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bqstqnbruin · 19 days ago

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Always the Bridesmaid

I'm interrupting my regularly scheduled programming (again)(please read this series) with a fic that I came up with when I was writing a happy ending for @laurenairay, which, considering that is weird for me, I had to balance out the universe with this fic instead.

This is reader insert and for the most part the reader is gender neutral, but does present societally more feminine (mention of doing their hair and makeup, wearing a dress).

Have fun!

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, I was mean to Quinn

WC: 5528

______________

You were always told falling in love with someone would take every part of your heart and have you give it to someone else. Falling in love was supposed to be a whirlwind of joy, sadness, anxiety, excitement, fear, happiness, pain, and bliss. Your parents made you believe that loving someone meant your life would change, hopefully for the better, and you would be able to share your life with someone who wasn’t supposed to leave.

He told you he was taking you out for dinner, to be ready when he got home. You knew you were going to one of the fancier restaurants in town, taking special care to do your hair so not a strand was out of place, do your makeup just the way you liked it, and wearing your favorite outfit that you took the time to steam the wrinkles out of so that you didn’t look like you had spent the entire day rotting on the couch, even though you did.

You knew what he was going to ask.

____________________

“What are you doing right now?” Quinn’s head pokes through your bedroom window, your boyfriend climbing into your room, trying not to laugh as he struggles to bend the right way to make it through without getting hurt.

You turn the page in your book, not bothering to look up. “I’m in the middle of taking over Poland,” you deadpan as he makes his way over to your bed, plopping himself down at your feet. “One day, you’re going to break your leg or something doing that.”

Quinn’s bedroom in your respective family’s lake house’s was opposite yours, allowing the two of you to see what the other was doing whenever the curtains were open. Since you were younger, that was your signal to each other that they could come over. You thought it would involve using the front doors, but Quinn took it as an excuse to truly act like a twelve year old, despite being older than that, and makeshift a ladder from the tree that was right there.

He grinned at you, leaning against the wall and starting to fiddle with the fringe of the blanket sitting at the foot of your bed. “I want to go do something.”

“We haven’t even been here for seventy two hours and I’m pretty sure you’ve been active for seventy of them.”

“Please,” he whines, leaning over so that his body is parallel with yours. You try to ignore him as you attempt to focus on your book, feeling his eyes practically pierce your shin. “I want to go for a walk.”

“If you can scale the side of this house, I’m sure you can do that just fine.”

“I want company.”

“You have two brothers.”

“They’re asleep.”

“We both know if either of them wanted something from you, they would not hesitate to wake you up.”

“But I want you to come with me.” You put your bookmark in to save your space, giving him an unimpressed look. “Please? How often do we get to do things where it’s just us?” He takes your hand in his, the calluses on his hands from using his stick in his driveway back home without his gloves surprisingly soothing to you. You roll your eyes, Quinn nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as you can’t help but smile.

You pull him off the bed, your book all but forgotten, Quinn trailing you like a love-sick puppy.

____________________

You got ready way earlier than you needed to be, anxiously pacing around your apartment you shared with him. You could see him in every corner; it was his apartment first that you had eventually moved into. The furniture was all his, the decorations that were there were chosen by someone he paid rather than the two of you picking it out yourselves like you wanted, even the books in the bookcases weren’t ones you picked; half of them were just for show, those coffee table books on topics you didn’t care about, but looked impressive to those who didn’t know either of you.

____________________

“This is how you decorate?”

You roll your eyes at him as he flops on your bed. As usual, Quinn was being no help to anything, but it was your first time being with each other since you left for college. “I’m going to be here for a year, why do more?”

“You don’t even have a picture of us in here.” He sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap. He kisses the top of your head, you letting your eyes flutter closed as you exhale against him, curled into his chest.

“My roommate keeps bringing guys back,” you tell him. “Four of them would see a picture of you and ask me to send you their highlights.” Quinn burst out laughing, throwing his head back and sending a shiver through your body. You missed hearing him in person, being with him and being able to touch him.

You missed him.

You pull away from him slightly to kiss him, his hands tightening, bunching up your shirt in his fists. Thank god your roommate was away this weekend.

“Leave room for Jesus,” one of your friends barges in, Quinn practically launching you off him. You could feel the heat rush to your face, convinced it was visible from space by the smirk on the intruder's face. “Party tonight at Kappa house.”

You exchange a look with Quinn, trying to get a read on his face before looking back at your friend. “Ok?”

“Are you two coming?”

Quinn shrugs, leaning back on your bed, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin that made your heart race. That stupid smirk on his face told you his answer. “Sure.”

Your friend squeals, launching into talking about you borrowing clothing, getting ready, making sure all three of you look as fantastic as possible for what was all, apparently, your first college frat party.

Two hours later, you were in a different room down the hall, pre-gaming, cringing as your friend thrust a shot of rosé wine into your hand, immediately following it up with raspberry vodka. You nearly gagged after downing the combination that never should have existed, looking at the disgusted look on Quinn’s face that mirrored your own. “I wish I never drank that,” he sputters out, sticking his tongue out as if the air around him would get rid of whatever that lingering taste was.

“I’m never drinking vodka again.”

Quinn shrugs. “You never liked it much anyway.” You look at him for a second, not sure if you were unable to see the connection he was trying to make because you genuinely didn’t know, or if the horrible alcohol was somehow already fogging your brain. “Remember a few summers ago when some of our hockey friends came up to visit? They brought vodka and you hated it.”

“Was that the night I fell asleep in your bed and your parents freaked out when they found us?”

“It was the night you fell asleep in the bathtub with Jack, actually.”

You cringe, biting your bottom lip, wishing that he hadn’t brought that night up. Nothing happened between you and his brother, but it was easy to see why Quinn was annoyed at the sight of the two of you. Actually, you remember telling him nothing happened, because nothing did. So why did he get mad at it? “Why would you bring that up?”

Quinn shrugs, turning his attention to the group of guys cheering on another as he shotgun a can of beer. “Just made me think of it.”

____________________

He texted you that he was downstairs, ready to pick you up, just as you agreed he would do that morning. He was late coming back from practice, letting you know that he took the time to get ready at the practice facility so he wouldn’t have to come up and do it.

You felt yourself exhale, the anxiety in your chest dissipating ever so slightly. Him being downstairs gave you more time before you had to see him.

You didn’t want to see him.

____________________

“I want to see you, though.”

You roll your eyes, thankful that Quinn called you instead of Facetimed you, knowing he would get upset over your reaction. You were having this conversation for the fifth time now, Quinn begging you to come see him when you told him it wasn’t possible. “I have four exams this week and I have a job interview. I need to be here.”

“Where’s the job?”

You hesitate for a second, trying to figure out if you should lie or not. “New Jersey.” Quinn doesn’t say anything. “Q?”

“I thought you were applying for jobs here?”

“I am,” you say quickly, “But I need a job after graduation, regardless of where it is. I can’t move to Vancouver if I don’t have a job, too.”

“I can take care of both of us.”

You let out a loud sigh, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I don’t want you to have to ‘take care of me,’ Quinn, I can do it myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

“And what happens if we break up?” you snap. “What happens when you and I aren’t together anymore and I have nothing because you controlled everything? I’ll have no job, no experience, nothing to fall back on and I’m screwed.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything for too long, your heartbeat getting faster with every second he was silent. You didn’t know you were afraid of that. “You think we’re going to break up?” he finally asks, his voice barely audible.

“Quinn,” you start.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re right. You don’t want to bank on us being together forever.”

“Quinn,” you try again.

“Hey, I have to head to the arena, and you have to study. I’ll talk to you later.”

The line goes silent before you can say anything else. You check the time, taking into account the time difference. You knew Quinn’s game-day schedule. He still had two more hours before he had to leave.

____________________

You get downstairs, seeing your boyfriend leaning against his car. He was in a suit, one you hadn’t seen before. He bought a new one for tonight. It fit him well; you could see the curve of every part of his body, every crevice that you knew by heart, everything that was stashed in his pockets outlined. You could see the box in his pant pocket.

He was looking down at his phone, a lock of his hair falling into his eye without even hearing you coming towards him. That sight of him used to make your heart skip a beat.

He finally looks up, the grin on his face growing with every step you took towards him. He shoves his phone in his pocket, pulling you in for a kiss. His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressed to yours, you praying he doesn’t notice the slight sweat you felt forming over your entire body.

He opens the car door for you, running around to get into the driver seat and take you into the city.

“You are gorgeous,” he breathes out, his hand resting on your thigh as he drives.

____________________

You stare at your phone, praying that someone would email you or call you. If you watched your phone enough, you could will them into getting back to you, right?

“You’re next,” your cousin’s hand finds your shoulder, making you jump out of your skin. “God, ok.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, putting your phone down and getting in the makeup chair. The person your cousin hired to do the bridal party makeup was talking to you about what you wanted, you barely paying attention while your mind wandered, trying not to be rude and check your notifications every time your phone screen lit up.

“What’s with you?”

You look to your left, the makeup artist turning your head back toward them. “I’m supposed to be hearing back from that job,” you tell her.

“So why do you look like you want to throw up?”

You hesitate, a text from Quinn showing up on your screen to let you know that he was almost ready to head to the wedding venue.

“Because it’s my dream job, but,” your voice trails off. She eyes you, the look on her face burning a hole in the side of your face. “It’s not in Vancouver.”

She nods. “So it’s not near Quinn.”

“It’s in New Jersey.”

“Are you going to take it if you get it?”

You exhale. The job was everything you wanted; in the field you studied in college, in a great place where you didn’t have to spend what felt like millions on rent, the people seemed great, the benefits were perfect.

It was just in the wrong country.

“You know what? You’ve just graduated, we’re getting ready for my wedding, and your boyfriend is out there probably thinking about the day that this is the two of you, instead. Relax.”

Before you could give an answer, it was time for you to get your hair done, your cousin being whisked away by the photographer to start getting some pictures taken. You didn’t even have an answer.

Your phone buzzes, another text from Quinn, a new email in your inbox.

You don’t check it, your thoughts lost in the whirlwind that became getting ready to join your cousin to walk down the aisle to who was supposed to be the love of her life.

The bridal party ahead of you starts to enter, your cousin behind you pacing while the music continues to play. She calmed you down before when she was the one who was supposed to be anxious. What could you do now?

You walk forward, the aisle seeming much longer than it did during the rehearsal dinner considering you were now in much higher heels, with makeup that you hoped wasn’t running down your face from the heat you felt.

