#but I haven't done more than like. four times generally.

[apprenticestanheight]

fourteen and a half months gone (or--well, close enough to that) and I am proud to report that I can officially put my hair into the weird lil ponytail westley has as dread pirate roberts lol

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Seven.

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter eight. chapter nine. chapter ten. series masterlist. the playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. At least, that’s what you and Bucky keep telling yourselves.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 4.8k

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the delay on this one angels!! january blues, a crazy work schedule, writers block.. they all came to play at the same time. but chapter seven is finally here!! I hope you enjoy it. thank you for the continued love on this - words can’t describe how incredible it is.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Why aren’t you more surprised?”

Stella simply shrugs, sipping her cappuccino as if she has all the time in the world.

“Babe, with all due respect… I’ve been waiting for you to initiate this conversation for like two months.”

You look at her incredulously, fiddling nervously with a chip in the handle of your coffee cup.

“…Why? How?”

She smiles softly, reaching for your hand across the table.

“You’re miserable.”

You take a deep breath, and then another. After the fifth one, you find the courage to meet her eyes.

“How did you know?”

“Because I know you. You’re a hell of an actress, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s not you-”

“I know. Hey, I know. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I do.”

She waits for you, patient as ever. You’d be lying if you said the guilt wasn’t eating you up, slowly but surely from the inside out. You feel like you’ve let her down, disappointing the one person who’s given you your dream.

You realise, suddenly, that you haven't told anyone the full truth about everything. Not your Mom, not your Dad, not Lacie. Your Tethering, Bucky, the move to California - all your feelings and emotions over the past how ever many months have been bottled up and stowed away on a shelf, never to be opened. But you have the urge, now, to unscrew the cap and pour it out across the table, regardless of the mess.

So, you do.

"It's not you. You've given me everything I could have ever wanted, Stel, and I couldn't be more grateful. You know that, right?"

She nods, squeezing your hand.

"It's just been hard... emotionally. So, I, the thing is, I just..."

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

"I'm Tethered. I have a soulmate, and he lives back home. We found out literally right before you called me and asked about the business. I couldn't turn you down, I knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I couldn't just let it pass me by. I knew we could do this, me and you, together. And I thought I’d be able to cope.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“Being away from Bucky has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. It’s like… I can’t breathe properly without him. Food isn’t as flavourful, colours aren’t as bright, the sun isn’t as warm. The separation is actually having physical effects that I’m not sure I can handle anymore.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’ve held out for as long as I possibly can. I was hoping that maybe it’d pass, that we’d get used to it and it’d all wear off. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse than ever. The separation is ruining us both.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re going to tell me not to apologise, but I am. I’m sorry. You’ve given me everything and I’m just… quitting on you. I love this job so much, Stella. I can’t even find the words to describe how much. But I think either me or Bucky will break soon. And I have to prevent that from happening.”

You inhale.

Stella looks at you with so much compassion, you fight the urge to burst into tears.

You exhale.

“Listen to me, okay? You are one of the best damn bakers I have ever met in my life. No one in culinary school even came close to you. I always knew that I wanted you on my team, by my side, in my corner - in the kitchen, and everywhere else. But-"

You chew your bottom lip, wincing when you taste copper.

“We don’t have to be in each other’s pockets. We can be business partners and not see each other everyday. These are the joys of modern technology, babe. We can call, text, video chat, and then schedule in person meetings when we can. If anyone can make a cross country partnership work, it’s us. I mean, come on.”

The weight lifts from your shoulders, slowly but surely. A glowing, molten warmth trickles through your veins, hopeful and real and alive.

“And this,” she picks up your business plan, all printed and pretty. “This is air fucking tight. I’m not saying you picked the wrong career, but… business could definitely be your Plan B.”

You laugh, ignoring the way your voice cracks slightly, still choked with emotion.

“Babe, I was going to franchise the business eventually anyway. Sure, this is a little earlier than I first thought, but why the hell not? We’re successful, we’ve done so well… what’s stopping us? We know we can do this. And I trust you. So much.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, easing your death grip on her hand ever so slightly. “I thought I was gonna ruin everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, I promise you. This is a good thing.”

She thinks for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Suddenly, she grins at you, nosy and mischievous.

“So a soulmate, huh?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands - but you can’t fight the smile that spreads across your cheeks.

“Yeah. It’s been… complicated.”

“He’s that super hot guy that came to see you, right? The one that looks like he could be a model?”

Laughing, you nod, making mental note to relay this to Bucky on the phone later.

“How did it happen? Was it like, a stranger on the street moment?”

“Nope,” you recall fondly. “We knew each other already. He’s my Dad’s best friend.”

Her jaw drops open, eyes flickering across your face.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, babe.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. Shit, no wonder you’ve been under so much stress. What did your Dad say?”

“He… doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“We need to tell him, I know we do, but it’s just so complicated. I’m worried that it’ll change everything, and not for the better.”

It’s been eating away at you, lately. The fact that your parents don’t know originally made perfect sense, but now? It’s been almost a year. You’ve never kept anything from them for that long. Now, you’re worried that you’ll never be able to undo the damage of lying and keeping secrets from the two people you always promised never to do that to.

"Look, I know I'm not exactly qualified to give out soulmate advice, but... you can't change this. It's literally been written in the stars. Your parents will understand, okay? But the longer you wait to tell them, the worse it'll be."

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s just - it’s tough. It’s gonna change everything, forever.”

“But isn’t that the beauty of it? It’s going to change everything, forever.”

You jump out of your seat and wrap your arms around Stella, holding onto her as tightly as you can. She hugs you back fiercely, speaking a thousand words without saying anything at all.

“Proud of you,” she murmurs into your hair.

“For what?” you laugh.

“Putting yourself first. Your health, your mental wellbeing, all of it. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Love you,” you whisper, fighting back tears of relief.

“Love you too, my baker extraordinaire.”

You sit back down and take a breath, deep and full. Relaxing into your chair, you allow yourself to finally think about the next steps.

“So, I was thinking about going home and scouting out locations. I have that list of places that you read over in the business plan, but I thought of a couple more last night a few miles further out. I’ve pre prepped a few days worth of our best sellers, so you should be good without me.”

“Of course, babe. I’ve circled a couple where I really liked the look of the listings you’ve printed, and written a couple of notes for you to look over - just logistical stuff. Go back home, see your family and your soulmate,” she smirks, raising her eyebrows suggestively, “and just relax. God knows the stress lately has taken a couple years off your life. Please, get those years back on the beach or with your man or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head. She’s right, though. The stress has been resting stagnant in your muscles, tight and wound, making everything harder. You can’t wait to sit on the sand in Bucky’s arms and feel the tension melt from your body.

“You’re the best, Stella. You know that right?”

“So I’ve been told. Many, many times.”

Hours later, Bucky watches you on video call, laptop propped up on the dresser as you pack your bags excitedly. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked up, anticipation of the future lighting up his bones.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You show up at your parents house without warning.

You thought about calling first, but decided it’d be much more fun to surprise them. It’s a Friday evening, and you know they’ll both be sat out on the back deck, drinking wine and recapping their weeks. It’s getting warmer on the East Coast, the sounds of spring and summer slowly filtering through.

Your Mom throws open the door, her face lighting up with glee.

“Babygirl!”

She throws her arms around you, rocking you back and forth so forcefully you’re worried you might fall over.

“My baby,” she exclaims, beaming grin almost blinding you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you all about it.”

She grabs your face in her hands, forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling as the setting sun warms your back.

“Yeah, Mama. I am.”

She believes you. For the first time in a long time, you believe you too.

“Come on. Your Dad is gonna be so excited to see you.”

You leave your bags in the car, prioritising seeing the man who’s currently shaking his hips to the soft salsa music that’s playing.

“Nice moves, Casanova.”

He whips his head around, laughing when he sees you stood against the doorframe watching.

“You like em? I need a partner, babygirl! Come on!”

He grabs your hands, pulling you further into the yard so you have more space. You take up a terrible ballroom dance posture with him, cackling as he dips you backwards and almost drops you.

“Don’t kill my baby, please Jack!” your Mom calls from the kitchen window.

She returns with a glass of pink wine in her hand, gesturing for you to come and get it. Your Dad spins you over to her, steadying your shoulders when you trip over his shoes.

“It’s like The Universe knew you were coming to us tonight, darling. We opened the strawberry wine and everything.”

“My favourite.”

You get comfy on the loveseat, sitting across from your parents who are pressed together on the outdoor sofa. The wine is sweet and sugary and exactly what you needed.

“So, what are you doing here, kiddo?”

“It’s a little… complicated. But the good kind of complicated, I think.”

You start at the beginning. Well, almost. You leave out the part about finding Bucky, waiting for him to be with you when you tell that part of the story. You agreed that you’d talk to your parents about your relationship together, and you’re not about to break that promise. You do, however, explain everything else to them.

They listen carefully, nodding and smiling to let you know they’re still with you. When you talk about the difficulties you’ve faced, they wear matching frowns as your Mom fights back tears. Eventually, you sit in silence, waiting for their reaction.

“I wish you’d said something sooner.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I thought I could do it on my own.”

“Honey, you never have to go through anything alone. That’s what we’re here for - we’re like, your built in therapists. Both me and your Dad would have happily listened if you’d called us, no matter the time or place.”

“Thank you. Both of you.”

“So this means you’re moving home?”

You nod, trying to contain the excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“Well it’s a good job we didn’t end up renting your apartment, huh?”

“You didn’t?”

“We thought about it, but it didn’t feel right. And we wanted to see you settle down in California first, just in case. I don’t either of us were ready to see someone else in that place. It’s yours.”

“You big softie,” you tease, nudging your Dad with your foot. He grabs it and squeezes, laughing when you squirm out of his grip.

“Well this is a cause for celebration, isn’t it?”

When you were younger, you used to get embarrassed that your Mom would throw parties for everything. Now, it’s one of your favourite things about her. She’s taught you to embrace the joy of the little things in life.

“What are you thinking, Mama?”

“Tomorrow night, a few friends. I’ll make a big paella, we can drink wine, play cards… what do you say?”

“Sounds perfect.”

And it does. The ease of being back home has calmed you down, untied the knots in your shoulders. You feel warmed by love, from the inside out.

You leave your parent’s house, promising to make a dessert of some kind for tomorrow. As you drive away, you suddenly realise that you’re headed in the wrong direction. You’re not going home. You’re going to the person that feels like home.

Bucky.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He’s waiting for you on his front porch when you pull up.

“Hi, honey baby.”

“Hi, handsome.”

You launch yourself into his arms, savouring the warmth rolling off of him in waves. He smells like fresh linen and sea salt and all your future plans.

“You felt me coming, didn’t you?”

“From a mile off.”

He’s grinning, beaming in all directions.

“Good job it wasn’t a surprise visit, huh?”

“There’s no such thing anymore.”

“Good.”

He grabs your face in his work rough hands, gazing at you as if you’re the sun. You realise, suddenly, that you are. You are the one thing that his world revolves around. And he is yours. Forever.

“You gonna kiss me, Buck, or just stare at me, hmm?”

He chuckles before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh in contentment and pull him closer by his shirt, tilting your head back to let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like scotch and spearmint, a perfect picture of his evening.

“Have you been drinking alone, cowboy?”

“Needed some liquid courage. Knew you’d come by.”

“I make you nervous, huh?”

The filthy smirk written across your face sends electricity crackling across his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up.

“Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“You’re really blowing up my ego, you know. I make the Bucky Barnes nervous. Who’d have thought?”

He shuts you up by kissing you again, snaking his hands around your back to plaster your bodies together. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it slightly.

“You’re letting your hair grow.”

“You like it long.”

You stop for a moment, watching his face carefully.

“Yeah. I do. How’d you know?”

“You pull it more when it’s long. Can feel how much you like it.”

“You’re a menace,” you laugh. “How about you take me inside, and I’ll show you just how much I like it? Unless you wanna give your neighbours front row seats…”

He chuckles and shakes his head before throwing you over his shoulder, laughing harder when you start shrieking. He carries you over the threshold, a beautiful prediction of years to come.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Bucky spend the evening in his kitchen with the windows open, watching the setting sun. The gentle ocean breeze flows through the room, tussling Bucky’s chocolate brown hair and glinting off the ice in his rocks glass.

“You want me to come with you tomorrow, when you scout locations? I’ll be your chauffeur, if you like.”

“What about work?”

“I’m the boss, baby.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

He kicks you lightly under the table, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, Buck. I’d love it if you came with. You can use your contractor knowledge and help me out.”

“It’s a date. You want me to bring my clipboard? Tape measure? Mechanical pencil?”

“You gonna bring your talking machinery too, Bob The Builder?”

Bucky stands from his chair and pulls yours out, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up. He spins you around before putting you down and dragging you up the stairs, kicking his bedroom door open.

He throws you onto the bed unceremoniously, chuckling when you almost bounce off. You toss your shirt at his face, before shucking off your jeans and doing the same thing. He catches them with ease, winking at you before undressing himself.

He crawls up your body, kissing any skin he can find as he goes. He starts at your ankle, before moving to your knee, your thigh, your hip, your stomach, your chest, your neck, and eventually your lips. You’re almost shaking, alive with the anticipation of having every inch of Bucky pressed against you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he rasps into your ear. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

“Just want you.”

“Need to get you ready first,” he murmurs, fingers trailing between your legs. His breath hitches when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh honey,” he groans. “You been like this all night? Hmm?”

“Since I first saw you waiting for me.”

He groans again, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Please, Buck. Just wanna feel you.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so damn pretty?

“You’re killing me,” he mutters against your skin.

Bucky slides into you with one smooth thrust, biting down on your shoulder as he does it. You shudder at the feeling, and at the thought of having the imprint of his teeth on you later.

You both gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in to you. You loop your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to press him even closer.

“Fuck me,” you choke out. “Need it, Buck.”

“My needy girl,” he chuckles lowly. “Gonna give you everything.”

Bucky retracts his hips before thrusting back into you, deep and full. You whine, and he’s convinced the sound will never be matched. It’s like angel song, rose tinted and heavenly.

He fucks you into the mattress, long, slow thrusts that make you want to cry a little. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so connected to him - every single part of you touching his, bodies plastered together and souls intertwined.

He presses open mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, right into your sweet spot. When he feels you getting close, he dances his fingers down your body and circles your clit, languid but precise. Your back arches as you find your release, clawing your nails down his back and locking your ankles around his hips.

“Oh fuck, honey - fuck.”

Bucky finishes with a shudder, sinking his teeth back into your shoulder. His raspy groans hit your ears just right, sweat dripping down onto your dewy skin.

“Love you, baby. Fuck, I love you.”

You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you come down from your highs.

“I love you too,” you giggle, pressing kisses to his damp forehead.

He collapses his weight onto you, chuckling when you groan. You push him off so he can lie next to you, strong arm thrown over your stomach as he pulls you in close.

You stay tangled for a while, letting the breeze from the window cool you both down. Bucky traces absentminded patterns across your back, rough fingertips sending goosebumps over your skin.

“I’m excited for tomorrow,” you murmur, keeping the volume low.

“Me too. Feels like a big step for our future, doesn’t it?”

“I just never imagined I’d have… this. You, the job I’ve always dreamed of… it doesn’t feel real. I mean, we’re going to look at places for a second location of my business. Who ever could have predicted I’d say that sentence?”

“Everything works out the way it’s supposed to. I told you that, that night on the beach. Before we knew. Remember?”

“I remember,” you smile, recalling that evening. You’d felt so inexplicably connected to Bucky that day. Little did you know what was to follow.

You fall asleep wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, warm and content.

You’ve never known happiness like it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The day flies by with Bucky by your side.

You’re a little out of your depth, admittedly. You don’t know much about real estate, or what makes a viable location for a bakery. But Bucky helps - explaining what to avoid, warning signs to look out for, checking out all of the boring stuff like gas mains and water pipes and backup generators. He never patronises you, even when you look at him like a deer in headlights. He clarifies himself when you become unsure, laying out explanations carefully and simply. He’s the perfect right hand man.

“You almost ready, honey?”

“Yeah Buck, give me one second!”

You walk into the kitchen where Bucky’s leaning against the counter, beer in hand. He’s in loose jeans and a linen button up, the white shirt beautifully showing off his tanned skin. He’s got several buttons undone, toned chest peeking through. He looks effortlessly perfect.

You stop in front of him, fixing the buckle on your sandals. You look up at Bucky to find him staring at you, open mouthed.

“You alright, handsome?”

“You look… you look - fuck, you look gorgeous.”

Heat rises up your skin, still so susceptible to his compliments.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he chuckles into your mouth.

Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, pulling you into him. His other hand plays with the hem of your dress, your skin burning where his fingers brush. You kiss him back harder, groaning when he nips at your bottom lip. He sucks on your tongue, and your knees buckle.

You pull back suddenly, putting three feet of distance between you.

“We need to go.”

Your hair is tousled, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you try to regain your composure. Bucky smirks at you, laughing when you flip him off.

“Come on. My parents and paella await us.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your Mom has done it again.

Golden lights adorn the beams of the deck, the table littered with flowers and wine glasses begging to be filled. There’s already a few people scattered around the yard, chatting and laughing in the warm evening air.

“Oh baby, you look so beautiful.”

Your Mom engulfs you in a hug, pulling back to look at you from a distance. You’re wearing a yellow sundress, form fitting in all the right places. The skirt blows in the gentle breeze, fanning around you like an angels halo.

“This place looks amazing, Mama. I made you a tropical tart - it’s pineapple and coconut, with a mango coulis.”

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. I’ll put it in the fridge and get you some wine, honey. Buck, you want wine or beer?”

“Wine, please Lori. You need a hand?”

“If you’re offering,” she winks, laughing when he pokes her in the side as they leave towards the kitchen.

“Your father says you’re moving back home.”

You turn around to see Cora looking at you expectantly. You haven’t seen her since the incident that evening months ago.

“Uh, yeah. I love California, but I think I outgrew it after culinary school.”

She nods at you in faux sympathy, overbearing and sickly sweet.

“Aw, sweetie. Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way we hoped, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess.”

You look for an exit, but she rubs your arm in support, pulling you back.

“I saw you today, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes! Down on Maple, by the corner. You were with Bucky.”

You freeze suddenly, blood running cold. You and Bucky are always affectionate, whether you mean to be or not. It’s just the way it is, being alongside your soulmate. Of course, Cora doesn’t know this. All she’s seen is you, out in town with your Dad’s best friend, looking cosier than platonic.

Your ears are ringing. You wonder, for a second, if you’re experiencing deja vu.

“Yeah, he… he has contracting experience. Just needed a second opinion. I’m no builder, after all.”

You force a laugh, willing the ground to swallow you up.

“You two are friends? You seem pretty close.”

She’s watching you, waiting for a reaction. You don’t give it to her.

“I’ve known him for a while, I see him often. He’s a good friend to my Dad, so you can imagine we know each other pretty well by now.”

