#honestly i feel like everyone will hate me for this

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part fourteen | r.c

summary:

“That your parents?”

“No,” you replied, subtly angling your phone away from Topper as you declined the call. “Not important.”

The screen just turned black before it lit up again, the ringtone loud as it announced another call from JJ. Good lord.

“Must be pretty important,” Topper mused and you only sighed, accepting the call.

“What.”

OR; Your secrets come to light. One way or another.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader, jj maybank x reader (I feel like I should've added this sooner oh well)

warnings: bike crash (LOL) with minor injuries, angst, alluding to drug use, mini pov switch at the end (oh?👀)

word count: 3.4k

author's note: honestly i didn’t think id update again so soon, but here we are. also shoutout to @inthelibrarybtw for guessing the chapter’s title. you’re a day one-r and i love and appreciate you being with me from the start (she’s not the only one, there’s a few; you know who you are!🩷) happy reading!! 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. fourteen: “like you don’t even exist”

You had never lied to Rafe before. And not telling him you were in love with him didn’t count. That wasn’t a lie. It was a secret. No, you never actively lied to him about something as trivial as who you were spending time with. What even was the reason? That you knew Rafe hated JJ’s guts and you were trying to save yourself some drama? Or was it just the kind of friendship you and Rafe now had? The one where you didn’t tell him things.

“Honey?”

You lifted your eyes from your plate, where you had spent the last five minutes pushing your steak around, to see your parents look at you expectantly.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Your parents had taken you to Charleston over the weekend, something about spending more time with the family and whatnot. Normally, you’d drag your feet, spending a whole weekend away with just your parents, a fight almost inevitable. But this time, you actually appreciated the short trip. It was nice to get away from everyone for a bit. And for once, you didn’t have to come up with an excuse not to see your friends. Also you couldn’t quite look JJ in the eyes yet without feeling guilty that you had thought of Rafe when you almost hooked up with him. In some way, you were sure JJ wouldn’t actually mind. He’d probably find it hilarious.

“I was just asking if everything was alright with your food, you haven’t even taken a bite,” your father asked, his brow raised.

“Oh.”

You put the cutlery down, leaning back in your chair. “Food is fine. I’m just not really hungry. Sorry,” you said with an apologetic tone, pushing the plate away from you.

“Is everything okay with you?” your mother asked, and you looked at her in surprise. If your mother was concerned, things must be really serious. “You’ve seemed upset lately.”

“I know you feel like you’re too old to spend time with us especially since your brother left, but we really appreciate you coming along. We know you’d rather spend time with your friends,” your father added. Hearing him say that made you feel a little guilty because you actually weren’t even mad about being here with them, but before you could reply, someone laid their hand on your shoulder. You looked up quickly, because there was no way a stranger would just touch you like this, just to see Topper and his grandpa stand behind you.

“Look who we have here,” Judge Holden spoke cheerfully and your parents quickly stood to greet him.

“Judge, what a surprise!” your father exclaimed, shaking the Judge’s hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” you said, pushing your chair back to stand, leaning into Topper when he wrapped his arms around you for a hug. “I didn’t know you were in Charleston tonight.”

“Well, you haven’t really been talking to me lately, so how was I supposed to tell you?”

Ouch.

His words were biting, but when he pulled away, you could see the hurt in his eyes. You definitely deserved that. Considering he was one of your best friends, his been treating him like a distant acquaintance.

“Judge, why don’t you sit down, have a glass of wine with us,” your mother asked and Topper’s grandpa didn’t let her ask him twice before he sat down at your chair.

“You kids will be fine on your own, right?” your father said, effectively dismissing you as you and Topper exchanged glances, with him extending his arm for you to walk ahead. So much for quality family time.

You exited the restaurant onto the side walk, thinking some fresh air would do you good. Topper walked next to you in silence, his hands stuffed in his pockets. You knew what was coming, so you stayed quiet, trying to push the inevitable lecture back for as long as possible.

“So I’m assuming you and Rafe broke off whatever you were doing?”

Well, that wasn’t long.

Lifting your head, you glanced at him, but he only stared back at you, waiting for you to answer.

“That obvious, huh?” you deadpanned and Topper rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“I’m not gonna say I told you so, but honestly, what were you thinking?”

That stepping over this boundary would make Rafe stop seeing you only as is best friend? That he would realize he loved you too? Or maybe you weren’t thinking at all. You didn’t know which of these made you sound dumber. God, you really were a walking cliché, weren’t you?

“I know,” you said quietly, turning away because embarassment was burning your cheeks. You felt like you were five again, getting scolded by your mom because you took too much candy, because in a way, you were. It just wasn’t candy that you wanted.

“You know it sucks not having you around,” Topper pointed out, his voice softening. “Your feminine energy is missing and it throws our whole dynamic off.”

His attempt at lightening the mood made you snort out a laugh, and Topper only shrugged with his shoulders, pleased that he was able to cheer you up a little.

“I’m sorry,” you said, sighing. “I hate all of this and I miss spending time with you. I just don’t know how to be around Rafe right now, which is weird for me and-”

You were interrupted mid-word, when your phone started ringing and as you pulled it out of your purse, thinking it might be your parents asking where you were, JJ’s name flashed across the screen.

“That your parents?”

“No,” you replied, subtly angling your phone away from Topper as you declined the call. “Not important.”

The screen just turned black before it lit up again, the ringtone loud as it announced another call from JJ. Good lord.

“Must be pretty important,” Topper mused and you only sighed, accepting the call.

“What.”

“Aw, you don’t sound happy to hear from me,” JJ whined into the phone, surely with the matching pout.

“What am I, your wife?” you asked dryly and JJ chuckled.

“Do you want to be?”

You bit back a grin with an eye roll, turning away from Topper when he raised a brow at you. You hoped to god he couldn’t hear JJ over the phone. That really was the last thing you needed.

“What do you want?”

“Can’t I just call because I miss your voice?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait wait wait, okay,” JJ stopped you with a laugh. “I just wanted to ask when you’re gonna be back. It’s weird not having you around.”

“It’s a common effect I have on people,” you teased. “Honestly, though, I’m not sure when I’ll be back. My parents didn’t exactly give me an itinerary for this weekend. But I’ll let you know, okay?”

“’kay. See you Sunday then, the latest.”

“Bye,” you spoke into your phone before hanging up, shaking your head a little. What an idiot. As you put your phone back into your purse, you could feel Topper’s eyes on you, and when you looked up, his lips were draw in a tight line, displaying how unhappy he was.

Great, so he heard everything.

“Maybank? Really?”

You bit back a groan, surely that would not help your situation right now.

“What about him?” you asked back and Topper rolled his eyes.

“Do I have to remind you of the last time you were standing between JJ and Rafe?”

You frowned at him, pursing your lips. “Yes. Because I never stood between them.”

“Don’t play stupid. Rafe almost blew a casket when he saw JJ working the spring fling, and now you’re seeing him? Worse, you’re keeping it from Rafe?”

Now it was your turn, to roll your eyes.

“Are you doing this just to get back at Rafe?”

His words hit you hard, the way he intended, you were sure.

“What? No! This has nothing to do with Rafe!”

That wasn’t completely true. It had everything to do with Rafe. But not in the way Topper was thinking. Clenching your fists, you felt your nails dig into the flesh of your palm, the pain calming you a little bit.

Not the time and place to have a screaming match. You exhaled deeply, unclenching your hands.

“Look, just… Don’t tell him yet, okay? He’s gonna flip out, just let me deal with it,” you asked Topper. “You know I’m better at that.”

Topper puffed out a breath, like he was contemplating your request. In a way, you knew you were asking him to keep this from Rafe, but you also knew that Topper dropping this bomb on Rafe would be catastrophic. It seemed liked Topper came to the same conclusion before he begrudgingly agreed.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you really do have to tell him, Precious and I mean it.”

“I promise.”

You intended to keep that promise, you did. But everything got so hectic when you got back to Kildare and you never got around to telling Rafe. Yes, you could have texted him, but wasn’t this the kind of conversation you had face to face?

Topper [05/25/24: 11:49 am]: did you tell him yet?

With a sigh, you swiped the message away, tossing your phone in your purse and got out of your car. Later, you told yourself. Right now, you had to make sure JJ wouldn’t kill himself during this motorcycle race.

When he had originally told you he wanted to sign up, you tried your best to convince him not to. His bike was in no condition to win a race. But he had set his mind on it, vowing to win the race and to take you out for a nice dinner on Figure Eight. I can buy myself a nice dinner, you had wanted to say, but didn’t. Not like you wanted to start a fight.

Fortunately though, you and Sarah managed to convince John B to race with JJ, keeping his back free. That eased your worries, if only slightly. Walking down the dunes of the beach, you quickly found JJ and his friends standing around his and John B’s bike at the sidelines, talking strategy.

“- so if you’ve got my back, I got a real shot.”

“What kind of miracle work are you trying to do here?”

JJ lifted his head, grinning when he saw you. “No miracle here, just plain ol’e racing skills.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms as you stopped next to Sarah and Kiara, watching Pope and John B fuss over his bike before you turned to the girls.

“I take it you didn’t manage to talk him out of it yet.”

“Have you seen him?” Kiara scoffed, gesturing towards JJ. Which… Fair.

You gave JJ a look as you walked towards him, placing your hand on his chest.

“JJ.”

“No, you vixen, you’re not seducing me out of this,” JJ protested, though his hands find your waist. “I’m doing this race and there’s nothing you can do to talk me out of it.”

“You sure?”

Your hand creeped up his neck, before your fingers tilted his chin down, so you could lean up to kiss him. JJ groaned into your mouth, but he made no move to pull away.

“What the hell?”

You two broke apart, your heart starting to race as soon as you recognized his voice, willing for someone else to stand in front of you, but of course, it was Rafe.

He stomped towards you, dressed in biking gear from head to toe, Topper and Kelce hot on his heels. You should’ve know they’d be here. This was on you.

Rafe stopped only a few feet from you, his eyes darting from you to JJ and back, before his gaze set on you. In the back, Topper and Kelce exchanged nervous glances.

“So this was who you were hanging out with that night?” Rafe asked his voice rising. His question was posed in a way you knew he didn’t want an answer to. And honestly, even if he did, you weren’t sure what to say.

Rafe was angry. Angrier than you’d seen him before, acting a little erratic, his eyes wild. And something else was different. He’d never talked to you like this before.

To others, sure. You? Never.

Next to you, JJ tensed, trying to push himself in front of you, his friends at your back, unsure what to do, but you gently gave JJ a shove to the back, stepping in front of him to face Rafe.

“You lied to me? For him?”

He gestured towards JJ with his hand, not even sparing him a glance, like he wasn’t even there. No, Rafe’s attention, and his anger was all aimed at you. You opened your mouth to say something, but it was like your brain short-circuited.

“Come on, Rafe, chill,” Topper said coming to your rescue. From the back, he flexed his hand around Rafe’s shoulder, trying to de-escalate the situation, subtly pulling him away from you. “Precious probably just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Clearly, the words had the opposite effect because Rafe turned towards Topper, his eyes narrowing.

“Did you know about this?”

“I…” Topper trailed off, his eyes finding yours, which Rafe was quick to notice.

“Great, what an amazing group of friends I have,” Rafe exclaimed melodramatically, turning to Kelce. “You hooking up with any of them, too?”

Kelce gave Rafe a look, lifting both of his hands as he shook his head. “Hey man, keep me out of this.”

Rafe scoffed before looked back at you, like he was expecting an answer. You knew he’d react badly, but this was on another level.

“Rafe, please, can we have a civil conversation about this?” you asked him, almost pleading.

But the boomboxes around the track cracked to life before Rafe could answer.

“Attention all racers, please take your place at the start line, the race is about to start!”

The announcement broke through the disagreement like a dull knife and you pressed your lips together as you looked at Rafe. But he only shook his head, letting out a huff.

“Whatever.”

He shouldered past Topper roughly without another word, heading to his bike, leaving you at a loss for words. Topper glanced at you, his eyes saying more than he ever could with his mouth before following Rafe. Only Kelce lingered by you, his eyes flickering to JJ before he asked: “Are you okay?”

You put up a smile, nodding. “Yeah, fine. Go. I’ll be okay.”

Kelce hesitated. You knew you weren’t convincing him, part of you wished he’d refuse your words, stay with you, but then he only nodded, walking off. The lump in your throat grew, and you tried to swallow it when you felt JJ’s hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” he said gently, and you cleared your throat, the people in front of you dispersing, giving you a perfect look on Rafe, as he sat on his bike, pulling his helmet over his head.

“‘course, yeah.”

“Good luck kiss?”

Your eyes averted from Rafe to see JJ looking at you expectantly, one brow raised. Sighing softly, you leaned in to press a soft smooch on his lips, but before you could pull away, JJ grabbed your waist, deepening the kiss. After a few seconds, he pulled away, giving you his signature grin and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Rafe turning away from you.

“Alright, let’s win this thing,”

“Just be careful, okay?”

You knew Rafe was out for blood, and while he was so mad at you right now, he wouldn’t hurt you. JJ though? You weren’t so sure about that.

“Ah, don’t worry princess, I’ll get back to you in one piece,” JJ said with a wink, before he and John B lead their bikes towards the startling line.

“This isn’t gonna end well, is it?” Sarah asked, coming up to stand next to you. You let your eyes wander over the racers, a mixture off Pogues and Kooks, JJ and John B, Rafe and Topper. As you crossed your arms over your chest, you shook your head.

