s actually connected with and felt like she could be herself around. and they’re the first to actually able to counter these mindsets that are so Natural to her- these mindsets that it’s every man for himself, that relationships are all temporary, and that she’s not fundamentally deserving of love. Varian, nuru and yong showed hugo a new perspective on life. ALL OF THEM DID!! NOT JUST VARIAN!!!

Its why platonic varigo is genuinely so important to me and one of the reasons i think varigo are the “best friends first/lovers second” kind of couple. its also why i dont really like them having chemistry like right off the bat. Because like…Them being friends first is the only reason their relationship as it is is even possible. Neither of them really had friends their age before and thats Why they really connect.

if it wasn’t for varian just…being a good friend, and him, nuru and yong all collectively showing hugo this new outlook on life….team radical would have just been another means to an end. Sure maybe hugo would’ve had a little crush on varian or found him attractive, but it wouldn’t have made him like, quit his whole job. He would’ve just done the work and moved on with his life. he wouldn’t have FALLEN IN LOVE like he did. Love and attraction are two different things and hugo didnt just have a crush on varian, he fell in love with him. and he fell in love (platonically, of course) with yong and nuru too.

THATS what changed him!!! Genuine human connection and love!!! It had nothing to do with romance!!! And i feel like people just tend to focus on the yaoi or whatever when like…It means nothing if we aren’t seeing hugo form these bonds with the group as a whole and watching his outlook change as a result! without the core feature of genuine human connection and friendship the yaoi wouldn’t even EXIST!!! 😭😭😭

I especially need more library/betrayal scenes with the whole group bc it genuinely makes me so mad when they’re Just about varigo and nuru and yong are just. Left behind? NOBODY EVER WRITES NURU AND YONG REACTING TO THE BETRAYAL…..NOBODY WRITES THEM HELPING HUGO WHEN VARIAN GETS POSSESSED. THEY’RE JUST. LEFT BEHIND AND THEN THEY SHOW UP AT THE END WHEN THEY HAVE THEIR GROUP HUG OR WHATEVER….SOMETIMES NOT EVEN THAT!!!

IT BREAKS MY HEART BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT JUST SIDE PIECES TO VARIGO!!! 😭😭😭 GAHHH. I NEED MORE TEAM RADICAL JUST ALL BEING BEST FRIENDS AND LOVING EACH OTHER!!!!! I NEED YONG AND NURU TO PLAY A PART IN THESE MAJOR PLOT POINTS TOO!!!!

I feel like we don't talk about how Hugo would be weirded out by the concept of having friends enough. Like we all pretty much agree that Donella, while maybe not being outright abusive, was at least not an amazing parent figure and made Hugo live a life that wasn't super healthy. But I haven't really seen anyone talk about how he probably has never felt platonic love.

I like the idea that it wasn't Varian that convinced Hugo to leave Donella, it was Nuru and Yong.

Hugo would have at least had a crush before, if not an actual relationship, he's aware that liking someone made you want to do stupid stuff, like quit your job, abandon your mother figure, and live with them for the rest of your life, but wanting to do that sort of stuff for someone you have no attraction to whatsoever? Huh?

I just love the idea that while Varian was a huge part in changing Hugo, it took friendship with no hint of romantic connotations to finally win Hugo over.

[diangelodork]

guys i’m really bad at writing actual fics so im gonna start posting snippets from fics i have concepts of plans for but go like this “👁️👄👁️” when i try to actually write them so HERES THE FIRST ONE LMAO (payneland, post get together, the monty talk tm - talk of consent and lack thereof, jealous charles rowland)

edwin took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. he pressed his fists against one another, lifting his head up to look at his lover who had his legs splayed out in front of himself on their couch. edwin cleared his throat once. “charles, i did- i think it may be wise to delve into my prior feelings about… monty,” he said, treading cautiously. he knew how quickly the mere mention of that name riled his boyfriend up.

“you don’t have to. y’know, if you don’t want to,” charles answered far too quickly, trying for nonchalance, but edwin caught how his shoulders squared off and his fingers tensed. edwin knew that he didn’t want to hear it, but he just wanted to be honest with his boyfriend.

“i’d like to tell you, if you’d let me, my dove,” he said, layering a thick layer of saccharine onto the term of endearment and walked over to the couch. charles was much more amenable to listening to him when he brought out the old-fashioned pet names.

a warm smile broke out onto charles’ face, eyes wrinkled and adoring. he held his hands out, silently asking to be closer to his lover. when edwin sat down beside him, he hauled him up into his lap, sighing at how nicely they fit together. “go on then, love,” charles said, stroking up and down edwin’s arm. charles was purposeful in the way he held him, making it so that his back would be flush up against charles’ chest. not only was it nice to bury his face in his hair, but he wouldn’t be able to see the inevitable frustration on his face when he began regaling tales of monty.

edwin tried to relax into the touch, but it was still something they were working on, the slackening of his rigid posture. the evident discomfort both boys had about the topic certainly didn’t help in this. his head fell to charles’ shoulder in a matter of moments before he readied himself to speak.

“do you remember how he and i went on that walk? after the case of the two dead dragons?” edwin asked.

“mmm,” charles hummed in verification. his jaw was already clenched and edwin hadn’t even said much of anything yet.