“Yeah. It sure looked like it.”

You’re wracking your brain, trying to understand what she saw. Then it hits you.

On the corner of Maple is a florist’s, alive with blooming flowers and plants of every colour. You’d been admiring the tulips when Bucky had wrapped his arms around you from behind, whispering in your ear about how you’re the prettiest flower of all, honey.

There’s no running away from this. She’s caught you, in broad daylight.

“We’re friends,” you reiterate, praying for mercy.

You shoot her a fake smile before turning on your heel, making a beeline for the kitchen to find your Mom. When you get there, you gulp down your entire glass of strawberry wine, begging the sugar to lift your mood and calm your nerves.

The rest of the night goes off fairly smoothly.

You eat paella and fruit tart, drink wine, laugh with your parents and their friends. Bucky occasionally slips a hand beneath the table, squeezing your thigh in silent reassurance. You tangle your fingers with his for a moment before letting go, praying everyone else is none the wiser.

Every time Cora opens her mouth, your chest constricts a little. But she seems to have learnt her lesson somewhat, only speaking to tell obnoxiously long and tangent filled stories and offer comments no one asked for. Eventually, you all disperse from the table, making conversation elsewhere.

“What’s on your mind?” a low voice rasps in your ear.

You’re sat on the swing in the corner of the garden, watching the world go by. Bucky snakes his arm over the back of it, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

“Cora saw us today. Think she knows.”

��She’s a fucking nuisance.”

You laugh, the sound vibrating through Bucky’s bones.

“Yeah, she is. She’s also a gossip. She won’t keep her mouth shut for long if she thinks she’s sitting on something newsworthy.”

He thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“So we tell them.”

“So we tell them.”

You lean back into Bucky’s arm, inhaling the familiar scent of peace.

“We should do it as soon as possible.”

“How about tomorrow?”

You nod, biting your glossy lips.

“Yeah. We need to do it sometime, and we’ve delayed the inevitable for long enough. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

Bucky nudges closer to you, so your sides are pressed together.

“It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to, honey girl.”

You smile gently.

“I know. I don’t think I believed you the first time you said that to me. But I do now.”

“You and me against the world, baby.”

“You and me against the world, Buck.”

It truly feels like it, at the moment. You and Bucky against the world.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff  @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara  @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[c0la-queen]

RAGHHHHHHHHH

Could you ever so kind and provide some general dating Headcannons for all the four boys?? 🥺👉👈

Maybe some extra with red leader or someone else if you’re fine with that??? 🥺💜

Mwah mwah you have amazing work <3 /p

Oh my gods I am SO sorry that this is so late!! For some reason, Mr. Tumblr decided not to notify me about your ask?? And then I was at my bestie's house this weekend, so I haven't checked my inbox until now. Begging for your forgiveness rn Anon!!

Also literally kissing you for asking for Red Leader!! Mwah, mwah!!

---

Edd

If you are dating Edd... girlie I am so sorry for your sanity.

Don't get me wrong, I love Edd! He was my first Eddsworld love, my pookie bear for real! But he's the biggest bastard of the entire gang and I stand by that.

Calls you dumb pet names to try and make you laugh. Sugar Tits (regardless of gender or lack thereof, might I add), Baby Doll, Sexy.

He WILL grab/slap your ass all the time. Even in public. Only grins when you glare at him.

This man is a horrible influence. It will be so hard to get your shit done if he has decided that you need to be spending time with him. Why worry about work or chores when you could be all cuddled up with him and Ringo on the couch?

Will sulk if you reject his attempts.

If he's trying to get shit done and you're pestering him for attention? He will drop his basket of laundry or the dishes in his hands in a millisecond.

If he's working on a commission or animation, he'll let you sit in his lap in his chair, let you sit all pretty for him while he works. When he finishes, if you've fallen asleep by then -which you usually do - then he'll carefully move you both to his bed and snuggle up to you and take a nap with you.

Speaking of cuddling, he does naturally run hot. Comes with being a big boy <3 But if you don't enjoy that, then he'll use his powers to cool down his skin for you. Anything to keep cuddling!

He also uses his powers whenever possible. Will abuse them without shame. He puts things on the highest shelf, just so you have to him for help. He'll put patches of ice on the floor under your feet, just so he can catch you before you fall (he'll never let you actually get hurt), and uses his super strength to scoop you up randomly and carry you around.

You cannot show your text messages to ANYONE. He will say filthy things, just to fluster you. Horny Bastard. Finds ways to turn even the most mundane conversations into teasing.

He'd do cute couple things with you, like painting together and swapping canvases every 5 minutes. His favorite is going to cat cafes. The cats literally love him, its like he's made of catnip with how they swarm him.

Physical affection is a huge thing with him. Even little touches throughout the day, like ruffling your hair as he passes by, or a big hug from behind while you fix food.

Overall, big teddy bear that just likes to see his darling blush.

Tom

As I've stated in previous works, Tom is a secret romantic.

He's not a traditional romantic like Matt, but he's romantic in his own way.

Likes parallel play a lot. Finds it relaxing to just sit in his room, testing new songs on his bass while you lay on his bed reading a book. Or in your room, lounging on one of your plush beanbag and organizing his Spotify playlists while you fold your laundry.

Dates with him consist of record stores, concerts, and late night walks.

He'll sing for you if you ask him to.

Very down to earth, both as a person and as a boyfriend. If you have problems, he'll listen patiently until you're done, then help you brainstorm solutions. He doesn't downplay or ignore your feelings, but he doesn't jump to emotions like others might.

He tends to sleep in late on his nights off, since he's more of a night owl than anything. You know that, so you've made it a little tradition to fix him coffee around 11. You know exactly how he takes it, and he always thanks you with a kiss on the cheek and a sleepy, mumbled "you're the best."

Very caring. He'll make sure you've eaten and had water. Will usher you to bed if he can see that you're tired, or do your chores for you if you can't do them for whatever reason. If you can't sleep, he'll make you a mug of chamomile tea and sing you a little lullaby.

When it comes to his monster tendencies, he tries to keep you away from it all. He's bitter about what he is, and he thinks that you're better off separated from that side of him.

At the start of relationship, he'd get angry if you tried to push it. He'd snap at you, distance himself, not talk to you for maybe a couple of days. Further on in the relationship, though, if you push the issue and reassure him that you love every side of him, even the monstrous one, then he'd be more willing. Willing to let you in, to let you see that part of him. He'd be nervous about it, but he'd do it because he loves you.

Matt

He is a traditional romantic! His Mama raised him right, and he drinks his Respect Juice.

Makes sure you two have date night at least once every week. Dressing up nice, going out to dinner or a play, taking a walk through the town to wind down the night. Heading back into the house, changing back into comfortable clothes. He'd wipe your makeup off for you, if you wear it.

Absolutely the kind of guy to get down on his knees in front of you and unbuckle/untie your shoes or high heels for you. He's just so devotional.

If, for whatever reason, you guys are unable to have your date night, he'll make it up to you in some way. A bouquet of your favorite flowers sitting on your bed with a little note. A passionate kiss before one of you has to leave the house. A heartfelt love letter sealed with wax.

Makes sure to text you throughout the day with sweet messages. Compliments, "I love you"s, selfies, updates on what is happening at work. Or just reminders that he's thinking of you. Misses you.

Likes to cook meals for you if its just the two of you at home. Breakfast is his forte, but he's not the worst at following a recipe.

Always amazing for advice. He'll let you talk to him while he hugs you from behind. If it's something sad, he might cry. Just the idea of you going through something negative makes him sad, too.

If he doesn't have advice for you, he'd do anything in his power to find someone who does. One of the other roommates, or even his mother, if you're comfortable with it.

Speaking of his mother, she absolutely adores you. Since Matt has such a good relationship with her, he's already told her so much about you. She thinks its wonderful that her baby has fallen in love. After a while, Matt will even bring you along to his lunches with his mother. You two hit it off instantly.

If you're okay with it, then Matt would love to show you off on his social media. He thinks you're so gorgeous, the entire world should know that he managed to land you. Its never anything invasive, and he always gets your permission before he posts things. Blocks any weird or gross comments.

Loves going on shopping dates with you. Most of the time, its at the mall or a mall in a different town, because he loves walking around and window shopping. Occasionally, he'll take you to more expensive stores. It doesn't bother him, he loves spoiling you. No matter where you two are, he'll buy you anything that you want. If you are adamant to spend your own money, he won't put up too much of a fuss, though he does prefer to pay for you.

He'll do that couples trend with you where you find nail polish that matches the other's eye color.

Gift giving is just one of his love languages in general. It makes him so happy to give his loved one things that he bought. For you specifically, he'll also throw in hand made gifts. He may not be the most talented artistically, but he'll stay awake late into the night, sitting on the floor with a YouTube tutorial playing, paper and cardboard scattered around, a pencil between his teeth, paint on his hands and smeared on his cheek. The end result may look a little crude, but he'll still present it to you with pride. And, of course, you always love it.

Tord

Tord is probably the most romantically stunted of the four. Its not that he doesn't love you, far from it really. He just grew up in an environment where love wasn't freely given, and was often limited for appearances.

His father, as the Red Leader, insisted that he keep a professional and feared image. So, Tord never saw him being affectionate with his mother.

It might be hard at first. You'll struggle. You two may fight. But you'll always make up in the end. He'll listen to you, try to understand your point of view.

He's not against physical affection, but he's able to live without it. Will indulge you whenever you ask. If he's busy, which he usually is, he'll let you drape yourself over him from behind while he sits in his chair, letting you rest your cheek on the top of his head and watch him work.

More than anything, his love language is words of affirmation. Despite being a man of few words, he'll always give you praise. He'll make sure you know that you are his, he is yours, and he loves you. Nothing will change that.

Scary dog privilege. He'll always walk just behind you in public, keeping a guiding hand on the small of your back. Stays alert of you surroundings and the people around, so that you don't have to. You don't even have to worry about people approaching you in public. One piercing glare from Tord is enough to deter anyone.

Not the best at giving advice to problems. He'll listen, but sometimes he can't quite understand why something is an issue. Doesn't invalidate your feelings on purpose, it just happens inadvertently at times. Always, ALWAYS apologizes and holds you close when he realizes what he did.

His preferred dates are nights in at home. Cuddled up on the couch with takeout watching shitty rom-coms. Cooking food that he ate growing up in Norway while you sit at the kitchen table watching. Going to the convenience store at midnight to get Ben and Jerry's in the middle of anime binges.

You become his crutch. When he's having bad paranoia on nights that are too quiet, he'll seek you out. Just having you lay in bed with him, warm and solid and breathing, always calms him down.

He will never let you meet his parents. You are one of the very few good things in his life, and he wants to keep that away from his fucked up home life. Might let you meet his little sister, but not for a long time.

Surprisingly, he does tend to talk more when its just the two of you. He allows you into his head, verbalizing his thoughts to you. He'll ramble about his projects, tell you about the history behind his culture, or rant about things that annoy him. Denies it vehemently in front of others.

He is a huge tease, second only to Edd. What's dangerous is how casual he is about it. Loves making you squirm, and he'll never even change his expression. Sometimes he won't even be looking at you, but rest assured that he is swimming in satisfaction over how flustered you are.

Red Leader

I have so many thoughts about him. Oh my lord.

This is going off the scenario where Reader is a Red Army soldier and met him through the army, after the events of The End.

I want to clarify that this is NOT following the events of TBATF!!! This is my own Red Army timeline, what I refer to in my Eddsworld bubble as "The Bad End"

There are two ways that you'd be able to catch Red Leader's attention. Either you are an extremely talented soldier that does well among your peers, enough to earn the praise of your superior officers and eventually Red Leader himself. Or, you were assigned as his personal assistant to help with paperwork and meetings, but you were so good at handling his temper and attitude that he found himself surprised.

The latter of the two is my favorite, so I'll be working under that one.

Before you, Red Leader had been through several assistants. None of them lasted more than a month. By nature, he was a moody, temperamental man. The stress of the army and oncoming war only made that worse. He saw those previous assistants as nuisances, only getting in his way. He would yell at them, berate them, drive them to the brink until they beg Paul and Pat to transfer them.

When they assigned you to him, they expected the same thing to happen. The two even made bets on how long you'd last. On your first day, Red Leader was nasty to you. Gruff and rude. But... you bit back. That took him by surprise. Instead of taking the insult and shuffling out like a puppy with its tail between its legs, you pursed your lips and gave him a stern look and talked to him in a way that nobody dared to. He should've been angry. Should have screamed at you, discharged you from the army in a heartbeat.

Instead, he found that he quite enjoyed it. He enjoyed your spitfire. Not that he'd let you know. He only gave you a noncommittal hum and dismissed you with a wave of his hand. But... he kept you around. Even found excuses for you to come into his office more than necessary. His penchant for teasing came back full force. He'd poke and prod, finding ways to make you react with that fire he so loved.

It takes a long time for him to finally make a move. Probably takes a near-death experience for him, or an injury to you for him to realize that he wants this. He wants a future with you.

At first, he may seem a little cold in public. Not to the degree that his father was - he promised himself that he would never be like his father. Simply a more... professional air about the entire thing. It was more out of anxiety than anything. He didn't want to make you a target, didn't want to cause you to get hurt. As his army grows more powerful and takes over more and more countries, he grows more comfortable with PDA. He knows that when he is the most powerful man in the world, he doesn't have to worry about anyone hurting you.

He would probably treat you more like a spouse than a girlfriend/boyfriend right off the bat. He's older now, thinking more about the future than the present. He already knows that he wants to be with you forever, so why go through the formalities and hassle of dating?

Always makes time for you whenever he can. If he's in a meeting with his generals or another world leader, he'll sneak text messages to you. Doesn't give a shit if he's caught. What are they going to do to him, Red Leader?

If he's cooped up in his office all day, his door is always open to you. Loves having you drop by unannounced to bring him food or coffee. He'll let you climb into his lap while he works, or sit behind him in his chair and cling to him. Even if you're just sitting in a separate chair nearby, working on your own stuff. He's happy.

If you want to continue being a soldier, or his assistant, he'll let you. But he's also perfectly happy to have you simply be his partner and not have a care in the world. You could sit all pretty in his quarters waiting for him to get off duty, or use the time to pursue your own hobbies and interests. As long as you're happy and cared for, it's okay with him.

Spoils you rotten. You're Red Leader's, so of course you only deserve the best things. Anything in the world you want, you only have to ask for it. It's yours. He would raze entire cities just to see you smile.

He does enjoy taking you out on dates. While also spending time with you, he sees it as a way to show you off to the world. Dressing you up in the finest clothes that he got you, the prettiest jewelry that he bought. Taking you to restaurants and operas where everyone can see you hanging on his arm. It makes him puff up with pride.

When the two of you are alone, he's so adoring. Loves snuggling. It's a struggle to convince him to let you out of bed in the mornings, he'll just be clinging to you. If you do somehow manage to escape his grasp, he'll catch you around the waist and drag you back to bed. Won't stop until Paul or Pat message him to get his ass out of bed. He always grumbles about how "it's my damn army, I should get to sleep in as long as I want".

Sometimes, at night, he has pains in his right shoulder, the side where he's burned and amputated. It can range from a dull ache to excruciating pain. On nights that it hurts too much to move, you'll scramble out of bed and get his medication from his nightstand, gently coaxing him to take it. You'll hold him and comfort him until the pain subsides and he falls back asleep.

He doesn't like to talk about it, really. It feels weird, letting anyone see this part of his life. Letting you see his vulnerability. Letting you see him.

But he does.

[novelmonger]

I wasn't expecting it to take this long, but after a million distractions, I'm back to going through the LotR audio commentaries and taking note of any interesting tidbits I haven't heard before.

Please enjoy my notes on the RotK design team commentary with Richard Taylor, Tania Rodger, Grant Major, Alan Lee, John Howe, Dan Hennah, and Chris Hennah:

They had to make Deagol's ears out of waterproof gelatin rather than latex because he was going to fall in the water, and the normal latex ears would have come off. I guess they must have done the same any other time a Hobbit got submerged, but they didn't say that.

The fish that Gollum eats at the beginning is made from some kind of edible gelatin so he could actually bite into it. They also had another prop fish that wasn't edible that they gave Andy Serkis to keep at the end XD

The little stone hollow thing where Frodo and Sam are sleeping for their first scene in the movie was a set they built with a removable back wall so they could get a camera in to shoot it from the back as well as the front. Why did I never think of that before?

There were a couple of extra shots they needed of Orthanc in the background to finish up the movie, but they hadn't managed to get the footage from the miniatures (and I guess the miniatures were gone by that point? idk). So they took one of the model collectibles Weta had made and took some photos of it out in the parking lot XD

Whoooooaaaa! Okay, so Alan Lee talks about how, in legends, they say that you have to kill a wizard three times for him to stay dead. And Saruman dies "three times" - first he's stabbed, then he's impaled, then he's drowned. So Saruman is dead dead. Dare I say it? This is...I think this is a better death than the one in the book ._.

They even put carvings on the crossbeams underneath the seats of the chairs in Edoras! You are never ever going to see them, but that was their dedication to making everything feel authentic. That's what sets this apart from so many fantasy movies and shows made these days.

Red in the costumes is meant to suggest royalty. That's why Aragorn, Boromir, Theoden, and Theodred all have red in their costumes - as well as Bilbo and Frodo! You're meant to look at someone wearing red and unconsciously think, "there's something regal about them."

John Howe points out that you probably wouldn't ever reforge a sword like they do with Narsil, at least not in the sense of putting the pieces back together, because it wouldn't be as strong as it was originally. (You could melt it down and start over again, of course.) But, he reminds us, these are the Elves, and it's more of a symbolic thing anyway.

The great hall in Minas Tirith was inspired by Charlemagne's chapel (and Byzantine architecture was one of the main influences on the design of Gondor in general).

The statue of the king in Ithilien was made out of polystyrene, which you would think would be pretty light, but it was so huge it was actually very heavy. They had to transport it to the location in three pieces: the base, the body, and the head. And to lift one on top of each other, they had to rig a sort of pulley system over the limb of a tree, using a four-wheel drive truck to pull it. But they discovered that the first truck wasn't getting enough traction, so they hooked a second truck up to it, and ended up pulling the first truck up into the air along with the statue!

They created fourteen new weapons just to put in the background of the armory in the scene where the Witch-King is getting ready for battle @_@

John Howe said that his inspiration for Minas Morgul was...getting his wisdom teeth pulled??? He describes a metal clamp digging into the perfectly healthy enamel of his tooth to pull it out, and draws a parallel to the metal pieces the orcs fitted to the top of the pristine white parapets, staining and violating them. Um...thanks, I could've done without that visual, John.

I can't believe I never thought about this before, but there's a little wooden roof over the pile of wood for the beacon that Pippin lights. The reasoning behind that is you need some kind of cover to keep the wood more or less dry for when it needs to be lit in an emergency. The beacon will burn away the wooden roof, but it can be replaced easily enough, and it's worth it to be able to quickly light the beacon.