“Not a chance.”

The shot of the gun announcing the start of the race made you jump a little, all the bikes racing down the beach. Surprisingly, JJ was at the front of the group, making a headstart as they crossed into the woody parts of the beach, cutting off any chance of seeing more.

It wasn’t long until the the group of racers returned to the part of the beach the viewers could see, however it wasn’t JJ at the front anymore, but Rafe.

“What the hell?” you muttered, your eyebrows creasing.

“Look, John B is third,” Sarah pointed out, gently shaking your shoulder. “JJ must have just fallen behind.”

“Right,” you muttered, as Rafe came closer to the finish goal. But then, a loud, and just all too familiar engine roared, a bike flying over the small river bank, and it was like everything was in slow motion when JJ flew through the air, clinging to his bike, his one and only lifeline.

“What…?” Pope muttered, facepalming and you nearly couldn’t watch, but your eyes were glued to JJ, until he finally landed on the sand back on the track, a little inelegant, albeit safely, just in front of Rafe.

“Holy fuck, did that really just happen?” Kiara asked, covering her mouth as JJ’s bike sped forwards.

“Is JJ actually gonna win?” Sarah muttered, and you only shrugged with your shoulders, though it seemed like Rafe wasn’t able to catch up with JJ, his front wheel just barely catching up with JJ’s tail.

JJ threw his fist up briefly, no doubt to celebrate his win prematurely, but just as both of his hands curled around the steering wheel again, Rafe sped up his bike, crashing it into the back of JJ’s sending them of them flying off their bikes. They both landed in the sand with a thud, the remaining racers driving past them, with Topper reaching the finish line first.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, your hand flying to your mouth. Your feet moved towards them automatically, your eyes flickering towards Rafe like on instinct, but he already was up on his feet, pulling his helmet off his head. JJ on the other hand, rolled over on his back, groaning out in pain.

“Are you insane?” you hissed at Rafe, scanning him from top to bottom for any visible injuries. “You could have killed yourself.”

You didn’t wait for an answer, kneeling down on the sand next to you JJ, your forehead creasing in worry.

“Are you okay?”

JJ didn’t reply, slowly pulling his helmet off before he looked at you, the corner of his lips tugging into a grin. “Princess, you really take my breath away.”

You let out a shaky laugh, sitting down in relief. You didn’t know what you would have done if JJ was seriously hurt, knowing Rafe had lashed out because of your fight. If anything had happened to JJ, it would’ve been your fault.

“Wait, how’s my bike?” JJ asked, his eyes widening. You looked over his bike, a small trail of smoke coming from it. It definitely had seen better days.

“Let’s worry about you first,” you said, changing the topic. “Do you think you can stand?”

As you helped him stand, arms supporting his waist, his friends finally rushed over. From a distance, Rafe stood in the sand, his helmet in his limp hands, staring at you as Topper stomped towards him, his own helmet jammed under his arm.

“I know she lied to you, and I’m sorry for my part in it,” Topper said in a somber voice. “But don’t you think that was too far?”

Rafe finally tore his eyes away from you to meet Topper’s, his lips pressed in a line. His thoughts were still a bit hazy, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the fall, or the line he did with Barry before he came here, but he never felt more justified in his actions.

“Wasn’t far enough.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: THOUGHTS??

[mikkies]

「 I DON'T SHOW IT, BUT, I'M LUCKY TO HAVE YOU. 」

007n7 x GN! Kinda mean! Reader

warnings: none! (that my beta reader knows of)

notes: not a request, but I had this really funny thought that 007n7 probably sulks in the grass ew someone who goes outside with all the bugs as his true friends HEH... Anyways reader is kinda mean since I based them off of my friend who's a total asshat but deeply cares 🫶

THIS WAS HELL. And that’s a statement everyone could agree with.

You couldn’t help but notice 007n7. Among all the others trapped in this endless nightmare, he was the one who stood out for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t just his past, though that was enough to keep everyone at arm’s length—it was his awkwardness, his tendency to isolate himself, his son, and the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Most people avoided him, and honestly, you didn’t blame them. His reputation preceded him, and there was no denying he could be irritating.

But there was something about him that made you pause. Maybe it was the loneliness in his eyes or the way he seemed desperate for some sort of connection, even if he pretended otherwise.

Not that you’d admit you noticed. No way. You weren’t about to let him—or anyone else—think you cared.

You had your own problems to deal with, and the last thing you needed was to get involved with someone like him.

Still, you couldn’t completely ignore him. Not when he was sitting out in the grass by himself again, away from the warmth of the campfire and the chatter of the others.

“What are you doing out here?” you asked, crossing your arms as you approached him.

Your tone was sharp, almost accusatory, but that was just how you were. It wasn’t like you cared or anything. You just… couldn’t stand to see someone acting so pathetic.

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “Oh, hey! I didn’t see you there.” He gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I just needed some air, I guess. The camp gets a little… crowded.”

“Hmph.” You frowned, glancing around. “You’re going to get eaten alive by bugs out here.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t mind,” he said with a shrug. “At least they don’t hate me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. Nobody hates you.”

He gave you a look that said he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to the grass, picking at a blade absentmindedly.

The silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you considered leaving. But something kept you there.

Maybe it was the way he looked so… defeated. Or maybe it was just the bugs. Yeah, that was it. You couldn’t let him sit out here and get eaten alive. Not that you cared or anything.

“Move over,” you said, plopping down beside him without waiting for an invitation.

He blinked at you in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you from doing something stupid,” you replied, your tone brusque. “You’re not going to get anywhere by sulking out here by yourself.”

He looked at you for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what your angle was. But then he smiled, a small, genuine smile that made something in your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

You scoffed, turning your gaze away. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not doing this for you. I just… don’t want to deal with you dragging everyone down.”

“Right,” he said, still smiling.

You crossed your arms, glaring at a spot in the distance. You didn’t care about him. Not at all. But if sitting here with him for a little while would keep him from looking so pathetic, well, you supposed you could tolerate it. Just this once.

As the minutes ticked by, the two of you sat in an uneasy silence. You could feel his gaze on you occasionally, but you pretended not to notice. Instead, you focused on the rustling of the leaves, the hum of insects, and the faint flicker of the campfire in the distance.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly,” you said dryly, shooting him a sideways glance. “You’re a picture of mental stability, sitting out here all alone and talking to bugs.”

He chuckled, a weak sound that made you feel a pang of guilt. “Fair point.”

You hesitated, then sighed. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing, but… if you need to talk or something, I guess I can listen.”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say. Then he smiled again, softer this time. “Thanks. That… means a lot.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m just… bored, that’s all.”

“Right,” he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

The two of you lapsed into silence again, but this time, it felt a little less awkward.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension in your shoulders easing as you leaned back on your hands and looked up at the sky.

The stars were faint, barely visible through the haze of whatever kept you all trapped here, but they were there. Somehow, it was comforting.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t a question you liked to think about. “Maybe. Maybe not. But sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help, is it?”

“No, I guess not,” he said, though his tone was still heavy.

You sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Look, if anyone’s going to get out of here, it’s going to be us. We just have to stick together, alright?”

He looked at you, something like hope flickering in his eyes. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice firm. “And when we do, you’re buying me dinner. Got it?”

He laughed, a real laugh this time, and it was surprisingly nice to hear. “Deal.”

You smirked, leaning back further and closing your eyes. “Good. Now shut up and enjoy the stars before I change my mind about sitting here with you.”

“Yes,” he said, the smile still in his voice.

For the first time in a long time, the weight on both of your shoulders felt just a little bit lighter.

[rainstormies]

Bruised Knuckles | Eddie Munson

pairing: eddie x you

fandom: stranger things

word count: 1,1k (oneshot)

synopsis: the metalhead and popular girl were never meant to make sense, so of course they did

song aesthetic: do i wanna know? by arctic monkeys

You’ve always hated Eddie Munson.

Or, more accurately, you’ve always pretended to. Because that’s what you were supposed to do. Because he was weird and loud and messy, and you were none of those things.

Because you wore cheer uniforms and lip gloss, and he wore leather and rings and looked like a wolf someone had barely bothered to house-train.

Because the first time you crossed paths freshman year, you bumped into him in the hallway, he made a dramatic show of checking if all his rings were still on his fingers, and then grinned and said, “Careful, princess. You might get glitter on my flannel.”

He’d held a grudge ever since, or maybe it was just a game to him. Every time you passed him, he’d whisper “Don’t trip over your perfection,” or tip an imaginary crown on his head and call you “Your Highness.” One time he’d called you a Stepford Wife. Loudly.

You told everyone you hated him.

But tonight… tonight is different.

Tonight you’re stuck in a group project for English with him — and you swear to god, fate is either cruel or bored. Everyone else paired up fast, and by the time you looked around, the only person left standing was Eddie.

You’d groaned. He’d clutched his chest like he’d been shot.

And now here you are. In his trailer. On his couch. Trying not to kill him.

“So,” he says, drumming his fingers against a notebook he hasn't opened. “Do you wanna actually work on this, or should we just stare at each other and try to psychically communicate how much we loathe one another?”

You glare. “Do you always have to talk like that?”

“Do you always have to talk like that?” he says, mimicking your voice with obnoxious precision.

You toss your pencil at him. It bounces off his chest, and he gasps. “Assaulted! In my own home!”

“God,” you mutter. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“You’re such a dictator.” He grins, flipping his notebook open finally. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. You read the book. I’ll pretend to care.”

“I’m not doing the whole thing myself.”

“I never said you had to,” he shrugs. “I just said I’d pretend. That’s called compromise.”

You grit your teeth. You knew this would be a nightmare. You’re not even sure what made you agree to come here — maybe the fact that your house is currently packed with your mom’s book club and their chain-smoking habits. Or maybe it’s because, as much as you hate to admit it, you were… curious. About Eddie.

Not in the way your friends accuse you of, when they say, “You like him, don’t you?” and you scoff and say, “Please.” But maybe in the way you’d wonder what he listened to when no one was around, or what it’d feel like to be the girl he was actually nice to.

He leans forward suddenly, his brown eyes surprisingly sharp. “Why do you hate me?”

You blink. “Why do I—? What kind of question—?”

“It’s just,” he interrupts, “you don’t seem to hate anyone else. Just me. And I’m curious.” His voice isn’t mocking now. Just low. Thoughtful. “Did I do something worse than I remember?”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

And for the first time ever, you answer honestly.

“I don’t hate you.”

His brows lift, and something like a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“Then why—?”

“Because if I didn’t,” you say quietly, “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

He doesn’t speak. Not for a full beat. Just looks at you.

Then: “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You laugh under your breath. “That’s sad.”

“I know.” He shifts forward slightly on the couch, the space between you shrinking just a fraction. “So… are we enemies, or what?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Are you gonna help me write this essay?”

“No,” he says immediately.

You groan.

But then he grins. “But I’ll let you do it while I make you tea.”

You’re too startled to argue as he gets up and disappears into the kitchen.

He makes good on his promise, though. Ten minutes later, he’s back with two mugs — his has a chipped skull on it, yours is plain — and he sinks back onto the couch beside you like this is just what you do.

You sip the tea. It’s sweet. Cinnamon and honey. Too nice to admit you like it.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he says, eyes flickering toward yours. “I have a reputation.”

You smirk. “Of what?”

He leans closer. “Being unlovable.”

It’s a joke. You know it is.

But your heart thuds.

You look at him — really look at him. The long lashes, the curve of his mouth, the tiredness behind the charm. And something about being here, in his space, with nothing to perform for — it makes your chest ache a little.

“I don’t think that’s true,” you say quietly.

He freezes.

You bite your lip. “Maybe you just haven’t been loved right.”

He looks at you like you’ve said something dangerous.

And you suppose, maybe, you have.

The silence is thick.

You shift your legs, trying to get comfortable, and they bump into his. You don’t move them away.

He looks down. Then back at you.

“Are you flirting with me, princess?”

You smirk. “You wish.”

“Oh, I do,” he says easily. “More than I should.”

That throws you.

You stare at him, the blood in your veins humming. He notices.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice rough.

“Like what?”

“Like you might actually kiss me.”

You smile. “Why not?”

“Because I won’t stop you.”

Your heart trips.

You lean in first.

And he meets you halfway.

The kiss is softer than you expected. Less reckless, more real. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck like you might vanish if he’s not careful.

You melt into him. One arm around his shoulder, one hand still holding your tea mug, tilting awkwardly as he pulls you closer.

He kisses like he means it. Like he’s waited a long time to prove he can be gentle.

By the time you pull back, your face is warm and your brain feels fuzzy.

“See?” he says, his voice husky. “You don’t hate me.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Still not helping with the essay?”

“Absolutely not.”

You laugh, and he kisses you again, your smile pressed between both of your mouths.

So maybe he’s not unlovable. Maybe you just had to stop pretending he was.

And maybe you weren’t pretending to hate him, maybe you were just scared of how much you didn’t.

for anon who wanted an enemies to lovers<3

[john-ny-walker]

hide ‘n seek

pairing — john walker x fem!reader

summary — annoying. that he is. nothing but annoying. but maybe he’s not that maddening when he has to tug your drunken form into bed.

warnings — alcohol consumption. teasing best friends.

wordcount — 3.092 words

authors note — based on this request.

“Keep pretending, but everyone with eyes in their head can see it as clear as water,” Ava snickers with a knowing grin. Her elbow collides softly with your ribs.