“well, we ended up at this children’s park and we sat on the swings and i had told him that we should stop seeing each other,” edwin explained easily, as if it wasn’t even a big deal. seeing each other? charles hadn’t known they were ever officially a thing. edwin was still his best friend then, why hadn’t he told him? he restrained from huffing and let edwin continue without interruption, keeping his hands busy by stroking his thumbs up and down edwin’s sleeves.

“i told him about my…” edwin trailed off for a moment, inhaling the nonexistent scent that would lie on charles’ shoulder. the tension released from his body ever so slightly, and his voice was a bit quieter when he spoke again. “feelings. i told him how much they scared me,” he confessed.

the frustration washed away from charles with edwin’s soft-spoken words, leaving compassion for his lover in their wake. he hated hearing that edwin was scared and that he couldn’t protect him. maybe it was foolish as it was already in the past, but it mattered to him.

“but it seems he misinterpreted me and he… kissed me,” edwin says and oh, charles could seemingly feel the heat rising once more. it seemed he could be angry! what a development!

“oh. cool. was it- was it good?” charles asked, heat creeping into his voice. he had tried to hide it, but somehow, the jealousy festered even though he knew that it was him with the boy on his lap and not that crow’s.

“my love, i know i do not have to tell you that needn’t be jealous. i truly only have eyes for you, and i know you are aware of that,” edwin cooed and he used his power over charles like a weapon. he shifted his body so that he could cup charles’ face with one hand, pressing their lips together. “i adore you, charles. not him.”

he was ever too convincing and he knew it.

“yeah, i know,” charles said, trying for a bit less of a sopping puddle than what came out.

“good,” edwin smiled still, lips curling up beautifully. he pressed another kiss to the tip of charles’ nose this time before continuing. “i did not like it, or dislike it, really. i had liked him, at one point, but it was never- it could never possibly be in any way comparable with my affinity for you. it had taken me by surprise, of course, as that was decidedly not my intention in telling him that we should stop seeing each other, but i do not fault him. i know my wording is difficult to understand, on occasion. i’m not angry with him. not for that, at least. it still rather hurts that he betrayed us,” edwin said, his voice smaller toward the end.

“wait, you mean- you were trying to reject him and he kissed you?” charles asked, panic and anger rising and flowing into one another, his core fiery. not only had this birdbrain kissed his boyfriend, but he hadn’t even consented? had edwin not been firmly on his lap, he’d’ve been all the way back in port townsend now. he may not be good at mirror travel, but the pure, unbridled rage festering within him blinded him to that fact.

“yes, but, listen to me, my love,” edwin said, a small amount of panic in his voice. “he hadn’t done so on purpose. he thought i had meant that i was afraid of making it real. he didn’t simply kiss me because i was trying to reject him,” edwin tried to amend, but charles could hardly hear it over the blood rushing in his ears.

“bloody git. i’ll pluck all his feathers out,” charles said, now unable to hide his anger and frustration. his fingers tensed as he gripped edwin’s waist, fingers digging into his sides. edwin let out a small gasp.

“charles, he helped me uncover my feelings for you,” edwin said finally, a plea in his voice.

charles stopped at that, considering it. had it not been for that cunt, edwin would probably never have figured out his feelings for him? he didn’t forgive him, not by any means, but he did know just what to say to get edwin to laugh.

he let the tension seep out of his own body, forcing himself to relax. “oh. i’ll send him a fruit basket,” charles said plainly, masking any frustration that remained. he was still upset about it, but he was okay enough for him stop worrying about it while edwin was with him. he’d figure out the rest on his own time.

a laugh bubbled up, escaping edwin’s lips. “he’s still in crow form, i believe,” he said, turning to charles with a smile.

charles captured his lips in a chaste kiss, “then i’ll send him a seed basket,” he said against his lips. edwin wrapped his arms around his neck and charles couldn’t find it in himself to care any more at that moment. not with the loveliest boy in the world on his lap. kissing him. (and if the sense of possessiveness that edwin returned through their kiss added to a very different sort of heat in his core, that was no one’s business but charles’. and maybe edwin’s. definitely edwin’s.)

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

They’ve needed reform for a long time, since the mid-90s-ish (when the 24/7 media cycle first became problematic (and I have theories on that too which I’m happy to discuss if anyone else wants))

Yes, please.

I mean, the 24/7 media cycle probably makes sense for crucial world news, but when it was applied to celebrity gossip it turned a relatively harmless pastime of being distantly titillated by (or judgemental over) the glamorous (or scandalous) affairs of ridiculously good looking people into unprecedented levels of media intrusion and loss of privacy.

I'd love to read your analysis. Honestly I love this blog because it's not Sussex or Wales bashing, it's reasoned analysis.

At long last, my theory on 24/7 news and media cycles.

So for me, there are four incidents in the '90s that are responsible for the devolution of media coverage. (Okay, so it's technically 1 incident in the late '80s and 3 incidents in the '90s, only because I keep misremembering when the '80s incident happened.)

Incident #1: Baby Jessica, 1987

Baby Jessica was a toddler (2 or 3) who was playing in someone's backyard and fell down an uncovered well and got trapped. Her rescue was/is considered the "origin event" of the 24/7 news cycle as coverage of her rescue was broadcast around the globe, live in its entirety. This is also the event that put CNN on the map in terms of international media - they had an on-site in-person presence the entire time (versus using affiliates or just checking in intermittently).