A lot of the saddles they used were ordered from the Indian military, because they had a good, old-fashioned sort of look to them. Then they would add onto the saddles with things that would make them look distinctly Rohirric, rather than Indian.

Alan Lee's daughter worked on some of the figures in the doors of Minas Tirith!

John Howe goes off on this whole tangent about how there's no religion or religious structures in Middle-Earth, and why that might be, but the whole time I was just sitting there going, "...have you never read The Silmarillion????"

Because they had to make over a hundred suits of Gondorian armor, other than the hero suits, they couldn't make each one exactly the right size for the man who would wear it, so the casting department had to only get actors within a certain range of size. They also built the suits of armor with sliding pieces, so they could be somewhat fitted to different sizes.

The horses started out as being part of the art department's responsibility, but as time went on, there were just so many horses they had to keep track of (and the various liveries they would have to be fitted out with) that they had to make a separate horse department to oversee it all.

Because so much of the movie was filmed on-location, in some very remote locations, they had to make a sort of caravan of mobile repair stations that they could take with them. They had all the tools and crew necessary on hand wherever they went so they could repair broken props or ripped costumes, reapply makeup for gore and injuries, take nicks out of the edge of weapons.... It was really like moving an army around!

For the dream where the Evenstar breaks, they made a version of it that was five times bigger than normal, out of a very brittle resin. Then they made an oversized section of the floor and dropped it from a great height so it would completely shatter in a dramatic way like that.

Anduril was John Howe's design. He based it on a sword belonging to a friend of his in Germany, which to him is the ideal sword, the most beautiful sword. He also talked a bit about how Men were taller and bigger in the First and Second Ages, so their swords would have been longer.

John Howe: "Why do people criticize Tolkien for not developing his characters sufficiently? I cannot fathom that kind of criticism. I think it's done by people who don't read between the lines."

Richard Taylor said they had a lot of fun gathering up all the skulls after each take in the Paths of the Dead to put back up at the top so they could be poured down again. Apparently Viggo liked to gather them up and try to throw them at the crew members! "Many hours of skullduggery was to be had," as Richard put it XD

Apparently, they'd made dozens of really finely detailed silicone heads to be lobbed over the wall of Minas Tirith, but then all but one of them were stolen! So they had to quickly put together some crude latex ones to use in the shoot instead (one of which the mayor of Wellington threw). They didn't talk about this, but I'm assuming the one good head that was left is the one that gets a close-up. You have to wonder who out there was sitting around with a bunch of highly realistic latex severed heads in his basement or something....

While most of the siege towers are miniatures or CG, they built the top third of one and put it on tracks so they could move it up against the wall. They built the set with breakable ramparts for when the little drawbridge thing crashes down.

They had the same trouble in Minas Tirith that they did in Helm's Deep, with the battering ram being too heavy for the stunties to lift. But they never actually explained how they got around that problem, if it was the same solution or not :/ All they said was that they had replaceable panels in the doors, in case they were damaged by the battering ram.

In order to make Shelob's webs, they had to heat up two polymers and mix them together to make the stringy, sticky material. In order to mix them, they had to be heated up to 220 degrees C, but if they got up to 228 degrees, they would burst into flame @_@ After they were heated and mixed, they would dribble the mixture on top of a vat of water, where it would cool in spiderweb-like shapes. Then they would lift it out on a frame, and they could carefully place it on the set. One time, the polymers did burst into flame, and they were running out of fire extinguishers to put it out! O.O Eventually, they did call the fire department, who said they'd done everything the fire department would have done. They got the fire put out, but it was a nerve-wracking moment, because the room where they were making the webs was connected to the studio, so it could have been disastrous D:

Bernard Shaw apparently got the idea to do that whole bit where he knocks his sword against the row of spears when he saw the collection of spears all lined up in a row in the art department.

The "oil" that Denethor pours over himself and Faramir is a mixture of glycerin and water. (I always wonder about these things, so I'm really glad they mentioned it.)

When they were filming the pyre scene, they had a silicone dummy for Faramir on the burning pyre. Apparently somebody on the crew brought "David Wenham" a cup of coffee over because they thought he'd fallen asleep on the side of the set, only to discover that it was a dummy! XD

The horse rig they made for close-up work of people on horseback got affectionately nicknamed "the Phony Pony." The first day they brought it on set, Peter Jackson got up on it and "rode" the horse, making the whole crew laugh XD

One of the ideas that Peter Jackson came up with for the mumakil in a brainstorming session (which Richard Taylor says he's still not sure if PJ was serious about or not) was that they could suck up several riders in its trunk and then fire them out like bullets. I'm...really glad they didn't go with that, whether PJ was serious or not <_<

Alan Lee says that the first time he saw the dead mumakil that Weta made for the set, the body was hollow, and some of the crew had set up a TV inside it and were watching a rugby game XD

The last miniature they built for LotR was the Minas Tirith docks where the Corsair ships come in. It kept getting put off until almost the end of the shoot, so they only had five days to put it together! @_@

All of the dead horses are fake, of course, so Weta had to make them all. They were made of lightweight material, so each day you'd see the set dressers just kind of casually carrying in a whole dead horse and then picking one up from the battlefield afterwards like it's no big deal. They had to do a lot of repairs to the dead horses, because the legs and ears kept falling off or getting bent the wrong way XD

The stone Watchers in Cirith Ungol have Maori influence in their design. I wish they'd talked about that in more detail, but it was just mentioned in passing.

They were concerned about the various copies of the One Ring being stolen, so they kept it in a lunchbox that was labeled "Screws."

The scene where Frodo and Sam join the orc convoy was filmed on location up on a mountain, so they had to deal with a whole bunch of extras in extensive prosthetics and armor, which would make them sweat while they were moving around, but then when the camera wasn't rolling, it would be a challenge to keep them warm. The way they did most of the orcs was that they wore a rubber mask and then a helmet, and they would need to take them off at regular intervals so the actors could get some air. So in between takes, after the director called, "Cut!" there would also be a cry of, "Heads off!" That meant the dressers would have to rush into the crowd and quickly take off the extras' helmets and masks XD

Because the crew was committed to not damaging any of the flora and fauna in the places where they were filming, even in the location that became the plains of Mordor that Frodo and Sam struggle across, there were little flowers and moss that they wanted to protect (and it was a national park). So they would lay down carpets on the ground for people to walk on, so they wouldn't damage the plant life. I'm sure that made for a strange sight, Frodo and Sam struggling in tattered clothing over rocks and boulders, surrounded by perfectly ordinary rugs XD

To do the decapitation of the Mouth of Sauron, they had a headless dummy sitting there, and Viggo would swipe his sword where the head should be. Then Weta Digital put in the head afterwards.

The lava in Mount Doom was mostly a miniature (except for the set where Sean and Elijah did their part), made from methyl cellulose and other things to make it look like lava. They set it up on a table that they would tilt so it would flow down around the model boulders made from urethane.

Richard Taylor said that, at that time, no one had really done a very good CG bird, so he was especially pleased at how the eagles turned out.

There were about 400 people working in the art department total, and most of them had never worked in the film industry before! @_@

Ngila Dickson's philosophy for the Elves was that none of their "crowns" or headpieces would go upwards, but would fit close around their heads and then go down. That's one of those things I've subconsciously noticed all these years, but never really thought about before.

Apparently, a little bit of the graphite used on Aragorn's armor in the coronation scene kind of puffed out when he and Arwen go in for their kiss, and got on Arwen's dress D: And some well-meaning person tried to rub it off, but only succeeded in spreading it around further, thus ruining the dress. And most of the female characters only had one copy of each costume, because all except for Eowyn don't see battle and thus don't need different versions with varying amounts of wear and tear. They're just made to wear in one or two scenes of them looking pretty and walking through a room. But alas, that lovely green dress was ruined.

They didn't have much time with Sir Ian Holm, so they only had a week to get a mold of his face and make the old-age prosthetics for the Grey Havens. But then word came down that he didn't want to have prosthetics, so they were to just make him look old with makeup. They were really disappointed, but then on the day, Ian Holm saw the prosthetics sitting off in the corner and asked what it was. When they explained, he said it wasn't true, and insisted on them putting the prosthetics on instead.

One thing that was really impressed upon me during this whole commentary (over all three movies) was just how much love and joy all of the crew had for the project. Sometimes you watch a movie or read a book that really means a lot to you, that's changed your life, and you wonder if the people who made it fully grasp what a beautiful thing they've created. These people know. They were fully aware, from start to finish, that they were making something truly great and worthy of praise. And I think that's beautiful.

[green-alien-turdz]

Hi, I know its been a minute n I don't really like that there is like one or two posts between this n my last 'i'm still alive' post. I'm sorry. I wanted to say thank you to everyone in general, but also the mfs who said some nice ass shit to me. Sorry I said some concernin ass shit n just dipped, that was pretty fucked. I never really had people care like all the people on here, so I ain't too used to havin to be more careful with the shit I do n say.

Thank you to everyone for the kind words, concern, n care. Comin back to see all of it made my fuckin heart melt. I know I'm just some dumbass postin south park shit on tumblr, but you guys are genuinely the most amazin mfs I've ever encountered. To the people who were in my inbox askin if I was still alive, I sincerely apologize for causin any stress or concern, it's not my intention. You guys are the sweetest people, and I'm sorry for doin that. I should prolly stop bein as vocal about bein so fucked, but I also like to be honest n I like sharin this shit bcuz I know mfs be goin through the same shit n bein alone in it feels fuckin awful majority of the time.

I am not well. I am doin very bad actually. There's a chance imma be forcefully medicated in the near future. Which is weird bcuz I used to always want that, I wanted to be fixed, but now I'm not sure for like a TON of reasons. One, ion wanna be changed (in a sense). If the meds take away or dull core aspects of myself, I will lose it further than I have already. Two, my parents raised me to never trust doctors or medicine, etc. Even though I do think modern medicine is a great thing, I still have my fears bcuz of how I was raised. Three, I fear the fuck outta what I will do. I know they warn that adjustment periods n shit like that can make things worse- but I literally cannot get any worse. If I do, I know I will not come out alive. Which bleeds into reason four, which is that I know, at some point, I would try n overdose. Handin me such a quick n thoughtless way to just end it is like the worst fuckin thing they could do. But whatever. Ion even know when it's gonna happen, all I know is that ion got a choice. Like, I'm pretty sure it's a situation that, if I don't comply, imma be locked tf up.

Uhh minor update shit- my cat came back home after almost a month of bein fuckin somewhere. She came back skinny, dirty, n sick, but she is slowly recoverin n I've never been more thankful. ED is still kickin my ass, but I'm forcin myself to at least have a fuckin soup I made bcuz I can't get shit done at work if I keep faintin or gettin injured. I have little to no time to do shitfuck, but still do random shit periodically before or after work. I actually redid my dresser n made some stupid ass video about the handles that I might post to youtube if I quit bein a pussy about it.

I haven't been drawin my fanart as of late- but I do want to. Imma focus on doin the requests I have bcuz I wanna give back the best I can. You guys stick with me through thick n thin. I thank you all so much. I'm sorry I'm always MIA. So my posts for a little bit are gonna be the requests n answerin all of my inbox. Ion know how long it'll take, but hopefully it won't get borin. I genuinely love makin things. I love drawin the shit I do n people findin some sort of connection to their lives or themselves. I just want people to feel less alone, less ugly, less whatever the fuck you feel. Each n every one of ya is fuckin amazin, so please don't forget it.

Imma stfu now. But I hope you guys have a good rest of your day or night or eternity. I'll be back to postin shortly, thank you for stickin with this shit show

[vitaminseetarot]

Butterfly PAC: What Will Your Next Falling in Love Feel Like? 🦋💕

Some think love can be measured by the amount of butterflies in their tummy. Others think love can be measured in bunches of flowers, or by using the words 'for ever.' But love can only truly be measured by actions. It can be a small thing, such as peeling an orange for a person you love because you know they don't like doing it. Marian Keyes

Sup y'all and welcome back to my free PAC readings! Thank you so so much for your patience with this particular post. It's been a busy week and it'll only get busier! I haven't done many love readings in the past as my readings focused solely on the querent. I decided to keep it simple and focus on that (frankly addicting) feeling of falling in love for the first time with someone.

There are four butterflies to choose from today to show you how it will feel like for you the next time you fall in love. If you're already with someone, this can represent how it feels when your partner does something truly special for you, what the right signal feels like.

As always you can choose more than one.

Pile 1, Blue Morpho Pile 2, Orange Monarch Pile 3, Red Peacock Pile 4, Emerald Swallowtail Pile 5, Purple Emperor

Pile 1: Blue (Morpho)

XVIII Moon; Rest, Inspiration, Let it Be, 28. Blessed Sight; X Wheel of Fortune, 5 of Pentacles, XIII Death, XIV Temperance

I pulled your oracle cards before your tarot, and before I did I said "this must be my Pisces pile". Then BOOM I got the Moon card dead center. You may be drawn to this pile if you have a lot or important Pisces placements, but I think it also very well describes the general energy of this pile.

Your next falling in love will be like a dream, or something that came from your dreams. Your person may remind you of someone you once met in your dreams even. It will feel as though your crush will be as a glowing light in the dark that warms you as you move forward into the unknown. If you're with someone, they could be showing up in your dreams more and more--there could even be a case of you both receiving signals about each other.

You're comfortable with letting fate be the guiding hand in you you'll meet next and what your partner will be like. Notice how in two cards we see closed eyes? One is resting, while the other is still walking to where she wants to go. There is a certain faith about this pile, you feel in your heart that the one you're seeking is out there and that you will not need to put yourself in uncomfortable situations to find them.

With this, sometimes you may falter and feel disheartened when you feel other people meeting their match while you're still watching the clouds roll by in the shape of your dreams. Fate combines both luck and change. Don't be afraid to sit back and let the process unfold before you. It doesn't mean you can expect your dream crush to come knocking on your door (although they could!), you can put yourself out there and mingle. This is an internal sense, adopt the intuition of letting the little guiding lights connect together and guide you when they are ready to.

Pile 2: Orange (Monarch)

XII Hanged One; Abundance, Pause, Determination, 11. Inspiration; XI Justice, King of Cups, 3 of Swords, 10 of Wands

This pile has likely had relationships in the recent past which may not have worked out. Or there were some romantic prospects where things didn't line up right. It seems like you're working on bringing yourself back into alignment where you can focus more on your personal goals in life. While there's nothing wrong with that, this question is about what it will feel like the next time you're in love. And I have to remind those who need this message that it's okay to take the time you need to recover.

But when you're finally ready to emerge back into the dating world, or if you're planning to, you will need to do so with open arms. Not the same as naïveté. Not the same as being in the same situations or patterns that didn't work out before. But you will need to push aside negative feelings telling you it won't work out again before you can move further with other singles. If you're in a relationship it's likely that your partner wants to see your emotional qualities more, they want you to open up so they can do the same. They want to work side-by-side with you and help you.

You're a strong individual when it comes to reaching your goals. With that said, it's okay to let others, specifically your next partner, help you out in areas you normally excel in. It will help loosen the tension a lot and bring ease to your abundance mindset. Support is with you and you don't need to do it alone. Let your crush carry some of the extra bags for you and help you relax. And don't think that by doing this you're somehow limiting yourself from reaching your future goals. If anything, your crush will help you move ahead. Your crush will want to see you CRUSH it in the board room. You will feel 100% backed and protected by your next love.

Also I wanted to add that when I did the reading for this pile, a little moth landed on my door's window and stared at me upside down like the Hanged One! Not a butterfly, but close enough! Moths talk about what you're intuitively drawn to, but also confusion following paths (since artificial light messes with their navigation). Let moths be your animal sign for when you're soon to meet your next love. They will help to guide you towards the better light.

Pile 3: Red (Peacock)

7 of Wands; Mystery, Desire, Wisdom, 24. Heal Thyself; 3 of Pentacles, VI Lovers, Queen of Cups, 7 of Wands (x2)

Pile 3, I'm glad I chose the beautiful red Peacock butterfly for your reading because this pile is incredibly bold! You got 7 of wands twice. It doesn't seem as though you're scared to stand out of the crowd to attract your next crush. Similarly, you want the same in your partner. You may be looking for someone who's strong and assertive, and maybe loves to put on a good show for people (as we have Mars in Leo here).

You could be into punk, or darker music genres. Your next love will be fiery, but won't show all their cards. They leave just enough detail for you to want to know more, I think they'd like to egg you on or tease you (but not in a mean way). This person could be way more intelligent than they may let on initially. You'll feel challenged by them, in a refreshing way. They may invite you to debate or play something competitive with them.

I think there's one thing that must be greatly noted with this pile, and that's remembering to stop and take some time for yourself. It doesn't mean stepping out of the dating scene. There's a fine line to walk between meeting someone who's very attractive at face level and the love that comes from genuine compatibility. Lovers speaks about integrating these two parts as one instead of thinking it's one or the other.

You also need to make sure to prioritize your own needs as well rather than get caught up in the heat of passion. I don't think this pile struggles at all with passion, but some emotional discretion is advised here. There could have been people surrounding past relationships who weren't really supportive of who you were with. Whether or not they were in the "right", it's left you a bit defensive over who you choose to be with. Please remember to take time away from every influence to listen to your own inner voice.

Pile 4: Green (Emerald Swallowtail)

King of Pentacles; Stop, Pause, Goals, 23. Big Picture; 2 of Cups, XVII Star, XIV Temperance, 6 of Cup

Oh wow, pile 4. Stop and Pause side by side, and then we have Goals on the bottom. Stopping goals! Says who?! Not you, Emerald Swallowtail, with the King of Pentacles in front. You must be a very career or school driven group. Money savvy, ambitious, and unafraid to chart unknown territory. You'll definitely be a catch for the next person you fall for.

Except it doesn't seem like you're in the mood for the dating scene at all. Not in the fun and casual sense anyway. You want someone serious and committed, right off the bat. Someone who's fiscally responsible and likely as driven as you. You want someone who comes right in, sits down, and presents themselves as a good partner as though they're interviewing for a job hoping the star will stand out of the pack. Mainly, you want to know exactly what you're in for before sticky things like emotions even enter the picture.

This pile seems similar to my pile 2. Maybe somebody in the past told you that as soon as you marry or get serious with someone, it's gonna affect your career or your stability and that sacrifices will inevitably be made. That seeking any kind of relationship is like stepping over huge boulders hoping your ankle won't fall through between the cracks. The thing is, emotions are already involved in this. Your next love will make you feel stable and secure, knowing that you don't have to push too hard to get by.

Moreover, your next love will LOVE that you're career oriented. They will not be threatened by your achievements. They can help you bring balance between the adult side of you that's disciplined and focused and the little kid in you who wants to play and explore. Your next love will help you expand beyond what you thought was possible in a relationship. You'll be half of a real power couple who can tackle anything together with forces combined.