You catch Quinn sitting by himself, the smile on his face making your heart skip a beat.

You felt yourself calm down, all the worries you had melting away as you headed toward the altar.

You wanted to be walking toward him, to see him waiting for you, ready to tell everyone you cared about that you wanted to be together forever.

The entire wedding went by in a blur, your conscience focused entirely on you picturing yourself with Quinn standing at the altar.

When you finally get the chance to check your phone on the way to the reception, the email notification sits on your screen, unanswered. You open the app, your heart racing.

‘Good morning, we are pleased to offer you the position…”

____________________

The two of you fall into mundane conversation once you’re seated. He had asked for a table away from everyone, off to the side where the two of you had privacy, just as the two of you had liked it. You felt awkward being in the middle of any restaurant; he hated having people stare at him because they were sure they knew who he was and spent the entire time gaping at him once they realized who he was.

He asks about your day, about your job.

You relay to him the events of the day, just as you did every single day the two of you had time to sit down and eat together. It was the same conversation every time, yet he seemed to love to hear about it.

“I remember when I was excited about this job.”

“Do you still want to quit?”

____________________

“How do we manage this?” Quinn’s voice comes through your phone, an exasperated plea.

You hesitate, trying to figure out what to say. “I have no clue,” you admit. “Do we try long distance?”

Quinn sighs, the sound of his car starting up in the background. “We’ve been doing that for the last four years. Do we really want to keep doing it like this?”

Silence comes from you again, this conversation going exactly how you thought it would; neither of you sure what you wanted to do.

Your dream job made you an offer that you couldn’t refuse. Your boyfriend was on the other side of the continent in another country. You couldn’t do both.

“It’s that or we aren’t together anymore.”

“Are you sure you want to take this job?” Quinn’s voice cuts you off before you can say more.

“Quinn.”

“Is this job this important to you? Did you try to look for something near here?”

“You know that it is and you know that I did,” you reply, your tone getting defensive. “I’m supposed to be meeting my friends tonight and I still need to get ready,” you lie to him, giving yourself the best out you could. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You pace around your apartment, pulling up the email chain with the offer letter attached. It was everything you could want. It just wasn’t close enough to the person you wanted.

You end up falling asleep on your couch, waking up in pain from the angle you somehow thought was comfortable the night before, with someone pounding on the door to be let in. Your phone starts buzzing, your brain barely functioning to register anything other than the time, almost noon.

“I’m coming, calm down,” you rasp, hoping the banging would subside. “Quinn?”

“I can’t have this conversation with you over the phone,” he barges in, pushing past you.

“How did you get here?”

“I took the first flight out.” He sits down on the couch you were just asleep on, making no comment of your obviously disheveled state. “We can’t break up. I love you and I don’t want us to break up.”

You sit down next to him. “I love you, too.”

“Do you want to break up?” he asks, panic in his voice. You study him for a second, knowing that the silence you were giving him wasn’t settling him in any way. He was clearly exhausted; his skin was more pale than normal, his hair poking in every direction possible. The bags under his eyes were darker than you had ever seen him, and you’ve seen him after he pulled an all nighter for a final, running only on energy drinks, french fries, and pure hope that he would pass the exam that morning.

“I don’t want to,” you start, your voice trailing off. “But, Quinn, this job.”

“Marry me.”

You jolt back. “What?”

“Marry me. Don’t worry about the job. You don’t have to worry about anything. I want to be with you and I know you want to be with me.”

“Quinn,” you scoff, a laugh bubbling into your voice. “We can’t get married.”

____________________

“You could easily find a job somewhere else, though, right? If you wanted to?” he asks.

You nod. “But it was already overwhelming trying to figure everything out when I first started. Do I really want to do that again?”

____________________

“How are you settling in?” Quinn’s question made your heart ache, the first time you’re talking to him since you moved only able to be a few minutes over Facetime. “Has Jack helped you?”

You let out a laugh. “You know he’s only helped eat my food.” Quinn’s laugh matches yours, a tightness in your chest at the sound. “I miss you.”

Quinn lets out a sigh, closing his eyes. “I miss you, too.” Both of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, you looking away to pretend to continue unpacking. You were still trying to find everything in the boxes you hastily packed up, the start date your job provided you only giving you a week to pack and find a new place. Everything was in unlabelled boxes and just thrown together, meaning you were finding multiple pairs of underwear mixed into a box of dishes and books. “I wish we didn’t have to break up.”

You feel a sob creeping up your throat, the same sentiment you had being verbalized by the one person you wished didn’t feel the same. If this were a clean break, everything would be so much easier. If it were a clean break it would be easier to get over and move on. If it were a clean break, then you wouldn’t have what you were sure was a permanent pit in your stomach telling you that this was the wrong choice.

Before you can answer, someone knocks on your door. “Um, I’m gonna go. I think that’s Jack or Luke. They said they were going to come and help today.”

“Tell them to behave.”

You force a smirk through the tears that were brimming in your eyes. “We know they won’t.” You say your goodbyes, the tears finally falling down your cheeks when you open your door. “Oh, Nico,” you sniffle, Jack and Luke’s teammate standing in your doorway without the two boys who were supposed to be there.

Nico’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong?” he takes a small step towards you, gently resting his hands on your arms. His attempt at comfort sends a shiver through your body, the attempt to hide your physical recoiling at his touch unsuccessful. It wasn’t one of disgust, it was more out of shock. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” you tell him, tugging his sleeve to pull him into your apartment. “I’m just,” you hesitate. Telling an attractive guy that you were crying over your ex seemed like a bad idea. Especially when that ex is the brother of two of this guy's closest friends. “I’m overwhelmed from unpacking.”

Nico nods, looking around at the mess of boxes that are cluttered in what is supposed to be your living room. “When was the last time you ate?”

You stop and think, checking your phone to see it was closer to dinner than any other normal meal time. “Yesterday?”

“Come on.” Nico holds out his hand to you, ignoring the uncertain look on your face. “Jack and Luke asked me to come because they’re doing god knows what, and we both know dealing with them when you’re hungry is going to end up with one of them dangling from that window by their sock.”

You can’t help but laugh knowing that you and Quinn have done something like that to Luke when you were younger over the summer. There’s a reason there’s now a small balcony outside Quinn’s window. The thought of you and Quinn makes your heart hurt again, the threat of tears coming back.

“Hey,” Nico’s voice goes soft, pulling you into a hug. You melt into him, the comfort of his cologne making you exhale. “Whatever it is, you’ll be ok.”

____________________

“Remember that one wedding we went to, one of your college friends?” he reaches across the table to take your hand, his voice shaking as he abruptly changes the subject. He waits for you to nod. “Do you think about what it would be for us to get married?”

As soon as you hear the words starting to form in his mouth, you grab your water with your free hand, gulping it down to give yourself time. “Um, yeah,” you lie.

____________________

“Jack, you fucking idiot,” you scold him, grabbing the napkins and trying to get as much red wine off your white shirt as you could. It’s your fault, really. You’ve known Jack long enough to know how dangerous of a color it is to wear around him.

“I’ll grab you something to wear,” Nico mumbles, glaring at his teammate. He heads to his room, the base of his neck turning bright red as he walks away.

Jack looks sorry, giving you a puppy-dog pout that you were all too used to from your childhood. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. Nico comes back with a sweatshirt, a Devils logo and the number 13 on the breast for you to throw on while you’re here. He plants a kiss on the side of your head once you pull it on, sitting down next to you.

The rest of the night passes by, Jack spilling two more drinks all over Nico’s table that made Nico send his teammate home.

You settle in his bed, letting out an exhale as you sink into the soft mattress. Nico comes into his room, your shirt in hand. He tried his best to get the stain out.

“I think it’s a lost cause,” he tells you, tossing the shirt into his hamper. “I’ll see if the cleaners can get it out when I bring my suits in next time.”

“I know better than to wear white around a Hughes brother,” you joke, Nico climbing in next to you and pulling you close.

You hear him sigh, tucking his arm under his head as he lays down. “Do you still miss him?”

The silence between you two is palpable. You never talk about your past with Quinn, awkwardly dancing around the subject whenever he inevitably gets brought up. You weren’t completely over him, but how could you tell your boyfriend that? You lived here, Quinn was in Vancouver. “I miss my friendship with him.”

It wasn’t totally a lie. Even before you started dating Quinn, he was your best friend. Now, you could barely talk to each other.

“I get that,” you hear him say, not without you noticing the strangled tone in his voice.

Your phone buzzes, Jack tagging you and Nico in a story from your dinner, captioning it ‘taken moments before disaster (myself) struck.’ You can’t help by laugh, showing Nico the post. He smiles, the two of you taking in the photo. The way Nico looks at you makes your heart flutter. He loves you. You know he does. And you do love him.

You look at the time, the late hour making you groan. “Ugh, fuck.”

“What?”

“I’m only going to get, like, three hours of sleep if I want to make it home in time to get ready for work.”

“Why don’t you move in here?” Your head whips to him, feeling a pain in your neck, trying to hide your wince so that Nico doesn’t think you hate his idea. “I mean, you spend more time sleeping here than you do at your actual place.”

“Are you serious?”

Nico smiles, pulling you in for a kiss. “Of course.”

You mirror his smile. “Yeah.”

You eventually fall asleep, an excited feeling about a new chapter in yours and Nico’s relationship keeping you awake.

When your alarm finally goes off, you let out a groan, Nico stirring beside you as he wakes up with you, despite not needing to. You see a text on your phone, sent not long after you went to bed.

It was from Quinn.

‘Does he at least make you happy?’

____________________

Nico is clearly nervous, his free hand rubbing against his thigh. You can feel the sweat forming on his hand in yours. “We’ve been together for how many years now? Three?” You nod. “I love you.”

____________________

Every time Vancouver came to play in New Jersey, Ellen and Jim insist on you joining them to watch the game. They think of you like a daughter, despite the hopes of you actually joining their family dwindling down to nothing with every year that passes by with you staying in New Jersey.

Of you staying with Nico rather than Quinn.

It doesn’t get easier any time you see Quinn. According to a drunken Jack, Quinn still loves you. You know you love Nico, but can you also still have feelings for Quinn?

The Hughes parents weren’t there yet, you sitting alone as the two teams come out onto the ice for warmups. You see Quinn, the sight of him making your heart skip a beat, even after all these years of falling in love with Nico. He looks like he’s zoning out while skating in a circle around nothing, his stick in both his hands parallel with the ice. You know him well enough to know that this is how way of focusing, reviewing everything he could remember about the game tapes he had spent the last few days studying, as if this weren’t the third time this season he was playing against his brothers.

