#because i think i was misinterpreted by everyone who met me this week

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

"i'm not bad at this language, i'm just bad at social interaction, promise": a neurodivergent language learner's catchphrase

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I don’t know where to start

plum, chapter nine 

a/n: you know, when my therapist told me that writing stories could be a good way to work on traumas, idk if fanfic is exactly what she envisioned...

warnings: Joel Miller x reader, MILD SPOILERS for the last of us (both games and the hbo series), slow burn, age gap (20 years), timeline wise this is set in between the first and second game (so when they live in Jackson), ptsd, heavy angst, hint to an ed, talk of DARK things (forced pregnancy, rape, drugging, essentially being held as a slave, death/murder, solitary confinement, suicidal thoughts)

word count: 1040

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

masterlist | join my taglist 

“What are you doing here?” you blinked, as the figure knocking at your door turned out to be none other than Joel. 

“Maria sent me.”

“Of course, she did…” you sighed as you swiftly stepped aside for him to enter the house that had only been yours for a few weeks now. 

“She was worried that you’re not eating,” he held up a small container of food for you to see, then set it down on your dining table directly to the right of the entryway.

Closing the door after him, you then leaned against the wall, “well, I’m not hungry.”

Glancing up at you, he exhaled, “right,” then moved towards the door again. 

Anxiously crossing your arms, you spoke up as he passed you, “hey Joel?”

“Yeah?” he stopped in his tracks, trying to catch your skittish eyes. 

“Can I-…” you tried, then promptly remembered how you’d yelled at him, and even though he always seemed to see right through it, always responded to it with that usual unwavering presence, you still couldn’t help but shrivel up and say, “no, forget it, it’s not important…”

“What is it?”

“No, it’s fine,” you stared down at the swirling woodgrain on the floors and waved a hand, “you go…”

Not moving his body an inch, he spoke, “Y/n,” making you meet his gaze. 

“I just-…” you breathed deeply, “Maria told me to talk to someone and she had this idea that it might be easier if it was with someone that I didn’t really know…”

“Okay,” he nodded gently, as if you were a baby bird he didn’t want to spook away.  

Feeling your heart nearly beat out of your chest, you struggled, “can I talk to you? Can I-… can I try? Try to tell you?”

“Sure,” he answered swiftly, not needing a single second to ponder it, “but are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable with Tommy or someone else?” 

“Tommy still sees me as that little girl I was back when I first met him, and I don’t wanna take that away from him. I don’t wanna ruin that any more than I already have. I don’t care if your view of me changes after you hear because you didn’t know me before. I don’t mind if you look at me as if I’m broken,” the pained exhaled that then flowed out past his lips was so faint that you almost missed it entirely, “also, the thought of telling any of them exactly what happened just makes it seem so much more real and I don’t think I could handle that…” just the thought caused fearful tears to trickle down your cheeks, “to be honest, I can barely handle it now… and you obviously don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I would never force you to do anything,” you squeezed your eyes shut and rambled anxiously, “and it’s not like I’ve been abundantly nice to you lately, or really since we met, but I swear it had nothing to do with you, I just-”

“Y/n,” he cut you off, breathing as if he was trying to do it for the both of you, “I know, it’s fine. I don’t mind you using me as a punching bag. Rather me than someone who could potentially misinterpret it, although, with the way everyone here walks on eggshells around you, I don’t think they’d take your swings personally. So, if you want me to listen, then I’ll listen.”

“Right…” you would surely break the skin if you kept on digging your nails into your palms as hard as you’d unconsciously been doing. Slowly moving towards the dining area, you both sat down at the table. For a long moment, you just sat there, quietly losing your mind while he patiently waited. “I don’t know how to do this,” you uttered into your palms as you hid behind them, “I don’t know where to start.”

“Just whatever comes to you first, it doesn’t have to be in order, doesn’t have to be everything now, just start somewhere and then go from there. You can just pretend I’m not even here if that helps.”

“Okay…” you choked out a small sob, then timidly began, “they, um… they had this room down in the basement… there weren’t any windows, wasn’t any light, so you couldn’t really tell if it was day or night or if you were down there for 1 hour or 24. They, um, didn’t wanna grow bored of me, so that’s where they’d put me in order to keep me out of sight, keep me interesting for them. They always had me restrained in one way or another, kept weapons on me to get me to behave or even occasionally drugged me, although they saved that up for the most important people there… it wasn’t even the kind of drugs that made me forget, it just felt like they threw me right back in that dark hole again and I just couldn’t do anything. I could still feel every single thing, but I couldn’t even blink.” 

“I don’t really know when exactly it was, but I think it was during my first winter there that I-… it was inevitable for it to happen at some point… and they didn’t wanna try and perform an abortion, didn’t have the right equipment or the skills for it, so they just let nature run its course. And then when it happened they-…” your voice broke as you then uttered through your sobs, “you know, I didn’t even get to hold her…” silently hating yourself as you then actually admitted out loud, “and a part of me wished so hard for me to have just died during the delivery. For a while I let myself think that I’d finally found a way out. That I would finally be free. That my little girl would help me end it all… and for the longest time, I couldn’t let myself love her, because that’s not how it’s supposed to be. That’s not how you’re supposed to make a new life. It shouldn’t be a consequence of being a slave, of being raped and tortured. She was a consequence. She was a consequence, but I still grew to love her. I didn’t want her, but I still loved her. And they slaughtered her in front of me like a fucking stock animal.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[septemberfalconer]

Hello and welcome to my TEDTalk, once again about Naomi Novik’s Spinning Silver, about how Stepon is Autistic. I have textual evidence to support this claim, as well as a peer diagnosis from the Group Chat:

In Stepon’s first POV in chapter 11, the first two paragraphs (page 156, US hardback edition):

“I like goats because I know what they will do. If I leave the pen open, or there is a loose post, they will get out and run away…I can understand goats. I tried to understand Da, because I thought if I did, hew would hit me less, but I didn’t ever manage it, and for a long time I didn’t understand Wanda, because she was always telling me to go away, but she would make me food along with everyone else and give me clothing sometimes. Sergey was kind to me most of the time, but sometimes he wasn’t, and I didn’t know why about that, either.”

He doesn’t get social stuff! He gets the animals more than people because animals are predictable and make sense to him. His Da is always angry and abusive and nothing changes that. Wanda resents having to take care of him and resents loving him but does anyway and he doesn’t get it. Sergey is nicer but not always and tells Stepon the truth about their Mama but Stepon doesn’t get why sometimes Sergey is short tempered with him. He gets why the goats do what they do. There isn’t a question there, no difficult waters to navigate.

In Stepon’s chapter 13 POV (page 205, US hardback edition):

“Someone else had lived in the house also, I remembered Wanda talking about them, but I couldn’t remember their name. It made me feel strange trying to remember when the name didn’t come, because names always came when I wanted them to. […] If I found them then I could just have asked what their name was and I would stop feeling strange.”

My boy Stepon never forgets a name! He knows the names of everyone he’s ever met or heard of and it’s weird and bothers him when he can’t.

Also chapter 13, (page 205-206):

“It was the day after market day in the fourth week of the month, so that meant Wanda was going to collect from the two villages down the cart-track going southeast from town and the names to collect from were Rybernik, Hurol, Gnadys, Provna, Tsumil, and Dvuri. I said the names over to myself on the way because they made a nice song in my head. When I got there I knocked on all the doors I saw and asked their name and if they said one of those names then I held out the basket…Then I brought the basket to Panova Mandelstam and told her, “I am not too younger after all.” She looked in the basket and then she was very upset. I didn’t know why, but then Panov Mandelstam put his hand on my shoulder very gently and said, “Stepon we should have explained. It is very important not to make any mistakes when collecting, and to keep a careful account. Do you think if you try very hard you can remember and tell us exactly where you went, and who gave you each thing?” “Yes,” I said. “This is the day of the month Wanda goes to Rybernik, Hurol, Gnadys, Provna, Tsumil, and Dvuri,” and then I pointed to each thing and told him who gave it to me. I thought Panova Mandelstam was still unhappy afterwards, but she gave me some dumplings with a thick sauce with carrots and potatoes and real chicken meat in it, and a cup of tea with two big spoons of honey, so I must have been wrong.”

The MEMORY on this kid!! He knows his sister’s schedule by heart and knows what’s okay to accept for payment! He makes little songs out of what he needs to remember! Again he’s not sure how to understand the emotions of the people around him, misinterpreting Panova Mandelstam’s upset at him going out to work for them and putting himself in harm’s way as being upset with him for maybe messing up the accounts.

Stepon’s chapter 14 POV (page 231, US hardback edition):

“..One of them yelled “How does it feel to have killed your own father?”

They ran away into the trees and didn’t wait for an answer but I thought about it the rest of the way. I wasn’t sure if I had killed my father, because I had only wanted him to not hit Wanda with the poker; I hadn’t wanted him to fall over me. But he had fallen over me and that was part of why he was dead, so maybe it didn’t matter that I hadn’t wanted it. I didn’t know.

I did know that it felt good ot be living with Panov and Panova Mandelstam. I had stopped feeling hungry even a little bit. But anytime I thought about Sergey and Wanda, even if I was sitting at the table, I felt like I had swallowed stones instead of food.”

