#love the idea of you just constantly inviting me just to see me suffer though

[theydoctor]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers✨ no pressure tho! ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

(This is really hard btw because the last 80 reblogs in my notifications are just you and your Patrick insanity xD)

wdym i did absolutely not go insane over patrick (also you're to blame tss)

oki uhmm

- You <3

- bisexual people.

- jon & martin (except for when they make me cry)

- not dying ?

- punctual trains

[bootlegramdomneess]

Hello! If is okay I would like to ask you something about how you interpret this aspect of show as a therapist.

Why do you think is Sydney the one that calls Carmy’s panick attacks? (the one in opening day, and that moment in “doors” when she calms him down when he is screaming they are to slow, and because of her, he calms down and the frantic music stops)

Does it had to do with love (even though I also think they are in love) or is because of trust and the bond they share? Secure attachment kind of thing? Is it because the particular type of abuse he has suffered? Or is something about Sydney’s personality? Would love your take on that.

Thank you 🙏🏼

ooo. Thanks for the question. Okay, there are a lot of layers to this

In season one we see Sydney coming into the beef during a time where Carmy was trying to get everyone to understand what he was trying to do, and meeting Sydney, he saw she understood where he was coming from. It had to be a big relief. I think Carmy comes from a space of feeling as though no one truly understands him or who he is. I think meeting Sydney was a shock to his system because here was someone who understood what he was trying to do at the Beef. Here was someone who shared the same vision as him. Similar ideas. Similar plans. Who is passionate about cooking. Here was a person who knew the part of his life (Being a chef) he didn't share with anyone. As time went on, he connected with her on a professional level, he depended on her, he relied on her in a way, i think, he never has with anyone in the kitchen. Sydney has this way about her that can be very disarming. Disarming to the point where he felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with her in telling her about his Al-anon meetings. I think by the end of the season, he tried to subconsciously sabotage this relationship by exploding on her, but still invited her back into his life---despite her challenging his core beliefs of no one understanding him or he has to do things on his own. Or he can't get close to anyone.

2. In season 2 we see a shift in their dynamic where trust has been built. They've grown closer. They're having conversations about their personal lives. They're giving each other advice. They've built this little family inside the restaurant. Sydney is slowly now integrated into his family. They're literally building their future together. But here Carmy goes, sabotaging things (by bringing the C person into the dynamic) again because his relationship with Sydney is once again challenging his core beliefs. This is the theme I'm starting to notice.

3. Carmy admires Sydney. He values her opinion. He sees interpersonal skills she brings into the kitchen, and into their dynamic, that he wants to mirror himself. (This is partway why he is ALWAYS watching her)

He constantly asks if things are okay between them. He doesn't lie to her. (outside of omitting who the C person was). He tries his best to articulate his feelings to her without her prompting. When he said "I don't want to do this without you. I can't do this without you. You make me better at this." He meant that shit. That is so hard to admit out loud for him because the emotional stakes and the fear of rejection is so high for him. it's obvious he holds her in such high regard because he does not do or say any of those things to anyone else in his life. He ignores them. He shuts them out. He avoids. He doesn't communicate. (Just look at his entire dynamic with the C person. Just look at how he's shut her out completely).

4.This season he feels so ashamed and upset that he left Sydney alone. "I left you alone." After promising to her various times, he won't do that. He is devastated by this. he was yelling GET SYDNEY when he was locked in the freezer because he left her alone. So now he's gone into the extreme mode to try and fix it the things between them even though she didn't feel he abandoned her.

He told Sydney to check him if he's fucking up. He trusts he will listen to her when she does and correct himself. We are now at a point where he does not want to fuck shit up with her anymore. He is now allowing Sydney's presence in his life to challenge his core belief without sabotaging it. I think, Carmy has already casually admitted in his mind that he has strong feelings for Sydney, but I think he's put it in a deli and stored it on a shelf for various Carmy reasons.

So, when Sydney checks him in the kitchen, tells him to calm down, he listens. Sydney doesn't view Carmy as broken. Despite knowing he has anxiety and panic attacks. Despite his emotional issues, despite his family dysfunction. I think Sydney views him as someone who can hold it together. She doesn't coddle him because she sees he is trying and has the ability to get his act together. When she says: "So don't fuck up" is a great example of that.

Sydney is clear in her expectations of him. She holds him accountable. Sydney is gentle and disarming and forgiving in a way he is not with himself and he recognizes he needs that. Him being able to calm down when she tells him to, is her shaping his behavior. His thoughts of her helping him calm from a panic attack is because he trusts her voice. She is the port in the storm. She is the only one he trusts enough to be this way with him. Because he is in love with her.

[crushpunky]

rafe cameron x kook!reader thoughts !!!

check out some songs that remind me of them here

i like to imagine that kook!reader is portrayed by actress!reader (as explored in drew starkey x actress!reader thoughts), but you could also just imagine them separately

rafe and kook!reader have been friends since childhood, their parents being good family friends, but grew closer following the death of rafe’s mother and reader’s brother while they were both in high school

whereas rafe gravitated more towards drugs and partying to cope with the loss of his mother, reader gravitated more towards rafe

reader was definitely more “polished” than rafe and kept a fairly good reputation despite constantly hanging out with the kook king. however, that didn’t mean she was always such a role model, smoking the occasional blunt or letting rafe do a line off of her when they’re both drunk out of their minds

whenever one of the two was invited to some big event, the other was forced to go along with them. if one of them was going to have to suffer through hours of stuffy small talk, they would both have to. it didn’t really matter too much though, most of the time they would end up sneaking off to walk along the beach or smoke

as they grew older, and rafe’s addictions grew stronger, reader tried multiple times to convince him to get clean. he’d always promise, but then that weekend she’d see him doing another line

they had fought multiple times about rafe’s dangerous behavior, typically ending with him saying something out of line and reader leaving, telling him to talk to her when he figures his shit out 

no matter how mad they were at each other, the time apart was excruciating. eventually, whether a few hours or a week depending on how bad their fight was, one of them would show up at the others house with coffee and an understood apology between them (usually rafe)

it all came to a head when one night she found him on her porch with bloodshot eyes, kicked out by his own father after he had stolen some of his money to buy more coke

she had gotten him a change of clothes from the items she had stolen from him over the years, forced him to take a cold shower, then sat up with him as he sobbed, pouring his heart out about everything. his addictions, his mom, the voices, his… feelings towards her. reader had had a pretty good idea of what he was going through, but hearing him, and seeing him like this, broke her heart

she told him that they’d talk about this in the morning when he was sober, to which he nodded and buried his head in her shoulder, crying himself to sleep as reader softly ran her fingers through his hair

when reader woke up the next morning, rafe was gone. she checked her phone, seeing no texts or calls from him, and ran downstairs to look for him. she didn’t have to look too far, as he was in the kitchen making pancakes and chatting with reader’s father

once they had finished breakfast, the two headed back upstairs to talk:

“i’m so sorry about—” “rafe last night—” “no you go first—” “you go—” “goddamnit.” they both chuckled.