Pile 5: Purple (Emperor)

6 of Wands; Ideation, Open Heart, Hibernation, 2. Understanding; XII Hanged One, 10 of Cups, Page of Swords, 7 of Wands

Hi, lovely pile 5! Your next love will simply make you feel like you're actually radiating. Notice all the little diamonds on the 6 of wands as well as the Ideation card? Your next love will feel more rare than diamonds, it will have you shining like one. There is such warmth with this pile, it's like the sense of having a good looking musician with a great smile gently guide your hand up on stage to let you be part of the show. Even if you're the shy type to stand back, your crush will rave about you enough to have you blushing. They'll root for your success even when you'd rather be modest.

I get with this pile that you may be slow to open up with new people, and that you would prefer to take your time in meeting someone serious. You may be just starting to dip your feet in the dating scene, perhaps for the first time. You're realizing that it's one thing to imagine what it'd be like to go out and meet new people, but it's another to actually do it. But I don't see any reason to worry too much here. Even if you come off as shy, people can sense the glow of your aura. You have a quiet but unabashed confidence and may attract that in your next partner as well.

If there's one thing I can advise for you, pile 5, is to avoid being over critical about who you would rather be or NOT be with. I mean overcritical about the little things. Try to avoid saying things like "I can't be with someone who chews too loud" because you could meet the love of your life where that happens to be their one and only flaw. If you allow compassion to rule here, then it will return back to you ten fold.

Your next love feels so smooth and romantic, your next crush will want to woo you. They will really go out their way to impress you and while they can be comfortable inside the house on rainy days, likely there will be chances to travel and share new experiences abroad. They'll love being with you but will work to warm you up to the wonders of life. They will yearn for your happiness, pile 5, your bliss will be their success! When your heart tells you it's safe, allow yourself to wander into a new adventure with someone who lights up your world inside and out.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: Time Travel AU Edition

As I promised @oldefashioned here is the start of my unending sterek fic reccing. I’ll go by category because this post will never end otherwise.

1. song of the phoenix by graveltotempo

In a last ditch effort to save Beacon Hills after everyone else has died, Stiles channels all of his energy and magic into cleansing the Nemeton and the magical core of the town. But he is more powerful than he knows, more connected to the Nemeton than anyone can guess, and a group of kids, teenagers and adults wakes up in the middle of the night ten years earlier with a second chance they didn't know they needed and a bond they don't understand. Stiles though? Stiles wakes up with a little more.

Notes: It's just. So good. It's kinda hard to explain but basically no one knows what's going on but at the same time it works. Kinda. They're working on it. Stiles is awesome in this, I especially love his relationship with the Hales, because of course I do. It's ongoing.

2. Twice And For All by novasillies

“Derek,” he said despite himself. The werewolf’s eyes sharpened. Scott gave him a distressed look. “Do I know you?” He asked tensely, and Stiles grinned in return. “Oh, no,” he answered, “Not yet.” - In which a well-timed conflict between the magic of the Ghost Riders and Stiles' spark sends him back to the day Scott got bitten. Stiles pointedly changes nothing and so God complexes, needlessly complex romantic drama, and pure, unbridled silliness ensue. (Updates every Thursday wink wonk)

Notes: This is to date one of my favorite time travel fics of all time, across multiple fandoms. Stiles in this one is just *chef's kiss*. Completely unhinged, I love him. Also, the sterek? Easily one of the best dynamics I've read. It's ongoing, only four chapters left!

3. Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?  Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

Notes: I liked this one because it's not the typical Stiles travels back in time after everyone else in the pack dies. It's got a different premise, still somewhat canon compliant (maybe??? canon enough), and it's amazingly done. It's complete.

4. Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." ----- The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

Notes: So good! Stiles is a traumatized bean and the Hales are just everything! It's complete.

5. The A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect series by Phlinting

It's been eleven years since Scott was bitten by a feral werewolf and, despite his pack's many victories along the way, Gerard Argent's influence lives on. As the knowledge of the supernatural spread to the general population so did the hatred and fear of the unknown. The McCall pack has been picked off one by one and Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, and Peter Hale are the only three left, on the run and barely surviving. But Stiles has found a spell. He has the magic, the spark, and his belief. He has his dad and Peter to help power it and he has the will and desperation to succeed. He's going back to the Hale fire and this time he's going to stop it ALL before it starts. It's the perfect solution. Too bad things never go quite according to plan...

Notes: The Sheriff and Peter are *chef's kiss* here! I really don't know how to explain all that happens here but it gets a little out of control in the best way. It's complete.

6. The The Long Way Round series by exclamation

A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he's stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past?   And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself?

Notes: This series had me in a chokehold, I cried so much but it was absolutely worth it! Stiles doesn't plan to travel back in time on this one, this just... happen, and it all spirals a bit out of control. But don't worry! You may have no idea of what's going to happen, but the author certainly did and they did an amazing work. It's complete.

7. It’s Happening by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Derek stopped listening to him, brain going a mile a minute.   Derek, it’s fucking happening! Derek, please!   He would recognize that fucking voice anywhere. Two years. Two fucking years had passed, and now this little shit was standing in front of him, speaking his name, and grinning like an idiot. “It’s you,” Derek said, earning him a confused look from Stiles. “The phone call. Two years ago. It was you.” (SNYE - January 2nd - Time Travel)

Notes: This is not canon compliant. It's a whole other universe, actually, and it's so good. Good ol' Derek is losing his mind over here, but it's alright! Things work out just fine. It's complete.

These ones are not time travel, but dimensional travel. It’s similar enough so here you go.

8. The play it again series by metisket

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself. “Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

Notes: I honestly don't know how to show the whole of my appreciation for this series. I think I've read this about five times since I found it last year. Stiles lands himself in a whole other dimension, where the Hale House fire never happened and Scott is human. It goes about as well as you can expect. It's technically not complete, but the main piece is.

9. The Home Across The Universe series by TricksterShi

You can lose your home and spend your whole life looking for it, sometimes you may even find bits of it again. But sometimes home goes out searching and finds you first. ~ The day he loses his father and his pack, Stiles is transported to a parallel world where his counterpart is nine years old and seemingly small changes have had a huge impact on the course of events in Beacon Hills. At first sticking to the shadows as a vigilante to protect his otherworld father and younger self, Stiles is soon drawn out into the light and onto a path that forces him to confront the traumas of his past so that he can make a place for himself in this new world.

Notes: Just. This absolute beast of a universe is seriously so well done, and so good. Imagine play it again, but much more depressing and waaaay longer. The angst is on point! The Stilinskis are the best in this one. And Derek and Laura have my heart, love my pookies. Stiles is not having the best times, but he'll be looked after, don't worry! Also technically not complete, but all the pieces in the series are done.

10. The Ley Lines series by forestofbabel

Stiles is back in town after many years, angry and bitter and disconnected from anything you might call pack. It might as well be a tradition at this point that he gets drunk and wakes up in the woods. Only, this time, something is different.  The ghosts that have weighed in his heart are alive and well, and Stiles gets to witness a life that could have been his. There is one thing he knows, though. No matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go home.  If the ley lines you should follow, and your dwelling at the end, and find your presence has been hollowed, your hereafter is to amend." *** Stiles is faced in this new world with someone he had been avoiding for a long time. Himself.  The Double Walker cannot survive where the Double Walker dwells *** Derek had an itch under his skin. There was something missing. He knew exactly what it was. Who it was. His regrets paraded themselves in a steady stream, and he had to watch as Stiles left time and time again, knowing it would be the only way to let the ley lines heal. That didn't make it hurt any less. Still, some part of Derek hoped.

Notes: I honestly just read the first part, but I thought I'd add the whole series so people know what they're getting into. The first part can be read as a stand alone, so if anyone wants to stop after that they absolutely can. The fic itself is a bit sad, but it has a happy ending! Stiles travels to another dimension, and shenanigans follow. The series is complete.

[blingblong55]

Worth it- 141 & Laswell

pic credits: @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot (left)and @ave661 (middle)

Based on a request: Wait, wait, first of all hope you're doing well and make sure to drink a glass of water if you haven't already. Cozy? Yeah? Okay, Can I request something (you can choose whether it's a HCor not,etc etc) on how TF141 would react to meeting a teen boy around 15-16, who's like a genius in engineering, mathematics, and physics? Like the boy could legitimately build a rocket if he had the time, help and materials. Maybe the meet him because he got in trouble with the government for unknowingly making a weapon? Maybe he made it for a class assignment and it was stolen without his knowledge? Whatever you think makes sense here. Leaving space for you to enter your own creative thoughts, just the general idea of it. The boy is based on a character of mine from a book I'm writing, his name his Michael, but ofc you can switch that up however you wish. Have fun with this one Ignore if it doesn't sound fun to ya <3 ---- M!Reader, genius!reader, platonic!relationship? ----

A/N: drank enough water, thanks for the reminder <3

Y/N, the name of the unknown internet user that had been chased by many governments and caught by the one and only Task Force 1-4-1.

You created something so dangerous that no one believed Laswell when she told her bosses the age you had when you started all this. You created the one thing most geniuses working for the government didn't know existed outside of the numbers and graphs they had done for it. At first, the FBI had named you un-sub A. Now, they can finally put a name to the unknown face.

How were you caught? Well, it wasn't easy, let's start there. When all this mess began, you were no older than fifteen. You are practically a ticking bomb to the government so when they heard that someone was asking the right questions to chemists around your city, they began to search for you. Laswell at the time was on a small break from work but the journals you had left in your parent's home when you ran away one rainy day.

In the journals, Laswell found all she needed to have a task force assigned to find you. She called it Operation Mikey, the name was just to fill in the void of the one thing she couldn't find, you.

Your parents weren't much help in giving your name, hence why Mikey became a temporary replacement. With them high off any drug and you on the run with the rest of your journals, Price was tasked with finding you and making sure you were secured in their care.

For three months, you ran away. Moving to different cities and continuing your research of the chemical weapon you fabricated in your bedroom, the same one Laswell had locked in a laboratory somewhere in the capital of the country.

In month four, you found an abandoned building in the middle of the desert. That's where your laboratory, if you can call it that, began.

For months after that, you collected data and it wasn't until nine months later that Soap found you trading chemicals with some scientist that you were caught.

Once you were brought in, they had realised so much about you. You were way younger than what their profile had thought of, much more intelligent than they'd think a person your age was and so skilled in engineering, mathematics, and physics.

"Why didn't we find his information sooner," Laswell questions her bosses. "Kid was never even registered by his parents." The man on the phone answers. "How the hell did he even get this kind of education then?" She asks again but you had that answer.

"My parents just bought me books and hired a weird guy from the street to teach me anything," you respond and Price chuckles. "Bullshit, kid. Now tell us, how the hell did you get all of these journals?" He points to the evidence bags. Your research of months now being read by other scientists.

"I am the creator of them, not let me go," you protest against Ghost's grip on you. "No chance," Price barks. "What's your real name?" Laswell asks you. "Y/N," you answer knowing it was either this or get thrown in some federal prison.

"And you created this weapon? do you have any idea how dangerous it is to create something like this? How many people it would take to create a mathematical concept and then make it into a physical form?"

"It's not that hard, lady," you answer with an attitude. Were people this dumb?

It took hours, lots of bribing and one request from Soap and Gaz to give you food for you to open up. What? you are a teenager who needs enough food for growth, of course, you'll talk once they give you food. Talking and having to dumb it down took hours though. After all, how can you explain to hardheaded soldiers about probability theory, and why it mattered so much to your project that it took ten trials and two journals worth of failed work to get?

Laswell was more than impressed, no seriously, she was like a proud mother listening to you explain every page and even give notes in only a way that a teenage boy would to idiotic adults like them. She thought it was so adorable how a boy your age would throw nerdy jokes into the explanations and how she watched you be the only one to laugh at them.

Ghost would often smile when you'd give a snarky comment to Price. Don't get him started on the chuckles he let out when you threw a few old man jokes at Price or made comments on Soap's weird hairstyle. The comments towards Gaz were funny but also adorable how you tried to find more reasons to get him annoyed.

Price thought of his son who was about your age when you'd get excited over your most recent discovery for the weapon you had created. It was nice to know that behind all that matter in your head, you were still a kid. It was even nicer when you'd make the jokes no one understood but secretly, Price's nerdy self understood some jokes.

Gaz saw his younger brother in you, which is why even when you made jokes at his expense, he would let them pass. The way you looked at him when having to explain things was nice in some way but it was way funnier when you called Soap the smart one of all four for being able to understand the way bombs work better than anyone and then have Ghost shake his head and tell you, "that man is just a muppet, don't believe what we tell you about his work."

Soap was fascinated by you for sure. Just like Price, he understood some of the jokes, even the cheesy puns you made about certain elements. He liked you, it was something fresh from the people he usually deals with.

The team, for the past few days, grew to adore the nerdy man you are. Yeah, you teased and even called them out on wrong facts but it was new. It's good to have someone so intelligent and be so honest with them this time. What was funny is that you know so much about many topics few understand but you don't know much about real life outside of the nerdy realm you live in. It's a nice feeling when passing by Laswells office you find a framed picture of the day Ghost and the other men of the team taught you about hunting and even how to play baseball, something you sucked at in the beginning but have gotten better over time.

It's like having four funny, serious, and cool dads and an amazing mum whilst being taken care of at the base the team called home.

A/N: I hope this was somewhat okay and good luck on your book!

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @froggy-anon @jinxxangel13 @enarien @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @avidreadee123 @ikohniik @konigssultwithghost @luvecarson @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @marshiely @sleepyycatt

[qqueenofhades]

It's definitely a refusal to engage with or truly understand politics. I'm 24, I was in middle school during Obama's second term and 17 in 2016, and I feel like a lot of my peers just continue to be appalled at how bad things have gotten with the Republicans and why Democrats can't do anything to stop it. What's missing from their understanding is how long it took for the Republicans to get here. It didn't start in 2016. They worked for decades to do all the nightmarish shit they're doing now, and Democrats just haven't been able to do the same (because people refuse to vote consistently and give them the power to do those things). I feel like that's where the "both sides are the same" bullshit comes from - the idea that if the Dems wanted to stop the GOP, they would. It's a fundamental misunderstanding of how anything works, and often relies on downplaying how bad the Republicans actually are in order to support their 'Dems are just as bad' stance.

Things did get catastrophically worse when Trump was elected, and he broke things way more than they ever had been, but he doesn't exist in a vacuum and it took the Republicans a lot of fucking work for him to do what he did. The only way the Dems can counteract that is by having a party of people willing to put in a similar level of work, and that requires understanding our structures and how things work (executive orders are only temporary fixes and actual legislation takes time, compromise, and work), and a lot of these people just aren't willing to do it.

The thing is, yes, I absolutely do get the feeling that everything is terrible and we are doomed. I went through it when GWB was re-elected in 2004 and then again in 2008, worrying about whether Obama would get elected and end that particular run of Republican-induced misery (when John McCain looks like a fucking saint compared to the GOP candidates we are being offered now), and obviously plumbed the depths of despair in 2016 with Trump. But I don't remember ever thinking that I should just give up trying, stop voting, or any of that, and I don't think it was because I was some kind of special person who was just so tenacious. I obviously have not been a teenager in the present era and yes, that means I have different views on things from the next generation, but also: this has always happened. Moments of total political despair and feeling that everything is fucked are also not a new thing. We are going through it with Trumpism, the previous generation went through it with Reagan/Thatcher, the previous previous generation went through it with Nixon/Vietnam, the previous etc generation went through it with the Cold War, the previous etc. etc. generation went through it with World War II -- and so forth. There has never been any one point when everything was great and there was no work left to be done, because, y'know. That is not how either history or human nature works.

Hence, that is why I'm trying to figure out what in the fuck is going on right now, and whether it's just social media that have made things so bad (entirely possible). Critical thinking is a shambles, yes, but that's not necessarily something young people have chosen for themselves. The current world is a late-stage capitalist dystopia run by four or five trillionaire oligarch cartels and corporations, and obviously public education, basic civic responsibility, the teaching of any "controversial" history, and everything else that might threaten that setup has been systematically and methodically dismantled, politicized, or so infiltrated with false information that it's basically useless. That in itself is not young people's fault. They have genuinely been dealt a terrible hand in many ways, and I don't blame them for being angry about it. I too am angry about it! I do question, however, when the overwhelming sentiment became "well we should just give up and let the bad guys win, either because it's too much work to change it or because that will spark the Great Revolution and that's the only way to fix things ever, and doing anything else at all in the meantime is wrong."

Once again: I do not blame young people for being angry at the shitty situation they are currently facing. I do not blame young people for being disillusioned with the system and thinking that it can't solve everything at once. But yet again: there has never been any government, country, or organization in the history of ever anything everywhere that was able to do that, and the ones that tried, or insisted that they could do it, were infamously murderous bloodbaths, because breaking society (even with all its flaws) into a thousand pieces and thinking this will make My Preferred Ideological Utopia Now Appear is probably the deadliest belief in all of time and space. The world is flawed and has been for all time because humans are flawed and probably will be for all time. Being a grownup requires coming to an understanding of that fact and seeing what you can do in spite of that. People in every era have had gaps and biases and blind spots and other things that hobbled their understanding or made their efforts for change less perfect or complete than they would have wanted in an ideal world, and they have had to move past those anyway. The current generation is no different. Not to sound like a boomer, but even despite the mess they've been faced with, they need to figure out how to engage with it anyway and not just completely absolve responsibility because they can't fix it all at once. Which I don't think most young people do! There are plenty of them who really do get it and are engaged and idealistic and working for good change, and that's great! It's just the other part that worries me, and which is not as small as we would like to think.

And yes, part of this is just flat-out bad information and the stubborn lack of any desire to change it if it conflicts with pre-existing beliefs. (This is by no means exclusive to young people of this current generation, as it's another bad habit of humanity, but yes.) In the aforementioned "you're driving young leftists away :(" ask I got yesterday, there were also plenty of dubious and just-flat-wrong claims, such as that Democrats keep moving to the right "especially economically." That is just not true. In the last four years, the Democrats have moved the most economically leftward in all of American history and have finally and flatly rejected the Great Reagonomics Myth. Just because Clinton did Reagonomics-lite in the '90s (when most of the current generation of Online Leftists weren't even born), that is thirty years ago and in wildly different circumstances. These things are not difficult to look up. Do it. Try to educate yourself, even if the system doesn't want to do it. You can't just throw up your hands and insist that nobody taught you, so how could you know??? Put that "instant access to all of human history and knowledge" to use, even just a little. It'll be good for you!