Against your boyfriend.

The three brothers meet at center ice, taking a picture as they did before every game, the tradition somehow never losing its magic and never getting skipped over no matter how many meetings the two teams had. You feel your anxiety go up when Nico skates over and joins them, the smile on Nico’s face not being matched in the slightest by Quinn.

The last time you saw Quinn, it was like you were two strangers who were forced together by accident, rather than being two people who grew up with each other, who knew everything about each other. His sentences and comments to you were short, his eyes never meeting yours.The only thing he said that really mattered to you was him telling you he wasn’t sure he would ever stop loving you.

You didn’t remember how that even came up.You had been talking about the wedding you were in, one of your friends from college getting married a few months before yours and Quinn’s last meeting. Quinn was invited, but, according to Jack, he couldn’t get himself to go once he saw you were in the wedding party.

Your phone buzzes, a text from your boss. You can’t help but let out a groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him texting you on a Friday night when he knew you were at the game.

You skim the message, hoping that it was something that you could ignore for a few hours until you and Nico got home that night. One word catches your eye, causing you to choke on the sharp breath you took in.

‘Vancouver’ is right there, your boss telling you that there was an opening in your company’s office there, that you would be perfect for it, that you would get a higher salary, a relocation fee, the company would take care of everything you needed to have you move to Canada.

You would be near Quinn.

You let your boss know that you would think about it, reminding him that you were out with your friends at the game, just as you told him that morning. He sends back a simple thumbs up, as if that was a good enough reaction to letting you know that your dream job just got better.

The Hughes finally join you right as the anthems begin, pulling you in for hugs. The game begins, your attention anywhere by the actual game. You were facing the ice, but your mind was back to your phone. During the intermissions, you’re completely anti-social, looking at the application your boss sent you that you would need to fill out. He was right, you were perfect for the job.

The game ends, you heading down with the parents to see the guys, Quinn the first one out. He talks to his parents, you awkwardly standing off to the side.

He finally acknowledges you when his brothers come out of their locker room.

“So, how are you?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground.

“Good. You?”

“Good. How’s the job?”

“Good,” you let out. “There’s an opening in our Vancouver office,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Quinn’s eyes light up, the smile on his face one that you hadn’t seen from him in a while. It made you smile. “Really? Are you going to take it?”

You sigh, the smile melting from your face. “I’m not sure yet. I would have to move. I would have to figure out Visa’s and everything. I would have to figure out things with,” your voice trails off, both of you knowing what you meant without you saying it. “Nico.”

Your boyfriend appears behind Quinn, a sudden panic coursing through you. You remember the idea of being away from Quinn tearing you apart inside, the thought making you sick. The idea of being away from Nico didn’t have that same effect.

____________________

“Will you marry me?” He asks, the look on his face hopeful and nervous while he waits for your answer.

You hesitate, knowing that he was panicking, hating that you made him feel that way. Your phone buzzes with a text from your boss before you can answer, your eyes flicking down to the screen. ‘Still interested in Vancouver?’ You hadn’t told Nico you applied for the job. You told yourself you didn’t want it that much but that it wouldn’t hurt to apply. Seeing Quinn keping coming up in your mind each time you lied to yourself, how you would be back in the same city as him.

You still love Quinn.

“No.”

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lycheeloving · 1 year ago

Text

a non-platonic yandere!Bruce thought this time, with some multiverse stuff, because that's all I could think about today.

I imagine this is at a point where you've been with him for some time & have mostly gotten used to your situation (having been kidnapped and forced into a relationship with a billionaire who happens to be Batman)

a small allusion to nsfw stuff, minors dni

You're bored, sitting in the bedroom you share with Bruce (who's currently patrolling, so you can't even annoy him for entertainment), so you decide that you at least want a change of scenery, and what better place for that than the batcave? So you take a book, a drink and a blanket with you as you venture down into the cave.

Bruce doesn't like it when you're down there, especially not while he's out, but it doesn't concern him enough to install anything that would keep you from going down there. If you're lucky, this will piss him off just enough to make the inevitable post-patrol sex with him more interesting tonight, so a win-win situation, really! You sit down in his comfy chair in front of his bat-computer, snuggle into your blanket so you don't freeze to death and start reading.

After some time you stand up to stretch and notice Bruce in the reflection on the computer. Weird, you didn't hear the batmobile returning! Well, you must have just been really immersed in the book.

"Bruce? You're back early, I thought you said you'd take longer today because of some Arkham emergency?"

No response.

"Ok, look, I know you don't like it when I'm down here, but I was getting sick of the manor!"

Still no response.

You turn around to look at him more closely, his expression might look like his usual stony facade, but you've spent enough time with him by now to be able to read him a bit and you're pretty sure he looks... confused?

"Hello? Are you ok? Did you hit your head? Did you drive with a head injury?? Wait, no, of course not, the batmobile can drive home all by itself-"

As you say that, you look at where the batmobile should be. should be, because it's not there. You look back at Bruce. Did his batsuit always look like that? You could swear that the ears are usually a bit smaller, and the color is wrong. Huh. You take a step back. "You're.. not Bruce, are you?"

He finally opens up his mouth to explain that he's from a parallel universe, that he and the Bruce from your universe have been helping each other with cases for a while now, he just came here to see if your Bruce was available, but if he's not here right now he's going to leave again. He gestures to a portal in the wall that you missed because from your angle it just looks like the wall of the cave, but when you take a step forward you can see into what looks like the batcave you're in right now but slightly to the left. A bit uncanny.

"You looked confused earlier, did Bruce not tell you about me? Or did you just not expect to see me down here?"

"...I was not aware that he is in a relationship."

"I mean, yeah, I guess if I was him I wouldn't go around telling people I kidnapped someone and keep them locked in my mansion, either. Even if they looked exactly like me, I mean, you never know if they think exactly like you as well. Um. Anyways, it was nice to meet you?" You wave awkwardly while he looks shocked (in his stoic way).

"...Why didn't you try to escape through the portal, then, if you're kept here against your will?"

"Oh, um, my bracelet is designed to shock me as soon as I leave. Like, really painful electric shocks. I'm not trying that again." More shock and guilt on other-Bruce's face.

"I'm sure I could disable it. Come with me."

"...And then what? Bruce will come after me. He'll attack you and be really, really mad at me for running away. Really mad. He said he'd break my legs if I ever tried to run again, I'm not risking that. And he'll keep me chained up in the bedroom for months." You shudder. "I like my walking around the house privileges, thank you very much."

You feel uncomfortable when he doesn't react and instead keeps staring at you. "I think you should leave. Now. ...Please."

He takes a step towards you. "I can keep you safe. I wouldn't feel right, knowing I left you here. Come with me."

You take a step back. "Look, thank you for offering, but I don't think this will end well for either of us. I'm gonna go now."

You turn to leave, but he's faster than you. He grabs your wrist, stopping you from getting away. You squirm in his hold while he inspects your bracelet. He then pulls something out of his utility belt with which he's able to remove the bracelet without it shocking you, throws you over his shoulder and carries you through the portal, not at all bothered by your kicking and scratching. He puts you down and closes the portal behind him. It all happened faster than you could wrap your head around.

"...I think it would be best if you stayed in the manor until I figure out how to resolve this.", he says, an unnerving glint in his eyes.

Did you just get kidnapped by a second Batman? Will he really let you go? You doubt that, somehow. You think you would have preferred to stay with your Batman, at least with him you knew what to expect...

#idk if any of this makes sense but I can't proofread this again or I'll scream #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #x reader #reader insert #yandere!batman #yandere!bruce wayne #yandere dc #yandere #lycheewritings #dark!bruce wayne #dark!batman #dark bruce wayne #dark batman #yandere batfam

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macabremadness · 5 months ago

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fiddleford mcgucket is so AUUUUGHFHSHSGFJ like he is crazy he is a silly goose. just a guy from tennessee who knows how to build literally anything and wanted to make tech to improve peoples lives first like mf built the first portable laptop and cell phone and got NO credit. he wanted to make robot legs cuz he didn't wanna walk but imagine if he was able to actually make some as mobility aid anyways i think about that a lot

that one time ford suggested to gather the cute little living minerals to help them lead them out the cave tunnels while fiddleford instead just picked them up and banged them together to relight the lantern and they all just scattered and one bit ford. he's so smart <3

weird cows producing weird milk that might be dangerous for human consumption? fidds fuckin drank that shit straight out the bucket. and i think he took it with him the rest of the way cuz he dramatically spit it out upon seeing cso

hes like a chihuahua to me he just stands there and pathetically shakes but then he also gets really feisty and bites. he canonically growls as an old man

how many gifts has fiddleford given ford at this point? like hes given him an axolotl, handmade gloves, a handmade snow globe, a custom laptop, squash with a human face, essentially his life. "hey what is the universe was a hologram" had the trajectory of his life changed forever. LIKE BEFORE BACKUPSMORE HE NEVER EVEN DRANK COFFEE and then ford is just "oh yeah i gave him like 15 cups or something"

AUGH THE GLOVES AND THE SNOW GLOBE..... "gee ford how come you get TWO presents" says emma may with nothing. LIKE HIM AND FORD HAD SUCH A GREAT CHRISTMAS AFTER THE KRAMPUS THING BUT LIKE I FEEL BAD FOR TATE MAN AND YALL ALREADY KNOW MCGUCKET CARES ABOUT HIS SON SO GODDAMN MUCH

(violently cries)

his ass is NOT afraid to use the memory gun on people like hes made people build the portal and the bunker for free and wiped their memories and hasnt been afraid to wipe ford's too like damn man. hes a little too trigger happy. he also made an entire cult because of it and then forgot he made an entire cult

he made the bunker security room. he decided it would be a good idea to crush intruders to death. not to mention all the destructive robots hes made in his crazy old man era. i love him at his best and his worst your honor

we salute 45th president mcgucket, gave out free robot spiders. and he prevented the entire covid pandemic. it's so funny to me cuz he took over northwest manor first and then the white house. i would be fine if the whole world had one ruler and it was mcgucket and you know he would find a way to turn himself into an immortal robot he will NEVER die

he's married to a racoon. has not even questioned his marriage once. that racoon is tate's step mom and i don't even think he questions it at this point either. we salute first lady of the united states raccoon wife

also give it up for parallel fiddleford!! literally from the canon "everything went right" au. portal wouldn't exist without our fidds and the quantum destabilizer wouldn't exist without parallel fidds give it up for all two canon fiddlefords carrying ford 🙏 anyways where's all the au content of that specific universe—

not to mention mcgucket's entire story arc which i really cannot put into words rn in this dumb post because its so AAUUUGH you feel me?

anyways yeah. this post is absolutely not coherent but i just think fiddleford mcgucket is neat and underrated (and as much as i love fiddauthor/fiddleauthor/fordsquared/fordford/banjoportal/etc. i feel like he's getting stuck solely in shipping LET HIM BE HIS OWN GUY PLEASE). also thank you book of bill for existing because it made me remember gravity falls was a thing i was obsessed with as a kid and looking back at everything as an adult is CRAZYYY

okay peace out love you mcgucket stans

#gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #old man mcgucket #mac speaks #book of bill #this is not a website dot com #← some info from both of them #mostly from journal 3 but do people even tag that

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scaryanneee · 3 months ago

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VEILPUNK 9:52 ⚡️

Narrative parallels between [and MAJOR SPOILERS for] Dragon Age: The Veilguard and Cyberpunk 2077

Wake up, Samurai, we have a Thedas to burn. Let’s play a game:

Meet [V]/[Rook]. She is living her life as a [nomad/streetkid/corpo]/[Dragon/Crow/Lord/Watcher/Warden] when circumstances (aka, some kind of fuck-up) lead her to begin a new adventure with her friend [Jackie Welles]/[Varric Tethras].