I’ve decided to leave out the rest of Stepon’s thoughts about what would be better, if Sergey and Wanda were with him and the Mandelstams or not for the sake of space, but it continues to prove the point I want to make. He’s analytical! This isn’t a kid who can lie to himself even for the sake of comfort. He could give himself the scant distance from his father’s death that “I didn’t want him to die” could buy him, but he knows he can’t. He was there, his father tripped over him, and his brother and sister are gone now. He doesn’t know if he will see them again, and this is still likely the best outcome because he isn’t hungry and frightened and cold anymore. But he still wants his brother and sister and would rather be cold and alone in the woods looking for them than “live with the stones in [his] stomach.”

Continuing Chapter 14, this time page 232-233:

“..but he said it too kindly, the way you say nice things to a goat when you are trying to get it to come so you can tie it up. It did  not mean he wanted to hurt me. He only wanted to keep me in a good safe warm place so I wouldn’t die in the snow somewhere. But if I stayed in this place, I would never see Wanda and Sergey again… “Sergey and Wanda were going to go to Vysnia. They wanted to ask someone for work.” I had to think about it because he was someone’s grandfather, and I didn’t know who the someone was, which was strange. But I did know the grandfather’s name. “Panov Moshel.”

This time I had to cut it off because if I include Panova Mandelstam realizing Miryem is gone I’ll make this post about that instead. But! Stepon is coming in again with his goat analogies, which I love. He’s picked up some great ways to tell how people are feeling but he’s steadfast, and again with his excellent memory. He can’t remember Miryem right now, but he can remember he grandfather’s name, even though he overheard that when Wanda and Sergey were just talking as he collected the nut from their Mama’s tree. He still remembers!

Stepon’s POV in chapter 15 (page 254):

“Are you warm enough Stepon?” Panova Mandelstam asked me. I said I was because however warm I was, that had to be warm enough, because there was nothing to do about it if I wasn’t.”

This is short but I really like the directness he has here. He is cold, as he says in the next couple of lines. But Stepon knows that nothing is capable of making him warmer, even in the best place in the sleigh, so he says he’s warm enough.

Again in chapter 15 (page 256):

“Then he straightened and looked at Algis. Algis was standing next to the back of the sleigh. His head was hanging. He said, “I didn’t fill the bucket.” He meant the grain bucket. So there was no food for the horses.

Panov Mandelstam didn’t say anything for a minute. The silence felt very long. Finally he said, “It is lucky this is a late snow. There will still be some fresh growth under. We must dig and get them some grass and whatever else we can find for them to eat.”

He was still kind, but I thought that he had not felt kind, and that was why he had been quiet. I thought that meant he must be very worried. So then I was very worried.”

Analytical! As always! Stepon is learning how to distinguish emotions, and he’s getting his queues from those around him. He knows that it’s bad for the horses to not have food, but he’s not worried until he realizes that Panov Mandelstam is. Stepon also spends the rest of the chapter making sure to remember how no one else would have forgotten the grain bucket. I don’t think that actually plays into him being autistic, but it’s very funny to me. Wanda would have remembered to fill the grain bucket, Algis.

I don’t have any examples that jump out to me from Chapter 16, but I want to note that I love how aware Stepon is of how other people are feeling. Does he understand why? Not always. But he knows Wanda is scared when she realizes the mattress cover is big enough.

Stepon’s POV in chapter 19 (pages 334-335):

“Wanda and Sergey went downstairs to help with the wedding. “Will you come, Stepon?” Sergey asked me, but I shivered, remembering all those people crammed together, in the rooms and in  the streets, more people than I knew there to be in the whole world. “No, no no,” and they didn’t make me, but they went, and after a while the sun started to go down, and I started to not like being alone in the room…I pulled my head back inside, but the house was getting so loud and full of people that I heard some of that same noise even when I closed the window. It came up through the fireplace and under the door. It got louder and louder and then music started playing. It was loud music, and people were dancing to it. I felt it in my feet not just in my ears. I sat on the bed and covered me ears and I still  felt it coming up all the way through the house. It kept going on and on. It was all the way dark outside and I was really afraid now because why would Wanda and Sergey stay down in all that noise unless something bad made them. I had my face pressed up against my knees and my arms over my head, and then there was a knock on the door. I didn’t say to come in because I would have had to take my arms from over my head, but Panova Mandelstam came inside anyway. “Stepon, are you all right?” she said. She meant it but she didn’t really mean it, I could tell. She was thinking about something else. But when I didn’t say anything back and didn’t pick my head up, she started to really mean it, and then she went and got the candle she had left on the table for us and she took out a couple of big lumps of wac from it and blew on them until they weren’t hot, and she said, “Here, Stepon, put the wax in your ears.”

I thought I would try. I took my hand away for just a little bit and took the wax. It was still warm and soft. I pushed it inot my ears and it squished into the little spots and then it stopped being so warm and the noise stopped being so loud on that side. I could still feel it in my body but I couldn’t feel it so much. So then I was very glad and I took the other lump of wax and that helped too.”

Sensory overload my beloathed. Stepon, buddy, you are me and I am you. Why WOULD they be around all of those people and all of that noise? My boy would have LOVED noise cancelling headphones if they existed in this world. This scene really resonated with me the first time I read Spinning Silver, to the point that I had to read it twice. I have been here before except no one gave me anything to dull the noise.

Stepon’s POV chapter 21 (page 393-394):

“I did not mind taking them off because it was warm, and I was sitting in a cart anyway. I was glad to be leaving that terrible city. It was even worse than before. The streets were all crowded with people everywhere because now there was no snow and they wanted to be outside and they all wanted to talk at the same time and make noise. I lay down in the bottom of the cart next to the sacks that were pretending to be Miryem and I tried to pretend to be a sack myself, but I wasn’t a sack…Panov Mandelstam got down to pay the man at the gate some money, because that city was such a terrible place we had to pay to be let out.”

He hates this place! He wants his quiet little house back, thank you and goodbye. He’d prefer to have his whole family with him, but any leaving back to his safe, quiet place is best. This city is too crowded and too noisy and his life would be easier if he was a sack that couldn’t hear but he’s not so he’s just gonna lay there.

That’s the end of his POV chapters and I don’t wanna use evidence from any of the other characters POV’s because that can very too much and also I’m not currently rereading it was easiest to just go back to passages I’d already marked because I’ve been thinking of this for a while. Anyway! Stepon is autistic, thank you for reading my roughly 2400 words so far, I will not be taking challenges to this. Seriously if you try being mean about this I’m gonna block you.

[plethomacademia]

dark urge modern au: horrible influencer edition

I was talking dark urge modern AUs in a discord and decided that Maeve would be a Goop-style toxic influencer with a certification in Reiki that sells pussy candles and @todderwodders gave me the prompt to write a drabble of her doing an instagram live. I feel like I haven't posted writing lately so here, have a cursed object which is the most toxic influencer doing a non-apology to head off being cancelled.

For people who haven't met this horrible woman, she is a charismatic cult leader archetype in the BG3 universe.

559 words, Sceleritas is her head mod and assistant, I'm sorry.

Maeve adjusts the large tablet in front of her, smiles at her own beautiful face, flipped horizontally by the front facing camera. She reaches to turn on her ring light, then checks her angles. It’s almost perfect, which is just the right amount of perfect, she thinks. Too much more and people will notice the effort.

She picks up her phone and swipes through her texts. Her mod team is small but mighty, her best people ready to help her contain the chaos of one of her scheduled lives. She opens one from her assistant, Scelly. u totally got this <3 truly the master, love u so much, it says. Maeve sends back her Memoji blowing a kiss. She checks her hair again, smooths it out along with her facial expression, then hits the go live button. Immediately, she sees them joining, her lovely followers. She wiggles her fingers at the screen. “Hey guys, get settled in! How are we doing this amazing Thursday?” She does not try to keep up with the scroll of the comments as they fly across the bottom of the screen. There are far too many and the number increases as more and more people join in. The pre-show is her favorite, all the excitement, the multiple exclamation points she sees as people tell her hello!!!! omg i caught a live!!!, the emojis as they float past her view. She takes a glance at her phone again to see if her mod team has anything to say, but it’s blissfully clear. This is good, because she has to start with a hard topic that she is not looking forward to. As happens regularly, someone is trying to cancel her. “Ok guys, let’s get started. Welcome to everyone new! I am so excited to show you some sneak peeks at a prototype that we’ve been working on for you!” She takes a beat to look at herself and force her smile to flatten out, her eyebrows upturn slightly, the expression she has been practicing all day. Scelly had helped her figure it out, the perfect combination of concern, contrition, and her normal charm. It was perfect, but not too perfect, of course. “First of all, I want to take some time at the top to address some comments that I have seen floating around. I am truly sorry to anyone who misinterpreted my interview with the Gazette last week. My brand has always been inclusive, of course, and it breaks my heart when someone does not understand that. So please, remember lovelies,” she puts her hand to her chest, “no matter what gender, all pussies can benefit from having their aura realigned. So please, she, he, they, anyone is welcome to use my offer code for 25% off their first purchase when over the limit. Scelly or one of the mods, can you throw that in the chat please?” She watches the emojis fly across the side of her screen, hearts and smiles and she forms a heart with her hands. “You guys are so great, I knew you would understand. It’s just so hard, you know?” She touches the corner of her eye, the suggestion of a tear. “But enough of that, we all know why you are here! And please remember to shoot the mods any questions for the Q and A later!”