Likewise, there was also the anon's befuddling insistence that I was "patronizing" or "shaming" anyone "further left than Biden," which reflects their apparent feeling that telling people to vote for Biden is a "personal attack" on their cherished beliefs, or whatever. I'm unsure how many times we have to keep repeating that voting for a candidate does not mean you are canonizing all their beliefs exactly as your own, and that it's just one tool to do the bare minimum to not live in a fucking fascist theocratic dictatorship, but yeah. I can guarantee you that I personally am well left of Biden. I can guarantee you that most people on Tumblr voting for Biden are probably well left of him as well. That does not negate the fact that Biden is the most progressive president America has ever had, regardless of how much Online Leftists shriek otherwise. It also does not negate the fact that this is by no means true of America as a whole (witness the large faction that still thinks Biden is a godless far-left evil socialist). It does not negate the many complex historical, political, social, cultural, religious, racial, etc reasons that have collided to produce the America where this is the case. Therefore, if I do not want to live in a society ruled by Trump and his orange Nazi minions, which is the case due to how badly the last 10 years have been fucked up, I will use the tool of voting for Biden! He can be successfully pressured to create positive change in the direction that I would like! Trump cannot and will not under any circumstances, regardless of the wild fantasies that suddenly he will transform into a perfect progressive on Gaza or whatever other issue! THIS IS NOT THAT FUCKING DIFFICULT!!!!!!!

Anyway. All of this is obviously complicated. Obviously things are bad and frightening and we want a solution that fixes all of it at once, instead of slowly, badly, and piecemeal. But as I said: that has never, not once, been the case in all of history, and we know what happens when people and/or governments with delusions of psychopathic grandeur try to do it. We do not want the "Final Solution" (which is infamous as what Hitler literally called the Holocaust). We do, in fact, want the careful step by step, we want things to get better and not just explode in a mountain of nihilistic doom, and that does take work, from everyone. So unfortunately, there is no real choice except to do it.

[itsaspectrumcomic]

On anon bc identifiable info - advice/thoughts? - This is really long, I'm sorry D: I'm a rambler and all the info is important (to me)

I've always had problems with stuff (according to my mom, "things have always been harder for [me] than everyone else") like I'm always the last one out the door, I lose things a lot (like hats and pencils and water bottles) because I set them down and don't realize, I have a lot of trouble doing textbook homework/notes bc I have trouble focusing

And I have a lot of trouble with social stuff, I never have a lot of friends, I can't keep friends for more than like four years, I feel really disconnected with people and people generally initially like me but like me significantly less after interacting with me a bit

I read a lot, and when I was a kid I would lose all sense of reality outside the book until someone touched me or I finished the book, but I've had a harder and harder time reading anything but fanfic as I've gotten older, and I have a lot of trouble reading very technical/instructions/nonfiction stuff

I have pretty bad insomnia, and spent ~2 years when I was 10-13 ish sleeping ~3-4 hrs/night weekdays and ~12 hrs/night weekends, I have a really hard time getting to sleep specifically - and (tmi maybe tw eating) I've had chronic minor eating issues and constipation (chronic minor dehydration, losing ~ 10 lbs over summers from not eating, etc. like I'm not dying or anything but this will probably eventually cause wear damage)

---

But I'm also a very good student, very smart, generally very good at what I choose to do, I just became a National Merit semifinalist, like, I'm doing "fine". I'm not dying, I'm not failing classes or anything, I've struggled since second semester year before last with getting things done, but I have like a 3.7 gpa rn (I could have a 4 if I tried harder (while I am capable of trying harder, it would destroy me))

I was in Gifted + Talented in elementary school, I'm an honors/ap student (my G+T teacher told my mom that the "gifted" basically means "neurodivergent")

---

I didn't get help for anything until last year, when I kinda fell off (as much as you can fall off while getting a 3.7 gpa ig) and got assessed for insomnia, which I got help with pretty easily (apart for waiting times) which was amazing. Almost went too well iykwim

And I was looking into why I was having such a hard time with everything (social, focus, sleep, schoolwork,etc) and I resonated a lot with autism and some of the feeling very disconnected from society/ other people but I was like eeeh, I'm a teen and idk I'm not, like, having it that bad, so I was looking into more quantitative solid stuff and I took the AQ + CAT-Q + stuff which still have very subjective questions but I tried to be honest and I got 32 (AQ) and 139 (CAT-Q) and 157 (RAADS-R) but like idk I could be biased or misunderstanding or idk

I mentioned feeling like I had more, underlying issues to the doctor I'm seeing for the insomnia and she was basically like "I work with autistic kids - you're not autistic" which like on one hand, you're the expert and I've only really interacted with the internet so idk but on the other, you've spent all of two hours with me, mostly asking me direct questions about my sleep or talking to my mother, like, ofc you haven't seen anything of me. Did I make too much fake eye contact with you?? (BTW if you dislike eye contact for any reason, which I always have, look at noses (my mother taught me this one) or hair (my personal fav) bc it looks like you're looking at the face, but you aren't!!)

this is getting very long winded, I'm sorry if you choose to read all this but thank you it means a lot to me to get someone who knows something's thoughts on this

So I was like "I am having other problems" and she was like "I suspect you may have inattentive type adhd" and I was initially like what?? but I'm not hyperactive. Can't have adhd. What. But I've been kinda thinking about it and lurking at the edge of adhd communities and googling stuff (google is not helpful) and maybe? idk

SO to get to my point/question

I'm very smart. (not tryna be conceited it's just I am) I'm not currently *dying* struggling, though I am having trouble staying on top of classwork

I'm a girl

I live in the USA

I'm pretty good at acting normal, I have a couple friends (one has diagnosed adhd, one has diagnosed autism, one I'm not sure, one I think? could be neurotypical? but she's also like really not idk) (I (only?) have four friends (which is a lot, for me))

I don't know if I'm "adhd enough" (or "autistic enough" if I was right initially) ((or both idk)) to get a diagnosis. I have hypermobility that causes issues with my joints and has led to me not exercising enough and having to quit violin but I'm not hypermobile "enough" to get a diagnosis or help for it (which sucks because it's literally affecting my quality of life, like, I could be an amazing musician if I didn't have this. D: )

If I try, will I get a diagnosis, or will I be "adhd, but not enough"? Should I continue to spend (my parent's insurance) money on this if it probably won't go anywhere? I'm currently 17, starting my senior year of high school. Will things get disrupted in transition to college? If I go abroad for college?

Also, will I crash and burn in college without my mother's considerable support? (tw eating again) I have always had a really hard time getting and preparing and eating food, and without her/structure idk how much I will eat. I loose weight over the summer bc we don't eat as a family much. when I'm on my own, will I struggle even more? Especially trying to juggle food and school and living independently? What about after college? My uncle was fine until he graduated college and now he's alone and a misogynist and mormon and lives with my grandma and seems kinda really miserable except way more hate-filled - am I doomed to the same path?

anyways this is really dark I'm sorry

specific questions for you are:

should I pursue ADHD diagnosis? Autism?

is there anything specific I should mention/not mention/think about?

is there anything you think I (+ people in similar situations) should research, any specific sites/books/communities you think would be valuable?

would therapy help with anything? social, focus, etc. (I have not had a chance, and I have been noncommittal at mentions bc. i strongly dislike people, and talking to people, and emotions ): )

are things in general going to get better, or worse? please be honest, not reassuring

If you decide to answer this, partially or completely, thank you, it means a lot to me to get someone else's thoughts on this, if not, I completely understand, either way, I hope you have a good day :)

Hello! A lot of what you wrote feels very familiar to my own experience - I was also considered a good student but found things increasingly difficult to cope with, struggled socially, lost and forgot stuff, couldn't focus etc. You're definitely not alone in feeling this way!

You are not doomed and you are not your uncle. Things can always get better, even when you're at your lowest. You never know what will happen next - you could make a friend, you could discover a new passion, you could be offered a cool opportunity, you could get the chance to pet a really friendly dog. Life isn't a straight line - you might be struggling for a bit, and then some nice stuff will happen, and then you might go through a rough patch again, but then things will improve again and you might feel better than you did before.

For eating when you go to college - identify the foods you generally find easy to make and eat and make sure you have a supply avaliable for when you're struggling. For me, that's pasta (you can get dry pasta which lasts ages in the cupboard, but you could also try fresh ravioli which has stuff inside like spinach or tomato or cheese so it's a bit more varied), crackers, bananas, and breakfast bars. That way if you can't make a proper meal, you at least eat something. Also try to carry a water bottle with you everywhere (if you struggle to drink water you could try flavoured water or juice.) If you forget about needing to eat you could set alarms to remind yourself.

Side note: did you know that hypermobility and autism very often occur together?

Onto your questions:

should I pursue ADHD diagnosis? Autism?

It's definitely worth looking into - I can't guarantee you'll get a diagnosis because it really depends on the person/people assessing you and some are more biased than others (if you're able to choose, look for people who say they specialise in diagnosing women and girls or have positive reviews from people in that demographic). Personally I found it helped a lot with getting accommodations, people understanding me, and understanding myself (even before the diagnosis was official). I will say it's usually quite a long process so be prepared for that.

Btw, you can definitely have ADHD without being hyperactive - that's the inattentive type which is more about trouble focusing.

is there anything specific I should mention/not mention/think about?

Honestly a lot of what you've written will probably come up in an assessment! I had to fill out a form with info about my experiences as a child and the traits I have now, as did my mum. If you're high masking (basically when you try to act 'normal' and hide your neurodivergent traits) do your best not to mask so the assessor gets to see you as you really are.

is there anything you think I (+ people in similar situations) should research, any specific sites/books/communities you think would be valuable?

Untypical by Pete Wharmby is an excellent book if you want to learn more about autistic experiences. The author is autistic himself and has an engaging writing style.

How to ADHD is a YouTube channel that focuses on coping techiques for ADHD and is informative as well.

I've found the autism communities on Reddit to be welcoming and supportive - you might like r/AutismInWomen which is inclusive and accepting of self diagnosis and those who are questioning.

You could also follow some of these people on instagram:

morgaanfoley - posts about her experiences as an autistic person

_ellawillis - posts about autism and ADHD and their daily life

candy.courn - posts about autism and disability as well as how that intersects with their experience as an asian person. Also has the most beautifully pink house

colourblind_zebra - makes cute and colourful art about chronic illness and neurodiversity

elliemidds - posts about autism and adhd and runs a community called We are Unmasked (weareumasked on insta)

itsemilykaty - posts about autism, mental health, and her book Girl Unmasked (which I haven't read yet but is supposed to be very good!)

Side note: I also have an instagram if you'd like to follow :) I'm itsaspectrumcomic there as well!

would therapy help with anything? social, focus, etc. (I have not had a chance, and I have been noncommittal at mentions bc. i strongly dislike people, and talking to people, and emotions ): )

Therapy can help a lot - with the right therapist! Look for people who specialise in neurodivergence, particularly in girls. The best ones are on the spectrum themselves :) It's OK if you don't click with the first one you try. You can 'shop around' until you find someone you're comfortable with (which I know can be exhausting but it's worth it when you find the right one).

are things in general going to get better, or worse? please be honest, not reassuring

Like I said before, things will get better, and then you might struggle for a while, and then things get better again. It comes in waves, at least for me. I know when you're having a hard time it can feel like it's going to last forever, but I promise it won't. There are always bright spots.

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. If you're enjoying the fanfic, please interact. Comments and kudos are welcome. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance.

THREE FIVE

FOUR

Your madness should be studied. It's foolishness to go to the Cullens' house to check on Edward. You might end up seeing his girlfriend, which would be awkward. They might not appreciate seeing you. Uley could find out you went there and curse you for generations. But now, lying in bed with Jacob beside you, you're worried about Cullen. In fact, a part of your younger self is nervous about having transformed in front of Edward. Your wolf form only emerged after you left Forks.

"There's something troubling your mind. Don't worry about denying it. Just tell me what it is," Jacob whispers near your ear while you think he's asleep. You're sleeping spooned together, with him as the big spoon and you as the little one.

"I need to do something you won't like. And honestly, I don't want to tell you what it is. I just want you to support me even without knowing. Like a good pack leader," you say, turning to look at him. His eyes open to meet yours. You kiss him on the cheek, hoping to make him more receptive to understanding you.

"I'm not your leader. And I'm not your boyfriend either. As your lover, I'd recommend you not go after any vampire. But as a friend, I support you. You know you can count on me if Sam decides to scold you, even though he's not your leader either," Jacob says, apprehensive yet respectful.

"I didn't know I was your lover. But I want to lean on the side of you that's my friend. If something happens, I need you to not let anyone come after me. Not even you. Can you do that for me?" You ask, kissing Jacob softly on the corner of his mouth, then on his lips.

"You have more faith in my ability to be your bodyguard than I do. But consider it done. I'll keep any wolf away from you. Including myself. I hope you'll reward me for that," Jacob says, kissing your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You playfully hit his arm as if disapproving of what he said.

"You're such a flirt. But for now, you don't need to worry. Finding vampires at night is always more advisable," you say, shifting against Jacob's chest as if he were a pillow and you wanted to snuggle closer.

The rest of your day is quite peaceful. You visited Sam's pack, spending the afternoon surrounded by wolves who dislike wearing shirts because they're too hot, and their respective loved ones. In truth, you wonder if you'll ever experience an imprinting. Will you ever feel that powerful bond with Edward or Jacob? Or worse, what if it happens with someone you haven't met yet?

Before you know it, it's late enough to go check on Edward. Just to make sure he's okay. You say goodbye to the pack and before heading off, you glance at Jacob, who surprisingly behaved well during the visit to Sam's pack this time. Perhaps he knows that being near Sam's pack could allow him to intervene if something goes wrong.

"I can't believe you have the nerve to show up here," Rosalie says, approaching you. She never liked you, and now that you've transformed into a wolf, she probably despises you even more.

"Easy, Rosalie. I'm not your sister-in-law anymore. No need for all this aggression," you respond sarcastically. She doesn't seem to like it, as moments later, she throws you against a tree using her vampire powers. You push her back, but before either of you can do anything else, half of the Cullen family surrounds you both.

“Rosalie, you can’t attack Y/N. I'm sorry about her temper." Esme says as she helps Rosalie up from the floor. You're still catching the breath you lost when Rosalie attacked you.

“Y/N, it’s always good to see you. You are as lovely as I remember. Isn't it Jasper?" Alice asks Jasper as he walks over to hug you. Emmett takes Rosalie inside while others watch you.

"You look great." Jasper says looking at you without much excitement while Alice still seems excited. Until you notice that you are bleeding from the corner of your mouth. Maybe this is making Jasper uncomfortable.

"We were in the middle of dinner. Want to eat with us?" Carlisle gently extends his arms towards the entrance of the Cullen's house. But you know the only way they could be eating food would be if Bella was with them.

"I don't think Rosalie would like that. But thank you for the invitation. Maybe I can come next time." You say regretting having gone there. It was a mistake trying to see your ex who should have left your mind a long time ago.

"Honey, we'll all be waiting for you. Until then, we promise to talk to Rosalie about her bad behavior." Esme says and you think it's cute that she thinks she can make Rosalie control her hatred for you.

"You will come back. Your story isn't over yet." Alice speaks sweetly while holding your hand. You deduce that she is foreseeing this but you don't understand how your story isn't over yet. I mean, you and Edward don't mean anything to each other anymore. Right?

"I think that's unlikely to be true but I've learned not to doubt you, Alice." You say as you hold her hand back gently, she smiles softly. Jasper then nods towards Alice and she goes with him into the house.

"I think you came to see me." Edward speaks while using his vampiric speed to get close to you quickly. Carlisle and Esme seem to feel the tension of Edward's presence around you and leave.

"I just came to make sure you're okay. Which I see you are, so if you'll excuse me." You speak while keeping a certain distance from him. Your feet are walking the path back to Jacob's house when you feel something come towards you. Not something, someone. Edward holds you firmly against a tree.

"Is this obsession with throwing people against trees a vampire thing?" You question looking at him. But his eyes seem to wander over you.

"Why didn't you tell me you were a wolf now?" Edward looks a little angry and at the same time conflicted about something. You will see your face looking at the other trees before you can look at him.

"It was none of your business. It's still none of your business. But I know how much it must make you hate me now." You say a little angrily, as if you realize that now you are like a natural enemy of the man you loved.

"Nothing in this world, would make me hate you." Edward speaks with such convection and you look at him, shaking your head. He can't be serious.

"Take it back. You can't say that to me. Not when you're involved with someone else and I..." You say remembering Jacob. Even though you are not a couple, you like each other in a certain way.

"Is he better than me?" Edward asks, getting close to your face, as if he intoxicates you with his presence alone.

"Maybe he is. He's not in inappropriate proximity with me while dating someone else." Your face comes even closer to Edward's face. Your breathing becomes uneven as the tension between you increases. Edward looks at you one last time before getting lost in your lips. The shock of feeling his mouth on yours makes you hold his hair tight. The kiss, however, is a mixture of lust and hunger. His lip is still sore but it doesn't matter. Edward is probably tasting your blood as he tastes your mouth. He's thirsty and so are you. By reversing the positions, you throws Edward's body into the tree you were leaning against.

"I'll tell her. About you, about us." Edward speaks while his mouth is pressed against yours. You don't know what to say, You just know that it means something to you. If not, your heart wouldn't be beating so hard.

"She's going to hate you for this." You whisper still against his mouth. Your kiss now feels like a declaration of a real feeling.

"I can't pretend this is nothing. You and I know there's something between us. Passion, lust, feelings. Whatever you want to call it." Edward murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours.

"I need to leave." You say looking into Edward's eyes.He runs his fingers over your face one last time before letting you walk away without saying anything else.

[deputyrook]

Impressions- 3/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

PART 1. PART 2.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Weren't you supposed to be afraid?)

Word count: 4581

WARNINGS: Child abuse, attempted infanticide, corruption, stockholm syndrome, drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror & violence.

You dream about the bathroom again.

Your mother is there, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hair tied back. It's your childhood home, the bathroom on the second floor just beyond the top of the stairway, painted a garish teal that was popular in the late 70s.

You think you are four years old. Your mother is chattering to you as she fills the tub. She's telling you that she's sorry, but it has to be done- that you're sensitive just like her, she can tell, and that this life will ruin you.

She has to save you from it. You deserve better than this, she says to you, smoothing down your hair with wet hands. Life is too bad, too hard. Too filled with pain and bad people. You're not like them.

The water is cold, and dark. The bathtub seems to expand as you're held underwater- you open your eyes, and they burn. Blurry shapes pass across your vision. The darkness seems to go on forever.

(You were dead for three minutes, the doctors said, before they were able to resuscitate you.)

Somewhere in the haze of the dream, you zoom out to a bird's eye view, and the bathroom starts to decay. You see the top of the toilet crack, the mirror shatter and fall. A chain is attached to the radiator, snaking around your ankle. The light flickers. There is a puddle of blood in the centre of the room.

When you wake up, you are drenched in sweat.

You don't text Mark Hoffman about that dream, instead groggily taking a handful of painkillers to ensure a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

It had only been after your near death experience that you'd started getting flashes, the images and emotions that your childhood friends didn't. At the time, the doctors chalked up to trauma. Later, you learned to keep it quiet.