Not enough to be painful, though. Just enough to get your attention and make you waver slightly.

You groan in frustration, leaning back on the couch. Your eyes are focused on your phone screen.

To be exact, your eyes are trained on the message from John.

Idiot.

He shouldn’t have texted you during girls' night. Of course, your friends would notice and act like there is more than hate and rivalry between you and John.

It’s not even something important. Or anything. It’s just a message that says: enjoy girls night, sweetheart.

A name he likes to use for you. To tease you. To annoy you. And yet, your heart flutters and you feel that familiar warmth in your chest.

“It's nothing; he doesn’t even like me,” you mumble, shrugging it off. Or you try, because your girls smirk like they know more than you — or more than you want to admit about John and your relationship. “Neither do I. He only does that to annoy me.”

Yelena plops down next to you. A bowl of popcorn on her lap as she throws one of her arms behind you over the backrest of the couch.

Her head is turning toward you. A shit-eating grin all over her lips and a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her expression makes your stomach drop. You swallow thickly, trying to focus on anything but her — and Ava — or John’s message.

“How does it feel to lie to yourself?” Yelena whispers after a moment, chuckling when you swallow thickly.

Oh! She hit a nerve. Unfortunately.

“I do not lie to anyone,” you mutter, grasping a handful of popcorn. “I don't like him.”

Both your best friends have that shitty smirk on their lips. That knowing — idiotic — expression plastered all over their faces. Like there is a plan only they know about.

Something they don't share with you. Something you don't get to know until you’re stepping into the situation they cause. But honestly, you don’t really want to know what they plan.

“Neither do you,” Ava repeats your words, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She huffs, leaning over to get some popcorn as well. “But maybe you're right. He doesn’t like you, like, at all.”

“What—?” You almost shout. Your eyes widen in surprise.

They play with you a game you don't know about. One you don't know the rules of.

But did she just say what you heard? Of course, you did. Ava is sitting right next to you, speaking loud and clear. He doesn't like you at all.

“Yeah, he doesn’t like you,” she shrugs, leaving you speechless and confused in your own thoughts.

Ava shifts her attention to the television, humming softly as she looks for a movie. She acts like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just tell you that the guy they tried to set you up with doesn’t like you at all.

You can’t believe them. Weirdos.

After a moment of watching Ava looking through some movies and listening to Yelena munching on popcorn, you swallow thickly.

At least they will leave you alone with all the ‘John is in love with you’ and ‘He’s like a puppy wanting your attention’ shit.

You put your phone away, the message of John slipping into the back of your mind. Ignored, for now.

“You can do better, you know,” Yelena says after a while, the smirk still plastered all over her face. Amused.

Ava keeps scrolling through all the movies, pretending like she didn’t already settle for one. She just wants to let Lena talk a bit longer about John to make you go crazy because of that guy.

“He’s like… a super arrogant, selfish idiot,” she mutters.

You nod. Finally. They get it; he is an idiot.

John Walker isn’t as sweet and nice as he tries to portray himself to be. This guy is a dick. Selfish. Arrogant. And that smirk, shit-eating and annoying. That damn smirk.

There are days — more often than not — where you want to punch it off his face. His stupidly handsome face.

“Yes! Glad you finally understand what I’m talking about the whole time,” you huff, shaking your head to get these ocean blue eyes and that soft smile — he always wears on his lips when he thinks no one is watching — out of your mind. “He’s an idiot. Like, really, I can’t stand this guy."

You don’t see the smirk that’s crossing their faces or the wink they give one another.

Of course, they haven’t changed their minds about John and you. But they can act like they did. Let you believe they don’t want to set you up with him anymore.

“Drink?” Yelena offers after a while, holding out two glasses with liquid. You're not sure who made that drink — it looks pretty much like some stuff made of some alien things.

Green and sticky.

“It looks like you let an alien shit in there,” you mutter, laughing slightly when a gummy worm suddenly appears in your glass.

Such a Yelena move. Make the drink look as disgusting as possible. So it’s more fun to swallow down the disgust and drink the mixed stuff.

“Be happy I didn’t find any grumpy spiders,” she smirks, fishing out a worm from her glass to slope it between her lips and suckling it slightly. “Mhmmmm.”

“Lena!” Ava laughs, throwing her head back. “Naughty bitch.”

You all share the same naughty thoughts when she sucks at the worm like it’s something else.

“Maybe we should get you a boyfriend to suck something— OW!” You laugh when Ava punches your shoulder.

This time the punch is strong enough for you to fall into Yelena's lap. Your head almost landing in the bowl of popcorn.

It would be a mess. Getting all that sticky popcorn out of your hair.

“The popcorn!” Yelena whines, holding the bowl away from you so your head can't touch the popcorn.

“It’s not like I wanted to fall into your precious popcorn,” you grumble with a laugh, sitting up to comb your fingers through your hair.

No popcorn. No sugar stuck in your strands.

When you’re fully seated with your back against the backrest again, your drink in your hand and a mouth full of popcorn, Ava turns on the movie.

With a soft sigh you pull your legs against your chest and relax into the couch.

Girls' night is always amazing. Chaotic and messy. But definitely always fun.

You're laughing way too much for your stomach muscles, and there might be one or two drinks too many to not turn into a complete drunken mess.

When the movie ended, you had had at least three drinks. But three were mixed — out of everything we found on the boys' shelves — drinks.

Ava is already lying with her head down on the couch and her feet against the backrest — sleeping.

Yelena is a babbling mess, commenting on everything on the television.

And you’re hanging with your head on the cool couch table. Your fingers are curled around the glass while you’re sighing that you finally found some coldness. Finally settling into your overheated and drunken body.

“Le’a n—” you hiccup, giggling when you forgot what you wanted to say. Your mind is a whole mess, and you can’t help but feel amused about your drunken self. “Lena!”

“Mhm?” She mutters, turning her head from the television toward you.

“Let’s pla’ hide n seek wif Ava,” you grin, tapping Ava’s arm to wake her up. She grumbles softly, her lips parting before she snores loudly. Yelena and you laugh loudly, watching Ava for a moment before you huff.

It isn’t even that funny. Usually. But for your drunken minds, it’s super funny.

“Gr-Granny Ava,” Yelena shouts before she's throwing some popcorn around — trying to hit Ava. “GRANNY AVA.”

Due to the noises of the television and Yelena shouting, you don’t notice the door of the elevator opening, nor the quieter voices of the boys.

Bucky, Bob, Alexei and John spend their evenings at the bar whenever you’re having your girls' night. So, when they come back to the watchtower, you’re all mostly asleep. Sprawled out on the couch or on one another.

Though, they aren’t surprised to find you as drunken messes, acting like children in the common room.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks after a moment, looking at you with narrowed eyes. He actually doesn’t need an answer; he knows. They all know.

“Are they really—” John mutters, his eyes falling on your smaller form. Still bend over the table, hugging it tightly. “We should get them to bed, or else we will have a popcorn labyrinth by tomorrow.”

Bucky hums in agreement. They take a few steps closer while taking in the mess the three of you made out of the living room.

Popcorn. Tangled limbs. Pillows. Blankets. And these are all over the floor and couch.

“Alexei, you’re going to take care of Lena. I will bring Ava to her room. And John, do you—” Bucky interrupts himself. Looking between John and Bob, he thinks a moment about whom to ask.

The guy you’re annoyed of. Who’s annoyed because of you? Though, everyone knows you're secretly pining for one another.

Or if he asks Bob, who’s going to blush and probably give in to you and let you sleep on the couch table.

“Yes,” John mutters, making his way closer to where you're clinging to the couch table.

John’s heart beats faster when he approaches your drunken form, his ocean blue eyes focused on the way your fingers cling to the glass of the table.

You’re so beautiful. Soft. Gorgeous.

And yet, so drunk, you probably don’t remember anything of the evening on the morning.

“C’mon,” he says, placing both of his calloused hands on your waist to lift you up.

You whine, shaking your head as your fingers curl even tighter around the table.

John's fingers dig softly into your waist, lifting up your ass while your upper body is still flush to the couch table.

“Nu-hu! Ava doesn’t know where we are hidden,” you whisper, looking at your sleeping friend who's supposed to find you and Yelena in your “hiding spots”.

“What? Do you play hide ‘n seek?” John wonders. With a grin you nod at him, making him groan.

This is going to be a challenge. Maybe he should start filming it and put it on the internet for guys whose girls are drunken messes and think they are playing hide and seek. Especially with their friends who are lying right next to them, sleeping.

“Please?” John tries again. To no avail. “You know, I’ve got that super-secret hiding spot for your little game.”

You turn your head toward him, your eyes widen in excitement. He got a nice hiding spot. But can you trust him, or is he going to expose the spot to Ava, and she will find you immediately?

John swallows thickly; you look so childish, so carefree. And so damn excited just because he offered you a better hiding spot than the table. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, and a soft smile curls his lips upward.

“Mhm, do you want me to show you?” He offers, hoping it will help him to get you into your bed.

With a growl you consider his offer for a moment. Maybe he really does have the perfect place to hide, and Ava can’t find the two of you immediately then?

Then you nod. The tension is thick between you two as he exhales loudly, but he’s happy that he’s one step closer to getting you tucked into your bed.

With his grip from around your waist, he lifts you up once more, finally able to get you off the table. Your whole form, not only your ass in the air.

It might have been a funny picture or situation; wouldn't you be a drunken mess fighting against him to keep hugging a table?

“I likes my hidin’ spot,” you mumble as you hang in his arms. Your arms and legs dangling down, and you start swinging them. A giggle bubbles up your throat. Then another until you're laughing about your own acting in his arms.

John sighs, the smiles tugging further at his lips.

You’re just so sweet. And for a moment all the annoyance and madness between the two of you vanishes.

John watches you for a moment, letting you have some fun dangling into his arms. Only when you’re gasping for air does he turn you around so you face him.

Your legs wrap automatically around his waist, your arms around his neck as he adjusts his hold on you, too.

His blue eyes meet yours, full of softness and a hint of concern. Even though you don’t really notice it, they are just so pretty. Like the most beautiful bright blue kissed by the sun.

You giggle slightly, booping his nose.

“You pwetty,” you mutter, leaning closer to have a better look at his eyes, his nose and those beautiful lips.

So kissable. So perfect to just lean closer and press yours against his.

“And you’re drunken,” he mutters, trying to avoid the intense eye contact. Your soft expression causes a warm tingling feeling inside of him. And he’s not sure how long he can avoid kissing every inch of your face when you keep looking at him like you do.

“I really wanna kiss those,” you whisper, ignoring his comment and tap his lips with your pointer finger, giggling loudly.

“Yeah? If you’re good and listen, you might be allowed to get a kiss on your cheek,” John says, his voice soft.

He tries to maintain his composure, but his heart is fluttering in his chest at your words.

Yes, you're drunken. Yes, you might not think straight. But drunken people say the truth, mostly. Maybe you're talking about what’s really on your mind, maybe even thoughts that are on your mind when sober.

John sighs softly, walking to your room. You’re surprisingly cooperative, and he’s glad that he found a way to get you into bed without having to literally drag you.

“Such a good girl. How about you gonna change into something else and brush your teeth now?” He mutters when he puts you down to stand in front of your bed.

Your eyes narrow, your smile fading. He sighs once again, getting ready for a temper tantrum.

This isn’t a hiding spot! Your bed is worse than the glass table in the living room as a hiding spot.

You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. But you don't move. Not even an inch.

He groans softly under his breath. John needs a new idea to get you into bed. And he needs that idea quickly, or else he will have you running around, probably.

“Sweetheart, that’s the hiding spot. If you’re in bed, Ava will think you’re not playing, and then she doesn’t find you immediately,” he mutters, hoping it will make at least a bit of sense in your cloudy mind.

“That…” you say, thinking for a moment.

It does make sense. You hope. Because you’re not so sure, and you can’t think straight enough to think about it much longer. So you just nod.

Ava is surely already looking for you all, so you just need to get into bed and hide under your blanket.

“Mhm. Good, but no teeth brushin’ cause she’s lookin’ already,” you mutter as you strip out of your clothes.

In front of John. Like it’s nothing. Taking off your clothes like you’re not usually teasing and annoying one another. Like he has seen you half naked before.

He clears his throat, his eyes trained on your face. But shit, you're gorgeous.

“Good,” he breathes out, nodding as you slip into your bed, looking at him expectantly.

He keeps staring. Then he’s blinking slowly.

For a moment John isn’t sure which of the two of you is drunk. Maybe you both are. You from alcohol. He is from love and that beautiful sight he has of you.

“I’m gonna be in my room then,” he nods, pulling your blanket over your curled up form. “Just, uhm, text or shout if you need anything.”

Before he can take a step away, your fingers curl around his wrist, tugging slightly at his arm. With widened eyes and a soft pout, you look up at him — just like a small puppy.

“Hi, you have to let go so I can hide too,” he mumbles, sitting down next to you on your bed. But you shake your head.

The dizziness worsens, and you whine, curling further into yourself.

“I don’t… don’t wanna be ‘lone. There is a big monster in my wardrobe,” you whisper, trying to tug him further into your bed.

“Monster, huh?” He asks, his voice amused as he looks toward your wardrobe. “Do you want me to check it for any monsters?”

You shake your head once more. “No… wanna here,” you pout and scoop backwards to make more space in your bed. “You here.”

“You want me to sleep here, with you?” He asks, unsure if he got you right.

You nod. Tugging at his arm. And John sighs. Who is he to say no to such a puppy like expression on your handsome face?