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

To Make a Heaven of Hell (8/?)

----

Virgil is tasked to go collect more coffee than he can carry alone, thankfully someone comes to save him.

----

| <- Previous | First | Next -> |

Chapter warnings: None (please lmk if I'm missing something)

Notes: *rubbing my hands together like an evil genius* guess who's hereeeeeeeeeeee-

Anyway uh- sorry this took like three months? I genuinely don't know what happened - I was very busy over Christmas and then uni deadlines caught up on me - and I've been working on so many things that I'm just screaming into the void at this point. I'm glad I could finish this chapter, though!!! I love this fic so much!

----

Whatever scheme Janus and the others had gotten up to had been almost pushed out of his mind by the time it actually came to involve him. 

Almost, because he hadn’t quite been able to stop thinking about the ‘yet’ surrounding his own involvement in the plan whenever he’d had a free second. But they’d spent enough time talking back to assholes at the Hellp desk - and at a good few hours of therapy sessions with Emile that had been mostly productive - to mostly put it out of their mind. For the most part. 

Once a week had passed since Janus and Angel had headed into Hell giggling about who knows what, Virgil started wondering if he really would be involved in this plan at all. 

—-

Barely even the day after Virgil had thought that, he was introduced to the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. 

Well, introduced is a strong word. 

He noticed the guy across the lobby - stood in the entrance to the tunnel that leads down to the residential levels of Hell. Remus was with him, it looked like he was trying to coax the pretty stranger to come further into the lobby, but when Virgil met his eyes - deep pools of molten gold that almost seemed to glow and make Virgil feel like his bones were melting but somehow in a good way? - the stranger ran. Well - good to know he was apparently scary to the pretty demon. What a great confidence boost. Virgil sighed - just as Remus seemed to across the hall - and Lily gently patted his shoulder in consolidation.

“He’s shy,” She said by way of explanation, Virgil just sighed again.

—-

“Oh Virgil!” Angel practically sang from the other end of the desk a few days later, “Can you do the coffee run alone today? Ruggy’s having a bit of a crisis over here-”

Ruggy rolled her eyes - Virgil wasn’t sure she was actually having a crisis, but it wasn’t their place to judge. 

“Sure, uh - can everyone write down their orders? I probably won't remember them alone.” Virgil said, standing up, Angel giggled and handed him a piece of paper that already had all the orders written down on it in multiple different handwritings, he frowned, okay - so they had planned this. What was going on? 

“You’re all grown up now,” Lily chuckled, probably misinterpreting his frown, “You’ve got this!”

“...Grown up?” Virgil looked at her confused, as far as he was aware, he hadn’t changed since he got here.

“Wait, did you not know?” Angel gasped, standing up again.

“Virgie you’re like two inches taller than you were before,” Sharkie pointed out, glaring at him - for growing? Which he’d apparently done at some point without his own notice - but didn’t Lily say…

“You’re settling in, kid!” Bel told him, ruffling his hair with a heavy hand that made Vrgil laugh and shove him away…. Maybe those therapy sessions were helping more than they thought? “Now go get that coffee!”

—-

The coffee shop wasn’t busy when Virgil went in, which they thanked the universe for as they nervously handed over the list of eleven wildly different coffee orders, not even realising there was an extra one - and then asked for his own too. He thought belatedly that he wasn’t sure how he would carry them all back to the desk. 

He stared blankly at the three cup holders full of various drinks and two paper bags of snacks that the barista put on the counter. He once again thanks the universe that the coffee shop is fairly empty as the barista looks at him sympathetically.

“Could no-one else on the desk come down today?” She asked, “If I wasn’t halfway through my shift I’d offer to help you take them down myself…”

“That’s okay,” Virgil waved her off, moving everything to the side so that if someone else wanted to order, they could, before sighing and putting a hand on his hip, trying to figure this out.

“Hey cutie, need some help there?” Someone asked from behind him with a voice smooth as butter in a tone that had Virgil blushing - even more so at the nickname. He turned and found himself face to face - more like face to chest, whatever did this guy get from being so tall? With the extremely pretty demon who he’d seen across the lobby in Hell just a few days earlier.

“Ha-h-hi?” Virgil stammered, feeling his train of thought screech to a halt as he looked up at the demon’s face. His sparkling golden eyes seemed to look straight through Virgil’s pale foundation to his hot blushing face - almost as red as the demon’s skin. From this close he could see bright golden freckles littering his skin like tiny stars, and Virgil could see a lot of his skin too - he wore just as little clothing as Remus did. His heart-tipped tail thrashed behind him - in a way Virgil thought seemed almost nervous, but that couldn’t be right. Smiling, the stranger picked up two of the three cup holders after putting one of the bags of pastries and cakes into the satchel he carried around his waist, an action which totally didn’t draw his eyes to somewhere where they were not supposed to be drawn - he thought he might combust with how much he was blushing as he forced himself to meet the stranger’s eyes again. 

“I see I’ve rendered you speechless,” he said, grinning to show pointed fangs - unlike Remus’ full mouth of shark-like sharp teeth, but still dangerous looking in a way that didn’t scare him, “My apologies, but I simply couldn’t leave a cutie like you to struggle after I saw you in distress.”

“I- wha- you-” Virgil stumbled to start too many sentences at once, not sure what he was even trying to say. The demon chuckled, putting his hand on his hip.

“Like what you see, sweetie?” He asked, tilting his head just a little. Virgil choked and covered his face, equal parts embarrassed and flustered by the callout.

“‘M sorry,” Virgil mumbled, trying to get his words back as his face attempted to cool down a little - but a look up to see the demon was still smiling at him just brought it back tenfold.

“What are you sorry for?” There was a hint of genuine confusion in the demon’s voice despite his smile, he tilted his head.

“I was- I was staring? That’s- rude?” Virgil said, now also confused - wasn’t he offended by Virgil blatantly looking at him?

“I’m an incubus, darling, I’m used to it,” he reassured, ruffling Virgil’s hair - someone needs to explain why that feels nice because it did even though Virgil ducked and tried to bat his hand away with a squawk of surprise that made the demon laugh, “As long as you aren’t scared of me - and hey, I was flirting with you, I dug my own grave just a little, what’s your name cutie? My brother just calls you ‘emo’.”

“Wait- you’re Remus’ brother?” Virgil perked up to ask, before immediately getting flustered again as a grin split across his face.

“That’s me,” he grinned, putting down the cup holders and offering his hand for a handshake - his claw-like nails were red but tipped with gold like he’d dipped them in glittering paint, “My name’s Roman.”

“I- ah - I’m uh- Virgil…” Virgil mumbled awkwardly, tentatively taking Roman’s hand to shake only to have their hand grasped tightly and shaken with enthusiasm. Roman’s hand was so warm. 

“Virgil? What a lovely name you have,” Roman said, bringing Virgil’s hand - which he was still holding - up to his lips to kiss, making Virgil blush a brilliant crimson, “You look like a sunrise, darling.”

Virgil could only cough and bow their head as Roman continued, “Pretty pink cheeks and lovely purple hair, hm, oh and your eyes are such a lovely blue, like the early morning sky, how perfect.”

“Oh- shut up,” Virgil mumbled, covering their face with his other hand - the one Roman wasn’t still holding, “Are you gonna help me carry coffee or not?”

Bursting out into boisterous laughter, Roman let go of his hand and picked everything back up. Virgil quickly took the others and thanked the barista - who winked knowingly at him for some reason - and began leading the way back down towards Hell. Many people stopped to stare as they walked, most of them at Roman, who’s tail had wrapped itself around his leg almost as soon as they’d stepped out of the coffee shop. Virgil couldn’t help but notice through quick sneaky glances that Roman didn’t seem half as confident out here in the universal hallway as he had been back in the coffee shop. Virgil debated asking why for a moment, deciding not to pray until they neared the gates of hell and Roman started to hide behind them. 

“Hey Roman?” Virgil said, glancing back at him, the demon perked up - as if Virgil’s attention alone had made him feel better, “Are uh- are you good? I mean- are you okay? You look more nervous than me …”

“Hm? What? No - I’m fine, totally fine,” Roman waved him off with a smile that was much faker than the ones he’d given in the coffee shop, “Why would I not be okay?”

Raising an eyebrow, Virgil looks him over, Roman’s smile slowly drops into an apprehensive expression, “Your tail is wrapped around your leg, your hands are shaking, you’re fidgeting with your claws, you’re trying to hide behind me…”

“Okay okay,” Roman put his hands up, seeming embarrassed, “I’m- I don’t really like being in the lobby of Hell, that’s all.”

Virgil tilted his head, “What - do you know what the problem itself is? Maybe I can help?” He understood anxiety pretty well after all, he hoped he could help.

“Oh it’s really nothing - it’s just - the way some of the souls look at me? It just bothers me, sometimes.”

Virgil frowns, “But- you said that me looking at you didn’t bother you?” they asked, suddenly worried he had actually upset Roman even though he’d said he wasn’t - but Roman shook his head quickly.