The pair embark on a mission that involves a history lesson about a mercurial and rebellious [rockerboy]/[ancient elven mage] who made a questionable choice [50]/[8000] years ago when he [detonated a nuclear bomb]/[created the Veil]. That decision had dire consequences, but was done with good intentions: to take down a corrupt and powerful group – the [Arasakas]/[Evanuris].

Anyway, the job that [V]/[Rook] is on goes really, really bad: needless to say, we won't be working with [Jackie]/[Varric] anymore. [V]/[Rook] finds herself injured but alive… and the previously mentioned grumpy old [rockerboy]/[elven god] is now living in her head, somehow?!

[Jackie]/[Varric]’s fate is not the only consequence of [V]/[Rook]’s actions. In fact, the clock is ticking: if [V]/[Rook] does not find a way to fix her mistake soon, she faces certain death. Not to mention, she promised [Jackie]/[Varric] that she would take care of the [biochip]/[team] for him.

As she works to undo what she has done, [V]/[Rook] either bonds with the [Johnny Silverhand]/[Solas] living in her head, or hates him, or something in between. There’s lots of snarky jabs traded between mind-resident and host, but also moments of genuine understanding that build over time.

It is kind of weird walking around the world, though, because you see symbols of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s legacy in the form of [Samurai memorabilia]/[Fen’Harel statues] pretty much everywhere... anyway.

In an optional questline, [V]/[Rook] can watch some of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s memories. She learns that his [nuclear bomb]/[creating the Veil] was about more than just fighting [corpo]/[godly] corruption. It was also about avenging the death of a woman he cared for deeply: [Alt]/[Mythal], who was killed by the [Arasakas]/[Evanuris]. [Alt]/[Mythal] and [Johnny]/[Solas] may have had a complicated and at times turbulent relationship, but there was no doubt he loved her. There’s also no doubt that [Johnny]/[Solas] feels, in part, personally responsible for her death.

[V]/[Rook] also gets to meet some of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s old friends: [Kerry]/[Dorian] and [Nancy]/[Morrigan], who both worked alongside him in [Samurai]/[the Inquisition], and [Rogue]/[Inquisitor Lavellan], a highly competent woman who [Johnny]/[Solas] had a romantic relationship with at one point (and who [Johnny]/[Solas] regrets not having treated better). [V]/[Rook] also meets some of [Johnny]/[Solas]’s greatest enemies from his past – like [Adam Smasher]/[Elgar’nan] – and gets to make [Johnny]/[Solas] proud by kicking their asses on his behalf.

Finally, at the very end of the game, [V]/[Rook] can choose to either redeem [Johnny]/[Solas] or condemn him. They can even get help from a version of [Alt]/[Mythal] to do so!

Roll credits.

This is all to say: I love both of these franchises very much and, so it is very delightful to find all of these parallels between them. To be very clear, this is not an accusation of stealing or anything – stories echo, history rhymes, etc. – just an affectionate observation.

BUT.

It also highlights, for me at least, a few things Cyberpunk did well that Veilguard would have benefitted from incorporating. Namely:

A prologue based on character origin, where Rook meets/bonds with Varric, like V does with Jackie

More interaction between Protagonist and Guy Living in the Protagonist’s Head

Deeper engagement with the universe’s lore, particularly the setting and its impact on our protagonist. Night City feels like another character in Cyberpunk in a way that Veilguard's Thedas really does not.

The protagonist having a smaller scale, more personal investment in the outcome of events – V’s race against the biochip is instantly understandable, and her tenacity and strong will to survive make her very easy to relate to and like. I never quite felt the same level of investment in Rook, and I think that’s in part because her fight against the gods is so enormous in scale that it feels quite impersonal at times.

Story parallels aside, these two games are also both examples of games that were rushed through development and suffered for it. For Cyberpunk, that meant infamous technical failures; for Veilguard, that apparently means writing that is inconsistent at best and baffling at worst.

Fortunately, CD Projekt Red was able to add tons of post-release updates (and the excellent Phantom Liberty DLC) to Cyberpunk, that really helped it ultimately evolve into the game it was intended to be.

Unfortunately, I think it is extremely unlikely that EA/Bioware will ever give Veilguard the same treatment.

But if I’m looking for something to hope for about this franchise (despite the long odds)... I think that would be it.

Anyway, if you read this far: thanks, [chooms]/[lethallen]! 🖤

#dragon age the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #cyberpunk 2077 #solas dragon age #solas #johnny silverhand #bioware #cd projekt red #dragon age #veilguard critical #veilguard

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incomingalbatross · 2 months ago

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I finished the TV show so here is the Dresden Files/Dresden Files crossover fic I have been revolving in my head and am unlikely to ever write in full

Starts with Book!Harry (around White Night? certainly pre-Changes), having a nightmare about fighting Justin -- but in the dream Justin is somehow his uncle and also killed his father

He wakes up and is like "that was weird"

Continues with him going about his daily life but feeling a lot of weird disorientation at weird moments

He has split seconds where he doesn't recognize his friends and loved ones, he walks past the Beetle while looking for his car... little things keep taking him by surprise when they should be normal

He consults with Bob about it (also very disorienting) and Bob suggests it could either be a magical influence OR a possible brain injury

It DOES seem to be decreasing over time, though, so Harry doesn't get around to an MRI or magical equivalent...

And then he gets a call from Murphy that there's a weirdo with a sword at the SI offices who wants Harry. Please get him out of her space, Harry

He shows up. There is, in fact, a man with a sword who says he's Morgan. He's not. More importantly, he's holding a skull, and this fills Harry with a visceral urge to get the skull back from him even though he's never seen it before

A second man materializes out of the skull. At that point, Harry's brain just whites out, because someone inside it, who isn't him, has just leapt into control in order to go "Bob??" with his voice

There is some degree of turmoil and drawn weapons all around

Eventually they straighten things out enough to realize that, surprise! Chicago's favorite wizard PI currently has TWO Harry Dresdens in his head for the price of one

Somebody was trying to toss TV!Harry's soul into the outer darkness, but he slipped sideways and ended up in another universe. Was drawn to Book!Harry's body as the closest thing to his own, and Book!Harry's been getting bleedover from his mind/memories

...However. The bleedover has been getting weaker. TV!Harry's been getting assimilated, without anyone even knowing he was there

Ghost Bob (so named by Harry to differentiate him from Skull Bob) essentially has to go in there to pull him out

Room here for fun explorations of all the differences in the two Harrys' lives -- Bob struggles to detach his Harry because the problem is, even with all the apocalypses, Book!Harry is kind of a nicer person to be. He has a clearer self-image. He has more loved ones. He likes his family background. That's hard to give up.

(The key turns out to be that Book!Harry does NOT have anyone who is even a clean parallel to Ghost Bob. TV!Harry remains sensitive to that difference, and it's a gateway to considering the other ways his own life matters to him)

They pull his soul out, Book!Harry gets to offer some life advice like "watch Star Wars at a drive-in" and "look up Ebenezar McCoy" and "get a license to carry," and the TV contingent goes home to put their Harry back in his body

Reunion with Connie Murphy (and other supporting cast?) when Harry "wakes up from his coma." Ends with him appreciating his life but also making plans to use the lessons he learned from the other place.

#series: he died doing the right thing #basically a fic to express the ways i feel bad for tv!harry while also supporting his whole deal

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mod-doodles · 1 year ago

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Carmy’s fumble vs Marcus’ fumble

Adding to my reasons I think Sydney is in love/strong like with Carmy.

Firstly as it has been addressed on here, the parallel between how they film Carmy and Syd vs Carmy/Syd and Claire/Marcus. We get lotsssss of cuts when its CarmClaire or SydMarcus; it's like the camera is doing the job of turning your head, side to side with really close shots of their faces, its kind of jarring. Alternatively when its Syd and Carmy; we enter their own little universe and there’s little effort to feel peace and calm, the music slows and the external noise quiets. They are almost exclusively in the same frame when its just them, it was more pronounced in s02 than s01. It reads as they are other and we are the same.

Sydney’s reaction to Carmy

When he asked her what she was going to do since there was nothing left for them to do at the restaurant she says she doesn’t know and uno reverses the question to Carmy. She’s open to suggestion, he could have recommended the dumbest thing and she’d have been down for whatever…the pregnant pauseeeee come on.

Sydney’s reaction to Marcus

She immediately shuts him down, anxiety flares up, stumbling over her words. Why would it be weird Sydney lmao? I’m sorry she just does not want that man. This also perfectly depicts how easy it is for Syd with Carmy, there’s like three cringy moments with Sydney and Marcus; him walking in in first episode, the FaceTime call and the ask out. I don’t know what it is but there’s always his awkward energy.

Why are they so awkward…….ahhhhh, you feed a man one time and they fall in love.