In other words, the journalists who report live from Ukraine or Afghanistan where bombs are dropping or the stormchasers that report on hurricanes, tornadoes, and blizzards - they're where they are today because of Baby Jessica.

Incident #2: Rodney King/LA Riots (1992) and the OJ Simpson Trial (1995)

I always associate these two events together because you don't get the OJ trial without Rodney King.

Rodney King was beaten by the police after being pulled over for a DUI in L.A. His beating was recorded by bystander witnesses, who later gave his footage to media, who broadcast it around the country. Public outcry led to the police officers being charged with excessive force and April 1992, they were acquitted. The riots began that afternoon and lasted a period of 6ish days, leaving around 60+ people dead, scores more injured, and thousands arrested. Four years later, Nicole Brown Simpson (OJ's wife) and Ron Goldman are killed. The evidence implicates OJ Simpson, who leads the LADP, media (via traffic reporters in helicopters), and the globe on a now-infamous car chase through LA before he's arrested. Simpson is later put on trial, which is fully televised and broadcast, and is acquitted of the murder charges. It's been alleged that OJ's acquittal is "payback" for the Rodney King acquittal in that OJ was acquitted to prevent LA from rioting again - YMMV on that but there's a collective societal understanding (especially more recently) that OJ actually did do it.

So, anyway, why these events are important:

the King beating was the first time that mainstream media popularly used bystander witness footage to augment their own reporting tactics and it really seemed to have cemented the significance of witness footage in media and history.

the LA riots were the first time that modern mainstream media broadcast images of 'the revolution' (if you will) to that extent, certainly around the US.

the Simpson trial was the first time that modern media televised a full court proceeding like that, ultimately leading to modern reality television (and in more ways than you probably think - the Simpson trial brought us court TV and programs like Judge Judy, but it also led to the Kardashian empire).

Of course, there are other instances where the media used bystander footage to tell their stories before Rodney King and there are other riots/revolutions that were televised before LA and there were other sensational trials televised before OJ - but these three events are seminal to pop culture and media in ways that earlier events weren't.

Incident #3: Centennial Olympic Park Bombing, 1996

During the 1996 Summer Olympics, a pipe bomb detonated, killing 1 and injuring about 100 others. A security guard, Richard Jewel, found the bomb, reported it to the authorities, and then helped with evacuations. The FBI named Jewel as a person of interest, which the media decided meant he was the suspect and the media treated him accordingly with intense scrutiny, surveillance, and harassment. Because the media treated him like that, so did members of the public. Eventually the FBI exonerated Jewel, he sued everyone, and the bomber was found after he bombed two more places.

I consider this noteworthy because this was the first time that the media led the witch hunt and then absolved themselves of any responsibility towards inciting public sentiment. (This happens again in 2013 after the Boston Marathon bombing, this time by Reddit and social media, who wrongly accuse innocent men of being the bombers.)

Incident #4: Diana, 1997

Diana's death and the immediate aftermath, for me, is the culmination of all these toxic behaviors by the media. We have the media chasing their subject (the OJ Simpson chase), the 24/7 coverage of the accident and mourning (Baby Jessica and the LA riots), the use of bystander witness photos and footage (Rodney King), and the witch hunt to cast blame (Atlanta).

I really do genuinely think that if there had been institutional reforms on the media every step along the way when their behavior was problematic - specifically, when by reporting the news they put themselves into the news - then potentially Diana probably could have survived August 31, 1997, since the media wouldn't have been chasing her or potentially the public condemnation of the BRF wouldn't have been as consequential.

Don't get me wrong - the public still would have blamed the BRF. Mohammed Fayed still would've perpetuated the rumors that he did. But without the media, or the media running certain stories and certain claims without any fact-checking, I don't think it would've been this 25-year evolution for everyone to realize "okay, she's not totally blameless and they're not totally at fault."

But that's also the issue, too. When the public is feeling things so deeply, when is it appropriate for the reporter to interrupt with "actually, she didn't wear her seatbelt and got into a car with a drunk driver, that's why she died" or "actually, are you saying that it's more important for The Queen to comfort you and your feelings than to comfort her own grandsons, the actual children of the woman who died?" Grief makes people do and say very odd things so on the one hand, it can be excused but on the other hand, the media completely abdicated their responsibility to inform the public, choosing instead to exclusively inform the BRF.

So for me, the proper response after Diana had been laid to rest or the mood softened (or any time something cataclysmic happened like the riots, like OJ, like Atlanta) should have been the media's evaluation of the role they play in their reporting. The 24/7 media cycle means that when there's no news to report, the press becomes the news or the press directs how and where the news should be reported, the result of which is today's hyperpolarized news environment - full of bias, full of skepticism and disbelief, full of sensationalism, full of intense personalities, and full of big, hot feelings.

But of course, the challenge with that is we don't know when something is an inflection point in "the timeline" until long after it passes. On rare occasions we know right then and there - as in the case of Diana's accident, her passing, and the aftermath (I would also name, in US history, 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, and the 2016 election as "we know we just had an inflection point" moments - not sure what equivalents are in the UK or in other countries or on the scale of international journalism). But in most cases, it takes years to fully realize and understand what had happened and what needs to change and in media specifically, no one has that kind of time because everyone has to move forward to bigger, better, newer things to keep audiences engaged.