“It’s not the same kind of looking,” Roman said, before hiding his face with a hand when one lady from the main like glared at them, Virgil found himself giving her a fierce look in response - what had driven such protectiveness he would probably never know - but now he understood, at least a little. 

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, that was an issue Virgil was very familiar with - and he could imagine Roman got it a lot worse, considering the way he dressed and the kind of people they got at the desk. He hummed, “Hold on a second - I can- it might help…”

It was a balancing act as Virgil shrugged off his jacket without spilling or dropping anything, Roman watched in surprise as Virgil offered the jacket to him, “It’s uh- it always helps me, when I’m anxious, and it stops people from looking too hard.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Roman shifted the things he was holding and reached out to take the jacket. Where it was far too big on Virgil, it actually fit Roman a lot better, he even pulled the hood up as far as he could with his horns and covered his hands with the sleeves and gave Virgil a small smile.

“Thank you,” Roman said, Virgil noticed his tail slowly uncurling from around his leg to sway side-to-side as it had been back in the coffee shop, “This is- your jacket is very cozy.”

Virgil smiled, “Yeah? I’m glad,” it was strange - it had almost become a habit to let people borrow his jacket when they were more anxious than him - it seemed he was able to be more confident when someone else was less. Even without his jacket, in a sleeveless plum coloured turtleneck, he found he was able to keep his head held high as he led Roman back to the Hellp desk.

“Hey Emo!” Remus yelled as he approached, “Hey RoRo! I almost didn’t recognise you, nice hoodie.”

Virgil could’ve sworn Roman’s face got redder when he quietly pointed out that the jacket was Virgil’s.

----

General tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer @yourchemicallyimbalancedromance :)

----

| <- Previous | First | Next -> |

[applecidersstuff]

Yes!! I’ve just been thinking about this yesterday, and Clarrise is not even a bully, she’s just mad that Percy got to fight a famous monster right after getting to camp and win.

She’s under so much pressure that when she hears that some 12 yo killed the Minotaur she’s immediately mad at him because she feels like he would overshadow her. One of the reasons why Percy manages to beat her in TLT is because she never attacks him with her full power, because it’s not her intention to kill or scar Percy, she just wants to show her superiority to him.

I also like that unlike the fandom, Percy sees that Clarrise doesn’t mean him any harm she just wants to be seen as the strongest and the best at camp, so she puts on the mask.

I like the idea that Clarrise befriends Drew after she becomes counselor because she sees herself in Drew and sees that under the grief over Silena and the pressure she puts on herself Drew is just a child.

And maybe after the battle of Manhattan Clarrise stops praising her dad as much and gets closer to people. Maybe she tries to create a relationship with some of her brothers.

I could go on about her and how badly she was misinterpreted by everyone in the fandom for days.

Edit: and don’t even get me started on how she would react if she met Frank. Because he got everything she had ever wanted, without doing anything she did. Their dad gave him quest personally, when she got a quest by herself he told her one of her brothers should’ve done it instead. He gave him HER weapon and called it a ‘man’s weapon’.

Frank saw him about 10 times during the course of Hoo that lasted a month, and got ‘I’m proud of you’ less than two weeks after meeting him. Clarrise saw him maybe 3 times in the span of 12 years she was at camp, did everything he asked, faced her half brothers who tormented her, went on a quest and listened to him calling her unworthy, took a toll on her mental health because of all this and only got ‘I’m proud of you’ after she went through the most horrible day of her life, lost her only friend and almost all the people she knew since she was a child, faced the drakon and realized that she had survived the battle of manhattan, and that no one was going to kill her, and that she was completely alone.

Crying in the club because I was just reminded of Clarisse La Rue and how she has one of the most heartbreaking stories in the PJO series. We meet her as the stereotypical bully character, but by book two we already start to see that her entire persona is just a flimsy mask to cover up how scared she really is. She’s surrounded by people, but by the end of the day, she feels completely alone, desperately trying to prove herself to a God who treats her like she's nothing. We get a glimpse of her true character when Chris Rodriguez returns, but it's only when she's holding the broken body of her only real friend that we fully see how exhausted she truly is. Her entire journey is realizing she’s worthy of love without having to fight for it and that she doesn’t need to hurt others to get noticed. She’s a messy character, but I love her so much.

[annieintheaair]

Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.

There are no coincidences; everything happens for a reason.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about that over the last couple of years, trying to make sense of everything that has happened in my life. I'm still trying to understand why I had to move away from my life for 14 months and why everything in me said I had to return.

Even though I knew I needed to rest on Friday, I just had to leave my house and do something. I texted Julie to see if she wanted to check out the night markets nearby but the timing didn't work out. I texted Eric to see what he was up to and he was going on a date but said it would only be about an hour. We decided to meet at a nearby taco festival after his date.

The taco festival ended up not being very exciting so after one frosé, we went to Truck Yard to hang out there for a bit.

Upon driving up, I saw a car and was 99% sure that it was Todd's (I was right). Of all of the places to go in the area that night, why would we end up at the same place?

Eric and I walked around for a bit and I didn't see him so I told myself that I was probably wrong and it wasn't his car and he wasn't there. But if he was there, would I even want to see him?

Once we sat down to listen to music, Eric promptly got up and disappeared for a bit, at which time, I checked my phone and Todd snuck up on me. He was there for his friend Grant's birthday. He asked who I was there with and I told him I was with a friend. He kept asking me if it was a date and I kept telling him no (because it really was not a date at all). I told him that Eric is 29 so obviously I would not date him but we met at a concert and are friends. I honestly don't know if Todd believed me at all because I was a little more dressed up than normal, wearing heels and a cute top.

Eric came back and disappeared many times throughout the night, which was kind of annoying. When he was gone for a long while again, Todd came by and told me to come sit with them. I ended up hanging out with them and eventually, his friends left. I texted Eric to come over and he wouldn't so Todd insisted that we go over and sit with him. I think he just wanted to meet Eric to confirm my story about it not being a date.

Obviously, Eric hated him. When Eric left, Todd asked why because he thought he had been nice to Eric. In the simplest of terms, I explained to him that Eric wanted to date me and didn't like him because he had dated me.

We talked about some random things and there was a little bit of clarification on things that had been said that were possibly misinterpreted. I kept thinking about my conversation with my therapist last week and how I told her I didn't want to have any type of conversation with him over text but if I saw him then maybe I would. In some ways, I feel like I accomplished what she told me to but I also didn't.

When I got home that night, I went straight to bed. I didn't sleep well and woke up early. I kept thinking about how Friday night, hanging out with Todd, when everyone was gone, kind of felt like old times, but in a good way, like the best of the old times, before things became complicated and crazy and we started fighting about every little thing. I thought about how all week, I wanted to text him and tell him that I bought an Apple Watch keychain charger so I never have to worry about not being able to charge it. It seems silly but it was one of our last fights the day that we broke up.

I go back and forth -- sometimes I just want to tell him to fuck off and disappear. He doesn't get to be part of my life in any way, not even as a friend. He doesn't get to show up whenever he wants to and disappear whenever he wants to. He doesn't get the chance to hurt me ever again.

Then there are moments where I think about the sign I bought for my guest room, after telling my therapist about it... What's the best that could happen? I'm so used to constantly thinking about worst-case scenarios. What if allowing him into my life at all will cause me pain down the road? My felt letter board has said, for almost two years now, "May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears." Instead of being so worried about what could go wrong, I need to think about what could go right. But then again, what does it even look like in this scenario for things to go right? You have to really know what you want to have an answer to that.

Saturday morning I picked up Jillian and we went to check out a new park nearby. We walked over to Oktoberfest after that and ended up getting lunch at Tupelo Honey. She told me about the date she was going on that night and wanted to get home to prepare so I took her home and then drove back to Oktoberfest to meet Kia, Mason, and Aleia. We ended up spending pretty much the entire day there and I was drained.

That night, I came home, made myself an Aperol Spritz, put on my pajamas, watched TV, and fell asleep on my couch. By 11:30pm, I got off my couch and went upstairs to bed.

Sunday was a lazy day. I tried to accomplish little things around my house, like reorganizing my guest room closet. I wasn't super motivated to do anything but made it to Yin Yoga at 5:30pm. David, the instructor, has to be the most gentle man I've ever met. He's soft-spoken and seems like a really kind human. When he adjusts your poses, he has the softest touch and it makes me think that there's no way he could ever hurt someone. Obviously, I don't know him out in the real world outside of yoga but he seems like a good person.

After yoga, I had a little bit of time before going to work. I wasn't supposed to fly last night but ended up trading trips with a girl who was having car trouble. She offered to pay me for trading trips but I told her I understand car trouble and was happy to help. She said she would pay it forward, which I thought was nice.

Aside from still not having my voice back and now coughing like crazy, work wasn't too bad. I was bummed this morning when I got downstairs and they said the coffee maker was broken. The hotel van driver was so sweet and offered to make me an Americano instead with the espresso machine so I took him up on his offer because I desperately needed some caffeine to survive.

This morning, I got home, got some work done, and then went to a Pilates class. It was hard and I feel like my entire body is still shaking from it.