“Good, lemme get out of my clothes,” he says.

You let go of his arm, fingers curling around the waistband of his boxer briefs to make sure he isn't running away from you.

And damn, he loves that. He loves to have you all clingy and sweet.

John takes his clothes off before he slips into your bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you on top of him.

“No monster who can hurt you, honey. I’ve got you, but you have to be a good girl for me and get some sleep now,” John mutters before he kisses your forehead.

He can think about the consequences or the explanation in the morning. Right now, he's just happy to be able to hold you so close. In a way he never thought he would be allowed to hold you, but there he is. Having your drunken, sleepy form on top of him, your hands curled around his biceps while slightly drooling onto his chest.

comment and reblog to support content creators.

[wlwsoccerfics]

The Hidden Injury(CaitlinFoordXSisterReader)

Warning: injury

Summary: you pull through an injury during national Camp. Mostly cause it's the Last Game of the Break and cause you enjoy playing for your country with your older sister Caitlin. You played for Arsenal together as well. But it was still Special. Back at Arsenal you can't ignore the pain anymore...

You got hurt last week during a Matildas Game. The tackle was hard and your Leg was hurting quite badly. Yet you still got back up quickly. Which surprised everyone cause the tackle and your fall looked quite nasty. Spoiler alert, it was! But you played it cool. Even though the pain was killing you.

So first thing you did when you were alone in your Hotel room after that game was drown some pain Killers and cry. Cause honestly you never felt pain quite like that.

You managed to hide the pain though and it felt alot better after a few hours. So it slipped your mind at some point.

You made it to the first few days of Training without feeling much pain. It was a little discomfort, nothing more really. Today it was Game day.

"are you excited for the Game against Liverpool?" Your sister asked while you put on your Football cleats for the Last practice before the Game tomorrow. Liverpool was interested in signing you. But Arsenal wanted to keep you and you wanted to stay after playing for the Academy.

"yeah i am. How about you?" You asked Caitlin. Offering her a small smile.

"i am looking forward to kicking their Asses!" Your sister replied and grinned softly.

"that's the Spirit!" You told her. Chuckling softly.

"our Star Girls gonna score some Goals!" Katie stated, referring to you and Alessia.

"well i for sure gonna try!" You told her. Smiling a bit.

"yeah me too! Gonna try my best!" Alessia answered.

The Game started five minutes ago and you passed the ball to Lessi who scored in Minute 2. So you felt really confident that things would go well. Oh Boy you were so very wrong.

It took around 15 more Minutes before Shit went down the Hill for you. You were lightly tackled by a Liverpool Player. You didn't really See who it was. That light tackle was enough to make you Fall and hold your Leg, crying in pain. Not being able to get Up. The Player kept apologizing, which you couldn't really hear and honestly it wasn't her fault. This was on you.

"y/n! Oh my god! We need a medic!" Katie yelled. Your sister kneeled down in front of you.

"It will all be okay, little sis!" Caitlin whispered out. Gently stroking your back. Her big sister mode was in full Swing for sure.

"this Is all my fault!" You sobbed out, sniffling softly.

"No it's not." Kyra stated.

"yes there is. I got hurt during our last Game with the Matildas." You admitted.

"oh my...was this when you claimed how find you were after that hard tackle and jumped back up?" Your Steph asked. You nodded your head softly.

"guilty!" You sobbed out. The medics arrived and Caitlin explained to them what had happened, while Leah was saying soothing words to you.

A few minutes later you were at the medics room and they did a Check up. Saying that you needed an X-ray cause it could possibly be fractured. So when it was half time your sister and Alessia were subbed off and went with you.

You were getting your X-ray while your sister was pacing around in the waiting room. Alessia tried to get her to relax.

"Caitlin, it all will be okay. She is a tough Kid!" Alessia stated. Which was true. You were just 17 years old but very resilient.

"But she is my Baby sister and i hate seeing her in pain!" Your sister said softly and looked at Alessia. Alessia gently pulled her down in the Seat next to her.

"i totally get that. And we all hate seeing her in pain. But she got this!" Lessi replied. And in that very moment a nurse appeared to lead the two into a room where you sat with the doctor.

In the room, Caitlin gently took your hand while Alessia sat next to you to squeeze your other hand gently. You may only be Caitlins sister by blood but got the entire Team of Sisters in the Arsenal girls and it wasn't any different at the Matildas. Something which you liked alot.

"so i talked to your sister already, she has a Leg fracture. So we will put her Leg in a brace. It was small. Now it's a bit bigger cause someone decided to Power through..." He stated and you started biting down on your bottom lip.

"so no surgery?" Caitlin asked. Kissing the top of your head.

"No, but recovery is gonna take up to 3 months!" He explained. You sighed sadly.

"hey it's okay, kiddo! We got you! The entire Team will He there for you." Alessia said.

They all indeed were there for you, every step of the way. Which you very much appreciated. And you were quite thankful for that.

Two and a half months later you were allowed to Play again. But Renée was making sure you wouldn't overdo it and just let you Play for the last 20 minutes of a Game. It was a start in the right direction for you again.

One Thing was for sure. You wouldn't Play down an injury ever again.

[croquettish]

Listen please feel free to ignore my idle ramblings. You just inspire me to bring my thoughts to paper and I always love to read your take on everything.

Honestly I also very much read Hans as a comphet gay man all the way.

He feels like the most overcompensating character ever. He makes loving women his whole entire brand which is so sad to watch sometimes.

The way he is expressing his attraction to Henry feels leagues removed from the way he is trying to court every single woman in the game.

He doesn't need flashy gestures or words for Henry. When it's real you dont need as much embellishment so to say.

For the first time in the games he sounds and acts natural with someone else he expresses interest in. Like it's not just a show he has to put on for everyone else except for his own enjoyment as whenever he interacts with women.

He looks like he is freaking melting with Henry.

I honestly also even think his constant trips to the bath house in the first game are just for basically spa treatments and not much else happens there. I think I even remember him saying something along the lines of he just likes being pampered.

It makes me really confused how people can think there were no signs of him being gay in the first game. What do these people think gay people would have acted like in a time when it might as well be a death sentence or a life as a monk AT BEST to express your true feelings.

I think Hans reaction, trying his best to be perceived as the most women loving giga chad ever is honestly the only sign I needed to realize that that can't be quite true. It feels fake all over. I sometimes wonder if they originally intended this whole attitude to feel genuine, but realized in the making how that just doesn't feel right at all and switched up his character accordingly? Like he's a character breaking free from his own pre intended writing somehow?

If you're reading him as Bi absolutely a valid opinion as well though! No hate only love!

Another point I just saw in your most recent post I wondered a lot about is the part of gaining reputation with Hans in the first game when being talked back to/down to (I think there also is at least one instance in the second game when I called him a brat and got reputation).

Honestly I think it's much to do with his low self esteem and probably not great metal health.

When you're struggling with your mental health because of your family situation like he does with Hanush you never get to develop a clear sense of self and deep self love and self respect. And various people deal with it in different ways, wheather they pull back into themselves and become people pleaser or they go another route like Hans and build this air of very high self regard around them. Of course either way it's all just a charade hiding his very vulnerable and self loathing core. Which sometimes makes flattery feel uncomfortable and being talked down to like self affirmation even if that's super twisted.

The way he talks to Hanush in the first game especially is so different from his snarky self. He is utterly defeated in the face of that man. He doesn't get angry how he usually does until after talking to him, he only ever meekly tries to even get a word in. He's belittled, not taken seriously and treated like a completely useless person and he doesn't really do anything. I think that's how a lot of people act in the face of a parental abuser that they learned not to set off even more.

(Honestly why I loathe Hanush. He's not one of the "bad guys" the games try to present. He is portrayed as a likable if hot headed guy, but he's an abuser in my eyes and is absolutely to blame for how Hans sees the world and himself).

Same as the unhealthy way of self harm Hans developed in making sure he stays unlikable so to say. For instance when trying to push Henry away when they are in the pillory. Even Henry sees that Hans is just saying mean things that he doesn't mean at all, just saying them to make sure Henry stops liking him and leaves. He never learned that he is allowed to be cared for like that so he has to make sure it stops. He has to make sure he is alone, uncared for, deprived of his only friend. That's a form of self harm if I've ever seen one. It honestly blew my mind that they added that. That whole scene is very rich when looked at from a mental health point of view in their interactions. When using the "Swear" option when playing as Henry he says something like "Who could ever be proud of you?!" and that seems to hit Hans like a ton of bricks crushing him. He looks like he is going to cry immediately and doesn't even come back with something to say like before, because that hit home like nothing else.

Like in their divorce era he snaps out of his self imposed agony and split from Henry as soon as Henry gets hurt because that's too much, that's not related to his self imposed denying himself his happiness. Even when you're fighting Old Semine at the wedding in swordfighting he is freaking cheering you on like he isn't really mad with you. It's not Henry he wants to hurt but himself.

I think that man is wildly unwell mentally and that's one more thing I really love about the way he and Henry interact with each other.

Henry seems to be somehow aware of that whole struggle and doesn't interact with it in an unhealthy or harmful way most of the time.

He is a caring man at the end of the day and that is exactly what Hans needs to heal, strengthen his sense of self and become a better version of himself.

Sorry again for putting like 5 different points in here. But I would honestly love to read your take. You always inspire me to think more about these characters I love.

Why would I ever ignore your idle ramblings when they're so insightful!!!! Also thank you so much, it honestly makes me super happy that people find value in my hyperfixation of picking this game and its characters apart. The fact that my own ramblings inspire you to think about these games and their characters in more depth makes me extremely happy ❤️

So for starters I'm so glad that I'm not the only one that reads Hans as a comphet gay man. There are honestly so many hints that he's overcompensating in the biggest way. As I said in my initial post about why Henry pushes Hans away at first, @hallowedlore pointed out that Hans' vibe of "love? I never knew love till now!" [five minutes later] "love? I never knew love till—" can be VERY indicative of queerness. Because of course he hasn't found the right girl; he was never looking for a girl at all. There are so many examples of this. Similarly, as @codeword-art pointed out here, noblemen are "supposed to be proud, stern, with a love for women," which, as they put it, most likely "stems from Hans' own doubts about his own sexuality." I could not agree more with this.

It's honestly not surprising to me that Hans has no idea how to act around women because he didn't grow up around them at all. His mother is either dead or ditched him and he didn't grow up with much of anyone, let alone any peers. But he did at least have Hanush around to act as a sort of male rolemodel. He had Captain Bernard and semi-frequently saw other noblemen. Women of his status, not so much. It's no wonder he doesn't really interact with either Rosa or Katherine, but even there, he seems more comfortable around Katherine because she's more like the women he was exposed to, castle staff and bath wenches.

I'm also inclined to agree with you about his trips to the baths. And not just because we find out he tried to convince one of the women to strip for him by playing dice with her (when he could have just asked her to) and then, after failing, used that as a conceit for how to try and get Henry naked… but also because he's so fucking bad at it. I tried for quite a while to find the post here but someone recently showed off a conversation Hans can have with one of the bath maids near Devil's Den, which is just so, so profoundly pathetic. Iirc this is during the fake Karolina era when he is white knuckling down on the last vestiges of heterosexuality that he thought he had.

It's interesting too that there is a non-zero chance (not a large chance, mind, just the possibility of it) that Hans could be a virgin. Like I think that's kind of fucking hysterical that for all his showboating it is possible for it to all be 100% fake pretend bravado. Do I think this is likely? Not really. But it's possible. Because we have only ever seen him strike out with women and we know for a fact that it is canon that he struck out with the real Karolina as well. He's bad at this! He fawns over Klara and goes to the baths to see her even though she's the only one of the bath maids there where touching is off the table. We also know that he's an idealist and a romantic who loves love. It wouldn't surprise me if he would look at sex he could pay for at a bathhouse as a sort of... hollow thing that wouldn't appeal to him. But by god, he'd pretend up and down and left and right that it does.

Another thing that should be commented on here that you brought up as well to a degree is this scene—and here I have to draw attention to @audentesfortunaiuvatt as usual magnificent tags. We know that they're canonically nude here. And @komorebian's wonderful gifts beautifully illustrate how much this motherfucker is just straight up checking Henry out. It's not even remotely subtle. And this is far from the only time stuff like this happens in KCD1! Like I shipped them like crazy after playing the first game and I can't imagine that was entirely unintentional on the part of the dev team. I mean look at this shit!

So much of Hans' character is faking it till you make it. Except he can't fake this well enough to pass as straight. He tries so hard and even then he's fucking transparent.

I maintain that I do think part of the reason that he enjoys when Henry gets smart with him is because he's willing to treat him like a person instead of an object, but like I said in my last meta post I do think part of it does have to do with a lack of self-esteem. The reason he does so much showboating is in order to try and fake who he thinks he should be. He masks and plays the mimic at every possible turn.

I also agree with you that Hanush had a big influence on his mental health (and lack thereof). But I think there's a bit more nuance here than you're suggesting. Because while you can 100% read Hanush's behaviors as abusive, the real issue (for Hans as well!) is that he's not actively and consciously trying to go for that result. Hanush genuinely thinks he's doing right by Hans and leading him toward what's best for him. And lbr here, even with something like the wedding, while the thing he's leading him toward is undeniably self-serving, Hanush is also… technically correct. Divorced from Hans' emotions, it is the "correct" choice. Hanush has raised Hans into a capable ruler in concept. This, to Hanush, was undoubtedly the most important thing. He just didn't realize he had to show him love and help him grow as a person as well. As I've said before, he's a great guardian, but he's a fucking godawful parent because he has no idea what he's doing.