I mean, there's a reason why traditional newsreaders like Walter Cronkite, Dan Rather, and Peter Jennings have gone the way of the dodo bird - no one wants facts anymore. They all want to be the first ones to break the news, who cares about the full story, and the public has been trained to demand opinion and perspective instead of fact. Which I feel can be traced back to the 24/7 media cycle and the unchecked behavior of the '90s media.

Anyway. Sorry it took me so long to get this out. I just kept forgetting. And also apologies for being a bit rambly.

[chronicallyonline101]

hii!! i love ur writing and this is purely self indulgent, can u write hcs (or a oneshot) of father figure abbacchio w a teen reader whos struggling w their mental health?? just some really fluffy stuff

tysm!!

(ignore if ur not comfortable!)

Hi! Of course I can write this! :) I did both hcs and a oneshot, but it's pretty short, if you want smth longer just lmk!!!

Father figure Abbacchio + Teenage reader struggling with their mental health!

At first you were probably just another misled youth that Bruno had found scrounging the streets of Napoli and had generously taken in. As such, he treated you like the rest of them. Just another kid to be taken care of.

You weren't as hopelessly ambitious as Giorno; you just sort of did your own thing, so he never really hated you.

In fact, he likely grew fond of you over the exact same reason he hated Giorno - he saw himself in you.

You kept to yourself, smiling and getting involved only when you were needed. You listened to your music. Often lost in a little world of your own, and when the others weren't pestering you to hang out with them you spent all your time in your room. Curled up in a little ball, in the dark; hiding.

It was sad, actually. Watching day by day as menial tasks became exhausting; brushing your teeth, getting dressed, or even just getting up and joining the others for breakfast. There were always bags under your eyes. Always a downward tilt to your lips and Abbacchio knew everyone on the team had their issues, but watching you wither away in the exact way he had was horrifying.

That was probably why he found himself taking a more parental role at your side. He wasn't good at this stuff, though. He was a failed-cop-turned-gangstar, not some wannabe therapist. He wasn't going to sit you down at a table and assess your symptoms. But he wanted to help, to stop you from turning into grumpy old him and so he did where he could.

You were gently encouraged to attend Fugo's tutoring sessions, and if Fugo ever yelled at you when Abbacchio was within earshot he'd probably get a clip over the ear.

If you ever end up calling him 'dad' or something similar he'll freak out because that wasn't his intention, but at the same time, it's nice having that kind of bond with someone. He doesn't mind it.

Bruno keeps looking at him and smiling because Abbacchio never normally cares so much, but now he's actively taking a fatherly role and its sweet.

I can't think of anymore HCs so here's the oneshot!

Of all people, Abbacchio knew what it was like to feel so hopelessly deferred from reality. To be so miserably all you could do was lay in bed and will yourself a slither of courage. He'd been through that pain; he still goes through that pain, on particularly rough nights. There was no true way to escape the clawed grasp of ailment, but he was grown. He was mature, he could deal with it.

It was disheartening, though. To see you, his junior by several years - just a kid, struggling against the chains of torment.

Every day was a chore. You could barely lift yourself from bed, and if you could will yourself from it's deathly embrace, it took hours to get ready; brushing your teeth had your heart palpitating in your chest, choosing clothes for the day a chore too exhausting, your appearance mattered not when your mind grappled against itself.

And then there was everyone else.

The stares. The questions.

Are you eating enough? Do you want to come out with us today? You look a little tired, have you been sleeping well?

Days passed like a blur; with the same things repeated to you every single time you left the enclosure that was your room. You don't even know how many times you'd sat at the side of a road, contemplating what it would be like to just cease your own existence. All the while Abbacchio could only watch as you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of your own despair.

You shouldn't be feeling like this. You were so young, and yet every day it got worse and worse.

And that's why he found himself hovering outside of the door to your room at that very moment. Bathed in the darkness of the corridor, hand balled into a fist and poised to knock; You hadn't left the confines of your abode all day, despite having supposed to gone on a mission with Narancia and Fugo earlier. It was worrying him, you'd had days like this before but it had never been this bad.

For a moment, he hesistated, unsure if you would want to be disturbed during your time of peace. But after a few seconds of thought he swallowed that hesitation and knocked at the door.

There was no answer. He knocked again, firmer this time, and called out to you gently. There was a meek response from the other side; hardly a sound worth noting, but Abbacchio knew you well enough to understand it was a mottled greeting.

With mild confirmance on your part, his palm rested upon the doorhandle. He wasted no moments in prying the wooden thing open, his eyes narrowing in the dusky cocoon that was your room. On the other side of the room, he could just about make out a carcass-like figure wrapped beneath heaps of blankets atop of your bed. It was unmoving, twitching only the slightest bit when faint light from the corridor spewed across your cesspit.

A sigh passed Abbacchio's lips. He moved to walk toward you, but his foot caught on a pile of clothing that had been haphazardly thrown across the floor. He tripped forward and fell flat on his face.

He lay there, still, for a few moments. There was rustling on the bed above him, and when he lifted himself from the ground he found your defensive glare fixated right at him.

Slowly, as if any wrong movement would cause you to retreat, he got to his feet: "Hey."