Well, I have to finally take a shower and get ready for my work meeting and then, of course, therapy later. Hopefully, I can squeeze in a nap later!

xoxo

Annie

[ruminate88]

When It’s Not Enough:

I’ve shared before how I grew up in a Christian home where “love” was the main topic. My parents both served in our church and did a LOT for people. It’s all I saw as a child but i misunderstood and misinterpreted it all. It made me into not just a people pleaser but someone who literally lets everyone into their circle and lets everyone mistreat me. 🥺💔

When I met Cody, oh everything he told me about himself was soooooo sad. I was already down on myself and had low self esteem plus had just written a suicide note. Cody seemed to somehow understand me better than anyone else. He talked me off the ledge and we bonded so deep. He called me “his queen” so obviously I think Cody can care about me and because I believe in “the power of love”, I think the lie that I can actually help Cody!!! I found out though that I can’t.

I didn’t learn my lesson and less than 6 months after Cody ghosted me, I met Andrew. Andrew was loveboming me day one. I barely knew his first name and he’s proposing to me daily for weeks… 🥴🤪 hah it was so uncomfortable and crazy but he was flirting sooooo hard with me and making me feel somewhat special. I wasn’t even sure if I was attracted to Andrew. He lived on a farm with like 500 cows and that made me freaked out becuase I’m a suburban girl. I’m not an outdoorsy/animal lover. Whenever Andrew and I faced timed for the 1st time though, wow….. oh wow…. His eyes were sparkling and we didn’t have everything in common but there was all this chemistry to the point I wanted to jump through the phone. I never crushed so bad on anyone in my life…. lol

Andrew was breadcrumbing though. 😝😝😝 he wasn’t asking me out and had long stopped proposing to me. It was weird. So much fog and confusion. A whole summer we “flirted” and he would Snapchat me selfies but call me cutie and act shy. If I sent him selfies back, he would act all red in his face and treat me like “oh gosh” type behavior different from when I 1st met him. I should’ve known something was off but I just didn’t understand it. At the end of summer, he starts his sophomore year of college and still hasn’t asked me out. I’m frustrated and so I ask him out instead!!! He says YES that he was “shy” and waiting on me to say something…. Weird. He wasn’t shy when we 1st met. 🤨 or even when we FaceTimed, he was so flirting hardcore and saying to me, “oh you’re really cute” ugggggggh but now we’re “in this relationship” but it didn’t really feel different.

ok fast forward to Christmas Day and he had me in isolation alllllllll day until late at night. It’s like 10/11 when he FINALLY text me “merry Christmas babe” like… where you been all day????? He defends himself and says he was with his family all day but I told him I was sad he didn’t message me good morning cuz he normally did on any other regular day (he always made a holiday sad for me)

but Christmas night, is when he started saying to me, “why are you with me when you can do so much better than me….” 😟 And said “I’m not worthy of your love”. Ugh. I thought for sure he was breaking up with me and he had me crying all upset 😠 he can’t handle when I’m upset, it makes him freak out. My feelings terrify him every time so he flipped out and asked me not to cry that he wasn’t breaking up, just that he didn’t understand what I saw in him and thought I deserved better… why couldn’t he just treat me better???? But he can’t… cuz he is who he is.

after Christmas, when new years came, wow… Andrew was yet a different person again. He’s soooo cute and all over me. Was like Christmas never happened and now Andrew love bombs me the whole month of January. He was snap chatting me 24/7 and just being soooooo romantic constantly sending me selfies of himself giving me a kissy face and winking at me, saying he wishes I was beside him, how much he cares about me and wants me. I felt beyond close to him and totally blew Christmas off. Didn’t even know what it all meant. I was confused though. Of course when Valentine’s Day came though, once again, he’s weird. Acting all funny with me and distant. I tried to make that day romantic and special but I realized there was something “off”. It sucked so much. I tried to ignore it and be normal with him. I gave it my best!

When Andrew started to pull away from me, I grappled on to him. I begged him to love me back and stay with me. I worked so hard to please him and was on egg shells worried about everything I say to him and would take forever just to send him a selfie becuase it had to “perfect” for him. I worried about being beautiful enough for him because he would always say the words “wow you look so good” BUT the way he acted so funny and distant outside of that, concerned me. I KNEW there were other girls involved but I didn’t wanna fully accept it cuz it sucked how I loved him…

I eventually learned that nothing I did or said could change the outcome. I started to get so nervous and depressed because the heartbreak was coming fast. Especially when his final exams came, he was A MONSTER! Daily texting me in all caps yelling at me how hard exams are, how much “studying” he has to do and how “I’m making it worse on him”. 😭😭 I would say to him “I’m trying to help! I am sorry you’re so stressed you know I would take it away if I could” but that didn’t stop him from still being a jerk to me. Yet he wouldn’t break up with me and he would always say he wanted me there but scream how much stress he had too. I couidnt make the situation better. I just couldn’t be enough. 💔

See, sometimes certain people are so insecure and in the dark, they need so much love like it’s unreal how dark it is for them and how much they need. You just can’t give them enough. I was making myself miserable trying to be everything Andrew needed. 24/7 I was a wreck over him. Pouring out my undying love and commitment to him when he has all these other girls he’s texting, yet he’s making me feel responsible for his school exams and acting like it’s my fault if he fails…. Truthfully, he was just feeling unworthy in general and projecting that onto me becuase I was an easy person to dump stress on. I carried his stress and tried to be his rescue and advocate. I only looked at him and thought I was soooo in love with him. I wanted to be his wife so bad. I dreamt nightly of what our baby was going to look like and I had the name picked out. I was just not in realty at all. I just didn’t know or understand emotional abuse. Had no idea I was on egg shells but knew I was a mess over him.

I didn’t realize until years later that he needs more love than I could ever give him and he’s controlling because there’s obvious issues that I can’t fix or help. It’s his problem and I hope he gets better ❤️‍🩹🙏🏻 I want the best for him even though he hurt me so much over and over. The constant screaming through text how I’m making it all worse… 😭😭 Dude, I was giving you everything I had. I would’ve given him more if I had it. I truly wanted him to succeed and to have his dreams. He can’t deny that but he tried to downplay all of it. Brush it all under the rug and pretend it was nothing. So sad… Andrew, you don’t owe me anything but you truly made me feel like scum on your shoe. Not sure if you intentionally did that or not but it happened and we can’t change it. I’m daily working through it all so I can finally get over you. It’s been so hard to let it all go 🥺❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[ngoclnm]

[WEEK 10] IRL BFFs, Online Foes? Why We Turn Savage on Social Media

Hit those comments on a news post lately? I’m talking about every kind of news, not just those celebrity scandals or political controversies. Comments sections often erupt into flame wars, and social media becomes a battleground of insults and negativity when people have different or opposing opinions.  But why?  What makes otherwise normal people turn into digital Dr. Jekylls and Mr. Hydes?  Let's dive into the psychology of online conflict and see what makes the internet such a breeding ground for bad behaviour.

The Disinhibition Effect: Unleashing Our Inner Troll

Psychologist John Suler (2004) coined the term "online disinhibition" to explain how our usual social filters get weaker online. In other words, it is where social and personal restraints weaken in the digital world. Suddenly, the fear of social consequences seems to disappear, and people feel free to express themselves in ways they wouldn't dare to face-to-face. Imagine inhibitions as those little angels on your shoulders, reminding you to be polite. Well, online, those angels seem to take a permanent coffee break. Here's why:

Anonymity - No One Knows Me: Online, individuals can engage without revealing their true identity, leading them to feel less accountable for their actions and more willing to express themselves freely.

Invisibility - No One's Watching (or So You Think): Without face-to-face interaction, the fear of getting called out seems to vanish. It's easy to forget there's a real person on the other side of the screen, leading to less restraint and more negativity.

Asynchronicity - Time to Craft the Perfect Put-Down: Online communication isn't always back-and-forth. This delay lets people take their time crafting the ultimate insult (or carefully consider a witty comeback, hopefully!).

Solipsistic Introjection - Me, Myself, and I (and Maybe My Misunderstandings): Without nonverbal cues and the full context of a conversation, it's easy to misinterpret online interactions. This can lead to people assuming the worst and reacting poorly.

Dissociative Imagination - The Online Disguise: The internet can feel like a place to reinvent yourself. This disconnect from your real-world identity can make it tempting to act differently online than you would in person.

Minimization of Authority - Everyone's Equal (at Least on the Surface): Social hierarchies and authority figures seem less powerful online. This perceived anonymity and empowerment can lead to bolder (and sometimes ruder) behaviour.

More Than Just Anonymity: The Psychology of Cyberbullying

This disinhibition effect, however, can have a dark side. When that feeling of anonymity and reduced accountability is mixed with a lack of empathy, it can easily lead to cyberbullying. Cyberbullying can take many forms, from nasty comments and flaming to harassment and doxing (revealing someone's private information). But why do people stoop to this level?

Narcissistic traits: You know those folks who strut around offline, constantly craving attention and admiration to keep their egos inflated? Well, turns out, they're drawn to the internet like moths to a flame. Why? Because the online world offers them a stage to showcase their fabulous selves to a massive audience at the drop of a hat. They're the kings and queens of Social Network Sites (SNS), soaking up every like and comment like it's pure gold. And let's face it, they're fostering a generation with extreme digital narcissism who can't survive without a constant stream of applause and validation (Keen 2007).