rafe apologized for dumping his heart out and reader apologized for not noticing sooner… or telling him that she felt the same way earlier too

regardless of her feelings, however, reader was firm that, if they wanted to start to explore this (whatever this was), rafe would have to get help. no excuses.

rafe agreed, and that afternoon he scheduled an appointment with the therapist reader had begged him to see all those years ago

while the road to recovery wasn’t necessarily a straight or easy one, reader stuck with him through it all. 

slowly, reader began to see the rafe she remembered from childhood: the smiley, adventurous boy that always made her laugh. the rafe she had fallen in love with all those years ago, and the one she continued to fall deeper in love with everyday

please let me know if you would be interested in hearing more about kook!reader <3

[oodlyenough]

4-2 turnabout corner

alright finished this case and i guess i'm doing case review posts now. i'm playing this for the first time so no spoilers for future stuff please:

this was pretty fun! and for the most part the problem-solving remained coherent, so that was nice. i feel like i never got any answers about the hit and run though...? i kept expecting it to be more relevant in the end and it just never was. i guess we had no time for that because we had to talk about trucy's panties for the three billionth time

but it was the first case with trucy and first real chance to see apollo do anything, and they're pretty fun. i like unsettling baby genius trucy. even if she totally stole my glory in court because i personally had also figured this out, catch up apollo, stop thinking like a normal person

apollo as the long-suffering straightman is more entertaining than i expected. the dynamic he has with the wrights is pretty funny, just like constantly ganged up on and bamboozled by their double act. poor apollo bawling after trucy fake kidnaps herself lmfao oh buddy

beanix cracks me up. it's so easy to wind apollo up and everyone does it with gusto. i think like 80% of what he says to apollo at any given time is a lie. it's a very funny dynamic to me lmao, "if anything i see you more as a BOTHER figure". i keep thinking of a text post i saw on here, i can't even remember if it was talking about AA specifically or just fandom in general, but talking about how fandom tends to ignore the existence of relationships besides "literal family" or "lovers", and ended with "normalize coworkers". anyway i think about "normalize coworkers" like every time apollo and phoenix interact.

the game is definitely inviting me to question his integrity at all times but the thing is i like phoenix more than anyone else in this game and it's not close, so...

i said it in other posts but adult ema rules!!! i love cranky sarcastic women. related to the point above, i really appreciate having her there as the other tie to the trilogy, and as someone who knew phoenix from before and is loyal to him. same girl same.

i also like klavier, he's fun. i'm curious to know what his deal is since it's not at all apparent why he's doing any of this to me, he doesn't seem to hold any grudge on kristoph's behalf. (what, he just likes law? a normal motivation? in my AA??? is that allowed)

on more negative notes:

i could really have done without an entire running gag for the entire case being about panties and panty snatching and especially a 15 year old telling me about her panties like every line of dialogue. i get that the "joke" is that it's meant to be weird and uncomfortable and apollo is uncomfortable. but like. christ lmao free me

the alcoholic phoenix jokes are not it for me, man! feels sleazy and uncomfortable and i know the game is never even going to like. treat it seriously. they can't even say the word wine. i can excuse weird cryptid phoenix who speaks in riddles and is generally kind of an asshole but i draw the line at "alcoholic single father". fuck off lmao.

in general, a lot of the stuff they're doing with phoenix here so far is, like, tolerable to me only inasmuch as i've been spoiled for it and i also can approach it as a sort of midpoint; i know most people don't like aa5+6, and my opinion may change a bit after i play them, but right now the idea of the series ending here, with washed out (alcoholic????) loser phoenix is so bleak and depressing, and falls into a lot of sequel media tropes i find tired. you often see franchises end their original run on a high note only to follow it up years later with a sequel that's like "but it was all for nought, everyone went their separate ways and Our Hero kind of sucks now". if i'd played this unspoiled in whatever year it was it came out i'd've been so pissed lmao

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi, Charity! I have an EFJ friend who I believe is a 621 (still unsure about her core, but most of the times I lean towards 6 since she’s very reactive and quick to express negative emotions).

This would probably make her a 6, yes. 6 EFJs do not image-manage in the way 2s do, which is to cultivate how you see them 24/7 by identifying what is valuable in them (how generous, loving, supportive, sweet, optimistic, and selfless they are). 2/EFJs are positive types who usually self-censor negativity because of an idea in their mind of how they 'should' be optimistic and cheerful, so as not to burden other people with their negative feelings.

She always mentions how much she enjoys when people remember things she cares about and when people simply worry about her, even if it’s in a small way. Since she’s 24/7 focused on people, she’s the friend who will remember details about others, so I guess it’d be natural for her to expect the same attention in return. It doesn’t happen often, though.

That's sad, and unfortunately, the plight many nice EFJs suffer from -- their lives are totally about other people and their feelings, but they are often neglected in return. Especially when dominant social types (and a lot of them are), relationships, closeness, intimacy, being paid attention to, responded to, thought of, is everything.

A couple of days ago, a few family members of hers went out for lunch and didn’t invite her. She said that they were discussing where they’d go at the living room while she was working (she’s a designer, so she works from home most of the time and has a pretty flexible schedule) and they left without asking if she’d like to go with them or not.

Wow.

How incredibly rude of them, to discuss where to eat IN HER HOUSE and not invite her out of common courtesy. o.O

I asked her why she didn’t ask them if she could join, to which she responded “Well, they’re aware that I like eating out! They could’ve invited me if they wanted my company, but they didn’t, so why would I invite myself?”

It's also rude from a "social" perspective to invite yourself anywhere, and that may have been on her mind or in the back of it. EFJs are very attuned to what's "done" and what's not, especially someone who is triple super-ego and highly aware of appropriateness.

It’s not the first time I see her acting like this, constantly she wants people to “guess” her needs as well as she does with others, otherwise, she gets upset (she won’t say it right away, but it’s always written all over her face — and if you ask her what happened, she’ll quickly say what’s going on). Could a 6 with a 2 fix behave like this? Or is it something only a 2 core would feel? Thanks for the insights <3

A 6 could be like this, yes. Even if you are a 6 core, 2 fixes are still drowning in super-ego -- I SHOULD... not be selfish, not assert my needs, not have any needs, only give generously without expectation of return... etc, never mind that a 2 fix also keeps score and secretly wants love, affection, closeness, intimacy, and gratitude in return. All 2s and 2 fixers must learn to admit they have relationship needs and to learn to 'take up space' by asking for those needs to be met, but because they always are thinking about what everyone else needs, anticipating that, and meeting it ahead of time, they forget that other types are not as attuned to them as they would be.

TBH, a 2 core probably would have addressed this with them -- either from a 1 wing stance of "that was incredibly rude and you hurt my feelings" way or done so as a 2w3 with more subtlety but still an assertive tendency to get the attention the 2 wants. (I mean, since when does Molly Weasley hold her tongue?) It's more 6ish to allow other people to run off without you and just accept it, or say they had a good reason, or try to be "rational" instead of admitting to how hurt you felt by it.

[1d1195]

I'm glad your weekend wasn’t horrible! Though please take some time to recharge! While nothing too bad may have happened, it can still be a lot of being around people! Cleaning is oddly relaxing for me too lol. What are you most excited to cook on your list of recipes?