Silence followed his words. It looked like you were in no talking mood. He frowned, teetering closer inch by inch. He made a motion for the bed, and when you showed no signs of telling him to leave, sat down.

"What's wrong?" He spoke after a few seconds of unfiltered silence. You hesistated to respond; the question had you flinching, mulling over your words to no avail.

Nothing could quite sum up the crushing weight that pushed at your shoulders. How the world burnt around you, how each day beat at you until you were nothing but a mangled pile of meat and bones crawling for safety beneath your bedsheets at night.

"I don't know."

He was disappointed with your response, you could tell from the way his brow pinched together. You'd expected him to yell at you, or maybe berate you for being so nonsensical but nothing of the likes spewed from his lips. Instead, he looked to you with warmth. Comfort, rather than frustration.

"Well... I can't help you if you don't know." The words were soft leaving his mouth. You swallowed thickly, fumbling for the courage to speak of your ailments.

"I just don't feel good." Was your uncoherent mumble. "I don't know what to do."

Your throat felt tight; unwanted tears welling at the corners of your eyes. You hiccuped, trying hard to stave off your own emotions for the sake of your dignity. Abbacchio clicked his tongue, pity overwhemling his senses.

"Come here," He shuffled closer to you, wrapping an arm over your shivering body to envelop you in his warm embrace. "It will be okay."

But the words only brought bitterness to the tip of your tongue. "How can you say that?"

You howled, tone meek. You evaded his eyes, looking to the floor with a poignant scowl. You were growing snappy with him, yet he held no resentment.

"Because, I know it will be." He then chided, patting your back securely. "I know that everything seems like a lot right now, but it won't be like this forever, I promise."

You stayed silent. Sniffling, and bringing a sleeve to wipe at your eyes. He frowned at your lack of response. "It will get better."

"Why can't things be better right now?" You coiled in on yourself, growing hopeless in tone. Abbacchio was just glad you weren't so stand-offish anymore, he understood why you were so defensive of yourself, but it still hurt.

"I don't know." He hissed a breath through his teeth, knowing that probably wasn't the best thing to say. He was never that good at comforting people.

A few brittle seconds passed by in silence, before he finally conjured up a better response: "But just because everything is shitty right now doesn't mean you should let yourself wither away here. You should be happy."

You looked to him sourly. "But I'm not."

And in turn, he let out a short huff. "You can be,"

He reiterated, letting go of you in favour of getting to his feet. He looked to you expectantly. "Come downstairs and hangout with the rest of us."

It was an order, moreso than a request, but it held no authorative intent. His gaze was soft on you, caring and parental; he wanted what was best for you, to help you when you were struggling the most.

"...Okay." With a small, hesitant nod, you got to your feet. Wobbling lightly, nauseous from having spent so long laying on your side.

Abbacchio offered you a rare smile, triumphant in removing you from your cesspit. He took your hand in his own intent on making you feel better; the rest of the team were downstairs setting up a movie night. He'd requested it himself, knowing that a distraction from your own wallowing thoughts would be best for you at that moment.

---

Sorry this took so long !!! Uni has been pretty stressful, so i was slow writing it. lmk if you liked it !!! if you didnt, and you want something changed, just say !!! i'll be happy to rewrite it :) thank you for sending in this request!

[h3nderyss]

magazine - mark lee

pairing: idol!mark lee x fem!reader . . . masterlist genre: fluff word count: 774 a/n: recently got the mark cosmopolitan magazine.. i KNOW it's a june issue and it's literally november, but i'm still thirsty. sue me.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"i'm home!" mark's voice echoed throughout the hallway, the familiar voice making your expression soften into an automatic smile.

the day had been slow; off work, catching up on a show you occasionally rewatched, and anticipating mark's return from his long days of work.

being an idol meant his schedule was FULL. barely any time for anything, especially for mark, the most hard-working and committed man you'd ever met. nobody could ever compare to him, how he perfectly balances life, work, and relationships. most importantly; you.

he'd recently had a photoshoot. for what? well, you didn't know. he demanded he'd keep it a secret, although a hint had been it was for a famous magazine brand. of course, this meant waiting weeks upon weeks for the issue to release. especially when your boyfriend was on the cover, it felt like months of waiting.

you sprung off the couch and rushed over to mark who took off his shoes and set them aside, as a second after, bringing him into a loving long-awaited hug which you both had been dying for the entire day.

"what's that?" you looked at this plastic bag he was holding, inside of it was a suspiciously tall thin book that you took a glance of.

mark moved the bag behind his back, out of view. "a surprise." he smirked at you and gave you a peck on the lips. "i want you to be prepared."

it only etched more confusion on your face as you slightly tilted your head. "why? is it just a book?" the thought of the magazine photoshoot mark had weeks ago hadn't even crossed your mind.

his eyes darted up as if he was thinking, "hm, i guess you could say that.." he nodded and looked back at you as he was joking around. he made you chuckle, and he moved the bag back in between you two, looking into it.

"a magazine? a-" your eyes immediately widened, mouth agape.

"oh my god." you spoke in light speed, digging the book out of the bag and into your arms. "mark..?!" your voice had been quiet and breathless. he really did have *this* much impact on you, even if it was a single photo. "c..cosmopolitan..?"