#sydney is open and ready for carmy #carmy is terrified because she could ruin him #sydcarmy #the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #charged and sexy #carmen x sydney #carmy and sydney #sydney x carmy #platonic and messy #carmy berzatto

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endgamelukola · 5 months ago

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thoughts on the shape of things (2023)

But first, a quote from Luke Newton's Vanity Fair interview (2024)

When discussing the ways art imitated life, Newton resists the urge to navel-gaze. “There are always weird things that kind of seep in, and I hate that it does, because it sounds just a bit lame,” he says with a sheepish smile. “It just sounds like an actor-y thing to say, but he came back with a sense of confidence and swagger, and I started to feel more confident in myself.”

“The flip side of that,” he says, “is that I then did a play immediately afterwards”—Neil LaBute’s The Shape of Things in London—“and played a really insecure, nerdy library guard. Immediately, that started trickling into my day-to-day life, and I was tripping over things and being awkward when I saw friends. And I was like, ‘God, what’s going on?’ So I need to learn to get better at the detachment there. But it’s also what I love about the job.”

TSOT spoilers below:

In The Shape of Things, Luke Newton plays Adam, a library guard who struggles with his confidence and self-image. One evening, while working a shift at the museum, he meets Evelyn, whom he asks out and with whom he enters a relationship. Evelyn's influence in Adam's life sees him alter his appearance and the way he approaches the world, only with the revelation at the end that Evelyn manipulated Adam for her senior thesis project.

As she explains her thesis project to a crowd of attendees, with Adam in the audience, Evelyn says:

"This was a simple matter of 'Can I instill X amount of change in this creature using only manipulation as my palette knife?' I made sure that nothing was ever forced during our sessions or 'sittings' together. [...] the illusion of 'dating' was imperative and that his free will was always at the forefront of each decision. I coaxed. I made suggestions. I created the illusion of interest and desire, but I never said, 'You must do this.'"

"I found that with the right coaxing of my materials, [...] I was able to hone the inside of my sculpture as well as the surface. I found myself suddenly creating strong moral ambiguity where I had detected the slightest traces before, often...in direct proportion to the amount of external change. This means, as my subject became handsome and firmer and more confident, his actions became more and more questionable. [...] He also started to deceive his friends and myself with greater abandon during this period whilst showing increased interest in other women. Indeed, he had relations with his best friend's fiance and continues to harbor details about the incident from us to this day. Moreover, he was willing to give up those friends when asked, walk away without any further explanation, leading me to an assumption of further wrongdoing with the young woman in question. And, as stated earlier, these universal corrections culminated in an offer of marriage to me. [...] He has then, as I see it, been utterly and totally refashioned as a person. And yet, open any fashion magazine, turn on any television, and the world will you tell you that he's only gotten more interesting, more desirable, more normal. In a word, better.

He is a living, breathing example of our obsession with the surface of things, the shape of them."

Aside from the obvious Biblical allegory going on in the play that I'm still personally chewing on, I think there's a lot to be said here about the Lukola fandom, its percentage of female members, and their perception of Luke Newton as a person offscreen and outside of the Bridgerton sphere.

There's some really interesting parallels here to the way female fans critique Luke for his actions after altering his appearance, as if, with a slimmer body and higher profile, he's suddenly gaining attention of women they don't want to see him with and that makes him a bad guy. But is he, really? Since none of us truly know Luke as an individual, the projection of who the fandom thinks Luke is is a look inside the female mind, in my opinion.

It's all just really fascinating to me.

#luke newton #the shape of things

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anteroom-of-death · 10 months ago

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Teacher's Pet part 17

Synopsis: The Doctor muses on the nature of what he could do, the reader is a willing accomplice to her own life.

A/n: first off, I'd like to thank @queerconfusionthings on the slightly darker tone of this chapter and our long talks about 12, it changed this chapter. You get me in a way precious others do...and to all my readers, yall are best. To my mutuals, I'd die for you. Especially those who don't share my needs here. Love u.

It started to border on experimental. So many untapped valleys and choices he could make now that his pet fawn was solidly by his side, and now bound to leave him, no matter how dire the situation or how many red flags or fears the ghosts of his past could bequeath to her. (Y/N) was firmly in his grasp. Perhaps indefinitely.

There were certain thought experiments that were hypothetical that he was taught at the academy. How to not just bind a weaker species to your mind not just in mind, but in blood. The facets of addiction was the singular universal trait of all sentient life in the cosmos. He admitted that he was becoming as addicted to her as she was to him, and those nasty substances she would take.

He was of half a mind to remove their influence on her body and substitute them for him. As they walked through Kew Gardens, he mused on that. Take the urge that crippled her for drinks and cigarettes to the point of clouding her thoughts at times, bind those starved out brain cells to the idea of him. The swap from nicotine and ethyl alcohol to the Doctor would he fairly easy to do.

Ultimately, after she flashed him a smile and kissed him on the cheek before heading to the loo, he decided against it. For now.

She was getting beyond handsy…almost to the point of him being begged to fuck her in public. Maybe the switch was happening naturally. The addiction to the physical was clearly getting stronger…

Wouldn’t he be so lucky?

He’d have another full-scale rifle in her mind soon to assess the current situation!

Maybe he was more like the Rani than he’d previously assessed…

Wouldn’t that just choke the life from Missy? Her precious parallels dashed in the face if him ending up much more like their estranged friend turned mutual foe.

Whatever the case in this poorly-plotted and infinitely nailed-out love story he was crafting, the Doctor was sure of one thing. His reputation as the universe’s biggest savior, it’s self-inserted martyr needed to stay intact. Missy knew to some extent. Missy could feel and reveled in his own self-corruption at the hands of this mere human.

Missy would, even if she wanted to escape, keep this secret. Their rivalry and comrades and millennia-long bond, despite how fucked up it was, or how many times they’d kill or fight one another was iron-clad.

Honor among thieves or something…

The idea of some sort of vivisection briefly clouded his vision as he saw her exit the toilets. She was beaming. She held her jacket in her hand and her teeth caught in the light.

He decided against that idea.

There were opportunities endlessly flowing out.

“Hey, I’m absolutely starving!” She pulled him by the ties on his hoodie. “Do you want to go to a pub after this? There’s got to be a really good one that does a lovely roast dinner or something.”

Totally clueless, totally obvious to the danger she was in. So fine-tuned to weird shadows and knew when a human man on the street was up to no good. She didn’t know that the real predator was getting the aglets of his hoodie flicked around.

Poor her. Poor little fawn. Fully in the wolf’s maw and her neck was already snapped. Lost in the too-dark woods, separated from her herd. Only the guidance of that would come had made a meal of her. And was toying her corpse out further…

He felt his cock stiffen.

Maybe he would take her tonight. Just until bleeding. See how far her dependence on her would go. Maybe degrade her a bit.

If he could, he would. Wasn’t it his right?

He did own her, after all. Everyone from the team at UNIT to that last scrappy remnant of Torchwood saw her over-the-moon, fully-tethered ache for him…

They all picked up on something far more grasping than mere companion in their relationship. He wasn’t risking her life and breaking her spirit on planets far outside her home solar system. A dark, full-bodied compatriot. An equal lover. Perhaps they would arrive at the conclusion of his idea of settling down on Earth.

Not like their human opinions mattered in the end…

“Yes, of course.” He returned her eager, lavish smile with one of his own.

He slammed these thoughts back in the dark chest that was his mind. For now he’d just play with her hormones and her mind. Just put them at maximum. Continue this charade.

Keep everyone and everyone in the dark…

It was a great rest of the day, a butterfly landed on her arm. She delicately picked it up to rest on her finger and it stayed put as if she was her own form of magic. The little insect crawled around and she led it to rest on his jacket.

“He’s probably picking up the sugar scrub I used last night.” She rationalized.

“Or you’re just preternaturally sweet.” He let out the cheesy line as it flicked itself off his being and flew into the air. She shot him a bemused sideways glance. When she finally got it off her finger and it was firmly on his being she slightly shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Obviously, it didn’t take a liking to him.

It’s instincts were far better tuned.

He took her to the closest pub. It wasn’t doing a roast dinner that night. She was put out, but ordered chips with a gin and tonic and some little sandwich thing.

His Earth girls really loved their chips.

Maybe that was his type? Little, bold Earth girls with loud minds that could devour nothing but chips for all eternity and be perfectly happy doing so.

He could live with that…

She went out for a cigarette and he mentally made contact with Missy.

She ‘picked up’ the mental receiver.

‘How goes London, you filthy old man?’ The words shot into his mind like an icicle from a roof.

‘Fine, just curious, how much attention did you pay to Professor Hedflonhorzthenethar’s lessons on groove-making in lesser species?’

‘Rapt, Doccy. Why?’

‘Send me your memories, I’ll Amazon a tuba to my office.’

Another betrayal of the morals he started this regeneration with…

‘Let me see you do it. I’ll only do it if you do it now and let me look through your eyes!’ It was sharp, it felt like she was beside him shouting it.

He gave her permission to see through his eyes. He sighed and whipped out his phone, ordered a tuba and closed up the connect to his eyes.

The entirety of her memories regarding the lessons pinged into his brain like an email or perhaps a text notification…

His little fawn slid back onto the barstool next to him as Missy closed the line…

‘Don’t break her yet! I want to be her friend! I’m so lonely!’

He could still feel her teasing pout lingering in his brain. Perhaps she left it as a taste of his own medicine.

“The night’s getting cooler.” (Y/N) informed.

“Pity, you’ll need to cover up.”

Her mind was clearly projecting images of her taking him to the toilets and fucking him in the stall. Loudly.

Her mind was wandering, she kept admiring the line of his brow and the way his fingers crossed over as he held the glass of Fanta he was slowly sipping. She needed him in ways that would shock perhaps even Captain Jack Harkness or perhaps that smaller, dark shadow that used to follow him around, John Hart was his name?

A pathetic kicked dog that craved the Captain’s attention…

Just like him and Missy.

He shook his head at that particular parallel.

Probably the advantage of dating someone in her profession. She knew what was avant-garde in sex!

Or at least for a human of her time period that had never been off-planet…

The Doctor let his mind wander into hers. Despite her clear projection, he wanted to see exactly what the damage of the last night was. She was chattering on about a philosophy book she picked up for between clients and for downtime at work. She completed it and wanted to share her critiques of it and her ways she’d probably improve upon the messages. As well as what she liked from it- she wasn’t all kvetching, no appreciation, after all.

In all honesty, he loved the wild tangential spin she loved. He felt some remorse about how deeply he had rummaged in her brain. She still was, in a sense, her own. Just now permanently entangled in his web. Like a rat in a glue trap, but only she didn’t grasp how sticky the glue was…. She was fully mentally tethered. He’d have to be more careful, he didn’t want to lose her, or push these experiences too deep. Losing this spark of ingenuity and tired vivaciousness would be a sin worse than anything else.