Maybe, somewhere in the world- wherever she was now- your mother had woken up after the same dream. You are just about the same age now as she was then, and when you look in the mirror, you see the same tired eyes.

She was right about one thing, you think, your recent visions coming back to you. Life is full of pain.

As you lay back down, your cat Prawn crawls up beside you and starts purring relentlessly. He shoves his face against yours, like he can tell you're feeling down. He smooshes against you, and despite yourself you chuckle, petting him softly.

The last thing you wonder before you fall asleep is what your mother would think of what you're doing now. She may have been right about life, but she was wrong about you.

You are like them. Maybe worse.

---

---

"What do you mean, you haven't had any visions since yesterday morning?" Mark asks as he drives, gloved hands gripping the wheel so tightly that you're surprised he doesn't leave a permanent indent on it.

"I took some painkillers yesterday. They block out the noise, at least for a bit," you answer, sparing a look over at him, "I wanted to be a normal human being for a while."

He shakes his head in what appears to be annoyance, distaste or disappointment- you can't tell which.

"Quit complaining," He says, without even a hint of sympathy. You wonder if sympathy is an emotion he knows how to feel, "Pills aren't going to make you feel normal."

With your senses dulled, you feel cut-off from the world around you, and by extension, Mark Hoffman. Without the bleed of other people's emotions, thoughts, and memories into your mind, you feel more independent, more a person. It comes at the cost of your intuition, but at least you can tell a bit more clearly where Jigsaw ends and you begin.

Still, somewhere along the way, you stopped flinching every time Mark Hoffman looked at you. It's incredible, what the human mind can normalize. How it can change fear to thrill to anticipation.

"It'll come back, it always does. Pretty soon, if my timing is right," You shoot Mark a look, "Wouldn't want to be useless to you."

He sneaks a glance back at you. "I'm sure I could find a use for you."

For a second, it feels like the energy in the car changes. With that insinuation, there's a tension between you that becomes obvious. The air in the car feels tight.

It feels dangerous. Your cheeks flush, and you don't exactly know how to respond to that, so you drum your fingers on your thigh and look out the window.

"It's been affecting me," you admit, finally, changing the subject. "I've been connected to this web of the worst of humanity. I needed a break."

Mark scoffs. "You're telling me that shutting your eyes and pretending it's not happening is going to make you feel better?"

"A little," you lie, before you sigh and stretch. "Maybe when my intuition comes back, I should just go to a dog park, close my eyes, and pet all the dogs."

"You get any hits on the dogs being mistreated, you can send the owners my way," Mark replies, deadpan.

You actually laugh out loud at that, mostly out of surprise. Mark still looks serious- he really doesn't smile all that often. Was that a joke? Probably not entirely, but either way, you can't help but smile as you shake your head at his audacity.

Your suspicion that Mark is at least somewhat serious is confirmed when he continues.

"We could do a lot of good work like that," Mark adds quietly after a moment, "You pick them. I test them. You sense the threats, I deal with them from the inside. A pretty fucking effective team, if you ask me."

"Is that what you want? Us to murder people together?" You ask, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Yeah," Mark replies simply, seriously. A shiver runs across your skin, and at that single word, your stomach drops. It seems too real a possibility, suddenly. That you could actually do it. That you would actually do it. That you could do it, together, and not get caught.

"Did you forget that I'm here under duress?" You reply uncomfortably. The words sound like a lie even to you as they leave your mouth.

"Really? I don't see a gun to your head." He points out. You shuffle in your seat, and pick at a seam on your jeans. He's right, and the guilt of it hits you square in the chest.

What are you doing here, if it's not because you've been forced to be? The answer just makes you feel more guilty, rising like bile in your throat.

You've enjoyed being needed. He's dangerous, and he's taking you seriously, bringing you along. He needs you, he wants you here.

You've been having fun.

He'd kill you in a second if you threatened him, without an ounce of regret. You still like him. Are you insane? Suicidal?

Fuck. It hurts your head. It takes every image you've ever had of yourself and crumples it into a little paper ball. And sets it on fire. You don't even know who you are anymore.

"How would Jigsaw number one feel about that?" You ask instead, trying to hide the sudden waves of turmoil that crash through you, making you feel sea-sick and confused.

"Pretty soon, it won't matter," Mark's voice is dark, and he looks straight ahead at the road as he drives. Once again, you have no idea where he's taking you, but you've been driven well outside of the city centre. The area is dilapidated, and you pass lawn after lawn filled with detritus and garbage.

It didn't even occur to you to try to remember the route to get here.

"I wasn't sure about it at first either," Mark murmurs after a while, with a cruel twist of the corner of his mouth, "Then I realized. They have a real chance to get out alive. Maybe they learn their lesson. Maybe they don't. Well, then, we can just put them back into the games until they figure it out, or they die. It's housekeeping."

"That's fucked up. These are people you're talking about. With their own lives and hopes and dreams," Is it him you're trying to convince, or yourself? Maybe you're pushing your luck, arguing with him as much as you are. It's weightless, regardless. Here you are, tagging along, no gun in sight.

"Nah. You said it yourself- the worst of humanity. Fuck 'em." Mark pulls into a long driveway of an old abandoned school building, driving his car around the back and parking in the grass, out of sight from the road. You can see broken windows, glass scattered around the entrances, and brick walls splashed with colourful graffiti.

He turns off the engine of his car, and then turns fully to you.

"Come on. You wanna find out what you really think?"

--

Mark has a key to the back door, and the rusted lock opens with an imposing click. Even with the key, it feels like you shouldn't be here. A sense of foreboding edges your awareness, and you can tell the medication is starting to wear off by how deeply you're unsettled in this atmosphere. You seem to be entering through an administration sector of small back offices.

The building smells of mildew and grease, of rust and water damage. As he enters the hallway, Hoffman flips a series of switches just to the left of the entry, which light the narrow back hallways in an uncanny florescence. If not for the light, you would have thought this place was abandoned.

Something bad has happened here, or is happening here.

"Follow me," he murmurs, and with confident strides, he leads you through the administration section and out into the main hallway of the school. You trail behind him quietly, wondering if you would be able to navigate your way out of this building again if you were left here.

He takes you up an old metal stairway, and then into a large room which you can tell used to be a library. Compared to the other parts of the building you've seen, this room is much better kept, clear of rubble and debris. Someone's taken the time to clear it out, at least mostly. Old bookshelves stand empty, and a series of round tables in the room now hold various pieces of equipment.

It's been turned into a workshop, you realize.

Blueprints are spread across the tables, along with a number of cassette tapes and what appears to be recording equipment. A large black television is set up on a TV cart near the front of the room, with wires connecting to a receiver of some kind.

Resting on one of the tables, contrasting so severely with the rest of the equipment on it, there's an old, faded teddy bear.

"See that?" Mark says, pointing to the toy. "I wanna know what kind of a read you get on it."

"Why do I feel like this isn't going to be fun?" You murmur anxiously, but you do as he instructs, approaching the table and picking up the bear. Turning it over in your hands, you close your eyes, and allow the feelings to creep up onto you.

You were right. Something bad happened here.

There was a little boy, no older than six, you think, who had held onto the bear so tightly. You feel his confusion, more than anything else at first. What had he done wrong? Why was his teacher so angry?

Why did it hurt so much?

Pain flashes through you, bright and sharp, from your elbow to your shoulder. You cringe, still holding the bear, trying to piece together what had happened to the boy. You can feel his fear, pure and unrestrained, making you shake.

"Got it?" Mark asks, and you realize he's come up to stand right behind you. He leans over you, his chest nearly touching your back, and speaks low, directly into your ear. It makes you shiver for a different reason. "Now, open your eyes. Watch."

Holding up a remote beside you, you open your eyes to watch as he clicks on the television with it. It crackles to life, and it takes you a second before you register what you're looking at, through the static of what appears to be a live feed.

A man that you would guess is in his mid-60's is restrained to a chair in an abandoned classroom, each of his arms fastened into metal contraptions. Something large is attached to the back of the chair, almost looking like an industrial turtle shell.

"Holy shit," you breathe, your eyes going wide. You drop the teddy bear in shock at what you're seeing, as the man begins to yell for help and writhe in the chair, trying to free his arms

"No, hold onto it," Mark says into your ear, reaching around you. Placing his hands on top of yours, he guides your touch back to the bear, his chest now fully flush against your back.

As you touch the toy again, the impressions come back, stronger this time. Not just the boy, but others as well. Left alone, trapped somewhere, difficult to breathe- suffocating in darkness. Where is my mom, I want my mom-

Anger begins to churn inside of you, so thick and strong it sickens you. You grit your teeth as you stare at the screen.

"Hello, Martin," A distorted voice says. Jigsaw. You can't see the TV from the camera's vantage point, but you can see the person in the chair whip his head toward the sound. "I want to play a game."

The man on the screen whimpers. "No, no, no," he moans.

"You worked at this school for almost three decades before they finally fired you. There were never any charges laid. But there were rumours for years about how you took out your rage on those who couldn't fight back."

You can feel the tears starting to well in your eyes as you stare up at the screen, transfixed in horror. The kids weep and scream in your mind like ghosts, begging to tell you how they suffered.

"You called it your isolation room. A closet hideaway, barely larger than a cardboard box. How many children did you force to stay there, curled up and injured for hours, for the sake of discipline?"

"It was a mistake!" The man yells out, voice breaking, "Please, I'm sorry, I was doing my best-"

"You have two minutes to press down on the peddles under your feet. Doing so will tear away the top layer of skin from your hands, degloving them. Keep your feet pressed down until the process is finished. Once your hands have been degloved, you will be able to pull them from the machine and press the buttons releasing you from the chair."

The man wails in misery. Mark Hoffman rests his chin on your shoulder, and you can feel his eyes watching the footage with you, so intently. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his large, rough hands over yours. The terror and anguish of the children, the shrieking of the man in the trap. It makes you dizzy.

"If you fail to do so before the time runs out, spikes will emerge from the contraption on your back, impaling you. Now we will see how disciplined you are."

The man gasps, and then, as the timer begins to tick down, begins to scream in earnest. You watch as he presses his foot down on the pedal, feeling the reverberation of his panic bounce back onto you.

"I can't do this," you say, squeezing your eyes shut, your nails digging into the fabric of the toy. Your head pounds with the echoes of the children crying, with their shame and embarrassment and panic, and with the howling screams of the man on the screen. It all layers, in a cacophonous symphony of violence and horror that drowns out all other thought.

"It's too much, it's so loud. I can't think, I- I need to shut it out." With one hand letting go of the toy, you dig into your jacket pocket, fishing for your prescription bottle.

"No, no," Mark snaps. He grabs your wrist, tight, and snatches the bottle of painkillers. "No more fucking pills. Watch."

"It's too much," you whisper, wincing. Your mind screams, unable to make sense of all of the information it's taking in. You need to think about this, but all you can do is feel, overstimulated and shaking-

"Detective. I don't think you've introduced me to your friend."

The dry voice cuts through everything else. You realize the screaming has stopped. When you open your eyes again, you see someone has paused the feed on the television.

It isn't live.

Mark freezes, his body immediately going stiff behind you. Although you've never heard this voice before, you recognize it all the same. You drop the teddy bear, as Mark removes his hand from your wrist and steps back away from you. The removal of the warmth of his body leaves yours feeling colder than before.

"Uh oh. You're in trouble," A second voice chimes in, sing-song and clearly elated that you've been caught here, together.

You're hoping Mark will say something on your behalf, but he doesn't. Your head pounds, and your skin feels almost too-sensitive, but if your intuition has ever told you anything, it's that this is not the time to fall apart.

So you turn, looking at the source voices, and muster up all of the courage you can. You are proud that your voice wavers only a little.

"Um. Hello. Jigsaw, and... Amanda Young, I assume." You cast a furtive glance at Mark, who finally seems to have recovered and composed himself, standing up straighter.

John Kramer sits in a wheelchair, wearing a long black and red robe that trails on the ground. Amanda stands behind him with her hands on the handles of the wheelchair, leaning her weight on it

Nothing about John Kramer suggests that he is weak or feeble to you, despite his thin frame and poor health. Instead, you sense a chessmaster, and a conqueror sits before you, a King in a throne. You get the image of a strategist who has been leading his troops through a war, claiming victory after victory through careful battlefield positioning.

"I can explain," Mark says slowly, keeping his voice even and calm.

"Oh, I'm listening," Kramer replies, tilting his head slightly and watching you carefully. His tone is curious and measured, and you sense that he's already re-arranging his plans in his mind, re-evaluating them and trying to determine how you're going to affect things. If he's angry with Hoffman, you can't tell.

"I wanted to test them myself, before I told you, in case it ended up being a waste of time," Hoffman says, shooting a glance at you, "I've never met someone so good at reading people. Except maybe you."

"You've got to be kidding," Amanda says, nearly laughing, "So you took them here, and showed them the footage from our last game? I knew you were an idiot, but this is really next level."

"We already abandoned this place as a workshop," Mark gestures to the TV, sounding irritated, "I sure as hell wasn't going to leave any evidence lying around after I took them home. Place would have been cleared out by tomorrow morning."

"And if they, oh, you know- reported you? Told someone?" Amanda asks. Mark looks like he's about to argue back at her, but John holds up a hand.

"I know you're smart enough not to take unnecessary risks, especially with your identity. But you should have brought this to my attention immediately," John says to Mark. Hoffman actually grimaces, like a kid being scolded.

John turns his attention to you, in cold and calculating interest, "What do you have to say?"

Cherish your life, the wind whispers in your ear. Right now, your life felt pretty fucking cherished, in the it-is-literally-on-the-line sense.

"I guessed that Detective Hoffman was one of your accomplices a few weeks ago," You answer, hoping that you're not going to talk yourself into a corner, "Not that I had any proof, but...he's been keeping a close eye on me, since then."

"And why haven't you gone to the police?" John asks, critical. The big question. Something urges you to just lay all of your cards out on the table.

"I don't... know, to be honest. Sometimes, things just come to me. Pieces of information, like drops of rain before a storm," John looks at you in interest, waiting silently, so you continue. "I feel like... the first one was personal, right? Like tiger stripes across the face, rough, rudimentary, righteous. He took something from you. Like the sun going out," You look at Mark. "The two of you are similar, like that."

Amanda and John stare at you, and you're worried you've said too much. Maybe you shouldn't have called his engineering rudimentary. You clear your throat, and shuffle your weight from one foot to the other.

"Interesting," Jigsaw remains expressionless, tone dispassionate. He looks at Mark's hand, still clenched around your prescription bottle, "...And the pills?"

You swallow. "Dampeners," you answer simply. He nods, like he understands, somehow. Amanda snaps her attention from you, to Mark, to John, like she can't believe what's happening. She makes a noise of clear protest.

"Come here, for a moment," Jigsaw says. You very much do not want to do that, but with Amanda glowering at you, you don't feel like you have much of a choice.

You walk over until you stand in front of him, heart hammering in your chest. With a hand, he beckons you to lean down, closer. Amanda looks just about ready to leap over his chair and strangle you.

As you lean in closer, you feel a prick on your neck. You look down to see John holding a needle, sticking it into your skin. He pushes an unknown liquid into your body.

"Oh," you say simply. Should have seen that coming.

The room goes dark.

---

When you wake up, you have gone from being in a bad situation to a much, much worse situation.

Somehow, you can sense that you were unconscious for a very long time. Now, though, you are wide awake, with adrenaline beginning to flood your body. Good- you're going to need it.

The first thing you register is that your eyes are very dry. The reason for this is immediately clear: your eyelids are being held open by a metal optician's speculum. You glance around your dark surroundings frantically in silent terror, unable to move your head. Some kind of a warehouse? No- a gymnasium. The school.

You can't move your body, either. You seem to be suspended in the air- how high up, you can't say- with your arms and legs locked into some kind of device. The height makes you nervous enough that you don't try to squirm.

Fuck. Stay calm. This is a Jigsaw game, which means there's a way out of it.

As you look back up above you, you can just make out through the darkness large jug of something positioned directly over your head. You catch the scent of something pungent and acidic.

It is becoming significantly harder to stay calm.

Below you, off to the side of the room, a television crackles to life.

"Hello," Jigsaw's voice says, addressing you by name, "I want to play a game." You can't see him, but you can imagine the puppet. Is the voice John's, Mark's or Amanda's through that modulation? You can't tell.

"You have been given a gift. A unique way of seeing the world. But you turn reject this strength. You silence it with painkillers, living in a wilful ignorance when you could know so much more."

So if it's John, someone has told him more about you. You wiggle your fingers. In each of your hands, there is some kind of device with a switch. Never a good sign.

"In your hands are two switches. By flipping each the switches, a single drop of acid will drop into your eyes, blinding you permanently. If you do not do so within two minutes, the restraints on your arms and legs will release, and you will be dropped in a tub of acid. I assure you, you will not survive."

Whimpering softly, the panic bubbles up in your chest, making it hard for you to catch your breath. It's much more difficult to turn inward and rely on your intuition with your eyes pried open- and maybe that was by design. If you could only shut them for a moment, then maybe your intuition could help you find a different way out of this.

"Will you embrace your gifts permanently by blinding yourself? Or will you die in ignorance? This is your test. Make your choice."

As the timer begins to tick, time seems to slow. You think of your mother's hands, holding you under the water, and the last words she said to you before she attempted to drown you.

Life is full of pain and bad people. She was right about that. You think of the kids from the school, forced to wait alone, curled up in the dark by their teacher. You think of Mark Hoffman, who delighted in the teacher's suffering.

You think of your cat Prawn, curled up by your head, and of the last time you grabbed lunch with Allison.

But she was wrong. Life is worth living, regardless.

You aren't going to fucking die here, alone. Not because of Jigsaw.

You flick the switches in your hands.

True to his word, the last thing you see are two drops of liquid, dripping down from above you into your eyes.

You scream as the acid burns you. You scream and you scream, until your voice breaks and your throat aches. You can smell the horrible scent of the acid burning your eyes, and hear something moving beneath you. A machine powers down, and you're slowly and gently lowered to the ground, no pool of acid waiting to swallow you whole.

When the restraints release your hands and feet, you rip the speculum out of your eyes, moaning in pain as you shut them and clutch at them. You curl into yourself, into a ball on the cold ground, and try not to cry.

And then, as you lie there in the dirt, panting and moaning, your awareness explodes. Your sixth sense replaces your fifth and crystallizes, smoothing out and filling in the gaps.

When you hear feet running to you, you already know whose they are. Detective Mark Hoffman, followed by Allyson Kerry. Detective Rigg isn't far behind.

You don't need to see to know.

"Kerry! Get over here, now!" Mark's voice barks out. You feel him lean in close to you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and holding you to his chest.

"You did it," he murmurs into your ear, only for you to hear, "You fucking did it. I knew you'd win."

You reach out, clinging to him. It still feels comforting. It still feels protective.

Lies upon lies.