I used to LOVE project runway when i was younger! Tbh I think I just loved any show that involved creating something like baking,cooking, and even home renovation stuff lol But ngl reality tv shows about dating/love stuff  is something that I can’t get into lol But I can see how you are more drawn towards scripted stuff though and I get it!

Kids are crazy! Sometimes it is wild how they cannot simply be kind or even understanding of others. I didn’t personally suffer from bullying but that doesn’t mean literally interacting with kids my age was easy. Anyways I'm sure giving them reminders is helping even if they may not appreciate it at the moment! Though I get that it can be so annoying because you're kind and it comes naturally to you!

That’s so sweet! And you’re so right about nicknames! Though I am never bold enough to give someone a nickname or use one unless they tell me too lol and yeah I dislike the brand for more reasons other than that obviously but my inner child loves holding grudge lol 

I LOVE when people give context or just share details lol im the same way too! Once I get on a topic I feel strongly for and/or once I'm comfortable with someone I YAP AWAY! But lowkey I miss silly little filler chapters in general! They remind me a lot of my early wattpad days when I was 12 HAHA But yes I do agree filler episodes are so underappreciated now! Especially how most shows don’t even go beyond 10 episodes per season now which I find kind of sad! 

Both of my classes meet twice a week, but both are 3 hours long :( And they both are live zoom sessions so that means that there is no recording happening. Which I totally get but 3 hours is alot 😭But you're right it is so much info 😭 Yeah lowkey my therapist said it wasn’t a good idea to do two summer sessions back to back but I need to graduate on time lol Also how is teaching summer classes goin? Are you almost done?

ALSO I CAN’T BELIEVE IT”S BEEN A YEAR SINCE PROTECTION😭

Hope you can get some rest and have a very calm rest of the week! You don’t have to thank me! Seriously talking to you is never a bother and I enjoy it so much! THANK YOU for constantly giving such thoughtful responses to not only me but everyone you interact with💗Wishing you to have the BEST week bestie!! Love you lots!-💜

My dumb son invited his friend over to stay with us for a couple days so now I'm hiding in my room. I have to pretend to be social and shit and it's the worst. I've barely recovered from my fam. I just want to be quiet and alone by myself 😭😭 No but tbh it's fine. I'm just dramatic. Cleaning was REALLY good actually. I've been trying to do some much needed stuff (like washing walls and baseboards. Very adult stuff lol) Maybe I'll do some more organizing and shit while his friend is here so I can hide and whatnot.

I made this ravioli dish that was really good. It was sort of alfredo-y and had spinach and sundried tomatoes. Honestly? I'm most excited to make these roasted veggies lol. Potatoes, carrots, zucchini hehehe

I liked the first few seasons of project runway but the premise got away from me (and the writers I think). I wish I got more into cooking shows. I do have a serious soft spot for Cake Boss tho 😂

I have this one student who said to me "she never gives up on me" and it honestly kind of melted my heart. She's a TOUGH kid. Like I'm lowkey afraid of her 😭😭 I'm glad she likes me because she's kinda cuckoo 🤣🤣 She has these massive angry blowups, not necessarily her fault because of mental health and undiagnosed ADHD but she doesn't always make the best decisions either. For some reason she listens to me. So I keep trying to help her even though she makes me INSANE. But the point of that was she's a mean girl tbh she struggles to stay out of drama (sometimes not her fault, but many times it is) anyway. She's a lot, can't wait for her to graduate.

An inner child grudge is like no other. I love it tbh. I have a grudge. My mom told me at like age 6 we hate Bank of America and I refuse to set foot in there lol so I totally get disliking the brand.

I can't say I'm surprised, we do send each other lengthy messages 😭 it would be a TIME if we met in person hahahahahaha we wouldn't stop talking for ages. It's CRAZY how there are no filler episodes and the seasons are SO short. So so so crazy.

OMG T W E L V E HOURS of zoom a week. That's so so long. I hope they give breaks. Honestly, this is going to sound super weird, but I think it's pretty cool that you didn't listen to your therapist about this. It's fairly low-stake and it's a lot but you have really good intentions of getting your classes done on time so you can be DONE and graduate. One of the things I'm worried about starting therapy is that I'll want to do it perfectly and I'll want my therapist to think I'm the best lol (can you tell I need it?) so I feel like I would be obligated to do EVERYTHING she tells me to (I want a she because I hate men most of the time lol) and I would overwhelm myself with that if that makes sense. So it's refreshing to know you don't have to listen to her; at least in this instant. Hopefully that all makes sense

One more week of summer school. They're going well. I'm worried some kids aren't going to pass. We offer some classes online and I'm concerned they aren't going to finish/pass. Which is so irritating. Because like, why show up for a month if you're not going to pass? I know there's deeper issues and more to it, but still. We make it PRETTY easy to pass...

I KNOW A WHOLE YEAR. IT'S LIKE OUR ANNIVERSARY TOO 😭😭💕

Hope your week gets easier too LOVE YOU

xoxo

[obey-me-headquarters]

*firmly grasps*

no,,,, no, u dont see,, u dont see the potential but i wILL SHOW YOU,, I WILL SHOW!!!

imagine our sweet pretty peacock lucifer mourning his eggs, absolutely inconsolable, crooning and crying and spreading his wings, flapping, trying to protect the shells of eggs that aren't whole anymore,,,

and you're upset because what??? is he doing? he's your pet. you enjoyed sleeping with him, he's so pretty and handsome and he looked so aloof when you bought him but turned into such a cuddly creature that preened for you with just a few pets,,

you don't realize, but being his mate has affected you, too. you can't sleep well without him, can barely sleep at all. you try to drag him to bed with you, squawking and fluttering weakly, but he just lies there next to you and squirms restlessly,,, because he knows you've deemed him an unworthy mate,

just,,, frustrated with him, getting angry, getting unsettled, realizing you care a lot more than you realized. that seeing him so miserable makes you miserable too even if he's just a pet.

anyways i languished for a WHILE like i first came up with the idea maybe a month ago and i didn't know how to go forward at this point but JUST NOW,,,

what if,, you get a new pet. swearing to yourself that this one will make you feel better, that lucifer is totally replaceable, that you don't need him...

EUEUEUEUEUE ELSE WHHHHHHY

You can't just be like "imagine our sweet peacock Lucifer sad" and NOT expect me to immediately be like "take care of him take care of him take care of him take"

Ok but if I may, I will put on my Angst Hat and play with you in this space.

God, imagine how much getting a new pet would absolutely DESTORY Lucifer. He already sees himself as a bad mate, that you don't love him like he loves you and doesn't want to raise his clench. And now?? Getting a new pet?? A replacement? Maybe you even get another bird pet, like a dove or something like that. One that's less emotional than Lucifer, that wouldn't freak out over some eggs.

You're doing this to prove to yourself that you don't need Lucifer, that he's replaceable. But you're still unable to get rid of him. The thought of him not being around, of not being able to care and protect him, creates an uneasily feeling in your gut you don't like.

Imagine not even telling Luci that you're getting a new pet. Just one day coming home with a new one, pristine white wings on display. He's still sitting where the egg shells are, trying in vain to protect them. Flatly you inform him that this is your pet, and that you don't need him to warm your bed anymore.