"i only managed to get this second version. the other two they couldn't give me." he gestured at the magazine and you immediately went and sat on the table to prepare yourself to skip through the pages and only focus on your ravishing boyfriend.

mark followed suit and sat next to you, the whole time smiling like an idiot. you were smiling too; blushing and biting your bottom lip as you stared at the gorgeous man on the cover of this magazine.

"how are you real," you said in almost a whisper. mark had not taken his eyes off of you. he loved seeing your reaction to everything, and he adored you so much it had been unhealthy.

mark moved a piece of hair that fell on your face looking down at the magazine, he wanted to see your face as he melted upon seeing you freak out over the man on paper. him.

you flipped through the pages, taking a minute to actually take in the photos of mark. "this pose.. mark this pose is.. that shirt on you.." mumbles came out of your mouth as you glanced at the real mark next to you.

"how are you you?" you looked at him infatuated.

"how am i, me?" he chuckled at you with a smile and briefly looking at the photo of him in front of you.

you nodded. "how did i manage to snag you?" suddenly a joking mood filled the air.

"i don't know but, i'd prefer you over anybody else."

as if you hadn't already been fiercely blushing from looking at mark in photoshoot in the magazine, he never failed to make you flustered.

"stop it!" you giggled and turned your attention back to the magazine, flipping through the same pages over again.

"close that book now and focus on the real mark! i'm right in front of you.." mark starts to whine, his real self not getting attention, just the reflection in the magazine.

"it's your fault for getting me this! i'm gonna frame all of these pictures now."

"babyyy.." his whiny tone and his hand starting to intertwine with yours was just enough to make your give in.

"markieee..." you reciprocated his whiny tone and gazed into his eyes. "i can't believe you're mine."

"you better start believing soon because, i'm not going anywhere anytime soon." mark smiles and pulls you into a loving passionate kiss.

[maodear]

This is me yapping about alien stage to its fullest. I Mostly yap abt round 7 and the video All-in

Till is alive. I think. Because in the end of round 7, his little stupid picture flicks. And his earpiece that probably tracks his heart rate ((checking on his breathing probably??) fell out. So that’s why it flickers since the alien doesn’t know if he’s still alive or not.

SO. HYUNA & MIZI CAN GRAB HIS ASS AND RUN AWAY. ((And I guess Luka too..)

Though realistically, I think Till will survive due to him having such a big role in alien stage. I don’t think Vivinos is THAT evil to let him die, if Ivan already sacrificed himself.

But I do think that Hyuna and Luka will definitely go against each other. (Or what if Till survives and goes against Mizi or smth.. and Hyuna goes against Luka. ???) because 3 is a odd number. (Yeah I didn’t know) Having 3 go against each other would be difficult. Why have 3 when you could get 4? And two more bonus rounds am I right? ((Please leave till alone. He’s my son. Yes I am his mom. Canon.)

Mizi and Hyuna will definitely get captured. No way they will be able to get out of a stage. FILLED with aliens all round. No way. Unless Dewey & Issac bomb the whole place and happy ending.

One of the most anticipated to happen is Hyuna and Luka going against each other. Maybe finally would Luka will show fear? And crack his “perfect” appearance. I would love to see him break because of Hyuna.

As much as I love Hyuluka. It cannot work, because Luka (maybe?) killed Hyunas brother. I have no idea how Hyuna could possibly forgive him.

Unless.. he didn’t? ((Which he probably did but let me cook. I want some hope.)

((Yes he probably did. But I want to put this theory somewhere)

In Hyunas All-in video, during the flashback to the Hyun-woo and Luka “fight” Luka was bleeding from the side of his head,but when looking at Hyun-woo’s hand. He had no blood on his hand? What if the fight was started by Hyun-woo? Possibly since Luka was rather odd to Hyuna. I don’t think Luka would start a fight, due to his conditions. It doesn’t click in my mind for him to fight. What if Hyun-woo hit him on the rock first? I mean hyun-woo didn’t have any blood on his hand. The whole scene isn’t shown. We don’t el know what fully happened. Not saying Hyun-woo is in the bad AT ALL. If he did, then Luka for sure deserved it. And maybe a fight broke out. Causing Luka to kill Hyun-woo.

Luka probably wasn’t that old in that time. Most can be 15. At that age, no matter what. The feeling of killing is horrid. Yes maybe Luka did intend to hurt him. But not kill him. Has it been shown in comics. It did show that Luka and Hyun-woo would fight and Hyuna would break them up. I mean boys usually fight. Look and Ivan and Till.

I read a theory that said Luka might have PBA. Which causes you to laugh,smile or giggle in inappropriate situations. Even if you don’t truly find it funny or even if you’re actually horrified. 

And do remember that Heperu taught Luka to overcome Fear. Possibly he messed up Luka that much, to make him laugh or smile even if he is truly scared. (Which also explains why he is also shown trembling.)

No way am I saying Luka is innocent. He’s a bitch but I feel like people do forget that he is also a victim as everyone else. Alien stage is a fucked up show, which Vivinos will not let us be happy 😭 We can only be happy in the Actor Au..

[azaharinflames]

I fell into the deepest depression I’ve had for years when Buck and Tommy broke up. I just wanted to cry so badly but decades of trauma kept me from doing that. Add on that Trump had just been re-elected, and add in that my Dad had been admitted to hospital with a collapsed lung it just took me down.