If you're still sitting there going "no, he's evil" then I want you to look at the tiny tiny insight we get into Hanush's psyche here. It's just five seconds long and occurs at the very end of the scene where he lectures Hans during Clothes Make the Man. I brought this up as well in my meta post about Hans' relationship with Hanush. Hanush has no idea what he's doing. He (a former robber baron and perpetually broke gambler) was handed this extremely young child to raise out of nowhere. He's not a father. He doesn't know how to raise a kid. When he agreed to raise Hans in the event that something happened to his father, Hanush (like most people who agree to be a child's godparents) most likely didn't anticipate actually having to do it. And while it was quite common in medieval Europe for nobles to "foster" their children with other noble families as a way of cementing bonds and alliances, that doesn't mean that Hanush automatically knows how to parent.

You can read his stern talks with Hans and his emotional neglect of him as abuse. But the key thing here is imo intentionality. That abuse is borne from ignorance, not malice. And in a lot of ways that lack of intentionality makes it far, far more insidious. If Hanush hated him or hit him it would be so much easier for Hans to sort of recognize that what's happening here is emotionally damaging. He can walk away from this thinking that Hanush loves him and wants what's best for him, leaving him to internalize it all without second-guessing it. Because he's never had any reason to question it. It's also why him bringing up his parents here is especially poignant. Only with Henry, only placed outside of the bounds of society, only when surrounded by people who see value in him (so much so that Zizka assigned him control of a company of men!) does he start to question the things that he's taken for granted all this time.

And it does lead to things like the self-harm you mentioned, which I've commented on, if in no other way, at least in meme format:

(That's a lie, it comes up in my fic.)

That boy hates himself so much and thinks he's so fucking useless he literally actively pushes Henry away just so he can't let him down later. He knows this whole scene was his fault and is (even if it's just subconsciously) so angry with himself and insecure about how he's dragging Henry down that he flees. Even when Henry keeps forgiving him, over and over again.

You mentioned what happens if Henry bitches him out while they're in the pillory, and I agree that it makes a ton of sense that Hans, caring about Henry's approval as much as he does, would feel absolutely gutted. But I don't think that's the most telling thing you can get out of that conversation. If you play it nice the whole way through (my preferred route of choice, bc it ends up only making Hans feel all the worse for it after), you get this bit of dialogue:

Which... hoooooo boy.

I understand you need to take it out on someone. I can take it.

And that's exactly what Hans is so terrified of! That one day Henry won't be able to stand him anymore and will leave. So he leaves first. I mean, we get front row seats to his psyche later on that confirms exactly that. Because this, the "I wasn't good enough for you," is his take on what happens regardless of how nice you are to him.

@tsinavar and I had a conversation recently where they brought up what convinces Hans to keep poaching or not is whether or not Henry brings up his own safety. Which floored me bc, yeah, it really is that simple. Hans doesn't give a shit about his own hide because he doesn't think his hide is worth all that much to begin with. But Henry? He's worth the world to Hans.

And I think Henry recognizes this. He knows Hans, inside and out. It's why he can gut him in two seconds flat but then can choose not to. A Henry who is good enough at persuading people can use that ability, combined with how well he knows Hans, to talk him out of poaching by knowing to invoke his own safety. Like, no wonder Henry means everything to Hans. He sees Hans, inside and out, and stays by his side anyway.

[akajustmerry]

the thing that upset me most about the ADHD assessment that I still think about every day was when the assessor asked, as part of the test, how often have I been told I did not care about projects or tasks that I did care about? I legit burst into tears on the spot. literally it was like in that moment I had flashbacks to ALL the times I'd heard that from managers, my teachers, supervisors, family, friends, colleagues, reading it over and over in reports from school - it was one of my greatest anxieties that I brought up in therapy over and over for over a decade. that no matter what I do and how hard I am trying ppl tell me to face that it's not enough. Almost everyone in my life has said some version of this to me. when I was a teenager and I used to be religious I used to pray that God would make me care enough because I assumed people were right when they said I didn't. What else did I have to go on? Even when I stopped being religious, I still hoped whenever I made a new friend or started out somewhere new that this time it wouldn't happen. I'd care enough. Most of the time it still happened. I was told I don't care. Like I said, almost everyone I've ever met has at some point told me I didn't care about something I was actually trying really hard with. So when the assessor asked that, when I got to understand in that moment that actually this problem I thought was Me™ was actually a part of ADHD? I can't even explain, like I can't compare it to anything. But it's been the hardest thing post-diagnosis I guess to realise I allowed myself to treat people's accusations of carelessness like facts. and how it became something I'd assume about myself, "well you can't date because you don't care enough to answer messages" "you shouldn't pitch that article because you don't care enough to write it" "you shouldn't bother making that appointment you won't care enough to remember" and when I've failed or messed up most things there's always this voice like "well it's because you didn't care". and idk this has been the hardest thing to comes to terms with really that yes people were wrong to say that to me and it was bad that I internalised this about myself, but also I have a literal disorder that "not caring enough" or something that presents that way is a permanent feature. I wanna say something hopeful here like about how now I feel better but honestly I'm just super angry and sad atm even though the assessment was months ago. I think when the assessor asked that question i realised so much of what I hate about myself is rooted in this thing I have next to no control over and almost none of it had to be that way. I would never have hated myself the way I do for the reasons I do if anyone had just asked me the right questions or believed me when I said I cared.

[jimmithy-tiastopher]

ONNEEEEE PERSON TOLD ME TO TELL YALL ABT MY CWETPM LORE SO I SHALL

YIPPEE

so basically this is what happens (aka so far what ive planned) (warning: very long)

(TW: hallucinations, suicide, self harm, abuse and murder (+ mental deterioration?)

chuuya is in the port mafia, and he's honestly getting tired and stressed out by it. he knows he said the pm is like his family, but that family is dysfunctional as hell.

having to watch his friends die, and get assaulted and get abused, is not fun. being surrounded by an environment where abuse is 'the norm', is not fun.

he's starting to hate it here. and he's starting to feel more and more mentally drained as the days go on.

one day, he comes home after another day of watching violence and aggression in the mafia, and while he's switching to his pajamas in the bathroom, he spots a weird thing in the mirror - himself, wow, shocking- given the fact it's a mirror- except... it's his 15 self

chuuya begins to question that 15 version of himself, asking him why he's here, how the hell he's hallucinating that his 15 year old self is sat on the bathroom hamper and what does he want but 15chuuya just answers "you know why", "you're crazy" and -

"eradicate the port mafia."

chuuya freezes in his spot at that last answer, getting a memory planted in his head, of his 15 year old self saying in that damn plane "i'll kill those port mafia bastards" when he was still in the sheep.

this leads to more questioning from chuuya, of course - why the hell was this twerp telling him this?!

after a few honestly useless questions, 15 chuuya just bluntly spoke:

"listen, man. you're basically going insane in that fuckass place, right? you hate it there, i know that," his hand went up to grab his necklace - it had the blue sheep symbol on it, made by the other sheep for him. "i know about those 'fleeting thoughts' of just beating the shit out of some of the members, and those 'fleeting thoughts' of just killing yourself too. if they're bothering you so much, why not just do it already?"

...did this twerp just basically tell chuuya to kill himself? maybe he did, maybe he didn't, but it sure sounded like it to chuuya -

"you can't easily just escape the pm, you're not dazai, you're loyal- " he said loyal in a mocking manner, "the boss would probably kill you on the spot if he even finds out a little that you want to leave, so why not kill him before he kills you?"

this was starting to make chuuya feel paranoid, the urge to just either lash out at himself or just bash his own head against the wall was strong, but he couldn't for some reason. after a minute of silence, 15 chuuya just said "get changed, and go to bed."

so chuuya did, he got fully changed and went to bed.

the following day, he was paranoud as all hell in his usual workplace, he feared 15 chuuya would pop up again and somehow convince him to do a massacre right then and there and probably kill himself in the process, and so he went home early, not wanting to potentially hurt everyone and himself.

he went to his desk and shoved all the papers off it, they flew off and then slowly fell to the carpet. he sat down roughly and buried his head in his hands, and of course - he heard the stupid voice of his 15 year old self.

small self-deprecating words, and convincing led to chuuya slowly reaching over for a blank piece of lined paper, and a pen. he trembled as he put the pen onto the paper and then wrote a list.

- akutagawa, higuchi, gin, tachihara, hirotsu, kajii, kouyou, Q, mori and then his own name.

being guided by 15 chuuya's words, he picked up his phone and called mori - "boss, i need a few days for sick leave. i'm not doin' well." he simply said, and after a small 'okay' from his boss, he hung up the phone.

he spent the rest of the night figuring out how he'll kill them - yes, that list was a hitlist.

chuuya'll kill akutagawa first, since he loved him like his son or brother, he didn't want to save that for last, then higuchi - knowing her, she'd start worrying for the man, and he didn't want that stupid worry spreading to the rest of the port mafia. and then after higuchi, he'd kill gin - he didn't want her to worry about her brother and higuchi.

after that, tachihara and hirotsu, at the same time. kajii... maybe he'll just bomb him with a normal fuckin' bomb, he didn't know. and then kouyou- he didn't know, he just made a note to himself to 'make it as painless as possible'. then Q, that'd be easy, after that whole guild incident- that kid was basically just crying all the time, and barely even acted like their normal self - it was nearly sad for chuuya, but meh, he didn't like Q. as for mori... well, that'd be linked with his suicide.

chuuya dropped his pen and then leaned back in his seat, his 15 year old self just watched him as he was sat on the bed. he took off his hat, and then took off his small jacket, and then unbuttoned his vest, and then ruffled his hair to like it fall out of his usual lovelock hair style- making it splay down across his back. he stared at the ceiling - his head lolled back against the back of his chair.

god, he was really gonna do this, huh. he was pathetic.

...

a little over a month, it took him. he killed them all. it was hard. and he was currently stood over mori's dead body, blood splattered on his clothes and face - his chest was heaving, breathing hard and difficult. he took off his gloves, that did not cover the damn scars he did to himself on his arms and then muttered a prayer-like sentence.

and then arahabaki wreaked havoc.

chuuya was already weakened and he felt so drained and paranoid, it didn't take more than 7 minutes of arahabaki controlling his body to destroy the port mafia building to make chuuya go limp and cough out blood, so now corruption was just using his corpse as a puppet to cause destruction.

---------------------------------------------

SO YEAH THATS BASICALLY IT SO WHOLESOME AM I RIGHT

of course, there'd be more small details that i'd add like chuuya slowly becoming disgusted of himself and his own body over the month he killed the pm members, which leads to him harming himself more. and more interactions with 15 chuuya where he's basically just manipulating chuuya and making him go even more fucking insane, and possibly interactions with arahabaki ‼️(and possibly chuuya, at moments, thinking of himself like a god? mmmm story is still kinda in beta teehee so things could change)

overall, this au was made at first to entertain my lil dumb idea when i was reading the age 15 manga (i saw the page where chuuya said he'll kill the Port Mafia and i jst wondered "ok but what if he *really* did?)

this might be a lil worrying but this au brings me a strange amount of comfort, i enjoy making art of it and animations of it, and i adore making chuuya spiral into a mental state that completely ruins his life!!!!! (definitely a lil concerning. i will tell my therapist abt this)

anyways thats my cwetpm au :3 hope that now some content i make of it makes a lil more sense now :33

[oncasette]

Hello! Hope you're doing ok. Can i request Tom! Peter Parker x reader with this

Prompt : "why are you acting like this?" "why do you think?!"

𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚?

mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: 1.0k

"Yeah? You sure it's just studying that's doing that?" he bites. Okay.

"Peter," you snap, finally and somehow just now at your wit's end. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"We're all talking now," he says, but the vicious bite in his tone seems to have fizzled out.

"Alone," you hum with a placating smile.

or the one where peter gets jealous and starts badmouthing you at your birthday party.

a/n: can be read as tasm!peter as well, but there's a reference to ned so i feel like it def reads better for mcu!!

masterlist

You didn't think inviting your best friend of seven years to your birthday party would be a bad idea. You thought it would be a great one, actually. A no brainer. He'd been so wonderful at the last six. He'd even planned your twenty-first all on his own without any help, and it'd been a blast.

But this year, for some unknown reason, he seemed hell-bent on ruining your birthday.

"She's not that good at school, you know," Peter sighs into his cup, eyeing the man across from him. Jason. The kid you'd been tutoring in chemistry for the last semester and you'd invited last minute. Honestly, it'd been such a whirlwind of a comment, you hadn't been sure he was actually coming until he'd rolled up to your apartment with a bottle of white and a gift.

"I had to help her every day after school to keep her from failing senior year," Peter continues, despite the daggers you were shooting him from across the table.

Why was he lying? Sure, you'd gone over to his and May's place after school more often than not, but that was more an excuse to spend time with your friend than have him keep you off the metaphorical chopping block.

"I don't know man, she's been pretty good with me," Jason shrugs off the comment. It softens your anger a bit. Just barely.

"Yeah? You sure it's just studying that's doing that?" he bites. Okay.

"Peter," you snap, finally and somehow just now at your wit's end. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"We're all talking now," he says, but the vicious bite in his tone seems to have fizzled out.