---

yes. I accidentally nuked my blog. 🥲 but thank you for the support on this fic series! I would love to hear what you think- comments help me figure out what people are enjoying about the fics and what people want to see more of 💕

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter eight

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,6k

❱ summary: the stormy side of summer; falling down a rabbit hole of doubts

❱ warnings: mature language, descriptions of weed & alcohol, description of a panic attack

❱ an: forgive me? This is the second to last chapter and I'm not me without a bit of drama

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER EIGHT: PANIC

The music around you was loud, the air sweltering hot. Heavy bass pulsed in your veins, mixing with the cold beer that you lifted to your lips trying to cool down just the slightest; it helped only a little and only for a brief moment, a hint of moisture in your throat before the stale and stuffy air caught up with you again.

No matter how many frat parties you had been to, the number of guests fitting in the much too small and mostly couch-filled houses always surprised you.

And here, in the living room you got dragged into, were obviously far too many. A mass of sweaty bodies pressed tightly together and swaying back and forth to the songs blaring from the speakers.

You leaned against the wall where you'd spent most of the evening, staring over the rim of your cup at your roommate.

'Oh, you really need to come to this party,' you repeated her tearful words from this morning in your head. She had blindsided you as you were about to head off to Aragorns, had begged you to accompany her because 'Oh I don't want to go there alone and we haven't been out in so long'.

Apparently, there was a tiny bit of guilt in you. In the weeks before university had started, you knew no one and had blindly followed her to these parties until you had met your boys, and yes, she was right about you then going with them rather than her.

Plagued by your good heart and the promise of 'We'll do it like we used to, just the two of us!' you had forced yourself out of your comfy clothes and Thranduil's sweater and thrown on one of your party outfits instead.

Nothing came of the "just the two of us".

Within minutes of your arrival, she'd been pulled onto the dance floor by one of the (in your opinion, look-alike) blonde residents of the house.

The only thing you had done together was pre-drink some shots in the car of an acquaintance who had given you a ride.

It didn't sound nice, and to most others, your roommate's behavior would probably be 'unfriendly' and 'selfish,' but while she preferred to dance with strangers, you had previously used these parties to, well, make acquaintances elsewhere.

With the promise of a real date from Thranduil and the text messages you'd been sending back and forth to each other all day and even for the past weeks, the thought of repeating your earlier party experiences left a bitter taste in your mouth.

And it was almost more disgusting than the beer here- however that was possible. The beer was disgusting. Really fucking disgusting.

Life had taken a turn on you, growing rosy and soft at the sharp edges.

The giddy feeling of bridging that space between you and Thranduil accompanied you throughout the days and nights, you saw no need in the hook-up culture that came along with these kinds of parties.

As if on cue and as if he had read your mind, your phone vibrated in your other hand.

Thran: Darling, I hope you arrived safely! xx Thranduil

The smile that spread on your face when you read his message was unavoidable.

Thranduil had a habit of signing every message with his name, even though you (and Legolas) had explained to him several times that it was not necessary.

With every day that passed, you discovered more very kind and terribly sweet quirks about Thranduil, and every day you fell more in love with him.

You: we did. four shots into the night and i want to leave again

Thran: Oh no! Did anything happen? xx Thranduil

You: nothing that should surprise me, its a frat party lmao

Thran: You seem to enjoy them when you go out with Legolas. xx Thranduil

Thran: A lot, if I remember the many nights where I had to pick you guys up from some house correctly xx Thranduil

There was a truth behind it that you couldn't deny.

Frat parties with Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were clearly preferable to you, because your boys wouldn't just leave you alone.

Well, at least not for an entire evening.

Legolas had a knack for wandering off at these parties, though he never got far until he was surrounded by swarming girls and boys.

Another advantage of going to parties with them was that Aragorn knew everyone and you never had trouble getting in anywhere, no matter what kind of party it was.

The pick-ups by Thranduil increased again, now that summer break called for more parties and more outings.

With you last on the route and Legolas asleep and unresponsive in the back seat, Thranduil drove the rest of the way always with his hand in yours or on your legs and every time he accompanied you to the front door you hoped.

Hoped his lips didn't land on your forehead or your cheek. Hoping that he would finally kiss you like the look on his face showed. It was frustrating to stand in the dark alcove with him, looking up at him and feeling only his thumb on your lips as he put his hand on the back of your neck.

It was tempting to call him, just ask him to pick you up from this party and then you could drive around in the night, hands intertwined and without a care in the world.

To be honest, you were already dialing his number in your mind when you lifted your cup and looked back at your roommate as you drank.

Your clear conscience gnawed at you as you grimaced slightly biting into the plastic without breaking it. What you could use besides your less-than-ideal mood was a beer-soaked dress.

You: yes, with the boys!

You: roomie ditched me to make out with some Beta Chi Theta guy

You: i got crypto explained to me three fucking times

You: and i swear either i will die of boredom or blackout from the bowl they are serving here. its like 90 perc vodka

Thran: Typical for boys. Thinking a woman has nothing in her head because she is gorgeous. xx Thranduil

You: You think i am gorgeous? ;)

Thran: You are really cheeky for someone that got ditched xx Thranduil

You: wow. shouldn't you be reading a book or play golf, old man?

Thran: Shouldn't you be dancing and not texting with a still young and handsome man? xx Thranduil

Thran: Why are you going to these parties with your roommate if you suffer this much? xx Thranduil

You: most times you get free entry and drinks just bcs you got your tits out :)

Thran: That is definitely not the sentence that I have expected xx Thranduil

You: you want proof?

Thran: ...

Three dots ...

Nothing

Then again the three dots …

You had to bite your lip, and yet the grin spread all over your face as Thranduil visibly tapped away at an answer for a long time.

As much as it frustrated you to see the dots disappear again, the flirting had clearly improved your mood.

"Oh my god, girly–"

With both hands in front of her face, trying to catch her breath, your roommate fell against the wall next to you, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide open.

Without words, you held your cup out to her and grinned as she put her head back and drank the beer in a few gulps, after which she puckered her mouth.

"This shit tastes like ass," she said, wiping a hand across the corner of her mouth.

"Are you surprised?" you asked, letting your gaze wander over the crowd. "Where did you leave your boy-toy? The way he had his hands on you, I'm surprised to see you here beside me and not on some bed upstairs."

Snorting, your roommate held her hair to the side "Fuck me, it's so hot in here," she cursed and you longed for some fresh air as well, there was only one window open in here and a group of smokers were leaning out of it. "Kíli just went to get his brother," She turned her head, grinning broadly and started giggling "We were at a party at their place the other night and Girly— Fíli is such a hottie!"

"Brothers?" you asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically "Don't you think one is enough?"

At that, the giggling died down and a surprised and slightly reproachful look landed on you. "Babe, you of all people shouldn't be judging, don't you think?"

Slightly startled at the tone in her voice, you leaned away from her, seeking eye contact, but she rolled her eyes and then there was that smirk on her face again.

"As much as I would appreciate a trip to Paris," she was the only one laughing at this innuendo, "Fíli isn't coming for me. Well, at least not today." She paused to fan herself again and you thought you had to shake her to make her continue speaking. When she did, however, you wished you had never started the conversation.

"Fíli is coming for you, babe! Look at you, standing around all alone at this party, it's so lame," She smiled at you and put a warm hand on your bare arm. "In the old days, I would have had to hold your hair now or found you in one of the bedrooms."

"Coming for me?" you asked in horror, your thoughts a single merry-go-round at the sudden change in mood. "Why would you invite a boy I don't know over because of me? Just because I made the mistake of sleeping with some fratboy once in the very beginning?"

"You've changed sweetie and I just want to help you have fun again."

"I'm having fun," you replied bitterly, "Believe me, it's not on me why I'm standing around here alone. You wanted to come here together!"

"Yeah, because I thought that would make you finally stop thirsting after old men!" your roommate cried, and a slap would probably have been more pleasant than her words.

They came crashing down on you like a bucket of cold water while you got even hotter. You could feel your breathing first stop and then become faster, more irregular, and it slipped slightly into the uncontrollable.

She wasn't done, though. Cheeks flushed, she pressed a long fingernail against your chest and pushed you against the sticky wall.

"Do you know how disgusting it is to see you being driven home at night by a man as old as my father? Not to mention it's your best friend's father, Girl. You're constantly on the road, sleeping in his sweater and even here you prefer to write with this old fuck instead of finally finding someone your age. At first, I really believed you were sleeping with Legolas since you were always with him and god I would have understood that."

Anger burned in your belly, bubbling and hissing, fighting its way up with every word thrown at your feet, and by the last sentence, you were ready to forget all your notions of moral rightness.

The temptation to show her what you could do with your anger was as present in a twitch of your hands as the taste of blood in your mouth. You hadn't even realized you'd bitten your lip until metal spread across your tongue.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you snapped at her in a tone that couldn't have been more bitter.

"Oh no?" She challenged you, her red-painted lips twisted into a sardonic grin. "Tell me," she moved closer, leaning far too close into your personal space for your liking right now, and you tasted alcohol and the acrid smell of weed on her breath.

"Is he paying you for sex? Or what does he want from you of all people?"

The music around you was loud and you felt hot and cold at the same time. The bass boomed in your ears and yet you thought you perceived nothing louder than the suspension of your heart at that moment.

It happened very quickly, the poisoned words had barely bitten you, you already felt a touch of dizziness, a spinning of the room and with it disintegrated the image that you had had so far of your roommate.

You couldn't find words to express what you wanted to say. You wanted to scream at her, push her, insult her, tug and tear at her and beat her with similarly poisonous claws until she felt even a hint of the pain spreading through your body.

There was so little air in that house.

Sweat and alcohol, weed and smoke stung your lungs with every attempt to take a deep breath.

Your legs moved on their own as you fought your way through the crowd, past blurry faces.

Out, you had to get out.

You needed air.

You fled the house, the words anchored deep in your chest, where they dug deeper with each breath until your chest threatened to explode.

Not knowing where to go, the main thing your brain screamed was away, you stumbled across the porch, hearing someone calling your name, but you didn't stop.

You kept running, lapsing after a while from running to walking more slowly until even that became far too much for your feet.

Looking around you didn't recognize the houses around you, and the thought of going back the same way you pushed away as quickly as it had come.

The silence coming from the sleeping family homes around you was almost as bad as the music of the house. Your heart beat loud enough that it throbbed dully in your ears and no matter how athletic you might be, your breath rattled and burned in the freezing night air that crept around your free legs and arms.

Shivering, from anger, cold or pure exhaustion from it all, you couldn't tell, you pulled at the hem of your dress and lowered yourself to the curb.

Legs pulled to your chest you ran your hands over your face, over glowing cheeks and as you tried to take a deep breath you felt your jaw tighten and only a sniffle could be heard in the silence.

A "fuck", slipped over your lips, quietly and rather an exhalation of air instead of letters. Your mind was in chaos, driven by a big 'what the fuck just happened?' thoughts piled up in an unassailable crowd. It felt surreal, and as much as you pleaded it was a figment of alcohol, the events burned inside you.

You stared at the ground in front of you, your roommate's last words echoing in your ears, and the image of your friendship tore before you like a rubber band stretched too long. It had been inevitable in the end, that was clear to you, because you had never really fit together.

Only the hostility had been a surprising guest.

She had been so driven to hurt you and her weapons had found their target.

What had seemed to you before like a solid foundation of trust and respect crumbled beneath you and your throat tightened at the thought of going back to your dorm.

Sniffling, you unlocked your phone, which you thank god hadn't dropped as you'd run. Immediately you stared at the last opened chat with Thranduil and the wave of emotions crashed over you again.

Before the bitter words could bite into your insecurity, however, you had already dialed his number and held the phone to your ear.

Only a few seconds later the dialing sound disappeared and was replaced by a coarse, "First you leave me on a sweet promise and then you call when I want to sleep? Tze tze, darling" A single, miserably failed attempt to suppress a sob was enough to change the tone in his voice from a drawled tease to concern.

He spoke your name with such concern that a second sob followed the first, "Is everything alright... what happened? Darling, the background is so quiet, where are you?"

You didn't have it in you to repeat the argument, didn't want to say hateful things to him over a phone even if they hadn't been your words.

Instead, you hugged your legs with your free hand, pulling them closer to you. "I don't know where I am"

On the other end of the line you heard him inhale sharply, a commotion of rustled blankets, then bare feet on floor.

"Nothing happened to me," you quickly forestalled his question, and then immediately felt the pain in your chest again, and tears gathered in your eyes on your next breath. "Thranduil, I–" you began, but your voice broke. Hearing him had been enough to open the floodgates of your held-back despair, the battle with yourself for your composure was lost.

Alone on the side of the road, in a neighborhood that was foreign to you and with nothing on you but what you were wearing and your cell phone, you felt so cut off from all warmth that you couldn't help but cry.

Thranduil said your name again, this time with more urgency, "Send me your location and I'll come to get you."

"You don't have to," you protested weakly "You wanted to sleep"

"The only way I'm going to be able to relax and close even one damn eye today is if I know you're safe, and nothing is going to stop me from making sure of that myself."

While sending him your location you also put him on speaker phone, your phone cradled in your hands.

"Okay, I can be there in fifteen minutes. Are you safe where you are?" asked Thranduil and you heard his front door slam.

You looked around, but except for a dog in the distance, no one seemed to be near you. "Yes," you managed to say before the tears took over again and shook you.

A car door was pulled open and closed again, the familiar click of its key and purr of the engine followed, and despite your crying, the familiar sounds filled you with a slight warmth.

As much as you wanted to make yourself smaller, to put your head between your legs to hide from the world, you didn't dare to turn your back completely to your surroundings.

It tore you apart piece by piece.

The evening had not gone at all as you had wished. It didn't have to be much, a few free drinks, conversations about courses of study and how awful some professors were, then maybe a couple of dances with girlfriends and before you knew it you would have been back in your bed, snuggled up in Thranduil's sweater.

But no.

How could you have been so wrong?

Your hands clawed into your upper arms as your body shook from your sobs. Nails pressed into your skin in a way that would surely leave marks, but you didn't fight back. Didn't stop.

Why had you opened up?

A bitter voice haunted your thoughts, whispering to you that it had been inevitable. Of course, you couldn't even enjoy a relationship; if you could call that with Thranduil a relationship.

He wouldn't even kiss you. They were ghosts, insecurities hidden under white sheets with grimaces cut into them, who knew how to use their tricks so that within a few minutes you were a complete mess.

What had started as anger toward your roommate took a quick downward path into your fears.

Your roommate had given the ghosts an opening, had purposefully punched a hole in your walls, and now your head was trapped in a stream, ever downward.

Doubt ate at you, made you question Thranduil's feelings.

You clung to whispered words at movie nights, the feather-light touch of his hand on your back wherever you were, and the smile, very different from his grin, much more genuine, gentle, and given only to you.

Tears fell too fast to wipe them away and sucked the last bit of strength that had kept you upright until now out of you like it was never there at all.

In another state, it would never have occurred to you to give in to doubts.

In another state, you were aware of how much progress you'd made in conversing and growing comfortable being the person the other could rely on, how heavy his touches were in their meaning.

A fleeting brush of his fingers over your shoulder or back as he passed you, a hand in your side as he walked you to the guest room after long parties, as Legolas fell asleep on the couch, or when he grabbed your hand to help you out of the car, because no matter what the weather, he was always at your door to open it.

It was easy to lose yourself when you were hurting, to question what was real.

You must have switched off completely, because suddenly you were bathed in the bright light of headlights and a dark car shot towards you much too fast.

What would have otherwise been guaranteed to send you running was a welcome sight to you, and you were on your feet even before the car stopped in front of you.

The next sob that went through you and shook your whole body was accompanied by a simultaneously relieved but also longing wail.

Thranduil jumped out of the car, the door open behind him and the engine continuing to purr, and you didn't wait a second longer before throwing yourself at him.

For a moment the ghosts disappeared, driven away by the oh-so-familiar face whose eyes anxiously scanned you for injuries.

His arms immediately embraced you, pulling you to his chest and wrapping around your torso like a shield. One of his hands grasped your waist, stabilizing you as he realized you were falling fully against him, his other stroking your back first in even motions until they brushed up your shoulder blades and then wrapped around your neck.

Your hands clawed at his sweater, crumpling the fabric between your fingertips as you clung to him. Turning your head so that your ear rested against his chest, the place your cheek pressed against was quickly drenched with tears and there was no doubt you would apologize when you could speak more again without being interrupted by sobs and whimpers from your throat.

"Shh, I'm here," Thranduil murmured, lowering his head to yours. Soft lips traveled a familiar route from your forehead, to your temple, down to your ear, leaving kisses so gentle that your heart contracted in shame at ever having doubted them.

"I'm here," Thranduil repeated, and you could feel the movement of his lips against your skin, feel the vibration of his deep voice in his chest. "Follow my breath, in and out, okay? In, you're doing so well my love, and out slowly, very good."

A few minutes of deep, concentrated breathing passed to force yourself back into a stable state.

Eased through it by Thranduils low voice in your ear, reverberating through your entire body just like the breaths he took for you to mimic him.

Guided by the slow rise and fall of his chest, your lungs filled themselves with his scent instead of the harsh and cold wind, clouding you in the faint smell of lingering perfume that had worn off this late of an hour.

"I'm sorry," When you spoke, your voice was raspy. The words were scratching in your throat, it would most likely be sore later, and half of them are muffled by his sweater, but you felt that he heard you in the way that his muscles tensed. "I'm so sorry."

Your eyelashes were sticky with tears, pealing open to tilt your head just the slightest bit for you to look up at Thranduil.

His eyes were on you already, and with a soar of your heart you discovered the puffiness under them, the redness coloring his cheeks.

Had he been crying? For you? Because of you?

Slowly you raised on arm, stroking over the slight discoloration of his ivory skin.

He caught your hand in his, breathing another kiss on the inside of your palm.

"I was so fucking scared," he started, holding your gaze through half-lidded eyes "I was trying to talk to you on the phone but you stopped talking and all I could hear were your cries and god, I was so fucking scared that I wouldn't be here in time. The scenarios in my head–" his whole body shuddered trying to fight those thoughts visibly coming up again, the breath he lets out hot against your hand. "I would have never forgiven myself."

"I'm so so sorry," you whispered "I wasn't sure who to call."

"You have no need to apologize for this. Okay? Never apologize for calling me, whenever and whatever it is about. I rather drive through the country to pick you up than have you call a cab." Thranduils nose nudged against your forehead.

His gaze was slowly softening, the initial worry not disappearing but dwindling to be replaced by a relief that you at least seem to be physically alright.

"Come, let's get you out of this dreadful cold. It looks like it will rain soon and you, my darling, deserve to be warm and comfortable."

'I am warm', you thought loosening your grip on his sweater, 'you make me feel warm.'

You didn't say it, instead, you let him guide you to his car, his arm still around your waist and when he opened the door for you you had to hold back another sob.

There, laying on the black leather, was the green sweater you loved so much on him.