He swallowed another sip of his Fanta.

It seemed a bit shaken, but he swept those away. Kept them as salacious afterthought. Bonded the memories from today that were pleasant to her already aching neurotransmitters. Amped up her hormones a tad bit.

Anyone around her, even a stupid human could probably hear her mind now. It was both very intrigued by the subject matter of the book but also so desperately needy for her Doctor. He could feel her aching cunt and body responding from here. Anybody with a pulse could probably get her drift.

He'd probably, if anyone was sensitive enough, have to start beating them off with a stick!

That could be fun, lure her further. Let her know that she was only safe with him…

He ran the possibilities and scanned the bar, seeing if he could play any games.

Sadly not.

He decided against that for the moment.

Especially since something told him that she’d have precious little trouble fighting for herself. Unless he purposefully put her mind in a state of freeze, he doubted that a pub brawl based on her appearance would faze her. She, like most human girls, had been numbed to that sort of violence.

She’d probably have to come in and save him, by the looks of a few of the other patrons here…

He dissolved that idea. He couldn’t risk breaking his promise to her and regenerating on the spot if she was frozen, meant to witness. His superior genetics and all that may come with was no match for a gone-to-seed ex-rugby player nor someone who clearly worked security. As he finished his assessment of the crowd in the pub.

His mind games would have to play out in other ways still…

Just adjust the plans that he had. And take in the information Missy had pinged him.

The illusion of free will still reflected true, right?

His old pal, Plato did some allegory with a cave…sadly he wasn’t paying attention when the man was speaking. Missed the point, invented a self-lubricating spatula for flapjacks.

Oops.

He’d never say he was depriving her of that outright, no too controversial. Too salacious. Guidance, yes. A dual corruption arc? Definitely.

Daddy knows best, rung through his skull. An old line he told Kate about the poison to kill the Zygons…

Paternalistic? Yes.

How could he not be? A human is so young and weak compared to most species out there. Let alone him and his!

After all, he was her teacher. Her educator.

These thoughts, mixed with how strong she was fantasizing about fucking him, and her natural allure…he was shocked that he wasn’t bursting through his trousers, exposing himself to all to see.

He'd fuck her tonight. Not only did she clearly need it, but if he didn’t give in, he would probably act out.

He had fully surrendered himself to current path he was on. Yes.

He’d not destroy her entirely. Take away what enchanted him to her. That would be a sin graver than killing her outright. She had goals and dreams. They had discussed at such at length. He’d let her have those. So long as she’d never stray from his clingy side.

He half-wished he could summon a past version of himself, or perhaps a future without risking too much. Just to confer and pass back ideas.

All he had was Missy.

Or to sneak off and search for the Rani.

And they’d destroy him with zealous help.

No! He was alone in this path. Only solace was Missy and her enjoyment of his fawn and petty need to be good and please reform for her release. He walked his path utterly alone.

The evening wound itself up. The Doctor had to pounce. To claim what little of his fawn lay left unclaimed. Ruin her forever. Claim her indefinitely…

He paid their bill and ventured into the night.

A pep laid in his step, his cock still semi-stiff. He’d destroy her to rebuild her.

Teacher’s Pet.

He’d have his fun next term. Make her into a professor’s aide. Push her servile nature to him into a possibly public place. Show her off, perhaps even.

But for now? He was about ready to explode. His balls ached, and his hearts were full.

All in the name of love, right?

Or obsession…

Either way, still to have someone as alluring with such a firm form like (insert a description of your body, reader…) and a mind as hard in her ideals, but so easy to toy with?

Ecstasy…

#personal #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #12th doctor x you #you x 12th doctor #reader x 12th doctor #uhhhhh #yea #self insert #peter capaldi #yay #teacher student #i wrote this #i am not responsible for your milage may vary #hahaha

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hrrtshape · 13 days ago

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Hi it’s me…again °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

please get back to me ASAP (if you want) ⭑.ᐟ

I am kinda in this crisis at the moment and have no idea how to go about it.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

I used to like the idea that shifting and manifesting are the same thing, but it started to make me feel strange. I know this isn’t entirely accurate, but I tend to think of shifting as something separate from my reality here (of course). It’s hard to explain, but I just don’t love the idea of ‘shifting’ to another reality to get my dream job when I want to manifest it in this one.

☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆ ☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆ ☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

I don’t want to shift to a “fame DR” I want to manifest my acting job without feeling like I’m shifting instead of manifesting. It unsettles me because I can’t stop thinking about the other version of me in my previous reality who won’t get to see herself as an actress.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

I have this dream of becoming an excellent actress and doing so many beautiful movies and tv shows. There’s a tv series that I want my first acting career to take place but there’s no talk if it coming alive and if it does so many people will audition when that’s MY role. How can I go about this as someone who wants to manifest this and KNOW she’ll get it?

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉

To summarise;

I want to be a famous actress without shifting and scripting. I want to be in THIS reality..the reality I’m used too! Help me dear 𝒜𝓃𝑔ℯ𝓁.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

ok hi!??!!? you’re not crazy, you’re just having an ontological crisis on a saturday and that’s literally fine. this is just the nature of being a little freaky philosopher girly.

but let’s get down to brass tacks...... you don’t have to shift to be an actress. you don’t have to script. you don’t have to do anything except become the girl who gets the job. like. method act your own life. i am so serious. you want this role.... it’s yours. it already has your name stitched into the lining. if you believe it’s yours, the universe will literally fold itself like an origami swan to make it happen.

i get the whole weirdness of thinking about alternate yous left behind. i do, i really do, but you’re not abandoning anyone. you’re evolving. besides, you're shifting to a parallel reality every second. you’re moving with the narrative.

so, you walk into auditions like the part is already under your skin. you become the actress before the world even catches up. because the thing is, fame isn’t just some mystical shifting-only thing. it’s real. and it’s yours.

so go. go be the star. and idk i'd appreciate a shoutout in the oscar speech xx

#asks #emma motivates

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armpirate · 1 year ago

Text

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 1

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit.

Next >>

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 12 minutes

Chapter warnings: Audio porn, camboy, female masturbation, explicit talk

He looked at her with a weird smirk, that far from being cute and attractive made him look like an even bigger asshole. It wasn't like she was too into him when they started texting, but at least she wasn't disgusted by him like she was then.

She didn't care about picking him up at the station, when it was late at night, mainly because he had previously told her he was new in the city and he still didn't know how to move well around. And she also was able to laugh it off when he whistled at her from afar when she walked past him, instead of just calling out her name. Y/n could shrug it off, and blame it on him being new on dating apps and just meeting new people in general.

But there was something off around his vibes.

And she should've run when he started mentioning how desperate people in those dating apps were, and how lonely they should feel in their lives to recur to meeting strangers and trusting them. He had a point there. She shouldn't have trusted his nice talk at all, because that way she wouldn't have been in the uncomfortable moment she was in.

They both were walking next to each other, while Y/n grasped the fabric inside the pockets of her jacket while trying to hold herself back from giving a bad look or a bad response. Maybe he was just nervous, and he was just trying to break the ice between them.

—Shall we get in somewhere? —he suggested, walking past the line of several restaurants.

—I'm not really hungry —she shook her head, dropping a small nervous smile.

—Me neither —Jordan scoffed—. Let's just get something to drink somewhere. It's too cold to be walking around.

When his lips curved, and she was able to see his crooked teeth with a gentle smile, she chose to give it another chance. He was cute looking, with his tanned skin and his gleaming green eyes. She was being too harsh on him after just fifteen minutes.

Y/n insisted on going somewhere else when he stopped in front of an establishment with wide crystal walls that allowed to see the decoration inside. Although it seemed like a pub at first glance, she spotted some people sitting on the tables having pizzas and pasta. And even the empty tables had the cutlery placed in front of each chair, for the moment someone would take those seats. Despite her mentioning it probably wasn't the type of place they were looking for, Jordan carried on, convincing her that they'd be allowed to only have a drink.

Five minutes later after sitting and being handed the menu, she moved her eyes up at him.

—Let's get something to eat. We can share a pizza if you like —he closed his menu, pointing at hers with his chin—. Pick whatever you like.

—Are you sure? —she asked, eyeing the different types of pizzas they were offering— Is there something you don't like?

Her question was genuine. Because even though Jordan already said it was her choice, she wanted to pick something he'd be fine with eating.

He shook his head, and assured her he ate anything that was served in front of him. Still, she went for something safe and asked for a Pepperoni pizza when the waiter stopped by their table to take their order. Although Y/n would've hoped he had stayed for a bit longer when silence knocked at their table.

The darkness outside didn't allow her to see further than her own reflection on the window, but it was better than looking at Jordan's uncomfortable face as he found nothing to talk about. And it'd have been like that on the way to the bay if she hadn't brought up random topics, like asking for how long he had been in Boston and what was the reason that took him there. She wasn't the outgoing type, but she still found the way to build a conversation to fill the silence. She was showing some type of interest.

She couldn't say the same about him, when she found the lighting of his phone illuminating his face, after she turned to him.

She still gave it a pass. There was no point in discarding someone only because he was shy.

Jordan was also weird. After saying he didn't have a problem with any type of food, she found him taking the slices of pepperoni from his half of the pizza, and even poked into the cheese with his fork to take the remaining. And seeing him struggling with his food made her feel bad, because maybe she should've opted for a more basic option so his dinner wouldn't be ruined.

She regretted those thoughts three seconds later.

—I thought you said you weren't hungry —he commented, after she was done with her half.

Biting her tongue, she held back any type of rude response. Her eyebrows frowned slightly though, confused by the comment, and unable to know what she should answer to that.

They'd pay for that food anyway, was she expected to take a slice and then leave the rest of her half there?

She just giggled the comment away, moving her eyes over the restaurant and stopping at the TV placed at the corner where the counter ended. She had never been interested in football, but that day it seemed like the best entertainment for the night. Only moving her eyes back to her table when Jordan called her attention, after hearing two of the waiters speaking in Italian.

—You said you spoke Italian, right? —he hurriedly asked.

During one of their late night conversations, she did mention she spoke Italian. Not a big amount though. Just enough to keep a simple conversation, after being able to learn some words and understand the way their grammar worked after her ex-boyfriend explained it to her. Not like it was useful though, because when they went to Milan to meet his grandparents she barely used the language. Mattia adopted the role of the translator without giving her a chance to speak once.

—Well, I said I knew some words —she nervously smiled—. That's quite different.