Now Lucifer is forced to live in a house where he's not wanted. We're you cuddle up to a different pet every night, while he's left sitting with his eggs shells. He knows he's a bad mate, that you would rather have the new pet as your mate. That some nights he can hear moaning from your room and he knows that you prefer the company of another.

But in reality, you're suffering too. This new pet doesn't feel anything like Lucifer. They don't perfectly slot into your arms like Lucifer, they don't moan as pretty as Lucifer did. And even though theure pretty, they don't look as eye catching as Lucifer. You can barely sleep, your subconscious needing Lucifer (your mate) to be near you.

Lucifer trying his best to get into your good graces again. He cooks every meal, is constantly cleaning the house, trying everything to be absolutely prefect. But it doesn't seem to matter, you barely acknowledge him. Instead spending all of your time cuddling up to your new pet.

Eventually Lucifer gets bitter. What does this new pet has that he doesn't?? So he tries to prove to you that this new pet could never be good enough. He makes messes in the new pets name. He spies on the pet to try and tattles on them to you whenever they do something even slightly wrong.

But still, you don't care. You still invite the pet to your bed.

All it takes is a little teasing from the new pet, for Lucifer to snap and attack them. When you show up, hearing the scuffle from your bed, Lucifer can't help but break down. Asking why he wasn't good enough, why you don't want to be his mate, what he did wrong.

[romirola]

Nominations for a RedactedASMR Fanfic Art

I was inspired by the lists/tag games recently circulating and the amazing fanart that I always see around the "redacted asmr" tag. I'm constantly blown away by fanart. I often see artists solicit prompts, and while I have occasionally requested stuff (the collective talent of this fandom is INSANE and hard to resist!), I usually hold back because I cannot reciprocate art like I try to do for writing fanfic/headcanons. I feel like I'm imposing or something. At the same time, when I solicit prompts/requests for writing fanfics/headcanons, I LOVE receiving them and do not consider them an imposition in the slightest. You can see how these competing ideas put me in a tough spot. To prompt or not? What to do? How to support the creativity here? Well, I thought, rather than prompting outright, I am going to create a list to nominate some wonderful fics I've read for fanart, in case there is an artist out there who might in need of some ideas or possible prompts. Disclaimer: No one is expecting or pressuring anyone to create anything!

If I had the talent to create visual art or the patience to practice creating visual art, these are the fics or scenes for which I'd draw fanart. I'm going to limit myself to 6 on this list for now, but honestly, there are SO MANY good candidates for fanart in this fandom. Plus, this list will promote some great fanfic authors! I invite anyone who sees this to come up with your own list of "fanart nominations." I am also going to invite dominimoonbeam, ejunkiet, lunareclipsee2, fuzzy-melonlord, and lovelylonerliterature formally since I nominated their works, but no pressure, friends! I decided to limit myself to one story per author, even though it was tempting to say all the stories from these writers. I aim to provide specificity. All the titles are linked to the story on A03:

In no particular order: 

The Lake by @dominimoonbeam I think the scene where Asher comforts Babe on the drive home as David drives, turns the heat up, and keeps looking back at them worrying would be very suited to fanart.

Your Mess is Mine by @ejunkiet I am very biased because I prompted this story and I very much champion the Sweetheart-practices-yoga headcanon, but the scene where Milo walks in on Sweetheart while practicing and silently, ‘stealthily’ admires them? It’s a quick, but significant moment for my favorite couple!

Not tonight, I have a headache by LoveRun (if this user is on tumblr, please someone let me know and I will properly tag.) The ending concludes with David using his wolf form to comfort Angel as they suffer through a migraine. Oh yes, definitely something I’d like to see!

flowers for the sick at the dead by @lunareclipsee2 This story has a great moment where David comforts an injured Sweetheart as Asher attempts to keep Milo from seeing the damage his mate has sustained. Emotional stuff!

Seeing Red by @fuzzy-melonlord. Okay, yes, I requested this one, too, and I will fully admit that, but the story features such a tense, tender moment between David and Asher as David reaches his grief-breaking point and Asher responds in true form! 

Settle Down by @lovelylonerliterature The image of Milo and Sweetheart at a diner at 2am is just burned into my brain, so I feel like it would translate well to a visual medium.

Artists, if you are so inclined, next time you need a prompt for redacted fanart, please consider these moments, or any others that get noted if anyone else chooses to nominate. Or use them for inspiration that you adapt! Or ignore them completely! Your call! Either way, I'm pumped to see all the art.

A general appreciation statement: Thanks to all the authors, artists, music-curators, character anons, theorists, headcanon-sharers, readers, rebloggers, and everyone in between for creating a community where people share stuff! 

[mothandpidgeon]

REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

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[sokkastyles]

“Tell Me What Happened:” Zutara and the Female Gaze

I’ve seen some discourse about the male and female gaze, and I think some people misunderstand what these terms actually mean. So let’s go back a bit to the origins.

The term “the male gaze” was popularized by feminist film critic Laura Mulvey. In her essay, “Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema,” Mulvey uses the Hitchcock film Rear Window, which is a story that is entirely framed around the voyeurism of the main male character. There’s a point in the movie where the protagonist’s girlfriend, who had previously doubted the events the protagonist claimed to view out of his apartment window, which make up most of the action of the story, finally comes around to his way of seeing things, and delivers the very effective and famous line “Tell me exactly what you saw, and what you think it means.”

Most of the time when people talk about the male gaze, they refer to female characters being displayed as objects for an assumed male viewer. Mulvey argues that the way the character Lisa is portrayed in this movie does subject her to this voyeuristic interpretation, but it goes deeper than that. When Lisa is not the object being viewed, she is asked to see things through the perspective of the main male character. She originally doubts him, but eventually she is forced to view things from his perspective. Later in the movie, she becomes subject to the protagonist’s gaze as we see her on the other side of the binoculars. Her boyfriend, the character through which the movie establishes its viewpoint, watches her be threatened by another man and eventually she is saved.

The movie both invites the assumed male viewer to view Lisa as an object AND asks her, as the movie’s female protagonist, to view things through the lens of the male protagonist.

And that’s what most of the critiques I see of Katara and Aang’s relationship are about. Take “The Fortune Teller,” for example.

Many people have already talked about how "The Fortuneteller" treats Aang's crush on Katara vs Meng's crush on Aang, but I would like to point out what I think is a particularly egregious example of the male gaze in this episode.

This is Aang looking at Katara. We get the pan over her body with emphasis on how attractive Aang finds her to be. The lighting makes her look practically angelic.

Then, later in the episode, when we see Meng crush on Aang, we get a similar pan.

The joke is meant to contrast Katara's desirability with Aang's, yet we are supposed to root for Aang as he worries that Katara does not return his feelings.

The show is also making fun of Aang's crush on Katara by showing Aang's exaggerated perspective, but she still remains desirable in his view and to the camera. There is no undercutting of Aang's view of Katara the way the camera subverts Meng’s view of Aang. We are not asked to see Aang as desirable from a female perspective, which begs the question of what Katara should see in him if female desire is so, well...undesirable.