"Alone," you hum with a placating smile. You're doing your damndest not to ruin the night for your other friends at the table, but you can tell from their lingering stares that idea is hanging on by a thread.

"Oh, yeah- uh, sure," he stutters, hesitantly pushing his seat back and following where you'd stormed off to your bedroom. You feel a bit like a looney tunes character, cartoonish steam surging out from your ears. He shuts the door behind him quietly.

"What are you doing?" you ask. You're fuming. Heat surges through you from nostrils down to toes. You think if you were to spit, it'd burn a hole through the carpeting.

"Wha... I don't..." he swallows, jaw clenching. It burns you hotter, though it's unfortunately more than rage warming your system. God, you hate that he still has that effect on you. After all these years, after all the hours you'd spent in his presence, he still had the ability to reduce you to this.

"Why are you acting like this? You've never... been like this," you huff. "And on my birthday?"

He says your name softly, stepping forward.

"I'm not trying to..." he trails off, eyes scanning your figure. The silence washing over you leaves you feeling far more vulnerable than you'd felt a minute ago. "Why do you think I'm acting like this?"

"I don't know," you mumble. You look down at the ground. He steps closer, one hand coming up to your chin to lift your eyes back up to his. You have to force yourself to take a deep breath before you continue. "You were so normal before everyone came over, and then suddenly at dinner you're belittling me and being-"

"A dick," he finishes. "I was being a dick."

"Yeah," you snicker in spite of yourself. "You were being a dick."

His adam's apple bobs as he prepares himself to continue. "I don't like Jason."

"So you were mean to me about it?" you ask.

"Just... just listen to me for a second, okay?" He waits for you to nod. You want to kiss him. Or punch him. "Your friend... Jason... He's just, so... Jock-y. And he's kind of an asshole. And I'd never even heard of him before tonight because you'd never said his name when you told me about your tutoring sessions and then suddenly he's at your door for your birthday party and you're looking at him with these big moony eyes and I just-"

He inhales sharply. If anything, the boy sure knew how to ramble.

"I just hate him," Peter finishes.

"I don't understand," you say.

His eyes fall shut, head tipping back, still holding onto your jaw.

"I hate that you invited him to your birthday. I hate that he showed up. I hate how much I hate that he's here because it's making me say things I don't mean," he sighs. "I hate that you like him as much as you do."

"Are you jealous, Peter?" you ask softly. His eyes open again, big and wide and staring imploringly into yours. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a second before he nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm jealous," he admits. "And I know that's silly because you have other friends here and it wasn't even supposed to be just us-"

He isn't given a chance to finish that excuse though before you've leaned in that extra couple inches and slanted your lips against his. You can feel his surprise. He stiffens, hand trembling against your jaw for a second, before he surges forward with more enthusiasm than you've seen in him since him and Ned finished the LEGO millennium falcon sophomore year of high school. All of him, every inch of him that he can manage, presses into you. A hand finds your waist, the other sliding back from your jaw to cup the back of your head. His head tilts as he attempts to deepen the kiss only to let out a whine when you pull back.

"You- What was that?" he asks. "Not- not that I'm complaining."

"You don't need to be jealous," you whisper. Back outside your bedroom, you hear the rest of your guests shouting for you to hurry up so that they can cut the cake and have you blow out your candles. Reluctantly, you're able to pull yourself out of Peter's ironclad grip on you.

"C'mon. You can help me brainstorm a new wish," you say as you grab his hand to lead him back out to the party.

"A new wish?" he asks.

"First one already came true."

[ikamigami]

I realized I know why Harley strikes me as honest despite that he told us in QnA that he manipulates us with his words.

It's because he believes in things he says. Ofc he's biased but what he told us about Poppy is what he actually believes to be true that she like her father is a backstabber.

And you know we can't call it a manipulation if a person believes in the things they say to us.

Ofc Harley is full of himself and he sees himself above everyone else.

But there's something about him that doesn't allow me to say with 100% certainty that he's a narcissit like many people seems to believe so.

Cause honestly I think that the only person Harley is lying to is he himself.

He didn't even say that he hates Elliot the most even though I bet everyone thought so. And yet.

And he was shocked by Dr White's betrayal. He said that he thought that he saw his vision.

And even if he hates Leith the most he said that he's two-faced and a backstabber.

So do you want to tell me sir that at some point you thought that you could trust any of those two?

Even if you already had trust issues after Elliot backstabbed you?

Idk I'm probably grasping at straws but Sawyer seems like he's looking for any form of connection but because he is the way he is everyone denies him.

He even tried to get us to understand him. But why?

I get it. He was trying to manipulate us.

But there was something in his answers in QnA.

I just can't shake off the feeling that Sawyer seems to act like a kid. As if he just stuck at one point in time and never actually grew up.

And the fact that he's so distanced and almost detached emotionally from his past - childhood especially - I'm pretty sure that he went through something traumatic that he represses and is socially and emotionally stunted.

He still displays sociopathic/psychopatic and narcissitic traits but he seems plenty delusional.

Not only in grandiose way that he has a mission to find immortality and lead humanity into the future.

But also in a way were he still expects that he'll finally find understanding. Despite his paranoia and that Elliot betrayed him and that his coworkers used to laugh at his fears of world ending soon he still thought that someone saw his vision. He still was surprised that someone betrayed him.

Despite that he projects his trauma on everyone around him he still felt that he could trust someone at least about work and then was shocked at the betrayal.

He's biased as hell but he's honest.

And I think that he was still afraid of dying. Is it because he's so obsessed with himself? Maybe. But a part of me thinks that this is something that goes deeper. This fear is a core part of him hence his paranoia about world end.

And I believe it's due to his childhood trauma. Whatever his parents did to him caused him to be like that.

And I believe that Elliot kicking him out of YGP hurt so much also and maybe even mainly because he had to go back home. He wrote that he thought that Elliot cared.

This is something that stood out to me. Cared about what?

Because lines like "I thought he understand" and "nobody understands" are just your really simple lines of someone who will soon become a villain.

But "I thought he cared" it reveals to us that Sawyer liked Elliot. It's a line that comes from the kid that yearns for connection. That yearns for care and love that he never received at home.

I feel really bad for him.

He was betrayed so many times and he hoped for something still...

That's why he works as the main antagonist of horror franchise. Cause he's a tragic character that is so broken that he turned into a monster and he'll torment everyone by projecting his trauma and hurt.

And it's also tragic because he would never change because no one would help him because he's done so many awful shit.

I love him <3

[bluespiritshonour]

Guys, guys, guys!

Listen to me!

For everyone who's worried about Mai not showing much interest in Zuko in Ashes. Honestly, I personally got a little carried away because it was nice to see Zuko carrying the ship for a while and Mai getting to exist outside of him (come on, we needed that!) and I liked it so I didn't think about it much. Mai has done enough to show how much she loves him, right?

But think about it! It's Mai we're talking about!

If she doesn't see a future with Zuko now, which is probably the case (she doesn't know it's all gonna work out and her daughter looks like she produced her through parthenogenesis!) it actually makes sense that she'd try to bury her lingering feelings for him!

It's actually more her speed than how Yang characterised her in his stuff!

With Mai, you have to be subtle. Pay attention to the art!!! (thanks to my friend for pointing out the ✨tension✨ between them)

She's avoiding eye contact: either she's turning away from him or looking at him askance:

on a side note: the last panel is great header material. also, look at them! he's looking at her head on (he doesn't even try to hide he's not over her) but she's looking at him under her fringe.

Notice their body language! Zuko's open, Mai's constantly—constantly—turning away from him!

If she really were over him she wouldn't be acting like this!

Yes, it's true that he brought out strong emotional responses from her. So much so that she decided to confront him at TBR instead of pretending it doesn't affect her. But he's a repeat offender at this point (sorry for the way I phrase it but also, don't you hate the comics for that?) it makes sense that Mai is trying to deny her feeling for him! That's her stress response. She shuts down to avoid getting hurt instead of crying about it (that's where you went wrong, Yang!)

I totally read this as her not being over him! With Mai you have to look past mere dialogue.

Besides, the show did this the other way around where they didn't show Zuko worrying for her post TBR. I see people defending that. As in, not calling it bad writing. Let Zuko have a taste of it because it's Mai's comic!!! (All this, this whole paragraph, speaking from an out-of-universe perspective of course. Mai deserves her lime light too!) And while that was OOC for Zuko, this isn't even OOC for Mai!

She found purpose outside of Zuko and she finds it fulfilling. They could've done any number of things with her but they pulled this:

"You don't want kids to go through what you went through at the academy" (also love that Zuko's the one saying it! He knows her beyond the superficial!)

Tells you Hicks thought about Mai. Unlike Yang, who's stuff read to me like "what Mai would do? But I can't relate to what Mai would do! So I'd make her react how I think anyone would react under that situation"

And for Firelady Mai detractors!

Let me close this off with:

Mai can walk to an institution that hurt her and confront the person who was entrenched in its values and say "fuck your tradition" because she's the one with the Firelord's backing.

In Zuko's Fire Nation, she's free! She no longer has to censor what it is that she thinks of the "glorious fire nation traditions."

Maiko, speaking in a meta sense, granted Mai agency! And no, Mai wouldn't have a repeat of what her parents did to her if she marries Zuko! Because his whole deal is to change that country. Why ever would he expect her to be traditonal and docile? And here's proof of it!

[officialtwindark]

As much as I adore the domestic and romantic headcanons on soukoku; I feel that in the canon universe, something like such would be unlikely to occur.

I do think they had that ‘tension’ with each other while growing up, but it wouldn’t have been enough to be romantic romantic. As of their time in the mafia, I don’t think they would have engaged in that type of behavior with each other (kissing, cuddling, etc).

While they could’ve joked about it ever so often as teenagers (maybe even exchanging small displays of physical affection like resting their head on the other, linking arms, and so on) I don’t think it would’ve gone farther than that—and it honestly didn’t need to.

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

Soukoku’s dynamic has a lot of depth and complexity, and unfortunately that important aspect is often not admired enough.

They didn’t need a big romantic aspect to their partnership, because they already had something that was so much more than just the stereotypical relationship.

They had an understanding of the others character that went far beyond what everyone else saw, which is honestly one of the most fascinating parts of their dynamic.

Since Asagiri hasn’t written any works surrounding Dazai’s POV, it’ll obviously be hard for anyone to say exactly what Dazai may feel towards Chuuya, but it’s clear it’s something.

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

Chuuya isn’t afraid of Dazai. He isn’t afraid to call Dazai out on his unethical or insensitive shit, he isn’t afraid to put Dazai in his place if he needed to, and he isn’t afraid of the Demon Prodigy that everyone made Dazai out to be.

Similarly, Chuuya is a lot more than just a ‘source of strength’ to Dazai. Dazai does seem to genuinely care for Chuuya. As we saw in stormbringer (and the many other times Chuuya has used his corrupted form) Dazai refrains from manipulating or forcing Chuuya to use corruption, even with knowing the possible consequences. While it’s hard to figure out what Dazai’s intentions are, he doesn’t seem to want to exploit Chuuya’s capabilities.

They’ve seen the humanity that goes past the supernatural abilities they have been given, and it exposed a strange kind of vulnerability.

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

Even if they can’t fully dissect every single part of each other, there will always be an underlying sense of understanding, trust, and maybe even devotion.

They could leave, they could be apart, they can claim to hate each other, but even after that—even four years later—They probably understood it would be impossible to forget someone who knew you so throughly.

They might’ve not kissed, cuddled, or shared some lovey dovey messages in the past; but they didn’t need anything overly sentimental to display their care for the other.

“Love is such a shallow concept, when I am with you”

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

idk keep up the hc’s cooking though I live off them. Plus it distracts me from how miserable bsd is

[jestersprivilegee]

High and Dry | ch. 8

t. jefferson x reader

Wc: I think 2.9k?

Lotta holiday talk for these next few chapters. Yes I know it’s not thanksgiving or Christmas sue me (also sorry to those who don’t celebrate!! I couldn’t think of anything else cus there’s specific scenes that need it to be holiday, but just wait y’all I got a plan)

Happy friYAY (depending where you live)

Avoiding Thomas had become a game, and you were determined to win it.

For five-and-a-half weeks, you had successfully dodged your counterpart at every turn. If he was walking down the hallway when you needed to, you’d find a different route. If he was making copies, there’s too much paper being wasted anyway! Wherever he was sitting in a meeting, you’d find the furthest possible spot away from him.

The only exception was lesson planning. And even then you kept it short. Half the time you’d just create your shit on a shared google slide and let him figure it out (which he wasn’t super happy about, but he wanted this space so he can’t complain). Your conversations were kept strictly work-related; anytime you felt it steering towards social or personal life, you’d redirect it back to the task at hand. He didn’t call you out on it, but it clearly got to him from the way he’d huff and sigh anytime he’d ask about your day only to be met with one word responses.

Somehow, you managed to do this all the way until thanksgiving break. Or at least until the Friday right before break.

You couldn’t avoid him too much longer at the staff thanksgiving/potluck/party. It wasn’t like you were planning on staying a while anyway, work-related gatherings like that always got boring from the criminal lack of booze.

“You’ve made it to the break without quitting. I’m proud of you, I wouldn’t have made it this far working alongside Jefferson!” Hamilton smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder while you walked to the workroom, where the ‘party’ was being held.

“It hasn’t been easy,” you sighed, “but I haven’t spoken to him that much these past few weeks, so it’s been bearable. I’m honestly surprised I didn’t quit in the first week.”