Sensation Seeking:  Ever met someone who lives for the adrenaline rush, constantly chasing after novel and intense experiences? These folks have a personality trait called sensation seeking (Zuckerman 1979), and it has been frequently linked to problematic Internet use and is assumed to be associated with Cyberbullying (Kim & Davis 2009). High sensation seekers often take physical, social, legal, and even financial risks simply for the sake of the experience.

So, How Do We Avoid Becoming Online Ogres?

Before you unleash your inner keyboard warrior, take a deep breath and consider these tips:

Pause and Reflect: Take a moment to cool down before hitting post. Ask yourself, "Would I say this to their face?" Chances are, the answer is no.

Remember There's a Person Behind the Screen: Online interactions are still human interactions. Treat others with the same respect you'd expect in real life.

Disengage from Negativity: Don't feed the trolls! Sometimes, the best response is no response.

The Takeaway: Be the Change You Want to See Online

The internet doesn't have to be a digital battlefield. By understanding why online conflict happens, we can be more mindful of our own behaviour and promote a more positive online environment. So, the next time you feel the urge to flame someone online, channel your inner peacemaker instead. The internet needs more heroes, not more villains!

Remember, everyone makes mistakes online. If you've ever been part of an online conflict, it's never too late to apologize and move on.

References

Keen, A 2007, The cult of the amateur, Nicholas Brealey, London.

Kim, HK & Davis, KE 2009, ‘Toward a comprehensive theory of problematic Internet use: Evaluating the role of self-esteem, anxiety, flow, and the self-rated importance of Internet activities’, Computers in Human Behavior, vol. 25, no. 2, pp. 490–500.

Suler, J 2004, ‘The Online Disinhibition Effect’, CyberPsychology & Behavior, vol. 7, no. 3, pp. 321–326.

Zuckerman, M 1979, Sensation seeking: Beyond the optimal level of arousal, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale.

[lifeinthegladhouse]

I didn't talk to my dad about my faith entirely because he was a narcissist and a boomer and people misinterpret paganism all the time, but dad kind of knew based on some of my posts on FB and stuff. one day he sent me a picture of one of the bractates or something of Odinn, Sleipnir, Huginn/Muninn... I was surprised by this as it was out of the ordinary. "What brought this on?" "I was googling Odin" (??) so I didn't say much about it to evade any kind of weird commentary.

Earlier I was thinking about how before dad died, sometime in December, he had said this man had prayed for him and he was sincerely moved. He told me, haughtily, that I should rethink religion, and he understood why I wasn't Christian because mom was so evangelically extreme, but I said, "I am religious, just not Christian, and I pray for you all the time". It was Wednesday night, we were driving to a place we thought we were going to stay at for a bit, and stopped at the red light in front of us was a car with plates that said "I break for land spirits" or something. Right in that moment.

I thought it was pretty funny, so I was thinking about this, and how I always wanted to tell dad a particular story about Odin but I didn't because he would've ruined it, not understood, or whatever, yknow I'm pretty private these days because EVERYONE reacts very weirdly to my paganism (not bc they find it sketchy or whatever b/c everyone knows I'm not a fuckin chud but bc theyre just wildly uncomfortable with faith, esp non normative faith, or people having weird experiences).

I wanted to tell him about the man I met on the train, during our roadtrip, and how it was in my book. He knew about my book but not the premise and was very supportive of me writing it (so is Odin), but I didn't want dad to read it because I talk about dad quite a bit and not in the most neutral light.

So as I was pondering all this, "did he know my faith? did he really believe that I believed in something?", I went back to find this message and the message he sent me, of the bractate image, was Feb 17th of last year. Out of context, nothing else was said, yknow.

Feb 17th of this year is when we flew down and saw him at the beginning of his death week. Exactly a year. I wasn't looking for that data, but somehow, I wasn't surprised to see it either.

A week from then, dad passed, (3 years and) 4 days after our cousin (who is part of the Road Trip Book, and the reason for the road trip) passed. He went home for hospice on our cousin's deathversary. He probably had no idea, and I wasn't gonna tell him. It was strange. My aunt, who did not know our cousin, the next day, the 21st, looked at his photo on the wall and asked me, "is... is that Gene?"

All of it has felt strange, and 3 years ago to today, was when The Big Lightning hit, which was the kicker catalyst between Gene's death, and well, everything that came after. It all feels like one big Time Lock to me. The February to May corridor of timefuckery.

[deyadee]

Gift Basket

I just finished my manga collection and was reading through volume 10 of Kiss Him Not Me. It’s a manga about a fujoshi otaku girl who loses a shit load of weight and then suddenly four guys fall in love with her. So in this chapter, she turned back to her old fat self and is being manipulated by this guy she was childhood friends with. The guy traps her as a cliff-hanger for the next volume and says “I’m the only one who likes you for who you are.”

Now I know, this is a manga. This isn’t real. It can be fan-fucking-tastical as it wants, and I don’t expect it to be 100% realistic… but it just makes me think about the manga as whole. The characters do grow to love her and accept her over the course of the story, but what starts their attraction (some of them, not all of them) is her appearance.

I feel like the reason I’ve been so invested in this manga over the series is because I kind of project myself on to the main character. She’s straight, but honestly she doesn’t seem interested in any of the romantic interests or sexually attracted to them. I’m not interested in guys, and I’m Ace, but I like imagining someone actually being interested in me romantically (not sexually). And even if they think they might not actually end up with her they still stick around for the chance and to still be her friend.

Since I was young, I never had that happen. I couldn’t even fathom it happening, because the moment I did I was met with extreme disappointment and bullying. I was the weird fat kid that thought she was a fucking witch and wore the same gross-ass jacket every day. I was the girl other girls would ask if I liked anyone, and if I said anyone or lied about anyone they’d bully them too. It happened so often it just became routine for me to deny even the possibility of someone being interested in me. I ask someone out after finally letting myself think someone reciprocated my feelings, I was crushed and humiliated. Even when I was out of high school it would fucking happen again, and again it would end in my misery. Again, and again, and again. Every single fucking time. I hate goddamn motherfucking people. Everyone just lives to see your goddamn misery. Everyone will piss on your fucking corpse because they have nothing goddamn better to do in their lives.

So you might be asking, why is this titled “Gift Basket” then?

A few weeks ago I put in my two weeks for my work because my family said I should get a better one even though I liked this one. I had gotten a Christmas present for everyone to be nice (or to be a little passive aggressive to the bitch of the workplace) and I have one to this cute cashier girl, thinking nothing of it. I just wanted to be nice and have it as like a goodbye to everyone I had gotten to know there and I didn’t expect or want anything in return. On my second-to-last day she came in (she wasn’t scheduled) and gave me a gift basket. It was so nice and I still thank her for it every time I see her. My mom picked me up and took me home that night when I could finally look through it. It was a Valentine’s Day basket with some candy, a plushie, and a card that had her phone number and socials in it. I just assumed she was being nice and grabbed a random bucket because it was around when our store was stocking Valentine’s Day stuff. Or at least that she wanted to be friends, because on the few times we talked we really clicked. My mom suggested that it could be a romantic thing but I immediately doubted it because well- I’m fat and ugly and just because it’s a bucket that says “Be Mine” on it doesn’t mean anything. I later asked her what she meant because I didn’t want to misinterpret her meaning and she said she meant to be friends (and kind of implied liking me would be gross.) We’ve hung out two times since then as friends and it’s been nice! I’m surprised I actually managed to make a friend.

I’m glad we’re friends, but thinking back on it now I’m just reminded of the dozens of times before it where it ended in misery. It felt weird after I asked her and she said no. Like for once, I didn’t care. Maybe it’s just because I wasn’t interested in her- though I feel like it was just because I knew there isn’t a single timeline or universe where something like that could happen to me. This isn’t a manga. I didn’t lose weight over night and now I’m some mega babe. I don’t have some cute personality or quirk that makes me acceptable to most people. I am at best a background character. I don’t really want to be a “main character” like those dickheads online that will fuck over everyone else for a picture or something, but most people should feel like they’re a main character controlling their story right? Most people feel like they’re actually story-worthy right?

[tinycatslay]

#10 Longing for the future while mourning the past in between coffees

Lately, I have been feeling much better.

I have adjusted my medication, which now actually regulates my pain instead of turning me into a living zombie, gone to therapy a couple of times, and made my bed in the morning.

Not to be misinterpreted. I don't have my shit together. I still can't wake up early even if the flat was on fire, and my eating schedules are merely a mirror distortion of a successful dinner meal plan I've made with my boyfriend.

But we move. We even move faster, now that I've learned how to make brown sugar oat-shaken expressos/lattes.

10:43, first coffee of the day, iced oat-shaken expresso with cinnamon

As I package up a suitcase full of books I haven't looked at in the past year to take back to Lisbon, I find myself looking back at my Bachelors's work and little notes and sketches. I don't think I'll miss it but I'm glad I can hold onto something to remember it by.