This is one of several places where the show is self aware enough to poke fun at the way Aang sees Katara, but still in the end totally validates him and the male gaze by only subverting it when the genders are flipped. Which isn't actually a subversion at all.

This is an example of the camera framing a female character as object of the male gaze, but it goes deeper than that. The male gaze isn’t just framing women as objects to be looked at, but inviting women to view themselves through the filter of the male gaze as well.

And therein, I would argue, is the appeal of zutara.

You could make a case that one of the reasons zutara is so popular is because the show does occasionally present Zuko as an object for the gaze of a female audience. The creators were aware at a certain point that there was a not insignificant portion of the fandom that was into Zuko.

But Zuko is never framed as an object of desirability for Katara.

What the show does do, though, is switch up the lens through which we are supposed to view the narrative. And the way this happens is directly tied to Katara’s relationship with Zuko.

Katara is, in a lot of ways, our narrator from the beginning. Her words are the first ones heard from episode one, telling us about the world and the war and the Avatar. Her narration is focused on Aang and his story. “I believe that Aang can save the world.”

Katara also has her own story, though, one she talks about throughout the series but mostly in relation to others. And it’s this story that she confronts Zuko with in the crystal caves, when she tells him that he has “no idea” what she has suffered, and she tells him about the death of her mother.

Zuko does something she doesn’t expect by apologizing and relating it to the loss of his own mother, but he still can’t fully commit to her side and ends up betraying their tentative truce. It’s when she confronts him with it again in “The Southern Raiders” that things start to shift.

Before that, Katara had used the death of her mother to empathize with other’s loss, and many times this is a male character. We’ve heard the story told many times. Sokka tells it to Toph to explain Katara to her.

When Zuko seeks out Sokka in “The Southern Raiders,” though, it is the first time that another character has asked to hear the story.

Zuko: I want you to tell me what happened to your mother.

Sokka tells Zuko the story and tells Zuko that it’s not something he likes to think about. This relates to how Katara and Sokka differently view what happened to their mother, and partially contributes to why Katara told Sokka that maybe he didn’t love her enough. For Sokka, the day of his mother’s murder is not something he wants to relive, but Katara is constantly forced to relive it.

“The Southern Raiders” contains three full flashbacks to Kya’s murder. First from Sokka’s viewpoint, then Katara herself as she is telling the story to Zuko. The last time we see the story play out, it is as Katara is standing in front of Yon Rha and confronting him with it, while Zuko looks on passively.

Here, the dynamic has shifted so that Katara is not only the one telling the story, but in the end she is also the one who gets to rewrite it, to define how it ends, and Zuko is the observer, much like Lisa in “Rear Window.” Tell me what you saw and what you think it means.

Zuko knows the importance of letting Katara give shape and meaning to this story because he himself tried to do the same with Ozai, who is the only one left to speak about what happened to Ursa.

Ozai: Don’t you want to know what happened to your mother?

That both of these narratives involve women being silenced emphasizes the reclamation of them as the shifting from a male gaze to a female one. That Zuko’s redemption is tied to such a shift is very interesting, especially given the elemental symbolism of fire = male and water = female. That “The Southern Raiders,” one of the most shippy episodes, involves Katara ignoring Aang’s attempts to define the situation and, in the episode’s climax, forcing two male characters to observe as she describes what happened to her mother, a woman she is so connected with, is significant. Katara directs both the gazes of Zuko and Yon Rha, and by extension the audience, just as she effortlessly directs the rain itself. The last time we see the memory retold it is Katara revealing the truth to Yon Rha, who thought he had killed the last waterbender. The fact that this episode was penned by a woman also emphasizes the power of reclaiming narratives with a female gaze.

[benjaminmoorepaint]

red: the color of...grantaire?

Figured I might do another meta post like the one I did for Marius to address the myths and misconceptions surrounding certain characters, so it's Grantaire's turn!

I'm sure we all know Grantaire quite well...a sensitive starving artist, with his Apollo as his muse, and a cynic who pragmatically points out the flaws in Enjolras's idealism, which they quarrel over.

Let's unpack that!

Grantaire is most likely middle class if not wealthy, he is certainly not poor. We don't know what he's studying (if he's studying at all) but he is nevertheless a quintessentially Parisian bourgeoise "student", much like Bahorel. "A rover, a gambler, a libertine..." As the foil of "severe in his enjoyments" Enjolras, Grantaire is a pleasure-seeker, indulging in the excesses that Enjolras disdains.

Again, though we don't know what Grantaire is studying (and I suspect he's just Bahorel-ing it) he's clearly an educated man, judging by the references he throws into his speeches, and he mentions that he once was a student of Gros.

So is he really an artist? He might have been an apprentice at some point, but it's clear he was not particularly enthused by it. After all, discipline is something that Grantaire…lacks. And because it's Grantaire, you can't completely discount the idea that he made it up just for a pun (though I do find that unlikely.) But it's a triple (quadruple?) play--it's important not to take this quote too far out of context because he's actually saying several things here.

It is a shame that I am ignorant, otherwise I would quote to you a mass of things; but I know nothing. For instance, I have always been witty; when I was a pupil of Gros, instead of daubing wretched little pictures, I passed my time in pilfering apples; rapin is the masculine of rapine. So much for myself; as for the rest of you, you are worth no more than I am. I scoff at your perfections, excellencies, and qualities. Every good quality tends towards a defect [...] there are just as many vices in virtue as there are holes in Diogenes’ cloak.

Gros was a well-known neoclassical painter of the time, and I believe Hugo's inclusion of him here is a jab at the neoclassicists, as Grantaire doesn't seem to care for him.

There's a pun! "Rapin"--term for a painter's assistant--is the masculine of "rapine"--to steal.

So he likely means he stole the apples intended to be painted for a still life, which fits his careless attitude... but he's ironically putting himself down for it too, and at the same time

putting his companions down, saying they're no better than him even if they do have more "good" qualities because each good quality has a corresponding downside, so what's the point, really?

You can see that even in this small sample of his speech that Grantaire often has layers upon layers of meaning in what he says. He's a smart guy! But that means you can't always take what he says at face value, as Hugo says, he's constantly "reasoning and contradicting" himself. So let me invite you further down into what I think his real meaning is here (though now firmly into the depths of my own conjecture, so others may have different interpretations.)

I would speculate that "the rest of you" who he professes to mock refers mostly to a specific person, you can probably guess who. After all, Enjolras is surely the paragon of virtue among them, and you could certainly argue that his good qualities edge on being flaws. I think Grantaire is right about that, and it's a sort of theme we see pop up again and again--the Bishop's generosity does hurt the women he lives with, Valjean's self-sacrifice hurts Cosette, and Javert is someone who's tipped all the way over to his virtues being vices.

But like, man, come on. Seriously. "I scoff at your perfections, excellencies, and qualities." Dude. We all know that you're obsessed with this man.

And you might notice that this is just a whole lot of Grantaire talking and talking over people, never letting anyone else get a word in. It's not a debate, Grantaire never actually debates anyone, let alone Enjolras. The idea of Grantaire debating Enjolras and making him see the flaws in his idealistic revolution is wholly a fandom invention.