—Why don't you ask for the bill in Italian? I bet they'll think it's pretty cool.

Or they'll think she's a dumbass mocking them.

She had nothing to lose though. She could give it a try, and not step inside that restaurant a single time again in her life.

Her pronunciation was poor, and she struggled with the words when the pressure of having all those eyes on her finally kicked her. And, while the waiter smiled gently and nodded after she was done, she heard a chuckle on her right that activated the last nerve.

—You tried, at least —he kept scoffing, shaking his head and drinking.

Her lips were pressed tight against each other, dying to set free all the mischievous words going through her head, but avoiding to make a scene.

She didn't fight to split the bill, she didn't comment on anything, Y/n just wanted to get back home, delete the dating app and forget that date ever happened.

—I'm not the type to fight. I really don't like violence. But if you're being an asshole, I have to bring you back to reality, you know?

Wow.

What was she even supposed to answer?

Y/n just nodded, seeing the light when she was able to spot her building from afar. But peace wasn't reaching her that easily yet.

She was ready to say goodbye, open the door and never see him again, but he sat at the small stairs that led to her door, lighting a cigarette and keeping the monologue while looking into the distance.

Maybe her skin was way too thin, but she couldn't find the way to feel interested about anything that was coming out of his mouth after what happened in the restaurant. Maybe she had been so hopeless about love after so many failing dates, that she found herself bothered at the slightest thing.

—I guess we'll meet again —he threw the cigarette to the road in between the two vehicles parked in front—. Next time you're the one paying —he reminded her.

—Sure, sure.

Before Jordan was able to hook her in a hug, she walked up the steps, looking for her keys in her bag and opening the door before she finally said goodbye to him.

—Get home safely.

If he expected to get in her bed that night, he'd have a shocking reality check.

A loud sigh and the keys tingling when she dropped them over the green sideboard at the entrance informed of her way back home, having Julius -a black cat with a bit of overweight-, peeking his head over the corner to confirm it was its owner uninterestedly.

After closing the door, she saw the golden hooks she bothered herself to hang so she wouldn't be leaving her keys anywhere. It was cute, and it went perfectly well with the style of the house, but she was so upset over the evening she had, that she couldn't find herself picking up the keys and hanging them there.

She could only pray Julius wouldn't jump over the sideboard and drag her keys to the floor, so he could play until he pushed them under the couch like the last time.

On her way to her room, where she was looking forward to hiding once she reached her bed, she felt her phone buzzing in her hand. Her head fell back with an exasperation moan when she saw the dickpic blasting on her screen.

What was even the reason for that bullshit?

Loverboy6577 shot higher than what he could reach. Well, at least he was straightforward and he wasn't wasting her time.

She snuggled inside her bed, finally taking the decision of deleting her profile and letting go of any possible hook up, or relationship, that could come with it. She wasn't going to be delusional anymore.

Boys just weren't worthy of her time.

At least not any that were at her reach, or realistic to her. That was what she convinced herself of when she found herself smiling excitedly when a notification popped up at the top of her screen over her social media.

*Soundleasure has just posted a video*

Reaching for her earpods inside the drawer of her nightstand, she lied on her back, clicking on the notification to be redirected to his page.

If someone in her circle knew she was wasting money on content like that, she'd probably be judged and dragged to shreds. Fuck, she was the type to laugh at people paying to consume that type of content before she found him through a random video in a porn site -after another failed date, unsurprisingly.

Dating was difficult, love was non-existent for the possible partners she had met. What was the point of wasting money and time going out with them, in exchange of some lame sex, when she could enjoy herself with a sexy voice and her own imagination?

When she first met him, it was cheaper. And it wasn't like he had many subscribers either. But his exposure increased with the passing of time, having her little secret increasing the pricing in subscriptions.

When she played the video, she was met with a completely dark screen -something usual from him. It was one of the things that attracted her the most, not being distracted by some random nudes or sex scenes, and being allowed to let the arousal properly build up.

—Was it a hard day today? —he asked.

Y/n's head instantly nodded to his question, feeling like he posted that video purposely for her and her mood, trying to make up for what the rest of the irky males around her made her go through. Although she probably would've been okay with his rough side as well, like some other times. She would've been happy with whatever was the mood of his audio.

—Hmm, does my baby want me to make her feel better? —he rustled softly, caressing her ears so gently that she moved her head to the side, as if he was actually next to her.

His breathing was light, before the sound of his pecks came. At some point she swore she could even feel his lips against her skin, washing the tension away with every kiss.

—I'll make it better, babe —he assured through the mic—. Let me kiss you.

She loved his content, but that part always took her out, turning her into a giggling ball while cringing over the sound of his lips trying to mimic the sound of a wet kiss, gasping for air with every move. It helped her to get an idea of what his lips looked like though. They probably were a pale pink, adopting a darker tone after a make out session that could suck their souls.

He proceeded to describe how he moved down her neck, worshiping every centimeter of exposed skin in her body until he reached the elastic of her panties. She could perfectly picture a pair of fierce eyes looking over her mount, before he asked:

—Can I take it off?

Along with his audio, her pants and panties were long gone under the sheets, going in sync with his voice.

—Look at you, so wet already —he groaned.

The mix of his heavy breathing, mixed to the wet sounds coming from her core when she slipped her fingers through her slit, almost made her back arch.

All her hairs raised when she heard his breathing cutting off before he sucked on something, skillfully moving his tongue and sucking his lips onto her hard button -that was trapped in the slow circles two of her fingers kept tracing.

—You taste so good —his words were followed by another open-mouthed kiss—. I'll make you feel alright. I gotcha, babe.

He spitted, making her tiptoes curl when she imagined his spit rolling down her folds before he sank his face into her core again. Her fingers kept moving over her clit, mimicking the twirls of his tongue, wishing for the millionth time that it wasn't only an audio, but a reality.

—Cum on my tongue. I'll make you cum on my cock after.

Along with his voice and his sounds, her back arched and her pussy clenched around nothing as she allowed the pleasure to invade her after he motioned her to cum.

She still went on with the audio, touching herself to mimic the situation he was settling for her, trying to make it as real and vivid as possible while she heard his groans and moans when he slipped his cock in her. It was insane for her how he was able to have her moaning, pressing her thighs together when she finger fucked herself while listening to his whimperings and praises.

There was only one problem there, and it was that she bet her moans would sound perfectly mixed with his in that audio, while they did in real life what he was promising in the video.

Maybe it was her low self-esteem for the night acting up, or maybe her brain was still fried by the two orgasms he helped her having, but she only felt encouraged to enter his profile while she was still recovering, unstable breathing while she tried to type a message for him.

Usually, he just seemed so out of reach. Soundleasure was a thing, she forgot he was even a person after cumming. He was just content that she consumed, because she felt lonely and needy, and no real man would make her reach her high the way he did with his voice only. But it didn't seem like she thought like that that night.

"Good video... But maybe next time you could have my moans in it" she wrote in his private message.

Y/n didn't want to think about it too deeply after sending it. If he answered, good. If he didn't, then he'd keep being that content she consumed randomly at night when loneliness knocked at her door.

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saber-monet · 4 months ago

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Hey I came across your post about embracing the “manifestation coincidences”, and one about making sure to not be unfazed by how well things play out. I’d like to ask how you make peace with the ‘insanity’ of it? Bc I think I’ve shifted to a higher timeline and now am living a better reality. But I spent the last 2 days looking up parallel universes on reddit & now I’m scared I’m going to run into my doppelganger and get killed or that I’m actually supposed to have died in my actual universe.. I’m scared and I can’t talk about it with anyone in fear of them suddenly turning into a demon just like in horror films.

Hey! First of all, everything you’re experiencing is more common than you might think, especially for people who, like me, grew up skeptical or secular about spirituality and are only just now exploring it. Shifting your mindset and embracing manifestation can feel so surreal at first—like you’re stepping into something “forbidden” just by allowing yourself to believe that things can work out in your favor.

I went through the exact same thing when I started three years ago; I felt paranoid, like I was breaking some unspoken rule just by thinking positively. I promise—you’re not going to run into a doppelgänger or anything bad. That’s just your mind processing a huge new perspective.

One thing that’s helped me is thinking of the “surrealness” you’re describing as an emotion, like anxiety or sadness. It can feel jarring, but it’s temporary and will pass. When I feel that surrealness creeping in, I just acknowledge it: “Yeah, this feels weird right now, but it’s going to end soon.” I know my mind will eventually latch onto a less intense thought process, and things will go back to ‘normal’, and so will yours—sometimes in 30 seconds, other times in a couple of minutes. but you will feel fine again.

Also, if affirmations work for you, lean into those! Remind yourself that you’re safe and fully capable of handling these new feelings. It’s all part of the process, and you’re going to get more and more comfortable with it.

And honestly, one tip? Steer clear of Reddit or anything that brings up new fears. I stay away from things that make me question my safety and, instead, focus on what feels grounding and calming, whether that was music, a walk, cooking, talking out loud or even talking to chatgpt helps me (there's a voice call option on the app so you can talk to it like a real person)—anything to keep me from overthinking.

i treat myself like a worried child, what would you say/do to a worried child to make them feel better? You would tell them everything's gonna be OK, put on their favorite comforting TV show/movie/musical, give them a snack, you remind them that you're here for them and that eventually they will laugh about this moment in the future etc.

Watching Abraham Hicks Workshop Excerpt videos helped me so much too (she talks a lot about exactly this topic, and if you’re interested, I can DM you a link, just message me). And these videos, she speaking to people who have gone through the exact same thing that you're going through and had the exact same questions/ concerns/ stories about reality creation.

Her seminars really put into perspective that I wasn’t alone, and neither are you. You will make sense of this experience. You'll know what works for you and what doesn't. It's a personalized journey.

You’re in good company, and there’s an entire global community of people who get exactly what you’re going through. Trust that you’re okay, you're being properly guided each step of the way and give yourself permission to enjoy the experience. You're not the first person or the last person to go through stuff like this.

There's a lot of older people who have gone through the " awakening process" and have reacted differently to it. Some become monks/teachers, others use it to grow their business and achieve their goals, others just use it here and there to get the things that they want and live a relatively normal life, and some never use it again . Don't feel overwhelmed by it, you have the choice on how you wish to proceed .