One of the things that hasn't gotten better are my measured feelings, or rather the lack of controlled measure. As someone who has always been very sensitive and felt a lot of big loud feelings, I don't understand how I've reached a point where I no longer have this life-ending feeling surrounding closing a chapter and starting another. I used to cry at the thought of not seeing my best friend for a week. And now I'm moving away from everyone and everything, and I feel like it's just a normal Thursday night.

I think I am mourning how much I used to feel rather all of the big changes that are about to happen in the next two months.

11:37, second coffee of the day, refill with more oat milk than coffee

There is this feeling of half excitement and fear of possibly starting my "London Years" (capital letters because it will hopefully be its own big, lengthy chapter) that I can't quite figure out where to store at the moment.

I can't store it in my mind because it takes the excitement out of it - too much logical thinking about the stresses of finding a way to make a living and a house in the midst of a living crisis. I can't store it in my heart because the moment I start romanticising something is the moment I dig my little pitty party grave for when my inner script of expectations isn't met (this is where my birthdays fly to be euthanised). My stomach is a no-go.

I give bits and pieces of this feeling to my boyfriend and my grandmas each week, in hopes they safe keep it for now.

I'm excited to find a home where I can let it run free and not have to pack it away. Just live in it and with it.

[delopsia]

I like to think that neither of them really considered the whole multiple-partner aspect for a long time. They didn't want to ruin their friendship by making a spat out of it and just decided that they'd let the reader make the choice between them. Robby harbors feelings for Rhett pretty early on, but he just? Misinterprets them?

Like yeah, there are butterflies in my stomach because my platonic best friend is teaching me how to herd cattle. Yeah, that's definitely it.

Rhett is the first one to actually start wondering about the whole boyfriend thing. It hits him one afternoon, maybe six or so months after they all met, when he notices Robby staring at the reader like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky. And when he turns to look at Rhett, that look remains. Robby's so intelligent that he's overlooking all the signs, but Rhett knows that look. His parents look at each other the exact same way.

He's at a rodeo a few weeks later, and he knows Reader and Robby aren't there, but he sees someone who resembles Robby in the crowd, and his heart jumps. It's such a jarring feeling that he can hardly celebrate placing second because he's so distracted by that split-second feeling.

And then Rhett starts quietly dropping mentions of the concept. Bobby notices it right away, but it's not until he's out on that aircraft carrier, fresh off a flight, that it clicks.

And he's just standing in the hallway like, "🧍‍♂️😳oh shit" probably holes himself up somewhere and spends the rest of his time figuring out the logistics and if that could even work.

After he gets back, everyone knows. The reader sees it, Robby sees it, Rhett sees it. But nobody is bold enough to bring it up out of fear of things blowing up in their face. Until Rhett cracks and just goes for it. He's decided that he wants both, and by God, he's going to shoot for both.

They're a bit hesitant to show affection toward each other, despite how quickly they take to the reader, but it only takes a few wary kisses for them to start figuring each other out. Their feelings are new enough for them to need more time to settle in, but once they do, you'll never be able to separate them 💃✨🌺

ignore this if it’s going to be explained in future works...but how did robby, reader, and rhett all meet and start their arrangement? 😲💐

I have waited

so

long

for someone to ask me this 😭💐. I've had it in my head for like six months.

Reader, Robby, and Rhett all went to the same festival together, independently with their friends/family. It was one of those cute little Autumn festivals complete with food stands, mini-shops, a pumpkin patch, hay rides, and, you guessed it, a rodeo. It's a charity rodeo hosted every year in Wyoming, and anyone can join.

Rhett goes with the hopes of being noticed and getting a shot at a Professional bull-riding career. Bob is there because the rest of the Dagger squad really, really want to see him prove that his career backup plan was bronc riding. The reader...is just there for the hell of it.

Rhett's not looking where he's going and runs into the poor reader and feels so guilty that he buys them a drink. They talk and get to know each other a little, enough to know his name and that he's riding a bull tonight.

But after Rhett takes off, the reader leaves their wallet on the bench. Bob finds it and spends half the evening looking for them, only for the reader to think he's some dude named Rhett. Bob is confused as hell; the reader thinks they've found some creep who's pretending to be two different people.

Cut to the rodeo, and the reader sees Rhett and Bob on the screen and finally realizes they're separate guys. Following the rodeo, all three of them wind up at the same after-party; the reader sees Bob, then Rhett walks in; insert Spiderman meme here. They get to talking because of the funny story they've inadvertently caused, realize they've got stuff in common, exchange numbers, and simply keep talking. They don't get to meet up very often, but the distance brings them closer, in a way.

The wild part is this was the prologue to Rhett_16 is typing..., which was my plan for how they actually get together. But I wound up deleting that part because it didn't fit the actual story I was trying to tell😭if you really, really squint, there's a tiny line that hinted at it.

You could see it in the stiffness of his (Rhett's) shoulders as he walked you and Bob to the bleachers, “ready to see what a real rodeo looks like?” He’d asked. As if you hadn’t all first met at a rodeo, and as if Bob hadn’t had a career in bronc riding as his backup plan if things didn’t work out with the Navy. 

I don't think I have the original work still, but I might rewrite it for a warmup or something 👀

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Random Silm/LOTR fanfic snippet for my lil’ gremlin OC:

***

King Eldarion did not use the palantír frequently; it showed present events only as from a great distance, and most things within Gondor and Arnor could be learned more effectively, if more slowly, from messengers on horseback. The glimpses it showed of the future were perilous and easily misinterpreted. But it was useful, by times, for watching the borders of his realm, and learning of any great changes or new threats before they reached his people.

It could no longer be used to communicate with others; the stones of Arnor had been lost, those of Osgiliath and Minas Ithil destroyed, and that of Minas Tirith was kept locked in the vaults of the tower, with only the former Orthanc-stone remaining for the King’s use.

Which was why he was startled, when using the Stone one afternoon, to find his visions interrupted by a dark-haired, grinning, unmistakably Elven face.

“Hi! How are you? I knew we could talk, even though everyone insisted we couldn’t! We ought to, we’re family, and I’ve never met a human before and I want to know everything about Gondor - ”

“Who,” said Eldarion sternly, “are you?” He focused his mind on the stranger with all the authority of the rightful owner of the Stone. “Identify yourself.” The being’s demeanour was far from threatening, and she looked youthful - though it was difficult to tell, with elves - but appearance could be deceptive or counterfeited, and a stranger breaking into use of the palantír and immediately seeking information on his realm could not be treated as other than a potential threat.

“There’s no need to be rude. We’re practically cousins, a bunch of times removed, and I just wanted to talk, because Middle-earth is fascinating and everything’s so boring here, and I haven’t done anything so I don’t se why you’d be mean and you’re giving me a headache - ” The stream of words was suddenly cut off by a look of abrupt realization. “Oh, right, because of Uncle Cel, but you don’t need to worry - ”

The face abruptly disappeared from the palantír as suddenly as it had appeared.

Eldarion scanned the palantír for hours more, but found no sign or trace of the intruder’s origin.

*****

Eldarion continued to consider the event for days afterwards. A being that was trying to learn of his realm and councils for ill might counterfeit a fair form, but would almost certainly try to display more gravitas, and would be unlikely to specifically bring up Celebrimbor, as he was increasingly certain she had. The juxtaposition of ‘Middle-earth’ and ‘here’ suggested that she was from Valinor, which was - unless someone reached through time from Númenor - also the most likely place where another palantír could exist.

And she certainly acted like a child. Though that in itself was strange; the Orthanc-stone, and the other stones in earlier years, were safeguarded as powerful and perilous objects, not left where anyone might run across them.

Nearly a week later, as he was again scanning the atone, a face appeared, but a different one. Still Elvish, but blond, male, older, and far more formal in address.

“I ask your pardon for the earlier interruption, King Eldarion. My daughter is eager and heedless, and frequently does not think through the repercussions of her actions. She meant no harm, and I hope she has not alarmed you unduly. She should never have had access to the Eressëa stone, but she is, unfortunately - ” he laughed ruefully - “rather cleverer than most of us. ”

The elf looked tired, reminding Eldarion of how himself had looked when his children were aged one and three. Eldarion felt inclined to believe him, but he could not operate solely on trust.

“Will you, then, identify yourself? And her?” He merely asked, and did not attempt compulsion this time; he had an inkling that it would not have succeeded.

The elf’s expression became awkward. “I suppose I must, though I would prefer you not to pay too much heed to it, and to think of me only as a father with an errant daughter. You would know me as Finrod Felagund.”

Eldarion’s mind went almost blank with shock. He looked instinctively down at his hands, at the ring on his finger -

Finrod Felagund. He was speaking with a legend. He was being apologized to over, apparently, a childhood prank by a legend.

“My daughter is called Mischief - an epessë of course, but you can easily see how she acquired it! She is still young, in your terms about fifteen, and has a great interest in everything, both within and outside our borders. We in Valinor had no intent to contact you or to interfere in your affairs, but after her actions an explanation seemed like the least harmful of choices.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[lipstickstainz]

mismatched socks - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer's girlfriend (reader, FBI agent too) always wears mismatched socks and when they have their first night together at his apartment he notices, and his brain goes to mush, and falls in love with her even more

Warnings: fluff, some talk about Spencer being insecure Word Count: 2.2k A/N: thanks for the request, love! I really enjoyed writing it! requests are open guys! hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Spencer had always known he was different. He had always been the smartest in school, which could be attributed to his eidetic memory. He wasn't invited to birthday parties because he liked to tell facts that were funny to him, but that no one else found funny. And he had been rather an oddball in other ways, too.