The closest we get, really, is Grantaire trying to convince Enjolras to send him to the Barriere du Maine...and Grantaire doesn't come out of that looking so good.

“Do you know anything of those comrades who meet at Richefeu’s?”

“Not much. We only address each other as tu.”

“What will you say to them?”

“I will speak to them of Robespierre, pardi! Of Danton. Of principles.”

“You?”

“I. But I don’t receive justice. When I set about it, I am terrible. I have read Prudhomme, I know the Social Contract, I know my constitution of the year Two by heart. ‘The liberty of one citizen ends where the liberty of another citizen begins.’ Do you take me for a brute? I have an old bank-bill of the Republic in my drawer. The Rights of Man, the sovereignty of the people, sapristi! I am even a bit of a Hébertist. I can talk the most superb twaddle for six hours by the clock, watch in hand.”

I won't bother going too in-depth here since you're probably familiar with all this--Grantaire talks a big game and then fails to follow through. And we see one of two red waistcoats mentioned, neither of which are worn by Enjolras.

Grantaire lived in furnished lodgings very near the Café Musain. He went out, and five minutes later he returned. He had gone home to put on a Robespierre waistcoat.

“Red,” said he as he entered, and he looked intently at Enjolras. Then, with the palm of his energetic hand, he laid the two scarlet points of the waistcoat across his breast.

So yeah, it's actually Grantaire who wears red, at least canonically! I know their popular red/green color scheme comes from the musical, but it might be fun to reverse it sometimes...I think Enjolras would look great in a nice emerald green, and he'd be more likely to wear that, actually.

Why? A red waistcoat like would be a very obvious, in-your-face political statement--perfect for Bahorel, the other red waistcoat wearer, but Enjolras is actually a lot more reserved and less reckless than fandom sometimes makes him out to be. Wearing something that blatant isn't really his style.

The real question is, why does Grantaire, of all people, own one? Why has he read Prudhomme and the Social Contract and the Rights of Man?

Grantaire is not a super sympathetic character. He's a man of means, talent, intelligence...and he wastes those gifts and privileges on doing nothing, he has no aims in life, he does not aspire to do better or make the world better. He may be Enjolras's foil but I would also contrast him with Feuilly, who has spent his life dedicated to improving himself and the world despite the challenges he's faced. He's obnoxious to women, denigrates his friends for their beliefs, and is generally useless. He's given the opportunity to change and he squanders it. He's not so much cynical (because that's a belief) as he is indifferent, which is arguably worse. His indifference can certainly be read as symbolic within the group, their belief versus the apathy of the world.

But, layers upon layers...Grantaire does have a good heart hiding underneath all that. What I've been getting at all along here is that he does care; he may say he doesn't, he may even believe he doesn't, but he does, clearly, care. He says he hates mankind; he loves people. He says he scoffs at his companions; he admires them. He declares himself indifferent, yet he can't help but talk about the sufferings of the world.

Which isn't to say that simply caring absolves him of anything. Up to this point, he's still just been a useless layabout. What does absolve him (narratively speaking) is the first time, possibly the first time in his life, that he chooses to act. He chooses to take a stand. And this transfigures him, as Hugo says.

Grantaire had risen. The immense gleam of the whole combat which he had missed, and in which he had had no part, appeared in the brilliant glance of the transfigured drunken man.

At the last moment, he chooses to believe, and Enjolras finally accepts him.

One last thing: Grantaire never calls Enjolras "Apollo". Furthermore, he's actually the only one who couldn't have called him "Apollo". The only line where this nickname is mentioned is as follows:

It was of him, possibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of war: “There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo.”

Who could have called him that? Not Grantaire, he was fast asleep during the whole thing. So I choose to believe it was Prouvaire…he would.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Question, if worm man is hels zed then would helsknight at some point recognize him? I’m pretty sure they would either:

A) have a odd run-in with each other

Or

B) helsknight threatens to tell the server and they become rivals

OOOOOOH BOY i got inspired :D

Helsaph hops out of the portal at the Yes Wings Club and approaches the building. Part of him regrets declining Impulse’s invitation to show him around but Helsaph thinks it’s a good test. The only person he’s likely to meet here is Wels, and Wels likely doesn’t know Zedaph well enough to be able to differentiate between Zedaph and Helsaph.

Speaking of Wels…

“Oh, hello, Zedaph,” Wels says casually, a bit-too-friendly smile on his face, as he exits the Yes Wings Club.

Helsaph keeps his guard up but manages a friendly, if nervous, smile back. “Hi, Wels. How are you?”

“Pretty good. Haven’t seen you around in a while, Zedaph.”

“I’ve been… busy. Good busy though.”

Wels nods. “That’s good to hear, Zedaph.”

A shiver runs down Helsaph’s spine. “Why do you keep saying my name like that?”

“IS it your name, though?”

Helsaph freezes, panic briefly flickering across his face. “...what do you mean?”

Wels’s smile turns into a triumphant grin. “I knew it. You can’t hide from me; I know you too well.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” says Helsaph, avoiding eye contact. “Excuse me.”

He starts to leave.

“I wouldn’t walk away from me if I were you, Helsaph.”

Helsaph stops dead, his heart skipping a beat. He slowly turns back to face the person who clearly isn’t Welsknight.

“Got your attention now, have I?” the person chuckles. “Frankly, I’m a little hurt that you didn’t recognise me straight away. Or maybe you did and you hoped I wouldn’t recognise you.”

Helsaph does recognise him now. In fact, he can hardly believe he ever thought this person was Wels. “What are you doing here, Helsknight?”

“Just out for a walk.” Helsknight shrugs casually. “Is that a crime?”

“I mean on this server,” responds Helsaph. “Last I heard, you were banished back to Helscraft in Season 7.”

“Oh you heard about that? Good news travels far and wide, doesn’t it?”

Helsaph narrows his eyes. “Helsknight, stop playing around with me. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want to know why you’re running around the server pretending to be Zedaph when you know full well the real Zedaph is back home in his base.” Helsknight’s eyes gleam. “Are you up to something evil?”

“No, I live here now,” Helsaph says. “Wait, what do you mean the real- Have you been spying on us?!”

Helsaph is not encouraged by the grin on Helsknight’s face.

“Maybe,” he responds. “Maybe not. Point is, I know a lot. Including the fact that you’re not supposed to be on this server.”

“That’s not a point, that’s just an ominous statement.” Helsaph frowns. “Are you threatening me?”

Helsknight nods. “Yup. I’d really like you to realise right now that I could go over to Xisuma and tell him a LOT of interesting things.”

Helsaph’s breath catches in his throat.

Immediately, Helsknight grins triumphantly. “Uh huh, that’s what I was waiting for. The flicker of panic on your face. That’s how I knew it was you and not the real Zedaph. I know you too well, Helsaph.”

“Helsknight…” Helsaph stares at Helsknight in fear. “Why would you want to ruin this for me? I’m finally in a place that makes me happy after years and years of-.”