The one he wore when he had you pressed against the painting in his hallway, the one he had worn the first morning you came over after that evening, still giddy and blushing all over, as he had sat next to you at the breakfast table and his legs had ever so slightly brushed against yours, while Legolas and Gimli were discussing your weekend plans.

He had worn that sweater the first time he had held your hand in the darkness of his living room, a movie playing on the TV and Legolas asleep on the other end of the couch, and you had held your breath, as he slowly reached between you, intertwining your fingers in each other and smiling at you.

Pulling it over your head you felt your hands trembling.

There were so many words on your tongue, forming sentences out of the feelings bubbling inside you like a hot pot of water that surely would boil over sooner or later and you could pinpoint the exact moment it did because as soon as Thranduil sat down in the driver seat he reached over and gently placed his hand on your leg.

"You don't need to tell me what happened but know that I'll listen to you when you want to."

You were fighting the tears once again, this time it was from the overwhelming warmth that spread through you. Thranduil was here, with you, and his voice carried to you like a comforting embrace and you no longer were alone.

Oh, how wonderful it felt. The kindness in his words was a flame inside you, lightning all the places that were left raw and hollow and cold with haunting ghost touches and it soothed away the pain that the venomous words had left you with.

There was not a chance that you could get anything out of your mouth without breaking down into a crying mess. so you just nodded, resting your hand over his and squeezed it.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough for the moment

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf

[bruhmityblight]

Interested in ppls thoughts but like while I feel like t'lyn and Tendi is a cute ship in theory in terms of vibes, I feel like T'lyn and Mariner has a lot more like story based dramatic reasons for being possible.

For one, Mariner has not had a really long term core relationship that has really like been explored. The relationship with the blue girl was mainly jokes and was hinted at failing the whole time. Introducing a new charecter and having them be endgame could work, since they haven't done anything to set up Mariner having a relationship with any of the core four yet.

Secondly, Mariner clearly echoes Kirk a lot in terms of personality and like the sort of general public impression of Kirk. T'lyn channels what ppl loved about Spock in a way that neither actual Spock recast has been able too. With the Kirk +Spock thing in the bar and just with how well versed the writers are in the lore there's no way they aren't aware of how huge spirk was/is and how important it was in terms of fandom history and queer history. Having an endgame ship that echoes spirk but sapphic would make a lot of sense

As others have noted, both T'lyn and Mariner were wrongfully ousted from their ships, both are outcasts, both deeply care about their friends. I don't think it's an accident that Mariner is the one that T'lyn had her huge emotional moment with rather than Tendi.

Regardless of what happens shipwise I'm obsessed with the new dynamics with T'lyn added, with the new trio of Mariner T'lyn and Tendi as well as Rutherford and Boimler getting more episodes with each other. T'lyn has quickly become my favorite charecter (and I kin her but that's unrelated lol) So excited for the rest of the show!!

[drop-dead-dropout]

Fuck's a pro shipper?

We've got a new one boys try not to scare em off /j

Okay but seriously, I'm more than happy to explain. I assume that if you're asking this question you're not aware of the proshipper vs antishipper, uh, "conflict", I guess. So, here is what both of those terms mean, to the best of my descriptive abilities:

Antishipper (often just "anti"): someone who vaguely believes that consuming problematic fiction (usually specifically problematic sexual fiction like lolicon or incest) is either a true reflection of them as a person or a corrupting force that will cause them to play out these desires in real life, onto real people. Basically, if you read age gap, you touch real kids in real life or secretly want to.

Proshipper (sometimes "profic"): someone who does not believe the above, and believes that fiction is not the same as reality because it doesn't harm anyone and therefore people should be left alone as long as you have no reason to believe that they would ever do something like that irl. Often hand in hand with things like anti censorship, kink positive, etc, though being a proshipper does not necessarily mean you have a problematic ship or kink yourself (example: me).

You're probably asking this question because you saw me day in my bio that I am a proshipper. I've tried to stay neutral in this initial description, but obviously I probably didn't manage to be completely unbiased considering that I believe myself to be right (most people do) so if you want to ask further questions after this that's perfectly fine. That being said:

Why am I a proshipper?

So, to understand this, let's first look over the issues within both communities— every group has issues, after all.

What problems do proshippers have?:

- sometimes 4chan assholes co-opt the label "proshipper" just because they're lolicons, even though there's good evidence to suggest that they would do or even have done criminal sexual acts in real life, or that they possess actual csam (child sexual abuse material, a term being used in favor of "cp" these days as porn implies consent). Proshipping has nothing to do with the harmful idea that you should be allowed to exploit and abuse real children.

- there are still many gray areas which proshippers themselves don't agree on. For example: I've seen a bunch of arguments about if writing fanfiction of live action shows or movies changes the equation. The general consensus of proshippers is that writing fanfiction of a character played by a child actor is definitely a more delicate situation and should not be sexual as it's inextricably tied to the image of a real child, but there are others who believe differently.

- I'm genuinely struggling to come up with more of these. Um, sometimes lolicons are really shitty people, like in point 1. This isn't SUPER relevant though cause in reality the overlap between predominantly queer or female proshippers and Reddit incels who just wanna jerk off to a petite anime girl is pretty small, though I'm sure it exists somewhere .

Now, what problems do antis have? (Fair warning, this is gonna sound even more "biased" but I hope my logic is still sound from the outside :p):

- I don't have any statistics on this (haven't exactly been many research papers on fandom drama), so you're going to have to trust me when I say that antis are absolutely NOTORIOUS for extreme harassment campaigns. The first time I was exposed to the word "antishipper", it was attached to a story of a former animator committing suicide because antis had gotten them fired by "exposing" their porn alt on Twitter and they could no longer afford medication for their disability. So, hell of an intro!

- their opinions are, in pretty basic ways, not backed by science or even practical common sense. The human brain can distinguish between fiction and reality after around age four or five

and people certainly aren't trying to hand nsfw content to children that age so I think it's safe to say that the people who are reading these things won't be "confused" by them or whatever. Also, even just using your brain and talking to these people, you find out most of them project onto the YOUNGER character.

- they claim to support victims but often simply don't. I won't keep dragging threats into the spotlight because I know there are probably antis who aren't as violent, but it's honestly astonishing to me how often they jump straight to wishing death and terrible things on people, and this has included more than once telling a rape victim they hope they get assaulted again just because they're a proshipper. See, a lot of these "taboo" sexual fantasies like age gap and incest actually themselves stem from a traumatic experience, and any therapist will tell you that fiction is a much healthier way to explore intrusive thoughts and urges than more dangerous coping mechanisms like self harm or substance abuse. And when confronted with this, in my experience and many others', antis will simply ignore that fact or say that the therapist is some sort of evil enabler.

-the general cognitive dissonance of believing an incest fanfiction will make you "forget" that incest is bad vs being fine with horror movies and slashers speaks to a deeper and honestly kind of worrying anti-sex mindset. I'm not sure I'm qualified to tackle this particular topic, but I definitely agree that it's a thing; after all, I have no idea how else those two things could coexist.

Anyways, I'd like to close this off by saying not everyone is as crazy opinionated as I am, I'm just autistic and like talking lol. A lot of people who id as proshippers just have a sort of minding their own business, ship-and-let-ship mentality, and a lot of antis are unfortunately just teenagers who were told proshipper = evil pedophile groomer and thus they put "proship dni" in their bios just cause they don't know and don't really care what it means. It is undeniable that many antis are kids themselves, and that does worry me, because fandom drama (especially Twitter fandom drama) is dangerous and vitriolic and also they're putting extremely serious threats on their digital footprints at the tender age of 14! But whatever, I'm not their parents, that's just my worry. Sorry for rambling this long lol, I wouldn't blame you if you dropped out halfway through but this is basically my summary of this whole thing. Do with this knowledge what you will! Or, you know, don't! I'm not a cop!

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Best Friend part 4

tw: suicide mention, infantalization, rant in da author note, general yandere shenanigans, angst

also damn ageless and minors DNI please </3

my masterlist

hi guys heres another projection extravaganza becasue my paretns are not really supportive of my wish 2 have a gap year and i still gotta hustle even tho im so exhausted n tired and upset and need comfort and broken leg and feeling inadequate n everything so FAST bruh they said im SLOW cause im not in a universtiry by 18 </3/3/3//3/3/3 im tryine </3 but covid BAD and i turned 20 like fuckin last month which made me more shit

anyways enjoyyye

You haven't heard from your friend for days. He hasn't come to visit you but you knew he was working silently in the background when you received the news that your bank account wasn't in the negatives anymore and you no longer have to gouge your eyes out just to pay your student loans and medical bills. You breathed a sigh of relief when you realized that you don't need to file for bankruptcy to stop yourself from plummeting further.

Are you really free from all debt, though?

You really don't know how to proceed. What do you say to your friend? What is he going to do next? What does he expect in return? How will you do your taxes on this?

Sure enough, he returned to you. Still in a foul mood, but he is much mellower and he is leaning towards the heartbroken, sad side.

He went on a sobbing rant about how he wanted you to be spoiled rotten-- how he wanted to spoil you rotten, how he very much preferred you to be arrogant and entitled from being treated like absolute royalty. You could and would get away with anything. You would be above law and beyond.

You wouldn't have to be a commoner working hard to put food on the table, everything you need and wanted would be at your fingertips; no matter how expensive, immoral or illegal it may be.

He wanted you to be ignorant of poverty, deprivation and anything bad about reality. At least, you would be in bliss.

But now, you're hurt all over. Ruined and broken, tainted by the suffering of life. And, it was all his fault.

Your friend stroked your dry, sandpaper-like hands tenderly, morosely. It was such a shame, such a tragic fate you had. He promised you will never ever have to lift anything heavier than a champagne glass or handle anything rougher than silk. You will be pampered and have everything done for you to the point where you don't even need to think your own thoughts.

Drowsy from all the painkillers you had, your friend ran his fingers through your hair to tidy them. You didn't reject him as it felt nice, comforting, even.

He expressed a gentle, teary smile, cupping your cheeks with his soft, smooth and manicured hands. What a stark difference between his hands now and four years ago, you thought to yourself as he massaged parts of your face to stimulate blood flow and collagen formation.

I'll be back by seven. He whispered as he wiped the sleep from your eyes with his thumbs. It's now four in the afternoon, his phone is ringing incessantly and he lets it ring.

He eventually picked the call up while having a hand to pet your hair. You heard him confirm that he is going to a meeting of some sort, he informed the caller that he is going to be late. As he talks on, he leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead. A silent goodbye before he goes away.

He continues on talking over the phone, leaving the room without sparing another glance at you.

You watched him shut the door behind him and heard quick footsteps getting softer and softer.

You took the time to reflect on what had happened, it was hard to grasp that he wanted you to be... a leech? And, perhaps it was the painkillers dulling your comprehension skills but, what you took away from his venting was: his has a weird obsession with the appearance of your hands. Or with hands, in general.

Too tired to deal with it, you closed your eyes and let yourself drift to sleep.

You woke up, feeling transported into the past when your nose picked up on the familiar aroma of your friend's cooking. It reminded you of your adolescence, your teenagehood and the brief time he stayed in this house.

You rubbed your eyes and saw your friend setting up a wooden bed tray on your lap. It was propped up by its foldable legs.

You were presented with the dish you missed the most, the dish he cooked for you frequently in the past and the dish that made you regress to your teenage self. It was comfort in a bowl, it was a reminder that you had very little things to worry about when you were with him. He would always take care of everything for you.

You tried replicating this dish many times. You followed the recipe to a "T" but you could never get it right, no one ever did except your friend.

He tidied your hair and tucked some stray strands behind your ear. You were given the option to feed yourself or to have him spoonfeed you.

He didn't pressure you into choosing the latter when you picked up the spoon. But he did remind you that the offer still stands.

The room was devoid of sound, save for the white noise coming from your air conditioner and the non-stop buzzing from his phone. Your friend absentmindedly fidget with his golden promise ring as he stared blankly at your leg casts, you couldn't understand how he has the will to ignore all those notifications.

He wondered where your ring was. He did have a hunch that you pawned it off in desperation. But he didn't want to confirm it with you as it might just break his heart even more.

He has nothing else to say and so did you. Your friend found solace in your presence while you only found awkwardness. Unnerved, even.

Your friend was the first to spoke up. He earnestly apologized for his unhinged previous behaviors, all he actually wanted was you to be happy and at ease. He doesn't truly want to take your autonomy away from you, he doesn't want to treat you like a toddler who knows nothing about the world around them. He just found it necessary to bind you for a while, to stop you from hurting yourself further.

Your friend assured that he won't stop you from pursuing whatever you want. It is your life after all.

He is just there to prevent you from being unhappy from failing too many times. At least, to the best of his abilities. He is a strong believer that some "failures" are required to elevate happiness. For example, it would feel extremely rewarding if you finally won a competition despite relentlessly competing against the best contestants the world has to offer.

If you want to attain other qualifications such as a PhD of your choice, or even an entire field change, he will bear all the costs. He will provide all the resources you need and more, you won't need to worry about money, chores or food. He will be supporting you from the shadows.

He made sure that you knew there would be absolutely no pressure for you to excel or to even complete your course. If you think it's not worth the stress, you can just drop out anytime, money is not a problem at all. Take as long as you want, try again as many times as you can take. Your friend would only encourage you to do something if it truly makes you feel fulfilled, happy and content with your life.

You asked about starting a business of your own. His interest piqued and he found himself gleefully motivating you to do so; under the condition that the capital and any connections you need to get it up and running comes from him.

You get to keep whatever profit you make and You would have full control over your business, the vision and mission is yours to play with. He will give you a tutorial based on his experience and tells you what to look out for, he will perhaps give you some advice or warnings here and there, but it is ultimately up to you to heed it.

He will watch you carelessly mess around with a proud smile on his face. You can choose to make your own connections in the industry, you can choose to hire your own people, you can do all the research yourself, you can choose how you want to get the word out there or...

You could simply just simply let him and his highly talented, highly skilled, highly experienced teams handle it while you take all the credit as a self-made entrepreneur.

He won't interject with unwanted help, unsolicited comments or extra funds if you don't want him to. It's all up to your whims and desires. It's just a silly, fun, little game for you to feel joy and self actualization. But if he deems that you're hurting yourself, mentally and/or physically, he is shutting it all down.

No, he won't shame or berate you if your business wasn't successful. He wouldn't allow you to cast blame onto yourself. No, nothing was wasted. Don't you dare think of yourself and your efforts that way. There is no such thing as losses when it comes to you, he is too generous for his own good. You gained some experience, you had fun and you learnt a lot... and that's all that really matters to him. You could fall and choose to either get back up yourself (under his vigilant supervision), or let him pick you up. Would you like to try again?

What if, you don't want to do anything with your business anymore? Well, there are many options for you to choose from. You could simply just shut it down with no repercussions. You don't need to be involved in the headache of liquidating your company's assets or dealing with the law if you don't want to. Hm? Oh, don't worry about all the people who are going to lose their jobs. They'll find new ones eventually. Your friend could take them under his wing if you want him to.

You could just dump it on his lap to manage it while you do other things that you're interested in. However, he is absolutely not changing anything or implementing any new policies to save it from collapsing in on itself unless you ask him to. It doesn't matter if it's costing him millions of dollars in losses, it doesn't matter if it's a liability to him. It's your project and he has no right to interfere without your permission, who is he to touch it when "you" were the one who originally gave it life? He will keep injecting money in without getting anything in return, he will gladly keep a living corpse of an enterprise, a financial parasite, stuck to his name and company.

You could sell it. Even if no one wanted to buy it, your friend would. And again, you can choose to control it although it's under his name, or let him transform it into something actually profitable-- basically give up charge over your business. But, you get to take the authority back whenever you want, please don't worry about the legalities or moralities. This is your world and everyone is just living in it, including himself.

On the other side of the coin, where if your business is raking in massive profits, you would receive praises every minute from him and the people around you. You would be celebrated and worshipped by everyone. He will make sure of it.

I may know many things about the world of trading but not all. Not even close. I might need to learn a thing or two from you. He chuckled, propping his head with a hand.

You asked if you can truly keep all the profits to yourself.

Yes and no. He answered. You don't have to pay him back or give him dividends even though he is a major, active investor. But, if you ever decide to put your business out there for strangers to buy stocks, you have no choice but to give them their share of profits. He would reimburse them if you want him to.

Then you asked him, what if you were to have no aspirations, no goals and no direction to head to? Becoming a complete NEET for the rest of your life? And a degenerate one to top it off? Only hiding yourself in your bedroom, living off junk, hissing at sunlight and consuming more than you create. Be it in terms of food or creative medias.

He frowned. He believes every human needs a goal to work towards to, in order to make their lives feel worthwhile, enriched and enjoyable. A goal is a goal, no matter how small or ridiculous. Yes, he would fund your NEET lifestyle only if you have at least three hobbies that:

Does not actively cause bodily harm,

Does not cause mental, self-esteem deterioration,

Does not cause you to be numb,

Gives you true satisfaction about yourself; I.e., a hobby that is challenging but achievable, something that gives you healthy agency,

Absolute complacency is the devil in his eyes. He isn't going to let you fall into that pit of consumerism hell, he knows it is a slippery slope to despair, pessimistic nihilism and suicidal ideation. If you can't find a hobby yourself, he is going to find something that keeps the cogs turning. But just enough, he is never going to overwhelm or overkill it.

You gave yourself a minute or two to think. You then summed it up to being: Your friend sees his money and status as a shiny toy for you to play with, however or whenever you want. As long as you're not harming yourself with it. Strange how he contradicts himself when it comes to the topic of doing nothing in life. Nonetheless, you're glad that he would let you think for yourself.

What's the catch? You mumbled, he hummed and tilted his head towards you as he didn't hear what you said.

What do you want in return? You don't buy the fact that he's completely selfless and so fucking charitable.

He is. But only for you.

Your hand in marriage. He replied, promptly and bluntly. No bullshit this time, no more flowery language about how he wanted you to be happy and healthy. He would give all of that in return for you to be his and for him to be yours.

What if I say no? You continued. He stared at you in shock and a bit of hurt momentarily before expressing an incredulous laugh.

You don't get to say no. Not this time. He smiled, but you can see the corner of his mouth twitching downward. There was a bit of an angry growl to his voice, which sent chills down your spine. Regardless, you pressed on, asking what he meant by that.

I mean what I say. You decided not to press further after he said his ominous piece.

He continued on with a lighter note, cheerfully asking you when you want the wedding to be, how you want the wedding to be and who do you want to come. He gave you a period of two years to think it through, if you haven't come up with anything satisfactory or anything at all by then, he will proceed with his own plans. Your friend seems to have a Laissez-faire approach to most things, you wonder if that was the secret to his company's rapid and massive growth.

He paused mid sentence when he realized that you have finished your meal a while ago. He asked if you wanted seconds or if you wanted a chocolate bar for dessert.

You said you lost your appetite.