I’ve mostly gotten over it. I spent 24 hours writing my idea of a fix it fic (won’t happen on show cause they all suck but it was cathartic). I can’t remember what caused my breakdown but I did end up crying. My eyes felt less puffy after as well.

I understand that it’s a fake relationship in a fake show but something about it spoke to me. And just watch it end hurt me worse. The last time I had actually cried hard was in 2021 when my mother-in-law passed away from COVID. So why did this stupid relationship affect me so much. I feel embarrassed for reacting this badly. I don’t even like to talk to my partner about it because he wouldn’t understand.

Hi, Nonnie! Thank you for your ask.

I am so, so sorry to read that. Listen - it's not stupid. It's not embarrassing So don't think your feelings surrounding it and your reaction to any of it is that, because I promise you: nothing about it should make you feel embarrassed.

Here is the thing: Art, in whatever form, is one of the things that move people the most, historically*. Art is a universal language that doesn't simply exist in a painting or a sculpture but in a myriad of different forms that, especially in the last few decades, have expanded immensely. Art can be a channel for our emotions, can be our choice of escapism, can be the thing we see ourselves reflected in and thus, the thing that we connect to because, hey - that's us. And if we see 'us' overcoming on screen, surely we can overcome in real life, right? That's one of the reasons why representation is so damn important.

Yeah, it was a relationship. But it shouldn't be reduced to just that. Instead of dismissing our feelings by making our issue seem nonsensical and small, let's think - my issue was because a piece of Art I connected to deeply was dealt with in a damaging way. And that carries consequences.

There is also the fact that, I think, for a lot of us, it was more than the break-up. The biggest thing to take into context was the election because it is just a matter of fact that we needed a win so bad that week, and we got the opposite of that. To get a bit more personal, I was already dealing with my town being hit with the worst natural disaster in my country this century, still had to hear from some of my friends to know if they were okay or even alive (fortunately, they're all fine), and I was seeing only tragedy whenever I went online. So this happening hit me really hard as well - but, like you, it was one of the things. Still, I spent three days barely able to take a bite and barely able to sleep, and a week with really high anxiety.

And sure, I did feel silly, but if I do love one thing, I sure do love introspection, I reached the aforementioned conclusion and reflection on Art (let me know if it helped or is a bunch of bs tho).

I think what you're doing, writing a fix-it fic, is amazing! You're channeling your feelings through Art, and I am sure it does feel very cathartic. I haven't written for 911 yet (definitely want to, I have some ideas that could work), but I have some years of writing for Marvel and Seblaine (Glee) on my back, so trust me when I say this is the better choice you could do - channel your feelings through your Art, and you will end up with something beautiful, I'm sure of it.

Sorry this was too long, but I'm here if you (or anyone else) needs to rant, vent, or discuss something (911 or whatever, something else is valid as well)

Take care, Nonnie <3 and all of you as well <3

*I have a bachelor's on this, please trust me on it lmao

[beevean]

Yeah, she was done dirty. She could have been such a great villain, a selfish manipulator only concerned with her own comfort, hiding behind a veneer of condescending kindness that hid a deep desire to have power over others (desire spurned by the awareness that no one likes her so she has to force people to like and respect her), a monster wearing the mask of a human even if it hurt her (clipping her claws, dousing herself in perfume to hide the stench of blood) because she resents her own cursed condition to the point of not even wanting to bite people but only to not feel "guilty" about it, eventually regretting the awful way she treated the only man who showed her kindness but too prideful and childish to apologize. The elements for a good character were all there, she's fun to think about!

Too bad she was conceptualized by a sexual abuser and it shows, from how her consistent physical, emotional, mental and sexual abuse of Hector in S3 is portrayed as masturbation fodder because haha hot girl puts a leash on a submissive peggable idiot, and in S4 she gets out on nowhere painted as a poow widdle girl who did nothing wrong 🥺 and the man she raped into slavery shows zero conflict about how this woman who pretends to be nice to him also broke his heart in the most visceral of ways.

You could have had a heartbreaking story about how Hector's constant abuse broke him, and the way he crawls back to a woman who only showed him the bare minimum of decency shows how he would do anything to feel that someone out there cares about him, even when it's not true. You could have had an intelligent, nuanced story about the intricacies of abuse and toxic relationships, how people can like you and care about you and want the best for you and still hurt you in irreparable ways, because their selfish desires and need for control is stronger than what you need to thrive. Instead, I got this:

Yay, "it's not rape if you enjoyed it" turned into sassy banter! Just what I like from the characters I'm supposed to root for and empathize with :)

I'm sure the genuinely well-meaning, gentle Lenore who fell in real love with Hector that exists in fans' headcanons is a lovely character. I would love to meet her, I also have a Lenore in my head who is a very complex villain. But what I saw on screen from day one was a poor excuse of jerkbait with three different personalities and the source of appalling abuse apologism, because it's fine, she's hot, he deserved it for being stupid, she raped him for his own good, actually it wasn't even rape because when someone lies to another person for the express purpose of having sex which leads to being trapped in an unwanted relationship is just a little dirty trick, a small lie, no biggie, of course the person who was lied to will eventually understand and forgive and want to kiss the person who betrayed them!