“Because helsmits aren’t supposed to be happy!” Helsknight bursts out suddenly. “You think I’M happy?! I’m stuck here on this server trying to kill my counterpart so I can escape Helscraft forever! Constantly having to look over my shoulder and hide! Trying to gather resources in a world that rebels against my every move! Why should YOU-” He jabs his finger at Helsaph. “-get to be happy and I don’t?!”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Helsknight,” Helsaph says pleadingly. “Befriend your counterpart. Wels is a loving and understanding person; he’ll take you in the way Zedaph took me in.”

Helsknight stares at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking. You think I’m gonna crawl to him after all this time of trying to kill him and beg to be forgiven?! And even if he does, then what? I’d be stuck in the same position as you! Still forced to hide, not allowed to do anything, stuck under the thumb of my idiot counterpart.”

“He can-.”

But Helsknight sharply waves his hand, stopping Helsaph. “NO. My goal is to kill Welsknight so I can absorb his lifeforce and get the hell away from everyone here. THAT is the goal of a helsmit.” His upper lip curls in disgust. “Not to run around dressed like an idiot trying to fight imaginary crime.”

Helsaph takes an involuntary step back. “Y-You know about that…?”

“Of course!” snaps Helsknight. “You make me sick, Helsaph. I’d rather die than suffer that indignity.”

“Well, it- it was a little awkward at first but I grew to really enjoy it,” Helsaph explains. “It sure beat returning to Helscraft, that’s for sure.”

“You pathetic little-!” Helsknight breaks off with a sneer. “You’re not fit to be called a helsmit! I’m not existing here on this server knowing you’re out there being HAPPY.”

He turns and starts to walk away but Helsaph, before he can stop himself, jumps into his path. “I won’t let you do this to me, Helsknight,” he says, forcing his voice to stay steady.

“Get out of my way,” growls Helsknight.

Helsaph shakes his head. “No. I’ve suffered too hard and for too long for this to just let you take it all away from me.”

“Well then, the only way to save it is to kill me.”

For a moment, Helsaph thinks he heard Helsknight wrong. “Wh-What?”

“Kill me,” repeats Helsknight firmly.

“W-Will you respawn?”

Helsknight rolls hie eys. “Of course not, idiot. You know the rules: if a helsmit dies outside of Helscraft, they die forever.”

“Then why are you telling me to kill you?!” yelps Helsaph.

“Because that’s the only way to save your precious new life.” Helsknight takes a step closer to Helsaph. “Do you want it that badly that you’d murder another helsmit to keep it?”

Helsaph doesn’t respond.

Helsknight snorts. “Thought not.”

With that, he moves past Helsaph and keeps walking away.

Making a quick decision, Helsaph draws his sword and lunges to attack Helsknight, but he makes the mistake of letting out a yell as he does. Helsknight spins round and meets the blow with his own sword.

Helsaph is not a good fighter, so having lost the element of surprise, Helsknight is able to easily disarm him and knock him to the ground. As Helsaph tries to get up, he feels the point of Helsknight’s sword touching his neck, causing him to freeze.

“You never were a good fighter, Helsaph,” laughs Helsknight tauntingly. “You, Impulstor, Foxtrot. None of you could ever beat me even when you all came at me at once. You nev-.”

With a sudden burst of strength, Helsaph tackles Helsknight to the ground and snatches his sword off him, holding it threateningly out with both hands.

Helsknight laughs again as he sits up. “Wow. Genuinely, wow. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t ever bring up Impulstor and Foxtrot again,” Helsaph growls. “Ever.”

“Or what?” Helsknight says challengingly.

Good question, Helsaph thinks to himself.

ALoud, he says, “I don’t WANT to kill you, Helsknight. But you’ve no idea what I’ve gone through the last few decades. How much I’ve suffered to get here. I’m not going back to that.”

“Hm.” Helsknight raises an eyebrow as he regards Helsaph as if seeing him in a new light. “You know what? This could be interesting. You’re running around playing hero, huh? A hero needs a villain.”

“I’ve already got one.”

“Evil Xisuma?” snorts Helsknight. “Don’t make me laugh. They’re nothing but a pest.”

“Don’t you-!” starts Helsaph furiously.

But Helsknight again interrupts him. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. You and I are gonna fight a bit. I’m gonna cause some mischief around the server. If you can defeat me in a fight and get me locked up fair and square, I won’t tell Xisuma about you.”

Helsaph narrows his eyes. “I don’t trust you one bit.”

“Nor should you,” responds Helsknight.

After a moment, Helsaph says, “What if I just go tell Xisuma about me right now? I’m sure he’ll be receptive when he finds out how well I’m doing here.”

Helsknight barks a laugh. “HA! The man who banned his own sibling from the server?”

Helsaph stares at Helsknight with a frown. “What?”

“Evil Xisuma didn’t tell you that, huh?” Helsknight seers. “Well I hate to break it to you but if a man can banish his own sibling to the void for decades and decades, I don’t think he’ll be very happy to learn that an ACTUAL helsmit is living here and has in fact been part of Hermitcraft before. That might get your little buddy Zedaph into trouble, huh?”

Helsaph scowls and says nothing. He hadn’t considered the trouble his counterpart would get into if he’s discovered.

Helsknight rises to his feet and stretches. “Touched a nerve there, I think. I’ll see you around, Helsaph.”

Helsaph lets Helsknight take his sword back and glares down at the ground. “I hate you.”

“Good,” responds Helsknight. “You think I want to be liked?”

“Maybe it’d do you some good,” Helsaph mutters, folding his arms, “to have someone actually think you’re worth something.”

A pause.

Then Helsaph cries out as he feels something sharp slice a cut in his arm. His free hand flying to cover the area, he spins round to find Helsknight standing disturbingly close, the tip of his sword blade glistening with drops of blood.

“I’d watch what I say if I were you,” he says warningly, lifting the sword close to Helsaph’s face. “My patience only extends so far.”

Clutching his arm, Helsaph takes off running back down the path and into the nether portal he came from. He sprints through the nether tunnels back towards Zedaph’s base, his heart hammering in his chest. There are no thoughts in his mind as to how he’s going to explain his injury to Zedaph.

All he wants is to get as far away from Helsknight as possible.

[a-n-conrad]

Dinner With May (PS4!Peter Parker x Reader)

[Summary: After the events of the PS4 Spider-man game, you find yourself and your boyfriend, Peter, having dinner at his aunt’s house. For some reason, Peter seemed even more anxious than usual. It wasn’t until you overheard a conversation between him and his aunt that you figured out why. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: PS4 Spider-man spoilers, not canon compliant, marriage/proposals, anxiety

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/LbodcqZ7nxfGbNW96)]

It had been a chaotic month for you and Peter. Peter had been working almost nonstop as Spider-man, having to fight all of his biggest villains along with his mentor and the man that his aunt worked for, two men that he looked up to and trusted. He had been hurt fairly badly at certain points, and you had to patch him up when he did.

Not to mention, at one point Dr. Octavius had released a plague onto New York in an attempt to get revenge against Norman Osborn, and for the few days after that, you were helping Miles Morales and Peter’s Aunt May work to help all the people at the F.E.A.S.T. center that were going there for shelter as the city descended into chaos. By the end of it, May had gotten sick, Peter had broken multiple bones, and you and Miles had been almost killed a few different times. Peter was barely able to save May in time, and the clean-up still wasn’t done, but you guys were finally able to take a day to relax.