All his life this fact had made him insecure. He thought of himself as too skinny, too unathletic-especially when he compared himself to Derek, which was pretty stupid, of course-and his hair always lay funny, no matter how hard he tried to tame it. He wore cardigans over shirts-the watch over the cardigan, of course-which was pretty weird, but he wore Converse with them and two different socks every day. He loved magic and physics jokes. Spencer couldn't talk about the latest episode of Greys Anatomy, and he wasn't sure what Team Stefan and Team Damon were. Spencer didn't fit in perfectly anywhere and it had taken him time to accept that. He also never imagined anyone would find in attractive, or even want to be with him.

Until you came along.

On your first day at BAU, he immediately noticed three things about you. First, you walked incredibly fast, actually too fast to just walk from one office to the next. It seemed to her as if you were flying. Second, you tucked your hair behind your ears every few minutes, even when it wasn't falling in your face. He wondered why you didn't use a pin or a scrunchie. But it was a habit that didn't bother him in the least. From the moment he first saw you, he found you irresistibly pretty, and he was glad your hair didn't cover your face. And third, you could write ambidextrously. As the team sat in the conference room and you scribbled something in your case file - also something he noticed, you seemed to prefer paper as much as he did - you reached for your coffee cup with your right hand and continued to write undisturbed with your left, until the entire team looked at you as if you were from another star. It was a look Spencer knew all too well.

He had never met anyone like you.

Spencer liked you from the first moment he saw you. He liked that you took your backpack on both shoulders and that you preferred cocoa to coffee. He liked the way you smiled at him when he brought you one from the office kitchen and set it on your desk. And he liked the way your skin felt on his when you reached under the desk for his hand when you noticed a change in his demeanor. You then squeezed his hand twice. Once for "It's all right" and once for "I'm here, with you."

In your presence, everything seemed as easy as breathing. You listened to him when he blathered on about a subject you didn't understand, because you liked his intelligence and the way he explained things without looking down on others. You even asked when he had to explain something to you, which had surprised him so much the first few times that he had completely forgotten what your conversation was about. He had stared at you and the blush had come to his face. One feature that didn't escape you, but made him even more attractive to you.

When you went to his table one morning and told him that you had seen Star Trek for the first time the previous night, and now wondered how realistic the physics in the movie were, he could hardly stand it. You were beautiful and intelligent and interested in Star Trek? And when you asked him if he could explain something from the movie to you, he was sure his dream girl was standing right in front of him.

"I need your help", he told Derek that very day as they stood together in the kitchen. "How do I ask a girl out?"

Derek nearly choked on his coffee before turning to Spencer. "Since when do you want to date?" He noticed Spencer's gaze, which wasn't on him, but slid past him and lingered on you.You sat at your desk and tucked your hair behind your ears before looking up and over at Spencer's desk.  Derek could see your gaze wander around the office and then linger on Spencer before you smiled and got back to work. With a grin, Derek looked at Spencer. "You're going to ask Y/N out on a date? Oh boy, it's about time you finally do. I already said to Penelope that -"

"Please, Morgan. I just want to know how to ask her out”, Spencer interrupted him, looking at his friend.

Derek's grin gave way to an honest, friendly smile. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just ask her directly."

"And if she says no?", asked Spencer uncertainly, his mouth twisting into a thin line. He couldn't imagine you going on a date with him, but he couldn't stay in the dark any longer either. He had to at least try.

"She won't”, Derek assured him. The whole team felt that Spencer and you would be perfect for each other, but he didn't tell him that. Spencer should learn to walk before he starts running. "I can see the way she looks at you. And if she does say no, she's not as smart as I thought."

Spencer trusted Derek's words and took it upon himself to ask you out on a date that very day. He had phrased the question countless times in his head, even encouraging himself in the mirror in the men's room, but every time he stood in front of you and looked at your beautiful face, he couldn't get a single word out. They got stuck in his throat and he was so embarrassed that he fled from you several times. By the third time, he had red marks on his neck, which you noticed immediately, and you wondered how you had made him so uncomfortable without having really done anything. When he said nothing again, you put your hand on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Spencer?", you asked, and he just nodded. It's now or never.

"Wouldyougooutwithme?" He almost mumbled, but you had understood him perfectly. "If you don't want to, that's fine, and we'll pretend I never asked. We'll just keep being friends and -"

"Spencer," you interrupted, smiling up at him, "I'd love to go out with you," you replied, and he was able to breathe deeply again. The marks on his neck faded as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

He had done it. Spencer had asked you and you had agreed, but where was he going to take you? Nothing seemed good enough for him. Going out to eat was nice, but you didn't seem like someone who needed to talk the whole time. He thought movie theaters were dumb because you couldn't talk there at all. After two days he had thought of something and he wouldn't have minded if you thought the idea was stupid, but when he presented his idea to you, you smiled at him excitedly.

"I can't wait."

You spent your first date in Spencer's favorite library, surrounded by knowledge and stories. You walked the aisles together, telling stories of books you had read and found to be good, and books you had abandoned because they were so bad you couldn't finish them. As you walked through each aisle, which had actually taken an entire afternoon, Spencer didn't want the date to end. He was going to suggest something else, but you beat him to it.

"There's a couch over there. Shall we sit there? Then you can read me something from your favorite book."

You would be the death of him.

A few weeks later, you had arranged to go for a walk. The weather was nice, not too hot and not too cool, so you strolled hand in hand along the paths. He liked the fact that you worked together but couldn't just talk about the job. You were explaining to him why a certain Matt Donavan from a vampire series was incredibly annoying when someone stopped in front of you.

"Y/N! How nice to see you!", the young woman said, unceremoniously wrapping her arms around you. When she broke away from you, you looked at Spencer.

"Spencer, this is Lisa, my college roommate. Lisa, this is Spencer, my boyfriend”, you explained before you could think about what you had just said. You chatted briefly before going your separate ways again. You noticed a change in Spencer's behavior and feared you had misinterpreted everything. When you couldn't take it anymore, you stopped.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you my boyfriend”, you said, looking down at the ground in shame. "We've never talked about what exactly we are, but it feels like you're my boyfriend and I wish you were, so I -"

"Y/N”, he interrupted you and tenderly reached for your hand. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't believe himself that he would ask you that. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

The bar was crowded and the later it got, the more crowded you felt. The team had been in the mood to celebrate after a difficult case, so everyone had gathered in the regular bar. Penelope was putting on some dance moves on the dance floor while Emily and JJ were bawling out the song, which neither Spencer nor you knew. He had his arm around your waist and pulled you tightly to his side, which you enjoyed very much. He didn't fit in here with his shirt and cardigan, but he fit you, you were one hundred percent sure of that.

As you stifled a yawn, he looked down at you. "Shall we go? You seem tired and I'm getting ready to go to bed too”, he suggested and you nodded. Outside, he hailed you a cab and as you got in, you gave the driver Spencer's address.

"We're going to my place?", asked Spencer, looking at you in confusion as you nestled into his side.

"Yeah, I hope that's okay”, you replied, "If it's too soon for you for us to sleep together, then you just have to say so. I won't be mad at you."

How could he be mad at you? You wanted to spend the night with him. You wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him. He had hit the jackpot.

"Would you like to drink something?", he asked as you sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. It wasn't the first time you'd been in his apartment, but you'd never entered his bedroom before and you didn't want to take the step without him. It was still his apartment and his privacy and you respected that.

"Just water, please”, you replied, pulling your legs up so he could sit next to you. He handed you the glass and you took a big gulp.

In your presence, Spencer had never felt like an oddball. You never made him feel like he was different or weird. You didn't laugh at him, you laughed with him, and you had assured him many times how incredibly attractive he was to you, even if he couldn't see it. He wasn't too skinny or too unathletic for you. He dressed askew, but it suited him like a glove and you had imagined more than once what he would look like without clothes. It didn't bother you in the least that he wasn't interested in the technology of today. For you, he was just right. For you, he was perfect.

Even though you often assured him how much you liked him and how happy you were with him, he was still insecure from time to time. But as you sat there together on the couch and you put your legs on his thighs, he was one hundred percent sure that he didn't need to be insecure. On your left foot was a green sock, while on your right dangled an orange sock.

You wore the socks like he did. Two different ones. Had you seen this on him and copied it or had you always worn socks like this? A question that could be answered later. His heart stopped for a second, his brain turned to mush, which is why he couldn't control his following words either. "I think I love you."

Surprised, you looked to him and noticed that his gaze lingered on your socks. "You see my socks and then say you love me? Maybe something isn't going right in that clever head of yours”, you grinned and leaned towards him. Blushes shot up his face. "I love you too, Spencer."

Gently, you placed your lips on his. The kiss was tender, hesitant, but Spencer saw his chance and gently pulled you onto his lap before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His heart threatened to overflow with love. As he placed his hands on your butt, you moaned softly into his mouth. He smiled.

In your presence, he didn't feel like he was different.