After getting called into Washington’s office and feeling like shit for being rude to Thomas, you gave him plenty of space, just as he requested. The only thing eating you alive was the fact that you never apologized. It added to the shame, the humiliation you suffered. So you avoided him all together, since looking him in the eye was a particularly difficult task.

“Regardless, I’m glad you stayed. And I’m also glad you brought those crappy sugar cookies,” he said.

“You either love ‘em or you hate ‘em,” you hummed, opening the door to the workroom and letting him step inside first.

Everyone who you expected to be there was there. Your large friend group in one corner since the Schuyler sisters were the newest addition (Alex had started dating Eliza a couple weeks after they hooked up at the bar. She turned out to be one of the sweetest women you’ve ever met, and you quickly became close friends), Thomas’s friend group in another. Other staff members were littered throughout the spacious room, people you wouldn’t talk to other than polite hellos.

You set the cookies on the counter with the rest of the desserts. There was enough food to feed a small village, ranging from various cultures and carefully crafted dishes to the Walmart-produced cookies you brought. It made you a little insecure to bring something so little, but they were pumpkin pie flavored. Practically calling your name in the grocery store, begging you to purchase them.

Thanksgiving had never been a big deal. It’s not like you celebrate it with family, anyway; your mom is in a mental hospital for fucks sake. And with no other living family to celebrate it with, you never got the chance to truly enjoy it. It was just another holiday. Another meaningless break from the strenuous school year. The same goes for Christmas, which winter break is only two weeks after fall break. Not that you're complaining. A week off, then two weeks later, another two weeks off? That’s something you can get behind.

You scanned the food options, looking for one thing in particular. Mac ‘n cheese.

More specifically: Thomas’s mac ‘n cheese.

If it was as good as you remember (aka, his mother’s recipe), you would be devouring as much as possible. Any time you’d go over to his house as a kid, you’d beg for his mom to make the dish. It was that good. She never did tell you the recipe despite your years of asking, but maybe, just maybe, Thomas used it. And maybe he would tell you. If you play your cards right, but the cards you got right now ain’t looking so great considering the poor relationship with him.

“Do you have any plans for the break, Y/n?” Eliza appeared next to you, an exhausted smile on her. Must’ve been a rough day.

“Binge watch Netflix and eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s,” you joked, which earned you a pity laugh.

Alexander joined his girlfriend's side, snaking an arm around her waist.

“You’re not visiting family?” She asked, the smile she wore turning to one of concern.

How awkward. They didn’t know about your mother. To be fair, you never told them, so how could they know?

“Probably not,” you answered after a beat passed, “I don’t have any family. None in New York, at least. My mother is down in Virginia, and I have yet to call her.”

“So you’re spending it alone?” Eliza’s eyes filled with concern, sadness, and empathy.

You shrugged. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. My mother has never been big into holidays, so I didn’t grow up celebrating them. It carried with me to adulthood, I guess.”

“I’m the same way,” Alex empathized. “I'm an orphan, so I’ve never had a family to celebrate with. Closest I’ve ever gotten are these work parties,” he chuckled dryly.

“Alexander, that’s so sad!” Eliza turned to him, a pout on her red lips. ”You’re coming home with me and my sisters for dinner. Y/n, would you like to join us, too? We have plenty of seats at the table, and you’re always welcome,” she offered.

“Oh, thank you, but I’m okay. Really,” you sheepishly declined. “I’m going to talk to my mom and maybe go down to visit her. I appreciate the offer, thank you, Eliza.”

“Of course,” she smiled, “if you ever change your mind, though…”

You shared a laugh, and shook your head. Alexander looked thrilled to hear Eliza would be dragging him to her family dinner, as he wouldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. They got their portions of food and snacks, finding a spot at the table after promising to save you a seat.

With a tiny sigh, you glanced in Thomas’s direction. His eyes met yours, because of course he would already be watching you. Instead of looking away like you did, he excused himself from James and Aaron, strolling over to you, hands in his pockets.

“Hey.”

The smell of his cologne hit you, warm and comforting and forest-y. “Hi,” you replied. He took his stance next to you, leaning against the counter. “Something you need?”

“Do I have to need somethin’ in order to speak to you?” He asked, his gaze almost challenging. Being met with silence, he continued speaking. “I just wanted to talk to you, see what your plans are for the break.”

“Why do you wanna know?” Your eyes narrowed. The flicker of annoyance in his jaw did not slip past like he hoped it would.

“I’m tryin’ to be nice here, Y/n, create some small talk.” He frowned. You’ve had this conversation many times before, and it was evident that both of you were tired of it.

Sighing and swallowing your pride, you shifted to face him fully. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t know what my plans are yet.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Never thought I’d hear you admit I’m right about somethin’.” He teased, folding his arms over his chest. That burgundy sweater looked particularly good when he wore it.

“Don’t get used to it,” you scoffed. “Do you have plans you’re dying to tell me about or something?”

He gave an awkward shrug, the confidence he previously had faltering. “Nothing noteworthy. Just visitin’ family for dinner.”

“Oh yeah, I do remember you telling me about that. You’re not thrilled ‘cause it’s overwhelming, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, some other factors, too. They’ve been on my ass lately about my career and relationship choices, so it’s tough showin’ up still as an English teacher and still single,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry,” you sympathized, “that sounds frustrating. Not being supported by family members.”

A low hum rumbled from his chest, and he wiped his hands on his sweater. “Yeah, well, they’ll get used to it. These are the decisions I made and I’m happy with the direction my life has gone, whether they support it or not.”

At least he had a family whose opinions mattered.

“I like your attitude,” you paused, “Y’know, I was thinking earlier about the mac and cheese your momma used to make. Used to be my favorite part about going to your house as a kid.” A nostalgic smile spread on your lips, a warm fuzziness in your chest. Thomas shared the same experience. You continued, “do you, by any chance, have that recipe?”

“‘M sorry, can’t tell you that, darlin’. Family secret,” he winked. “Although I did bring some. Sure, it’s not nearly as good as mommas, but it’s pretty damn similar. All these years of makin’ it and I think this is the closest I’ve gotten.”

He pushed himself off the counter, motioning you to follow him to the dish he prepared. It was already halfway eaten when he uncovered it, and holy shit it looked delicious. Memories of sitting at his kitchen table, surrounded by a loving family consisting of only sisters flooded your brain. His older sisters, Jane and Mary, would always sit together, gossiping away from the rest of the group. The smell of fresh baked sourdough and sweet potatoes would waft in the air, and an apple pie would be sitting in the oven.

Last time you saw his momma, she was pregnant with a boy. Unfortunately, your friendship ended before you got to enter that chapter of Thomas’s life with him. Such a shame. You would’ve loved to be apart of that babies life as much as you were involved in Thomas’s.

“I have been craving this ever since middle school.” Your eyes lit up in excitement and you snatched a plate. “Jefferson, consider this the only compliment you’ll hear from me, but you are amazing.”

He beamed with pride, wearing a giddy, toothy grin from your praise. “Been waitin’ to hear that all year. First you admit I’m right, then you finally acknowledge I’m amazin’. Two in one day. Make it three?”

“As if,” you huffed, rolling your eyes in a playful manner. “When I said jefferson, I meant your momma for creating this delicacy.”

“Funny, ‘m pretty sure you said ‘you are amazing,’ if my ears don’t deceive me.” He smirked, earning a sharp glare from you.

“Your ears doth deceive,” you grumbled, shoving some pasta in your mouth. Damn. It was fucking phenomal.

He bit his lower lip, anticipating your reaction with big, hopeful eyes. “So? Just like mommas?”

“Mhm, just like mommas,” you nodded, covering your mouth since it’s rude to talk with your mouth full. His parents are where you learned that mannerism from, actually. “You sure you can’t give me the recipe? I won’t tell anyone, I pinky promise.”

His proud grin grew wider as he shook his head. “No can do. You’re not technically part of the family, and momma gave me strict instructions to keep it within our family. She’d have my head if I gave it away.”

Thomas knew that his parents considered you to be family. He did have a teensy little lie going that misled them into thinking he wasn’t single, but he’d die before admitting that to you. Regardless of his complex relationship status, his parents had always loved you like you were their own, and that love never faded. Even after all these years.

“Fine. I’ll figure it out myself.” Your eyes narrowed, as if you were plotting to steal the fucking Krabby Patty secret formula.

“Hah, good luck doin’ that,” he snorted.

It seemed like the moment you had something else to say, your phone rang. With a disappointed sigh, you pulled it out, about to silence it but the caller ID prevented you from doing so.

It was your mom.

“Shit, I gotta take this,” you muttered, “save me some pasta please.” You handed him the paper plate, rushing out before he could utter another word.

Thomas’s eyes followed your form until it disappeared from behind the door. A small frown tugged at his lips. He had seen who was calling. He knew the history with your mom despite being private about it recently. Sure, you’d mention her here and there, maybe call her from time to time, but you never said anything deep. And he couldn’t just outright ask. You weren’t at that stage of closeness yet, there was still some lingering anger from… well, everything. There always seemed to be some sort of tension hidden beneath the surface, like something hadn’t been fully let go, or something wasn't being acknowledged. It was discouraging, to say the least.

When you said your plans weren’t decided, he wanted so badly to invite you to spend thanksgiving with him and his family. There were a few instances when you did during childhood. He’d have your mom over as well, and it would be like a small extra addition to his already oversized bloodline. But it was comfortable. They enjoyed having you as much as you enjoyed being there. And then it stopped.

He shook his head, unfreezing so he could scoop a hefty portion of macaroni onto the half-eaten plate. Then, he followed after you, finding the hallway empty. You must’ve gone to your classroom.

—

“I-I don’t know if I can make it, Mom, I’m swarmed with work right now.”

You paced around the cluttered room, the palms of your hands growing sweaty. She had asked you to come down to Virginia to visit, but truthfully? You still weren’t ready. As much as you practiced and talked through your feelings with Suzanne, the years of therapy didn’t seem to do much for this moment.

Of course, you felt like a horrible trash can of a human being for continuously putting off visiting her. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved to have her child come down at least for the holidays. Even if said child was still recovering from the trauma of having her as a mother.

“Of course,” she mumbled, disappointment and sadness evident in her tone. “It’s alright, honey. I’d just love to see your face again, to hold my child.”

Guilt tore you apart inside out. Grimacing, you spoke, “I’m sorry, Momma. I promise I’ll come home for Christmas.”

She was silent on her end for a moment. There was a faint beeping noise coming from somewhere in her ward. “…You promise? You won’t give me another excuse when the time comes?”

God, the excuses you cultivated every time to procrastinate seeing her piled up. It was predictable. “I promise I won’t give you an excuse. I’ll be true to my word this time, I swear. It’s only another month, which I know may seem like a long time, but it’ll go by faster than you realize.”

“Okay, baby, I trust you. Will you call me over your break? Let me know you’re okay and we can talk?”

“I will. How is your medicine working for you?”

“It’s good, it’s good. I’ve been takin’ it consistently now, and I really have noticed a difference,” she expressed.

You smiled in relief, and for another thirteen minutes, she spoke about how recovery was going well, and how she’s changed. Even listening to her speak, you could hear how much more energized she was. She was taking control over her life.

After hanging up, you leaned against the wall, letting out a long breath. A hand came up to run over your features. It took a lot of fuel to converse with her. She was a curveball; you never knew if she would lecture you the whole time, cry, or tell you how much she loves and misses you. Perhaps that’s why you’ve always put off visiting her.

Three soft knocks sounded on the door, and a short moment after, Thomas walked in. He held the plate piled with macaroni and other foods he knew were your favorite, as well as a sheepish smile.

“Hey. Figured I’d bring you somethin’ since I’ll be headed out soon.” He handed the plate to you, where you set it down on the desk.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

A comfortable silence followed. Thomas was deep in thought; you could see the conflict etched between his eyebrows, the concern tightened in his jaw. He wiped his hands on his sweater again. The words he truly wanted to come out caught in his throat, and instead he stuttered backwards.

“Uhm, I should go. Have a great break, Y/n,” he stammered.

You watched him step backwards, pausing before softly speaking. “Have fun with your family, Thomas.”

With that, he awkwardly nodded and disappeared. You glanced down at the plate filled with all your preferred foods, even one of the pumpkin-pie flavored cookies you brought resting on top of an actual slice of pumpkin pie. Your favorite kind.

[reality-shitting]

https://www.tumblr.com/antishifter-shifting?source=share

girl i'm new to shifting. i saw this post. for a long time, i was very skeptical ab shifting. it feels very unreal to be real but now i want to try it out.

Girlie pop, I am gonna be so honest, I am not going to waste my energy reading some hateful bs 😭

But I was very much the same as you once! I'm a very logical thinker and I love psychology and science. (If you're also like that, I'd recommend @kitty-kat244 's blog, as they center it around how neuroscience supports shifting) However a few things in my life convinced me that I could at least give it a go.

1, Near Death Experience stories:

My sister passed for a few minutes in kindergarten. To this day, now in her 30s, she describes how she saw herself floating above her body and the ethereal feeling of an OBE. On community tabs like askreddit where people have asked what the afterlife is like, a vast majority of people describe the Void state. Nothingness, peace, pureness, feeling like everything and nothing. I don't possibly think ALL of these people are lying given how similarly close they all are to each other. To add to that, the uptick in recent years of stories from people who believe they experienced quantum immortality. People who were somewhere one minute and suddenly they're thrown in a new place inexplicably. I remember seeing a TikTok of a woman who was driving, she had about an hour left in her drive and she saw another car coming for her. Suddenly she had arrived at her destination. It had only been about 10 minutes. She was crying and shaking and very visibly in distress. Sure, it could've been a fabrication, but like the other stories about the void, there's so many of them that I don't think all of them are lies.