(also I'm going to dive into this topic in another post im currently working on: but you can ask for less synchronicity and for things to go back to “normal”. Just because you've learned this new information and this new way of interacting with reality doesn't mean that you have to continue if you don't want to. ( Yes, you have lifted the metaphorical "veil" but you can also put it back down)

Also, please reach out , or anybody reading this post, if you wanna chat. I did this alone, I got to this place of balance, reassurance and comfort alone, and I would have really like to have somebody to talk to so I'm here if you need me.

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spacingoutforever · 9 months ago

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i was watching TWD edits and a thought struck me i had to post it here in honor of ghoulcy week!!!!

***POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE WALKING DEAD***

if you're not a walking dead fan im sorry bare with me lolol

BUT i couldnt help but feel that theres parallels between daryl and beth's arc and ghoulcy LIKE !!!! DO WE REMEMBER THISSS

beth was this soft sunshiney personality and had to quickly adapt to the harshness of surviving as soon as she left her family's farm (like lucy living in the safety of her vault her whole life) so beth never got the chance to experience the raw horrors that loomed outside that. she was young, naive, SO kind to a fault. but when her and daryl were in closer proximity, i remember how much chemistry they had!!!!

they drank together, had heated arguments. but taught each other something. exchanging their views on humanity. daryl goes out of his way to disgust her and prove how much he doesnt deserve affection, kindness or love.

WHICH IMO parallels how the ghoul pokes & prods at lucy to test her resilience, to maintain this image of him being a monster. an effort that seems like hes proving to himself that kindness is useless. a disgarded luxury of the past. that if you have any of those qualities theyd be snuffed out in an instant. or worse... get you killed.

daryl and the ghoul have some similarities that i find kinda endearing, because i love both of them - their gruffness, endurance, loner qualities, the list goes on. their pasts are different but their approaches to a post apocalyptic world are similar (daryl takes himself more seriously ofc).

it was hinted very strongly that they were more than just friends - to this day i believe had beth survived, theyd be a romantic pairing. but i know why she didnt, unlike fallout, TWD had to prove that the world WAS indeed dark and hopeless for the sake of that universe. its why i love it.

fallout, rather, has enough satire and weirdness to allow this kind of dynamic to flourish. i mean just look at how the game allows sole survivor to flirt/romance the companions 😭

anyways, call me delusional, but i am holding out hope for s2 so badly & cannot wait to see how the story unfolds x

happy ghoulcy week!!!!!

#twd spoilers #fallout #fallout prime #ghoulcy #brainworm #i cant stop thinking about this #yes i was a daryl x beth shipper idc

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iguessitsjustme · 1 month ago

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The Boy Next World Ep 1 Thoughts

I liveblogged the last MAME show I watched so why not continue the tradition. Depending on how this goes I may or may not actually continue liveblogging. We will see. I’m typically very critical of MAME shows, so as always and especially for shows I anticipate being critical of, liveblog is under the cut:

I swear to god if one more truck sits and idles outside my apartment that literally shakes my apartment, I’m just gonna go walk into the lake. Can’t vibrate me there stupid trucks.

Oh this starts intense. I should let it be known now that I am going into this blind. Well mostly blind. I think there’s a parallel world involved? But that’s all I got. So this man is…well he’s going through it, clearly.

Mr. Sandman. Man me a sand. Man car door hook hand.

UMBRELLA SPOTTED

That’s why you bring your own umbrella mr. nice sweater man. i will trade you one umbrella for that sweater.

People are now yelling outside my apartment. Someone should tell them how cold it is because I don’t think they know.

Okay actually obsessed with this

I am in love with this opening actually

Oh that cute little scene twas a dream? I’m jealous. When I dream, I get little nightmare creatures that genuinely have no business being in anyone’s subconscious. Terrifying little demons. Get those things out of my head. Replace it with wholesome dreams where I’m cuddling a gorgeous person please and thank.

Yep. I also yell at my alarm(s). Every morning. Universal experience.

Here’s the thing. I don’t have specific underwear but I do have specific outfits for my day. I typically rotate between two outfits for each day of the week and I alternate weeks. It’s just easier to not have to make that decision every day. I ignored that today though. Not a single blue item of clothing which is not normal for me. So while it’s not because of superstition, I get where this dude is coming from with needing his specific orange underwear for the day. I get it.

And he still doesn’t have an umbrella. My guy. My dude.

Honestly if someone came to me and told me that we were lovers in a parallel world, I would probably fully commit to the bit. Would I believe them? Probably not, but I would still be asking so many questions about their world. I would be so curious.

Oh I actually really liked this. I liked the acknowledgement at the end when Cir was like “oh yeah. I’m a stranger to you.” He kept on going but at least he recognized that maybe things are a bit weird for Phu. Anyway I find this premise fascinating. I will watch the next episode…when I feel like it. No idea when that will be.

#the boy next world #the boy next world the series #the boy next world series #rae liveblogs #rae liveblogs the boy next world #i actually can't wait to watch the next episode #might watch it this weekend #i did watch the first episode yesterday and then immediately went to bed #i think seeing phu dream made me sleepy

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blindbatalex · 10 months ago

Text

a little marcheron au for your sunday

Brad wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee.

For a moment still lost in half-sleep, he wonders whether and when he bought a magical coffee machine that brews coffee all by itself, before his present reality comes crashing back to him.

Patrice.

Right.

He rolls out of bed and pads his way to the kitchen, stretching, and sure enough, there Patrice is by the stove. He is wearing basketball shorts and the same gray t-shirt he had on last night before he bid Brad good night and went to sleep in the guest bedroom. The line of his shoulders is unfamiliar. He is still an athletic guy, obviously, but don’t play pro hockey for four years and your body will broadcast the fact to the world, all on its own.

He must sense Brad’s presence because he turns around, a disheveled, domestic look on his face, which soon enough, is adorned by a smile.

“Morning.”

Man, that still feels weird. Like, really fucking weird.

Then again, it does appear to mean that Brad is getting breakfast out of it in addition to coffee. Something sweet is sizzling on the stove and the kitchen smells wonderful.

“Morning,” Brad greets back, making his way over to see what Patrice is making for himself. Pancakes…judging by the smell?

No, not pancakes. Crepes.

“Bergy,” Brad says, his voice pitched low. He can’t help himself, he is only human, and fuck him, these are some serious crepes. Some put any French chef to shame, prepare to die of happiness and reach heaven level crepes.

All of this must show on his face too, because Patrice snickers, practically beaming with pride.

“Thought a treat might be in order.”

Happiness looks good on him, in any universe. He reaches with a hand to brush back his hair and the wedding band on his finger catches the morning light.

It’s too much. All of this–

Brad runs a hand through his own hair, taking in the jar of Nutella sitting on the counter, the box of powdered sugar and the bowl of strawberries.

He pops one into his mouth.

Patrice cooking – who would have thought?

“Okay, I don’t mean to be like, offensive, but last I remember you could barely crack an egg without setting the kitchen on fire,” he says, watching Patrice open the jar. “How did this…happen?”

Patrice gives him a pained look – one he quickly folds away. This must be just as weird for him. One moment you are watching your…husband suffer a nasty head injury on the ice; an hour later, he has no memory of the last four years of his life. Which is of course, not exactly true, Brad remembers those years alright – it’s just that he didn’t think telling the doctors ‘oh yeah I guess I have been thrown into a parallel universe or something’ would make them want to let him go back on the ice any time soon.

“I had time on my hands.”

That’s just– fuck. He had time on his hands. Of course he had time on his hands. He had to stop playing hockey at 28 because he got hurt so badly he almost died. Brad’s been here for a few days now and it still makes him furious. Still feels fucking illegal.

He reaches for another strawberry to distract himself but Patrice swats his hand away with a tut.

“Patience, babe.”

Patience. Somebody should have told him that that has never been among Brad’s virtues.

“I’m gonna get the coffees,” Brad declares, trying not to feel like there is a hive of bees under his skin doing their level best to burst out.

He opens a cupboard and is faced with plates and bowls. He does not know this house. He opens another and finds the mugs. Specifically, in the first row, are two matching mugs – navy blue with a golden looping B inscribed on one and an M on the other.

Jesus Christ.

He takes them out. Pours them coffee just as Patrice starts walking to the kitchen table with the two plates in his hand.

They sit down.

“How did you sleep?”

Patrice shrugs. He looks tired – and there is only one person to blame.

“Comme ci comme ça. You?”

French? Is that who they are? Does Patrice sprinkle in the occasional French into their conversation these days? Has Brad – this place’s Brad – been learning it for him? Then again, what does he know what Bergy was like in his romantic relationships, in his own universe?

And–

It is kind of cute.

“Oui monsieur, s’il te plaît, ooh lala,” he replies, drawing a groan from Patrice, but it’s okay because he is laughing too, just a little bit. His laughter sounds like music. It always has.

“Eat your food – before I divorce you.”

Brad gasps.

“You would never. You love me.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, Brad regrets them. Bergy sighs. It carries zero heat, betrayed by a crooked, fond, unbearable smile.

Still, there is nothing for it – he takes a bite of his crepes. They are perfect. Crisp but still somehow soft and just the right amount of chewy.

He sets his fork down, forces himself to take a long, slow but discrete breath.

“Did I threaten to break up with you unless you learned how to feed me or what?”

He aims for a teasing tone and fails completely. Patrice’s smile turns strained. He always could sense when something was wrong.

“No, of course not,” Patrice replies, instinctively covering Brad’s hand on the table with his. “I was um– I wanted to thank you, I suppose.”

Brad has to look away.

“For what?”

Not that he doesn’t know the answer. It’s just–

“Brad, we don’t have to talk about this right now. Let’s just eat.”

Yeah, probably because Brad must look like a pathetic child, ready to break down in tears any moment now. But he needs to know. He needs to hear it. He forces himself to meet Bergy’s eyes again.

“Please.”

Patrice is still looking back at him like he thinks this is a monumentally bad idea, but he never could say no to Brad, not when Brad asks it like that.

“When I had to stop playing hockey, you were there for me,” Patrice says evenly. “You were sort of, the only reason I made it out of that year alive, if I’m honest. I wanted to– I know you like crepes.”

Because apparently, that’s how they got together. Brad made it his life’s mission to be there for Bergy when Bergy got hurt. In the process they got close. In the process Bergy fell in love.

And the thing is, they are really good crepes. Exactly how Brad likes them. He has dreamt about this actually. Patrice making breakfast for him. Patrice doting on him, kissing him. A life they would get to share.

And now that he has it, he wants to smash it all into pieces.

He is just not worth the price. He never was.

#hockey rpf #marcheron #my fic #this would make a rly nice fully fleshed out at - TBD

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