Pictured: a poor woman pressured by her peers who was very torn over having to resort to rape by deception to enslave the man she kept molesting for no practical reason other than her amusement. Sure, she could have just offered Hector the position of pet the moment she told him that Carmilla no longer had use for him, and he would have accepted because Hector's only objective in life is feeling cared for, but hey, why not truly humiliate him to feel more powerful? :)

anyway Lenore was never a good person. She had fun toying with the heart of a man for the sake of turning him into a tool to use to enslave people: she did little harm compared to Dracula, sure, but it's more personal, and motivated by even pettier reasons than "wife died", because everything about her screams "I want to feel in control and powerful". And much like Dracula, I would have been perfectly fine with her being a vile piece of shit (well, the writing in S3 still sucks because she's bullying a shell of a man and there's no meaningful conflict, but eh, I could go on a rant on how Hector was done dirty) were it not for the fact that the writing insisted that I should feel sorry for a whiny abusive ineffectual cowardly brat who only thinks about her own pleasure and can't even see the man she trapped as his own person, whose main source of angst is "besties don't like me and Carmilla's plan would be inconvenient to me and my feelings 🥺"

(I linked to too many posts here. I have sources for everything I said. Look at how much proof I collected that Lenore never loved Hector or saw him as a person! It's honestly impossible to read her from any other angle.)

So in short, she's cruel, she's petty, she's disgusting, she's incompetent (using her pussy to unnecessarily trick a man who is painted as so stupid he's on the verge of being called the R-slur doesn't speak highly of her manipulative skills), she's whiny, she's a hypocrite, she doesn't even do anything concrete in the plot (I love me some cringefail villains who still have some gravitas to them, like OG Isaac and Dahlia Hawthorne), she does like one (1) good thing and it didn't even matter, and her grand finale is ragequitting from life like a kid who lost too many times at a videogame, abandoning like he was a mere afterthought the man who cut his own finger to get rid of the slave ring she put on his hand and still chose her. peak. she's lucky that her design was artificially engineered to be as cute as possible, because that's deadass the only reason fans tear their hair to justify her and defend her.

S4 was bad and she was particularly pathetic there (seriously that ring was fucking pointless), but that didn't make her a good character in S3 either. So yes, she deserved to be written by someone who understands the gravity of abuse and doesn't think some people are so stupid that they deserve to be harmed.

lenore is a very well-written character that is written very well

[stuckinapril]

Woke up having a crisis about if I want an MD or an MD PhD………. It’s so over

[rosylix]

＼(_ _)

[carefulfears]

we've talked a bit before about how obsessive scully is, that she's a zealot. and i was thinking about this when i posted about signs & wonders. it's how i think about her with mulder — specifically the idea that mulder is a (her) prophet, the way her faith shifts to him. she follows him, protects him, believes (in) him. the way that, in the show, he's objectively right so she's right to take his side. it's reinforced even as they're "punished" for it. is this what you mean or maybe something else i haven't really considered?? what scenes/episodes do you think this plays out most? (as always, love anything you have to say especially about scully <3)

yeah that's basically what i've been thinking about...but like, when you posted about signs & wonders, this was the ending dialogue that you shared:

Mulder: If this was some sort of test looks like I failed. Scully: I'd say if it was, you passed with flying colors. You're alive, aren't you?

and i think it gets bypassed a lot of the time how reductive "believer/skeptic" is, in that these are roles that they play but often not really who they are. mulder isn't actually a believer, per se. he's trying to be, and it's extremely fragile and difficult ("you think believing is easy?"). scully is a natural devotee. she's catholic, born and bred, and feels most defined in faith. not just a belief: a completeness, a trust, a reliance. "based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof." (dictionary definition)

it's been addressed throughout the series, that despite her job as the skeptic, the one demanding evidence, she does not feel the need to prove what she believes in. she tells him that she believes in miracles, even if they can't be witnessed. when he asks what she would do to prove the existence of god, she says that she doesn't think about it. she doesn't think it can be proven. believing isn't difficult for her, isn't fragile, isn't frantic.

but "zealot" means "uncompromising," someone who fanatically pursues their beliefs and convictions. and it isn't belief in god, or dedication to the mission, that scully is violently committed to. signs & wonders is a religion-based episode, where they don't catch the killer. he safely moves to a new city to continue his work. but scully sits in “blessing, tennessee” and calls it a win, simply because she can say anything to him at all.

(collateral damage by audries: "he tells her he loves her, and she thinks someday she’ll tell him that the rest of the world is collateral damage. she’ll tell him that her prayers are selfish and that she is not the saint he thought, the savior he expected. she thinks she’d destroy the world for him, rather than save it, if it came to that...they’d wanted her to love the whole damn world, but she won’t. she wants it all narrowed down to one man in a dim basement and the way he falls asleep with his head in her lap, his restless hands and warm insistence and the way his coat gets darker and darker as he leaves her behind.")

it isn't steady, rational, commitment to her god or her family or her country ("i left behind a career in medicine to become an FBI agent four years ago because I believed in this country"), that she gives her last rights to on her deathbed. that she froze for in the artic, that she inked into her skin. it isn't to save the world that she gives up her child. her job. her home. her identity. and runs.

people tend to think of mulder as obsessive and myopic and that's true, it's hard to always be seeking. to always be following is terrifying.