2, my best friend entered the void before I knew what it was:

In Highschool, my childhood best friend messaged me one day about a "really weird dream" she had. She described just floating in a white void, feeling like she didn't exist, didn't have a body, with an everlasting sense of calmness and peace. Again, this I now know is what we would call the void state. To this day, she talks about how she wants to "go back".

3, The man who dreamt for 17 years:

This is a story very commonly told throughout the internet and I first heard it in middle school. I'll summarize it, but essentially a man went to bed one night and in his "dream", time flowed the same way, everything was as detailed and fluid as our everyday reality. Everything acted as it did in reality. He met a girl, got married, had children, moved up in his career. Then one day, he noticed something off about his lampshade in the living room. He focused on it and suddenly, he woke up in his bed. He was so devastated about waking up from this "dream" that he needed therapy. He lived for seventeen years in the span of one night. Now this story was everywhere and everyone thought "oh that's so crazy" but when we describe shifting, which is exactly what his story describes, we're called delusional. Personally, I don't care if people think I'm crazy, I just keep it to myself. But the fact that such an incident has been recorded before, people believed it and people, to this day, even make memes about his story? I'm honestly very surprised the shifting community doesn't bring this account up more often, as it's from so long before shifting was known and it lines up so perfectly with our experiences, right down to time ratios.

4, My own childhood beliefs:

When I was young- and I mean, Pre-K young- I distinctly remember wondering and asking my parents, "What if I'm not actually me? What if I just wake up as "me" everyday and I have the memories of the old me?". (Don't ask how I was so philosophical, I think kids are just like that. I know this sounds like bullshit believe me lmao but I'm adding ALL of my personal reasons) Anyways, this is actually a core belief of shifting. That we are constantly shifting through time and timelines that just match up with our beliefs. So you are not the "you" you were yesterday. Does that make sense? I also firmly, firmly believed in the multiverse theory and that everything was real somewhere. I remember making Gravity Falls x LPS Popular crossover videos when I was 10 because, hey, it's probably there somewhere, why not? Crossover episodes on TV certainly didn't cause my belief to waver because look! Timmy Turner is in Jimmy Neutron now! So they both exist separately, simultaneously and together! And I just kinda, applied it to everything. What's real here is fictional in another world and vice versa.

5, last resort:

As the world deteriorates and I grew up, I didn't want to just.. Work a 9-5 until I died. There has to be something more than that. So, after I heard about shifting success stories I decided "fuck it. Either I'll wake up here and carry on with my day or I'll wake up somewhere much more peaceful. Happier. With life and freedoms that I could never imagine in a million years." Many shifters became shifters because they were at their wits end. I see so many people who admit that if they hadn't found shifting, they would have killed themselves. At the end of the day, even if it's "fake", it's given a lot of people hope that things can change in a time that seems to be getting increasingly darker.

Now, I think a lot of us were at one point where you are. "It doesn't seem real, but it's interesting enough to try". "Oh it's cringe, but it does seem enticing". Let yourself be cringe. Shifting is for those who want it all. For those who don't want to slave away for the rest of their lives. For those who can see greener pastures on the other side and wish to hop the fence. Ask yourself this : what truly is there to lose? Our community is very open to those who are simply curious, and we acknowledge that not everyone will be interested in participating in our practice and that's ok too :) Whatever you choose to do, do what makes you happy. You hurt no one by deciding to do something for yourself <3

[anghraine]

I got home from my (maternal) grandmother's funeral in rather worse health (asthma wise) and after all kinds of right wing family drama (it's conservative on conservative violence, the rest of us were largely just organizing and preparing for the funeral), but it was a much smoother, pleasanter event in general than my grandfather's.

I'm incredibly tired, though. On the bright side, I did manage to keep writing every day—just on my cell phone (which I hate doing) and not a whole lot, but still, my streak is unbroken!

[now for the whining]

I total caved to family pressure, though. Most people seem to believe that piano playing is physically effortless and only challenging in a coordination sense, but in fact when my asthma is already bad it does drastically aggravate already-poor breathing. I'd agreed to play the specific song my grandmother had requested, but told my mother I probably wouldn't have the fortitude for anything else, and I really couldn't sing (both for breath reasons and for my voice getting much lower in the ongoing asthma episode reasons). But my mother has had to hold her entire family together by the sheer strength of her will, she's the one who prepared her mother's body (understandably upsetting and her siblings are... let's just say that she combines maximal Eldest Daughter syndrome with the most dutiful, disciplined firstborn child energy possible and they are happy to let her do so), her knees are basically non-functional and yet she's running everyone around and keeping the children happy and etc. And she really wanted me to sing with them (especially the song all the women of the family were singing) and help them practice their piece and play in the background.

So I ended up helping everyone practice and playing for hours without interruption in the background and singing with the other family members for three separate songs including all four verses of "How Great Thou Art", all of which required me to drop the melody a full octave. I guess getting dragged into unwisely singing with The Women of the Family only for my voice to sound like a baritone amidst theirs is one way to Do Gender at... a funeral... anyway.

But everyone was really nice about the piano playing. Even my awful MAGA aunt was like "wow did you even realize you played for over two hours without stopping? It was really nice" and my uncle, her brother, went "and without missing a note, either" and I tried to just politely thank them while my back and entire right arm were throbbing, lol. I actually hadn't played in over a year because my piano is horrendously out of tune, but at long last my years of hiding out at church via being the Forever Accompanist until I withdrew altogether were helpful, since all my grandmother's favorite hymns are basically coded into my hands at this point.

My bio father, who was there because of his closeness with Grandma, was honestly an unexpected champ, too. He stayed with me at the piano, made sure I ate and was feeling as well as possible, kept me headed in the right direction when I got turned around, told me I sounded like crap when I was feeling especially unwell, etc. He asked if I'd looked at the body and I was like "no, I don't really.......want to," and he went "yeah, I'm the same, I'd rather remember people the way I knew them than look at a corpse, I'm trying to avoid going over there." So, uh, unexpected corpse-dodging father-daughter solidarity there.

My adoptive father was also great, and kept my mother functional, but also kept refilling a water bottle and giving it to me to drink so I didn't hack up an entire lung, found me Tylenol, and got me back home even though it meant us traveling some 700 mi in three days. So it wasn't all awful or anything, just exhausting.

Also, all this was held near where I was born and where my maternal family has lived for decades (my grandparents moved there in... 1976, I think), and I myself visited my grandparents there every summer and lived there for a couple of years. So there were a lot of people I knew as a child and relatives beyond the most closest related. And I got to pursue my family-gathering hobby of telling various relatives how old I now am :D (I look younger than I really am, so they always have to stop to contemplate the inexorable passage of time), while Mother got to boast about my PhD to relatives who've often rather looked down on her.

And the church all this was happening at is actually where I first learned to play as a tiny Anghraine (aged 8). The main church organist/pianist from then (now very elderly) was like "oh, Mary Elizabeth, you played so beautifully" and enough of 8-year-old me survives that I was enormously gratified. She also added, "And for so long, your back and hands are going to hurt so much later" which was some very welcome validation, lol.

[unkindnessesofone]

Vitals [Gally x Reader]

Words: 1.3k.

Notes: Reuniting with Gally ft. Frypan friendship. [This was inspired by the prompt, 'Honestly? It really sucks', from one of @promptsbytaurie's lists]

As if your feet were suddenly one with the ground, you could not move. The freshly unmasked man in front of you with shame and surprise stirring together through the pale green in his eyes was waiting for you to say something, at the very least, but even your lips seemed to have turned into stone. The sight of Thomas rushing at Gally and throwing a fist to his face hardly shook you from your trance. 

He looked behind himself as he led the way to Lawrence and the rest of the rebellion, quietly checking on you, but all you did was stare wide-eyed in return. He told himself it was a look of contempt. He killed Chuck and now you hated him like everyone else.  

It wasn't until Gally took Thomas and Newt into the city that you could actually figure out what you were feeling.

“Is it too on the nose to say you look like you've seen a ghost?” Frypan dryly remarked, leaning up against the dilapidated “shed” you were to call home for the night.

Slowly, you dragged your eyes to him before laughing. He was right. He was always right.

“I was picturing some whole Romeo and Juliet thing, but you were kind of cold…” 

“I thought he was dead. I was in shock. I am in shock.” The words came out clumsily as you dipped your head back. “I've been grieving him alone and now suddenly…here he is. He's been here. He's alive.” At least, he seemed okay.  “What do I even say to him?” Looking to Frypan, a pleading in your eyes illuminated by a nearby trashcan fire. 

“I don't remember you two doing a whole lot of talking back in the Glade.” A perfect “big brother”, Frypan teased and knocked his elbow into your rib. He forgot how sore it was from the tumble you took earlier when outrunning a hoard of cranks. 

“You guys act like we were making out all the time in front of you. You saw us kiss, like, twice in a whole year.” Gally was private about everything. He hated when any of the guys gave him guff about it. It wasn't easy for him to be viewed as soft, to have a weakness. “It's not like I can just leap into his arms now and shove my tongue down his throat.”

“Why not?”

“Because for all I know, he's with someone or…maybe, he hates me.”

“No way he hates you.” 

“He could. I left him. He was dying and we left.”

Frypan was shaking his head from side to side, not willing to accept what he was hearing. 

“I distinctly remember a guard taking your foot to their groin as they dragged you off him, alright?” He dug his eyes as deep as he could into yours to really make himself clear. “You don't have to charge at the guy or make any moves, but you can tell him you missed him or something.”

Frypan had always been so willing to be there for you. It made it hard to be annoyed with his wisdom.

“I don't know…” You sighed and dropped your head to your shoulder, feeling as if it had doubled in weight. 

As your tired eyes finally began to close, Frypan spoke again, “Hey Gally, ______ and I were just talking about how much she missed you.” He said matter-of-factly, like he was asking what to make for dinner. “How'd it go, guys? Figure out where Minho is?” Climbing up onto his feet, Frypan shouted toward Thomas and Newt before heading over.

Gally was staring at you, expectantly, but every time you tried to look back, your eyes strayed. You found dust on the toes of your boots, a series of holes in a blanket being used as a door across the way, and even an empty brown glass bottle beside the pillar he was leaning against to look at. Anything, but him. 

He was about to give up. Gally uncrossed his arms, dropping them loudly to his side, when you found something to say.

“What's it like having a collapsed lung?” It wasn't what you wanted to say and it seemed like Gally knew that because he raised his brows in a way that basically asked, ‘Seriously?’

“Honestly? It really sucks.” He said plainly and kicked at dirt between you, coming closer. “It's not that different than watching someone you love leave.”

 A sudden feeling of breathlessness that was sharp and held his entire body hostage. It wasn't foreign to him.

Gally's words didn't sound cold, but they made your whole body tense up like someone ran an ice cube up your spine. Once again, you tore your eyes from him in shame, but he didn't let you escape this time. Gally sat down beside you and forced you to see him, to take in his dirty face. If there was a competition between you both for who needed to wash and rear more, Gally would win. 

“You were so cross with me for following Thomas…” A whisper was the best you could do, eyes tightening to keep tears from flooding in.  

“No. No.” He shook his head, trying to whisper back. Quiet was not Gally's default. “I was mad at myself for trying to hold you back...” He said it urgently and like it was a promise.

“And then when Minho struck you, I didn't want to -” You were crying now, tears evaporating into your dry skin as soon as they dropped out of your eyes. It didn't stop Gally from shushing at you and pressing his calloused thumbs into your cheeks, gracelessly trying to wipe them away. 

“Stop. I don't want to talk about it, ______. I don't want to go back there.” He half-sighed, dropping his head back before taking his touch for your face and picking up one of your hands in both of his. Gally held your palm up against his chest, keeping it close to where his bad lung was, where a scar sat as an everyday reminder of one of the worst days of his life as far as he could recall. The day he killed Chuck. The day he was stung. The day he lost his “family”. “Do you feel that?” He asked over the beat of his heart that was tangible beneath his sweater. “I'm okay. We’re both okay.” The fact that you two managed to find one another again was almost enough to make someone as abrasive and disillusioned as he was to believe in fate. He lacked the depth to say so, but it was the only thing he felt since seeing you in the crowd, standing beside Frypan and trying to see an inch in front of yourself.

Sucking in a deep breath, you tried to blink away a few remaining tears. The rhythm of his heartbeat was soothing so you kept your hand there, holding on to proof that Gally was alive. 

“We’re going to get Minho and we’re going to get out of here. Together.” He sounded every bit as confident as he used to when he told everyone to stay in the Glade, that Thomas was lunatic. He sounded like your Gally. “We're going to take down WICKED.”

Jumping up to his feet, Gally extended a hand to help you stand. You didn't waste a second putting your hand back to where it had been on him once you were upright.

“I'm just reminding myself that you're really here.”

Gally smirked before leaning in and brushing his lips to yours. Slow at first, nervous for the count of one, and then his mouth opened up to pull you in. He had a hand on your back to fulfill his own need to feel your realness while the other covered your hand still on his chest. 

“Out of practice, but I'm here.” Taking in a deep breath, Gally panted. He was going to have to get used to doing that with one lung, but the dyspnea felt worth it with you back in his arms.