May had noticed that the two of you had been working nearly constantly, so she had invited the two of you over for dinner. May was a sweetheart. And she was an amazing cook, too so you were relatively excited to get to sit down for a nice meal with Peter and his aunt.

She was making your favorite, which you had told her a thousand times she didn’t need to do. But she was insistent. At this point, she switched between cooking your favorite meal and Peter’s every time the two of you went over for dinner.

You didn’t get the chance to go over to her house as much as you would like. You were busy enough with your job, and most nights Peter was gone before dinner to go stop crimes throughout the city. So more often than not, you were on your own for dinner, grabbing something quick from a shop that does takeout on your way home from work late in the evening.

But you had taken the day off of work to finally get a chance to relax, and you had insisted that Peter do the same, despite his protests that he was “totally fine” and “couldn’t take a day off”. Eventually, you had to get Miles to promise that he could handle one night on his own and that he would call Peter if anything came up that he needed help with. He was still pretty new to everything, but he could manage the petty crimes on his own.

- - - - -

The sun was already setting by the time the two of you got to May’s house. It had taken you almost an hour to get Peter out of the apartment that you shared, between him needed to call Miles to check-in and him nervously trying to make sure that he remembered everything. He apologized profusely for the entire trip over for making you late, and you spent the entire time trying to convince him that he didn’t need to apologize.

He had finally calmed down a bit by the time you got to his aunt’s house. He was always pretty anxious, especially when he wasn’t in his Spider-man suit, but somehow he seemed extra nervous tonight. You wondered if maybe his mental health had been suffering lately, after everything that had happened. You had to admit that you were starting to get a bit worried about him. You knew he could take care of himself, but sometimes he just didn’t. He had this bad habit of sacrificing his health and safety for the people around him and you were worried that he was doing that again.

So you hoped that dragging him to a nice dinner with his aunt would get him to take a bit of time for himself. She had been trying to get him to take better care of himself for as long as you could remember, so maybe she could do something to help convince him to take a few days to himself every once in a while. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were ganging up on him, but you had almost lost him a few times in the recent past and you weren’t ready for that.

“So which one of us do you think is going to insist on doing dishes after dinner first tonight,” You asked, your tone a bit teasing as you tried to lighten the mood a bit and distract Peter from his anxiety.

“Hmmm,” He pretended to think about it, the way he usually did when you teased him and he decided to play along, “Probably you, since you always seem to beat me to it.”

“Now that’s not true,” You place your hand over your heart in mock offense, like one of the ladies in a Victorian Era period drama, “I let you do the dishes on my birthday.”

He shook his head and chuckled a bit at that, before finally knocking on the door to his aunt’s house.

She opened the door with a smile on her face and the smell of amazing food wafting out of the kitchen. She greeted you each with a hug, letting you into the house like it was your house too. She had tried to convince you that you didn’t need to knock, but you insisted. You got a bit anxious when manners were in question. Maybe your anxiety was part of the reason that you and Peter worked so well together.

“It’s so nice to see you two,” May said as the two of you walked into the house. Her eyes almost started welling up with tears as she looked at you and Peter. Peter had officially revealed his identity as Spider-Man to her in the heat of everything happening and, while she had known the entire time, she had been incredibly worried for his safety with everything that was happening.

“It’s nice to see you too, Aunt May,” Peter almost melted as he walked into the living room. The tension seemed to drain from his shoulders as he looked at his aunt and took in the fact that she was safe, “How are feeling?”

“Just fine, Peter,” She said, her voice kind and reassuring in the way that you knew would calm Peter’s nerves a little, “I’ve been recovering pretty well, and it helps to get a day off to rest.”

You could tell that the last sentence was a little pointed, not in a scolding way, but instead in the way your mom did when she knew you hadn’t had any water all day. With a bit of teasing but mostly with care and concern for your wellbeing. And you could tell that he could hear it too by the slightly sheepish look that crossed his face.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well,” You responded, unable to stop the smile from crossing your face. It was always kind of cute to see him come back home. You got to see him in a lot of different lights, as Peter Parker the scientist, the photographer, the awkward date, and of course, the city’s hero. But despite all of these different personas, you had to say that Peter Parker, the doting nephew was one of your favorites, “Thank you so much for inviting us over.”

“Of course, dear,” She turned to you with the same soft smile on her face, “You know you’re always welcome over, I’m just thankful that you managed to convince my nephew to take enough time off to come to visit me.”

You chuckle a little at that, “Of course, May. You know he’d come visit more if he wasn’t so busy with trying to stop every crime in New York.”

“Oh, I know. And I appreciate you looking out for him, dear.”

- - - - -

Dinner was nice. One of those moments that you wished you could freeze in time. You were warm and your stomach was full and you were smiling the entire time. It was the first time in a long time that you were pretty sure that nothing bad would happen for at least the next hour. You got to be domestic for just a little while, safe and happy and surrounded by the love of your life and his family.

“Alright, I’ll get started on the dishes,” You said when the meal ended, shooting a wink at Peter as you stand. May shot you the same exasperated look that she always did, but let you take her plate. She had given up on trying to stop you a long time ago, realizing that you would insist no matter what she said. Peter just chuckled a bit, remembering your conversation from earlier.

Doing dishes alone in the kitchen was nice sometimes. It was a moment for you to collect yourself. You loved May and Peter, and you didn’t mind spending the whole night with them, but sometimes a few moments of quiet was nice. The smell of the food still wafted around you, and the sound of the water rushing from the sink made you think of a waterfall sometimes, even though doing the dishes wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable chore.

Sometimes, if you focused, you could still hear the conversation that was going on in the dining room. You didn’t intend to eavesdrop or anything, you were just curious. Usually, they’d just alk about F.E.A.S.T. or maybe reminisce about when Peter was a child. It was just nice to listen in a bit on their small talk, getting to know what Peter was like with just his aunt and no one else around.

Today’s conversation was a bit different, though.

“So have you asked her yet, Peter?” You heard Aunt May ask, piquing your interest.

“No, of course not,” Peter sighed, “With everything that’s going on, all of the clean-up throughout the city, there really hasn’t been a good time.”

“I suppose that’s fair, Pete, but you’re going to have to ask eventually. Unless you don’t want to,” You were sure they were talking about you, but you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was planning on asking you. Well, maybe. But you didn’t want to assume. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“I do! I really do,” Peter responded, almost outraged at the idea that he didn’t actually want to ask, “I just want it to be perfect. And you know we’re so busy. This is my first day off since everything went down with Mr. Li, so I hardly have time to plan a romantic dinner.”

“Peter, you don’t have to plan out the perfect romantic dinner, I promise.”

“But what if she says no,” He sighed, sounding defeated, “It’s dangerous to be with me. I could put her in danger. And even if I don’t, what’s going to happen when she gets sick of having to take care of me? It’s not easy to deal with me running off all the time and coming back with cuts and broken bones.”

“No, it’s not easy,” May sighed, “But she’s been here for this long. She knows what she’s getting herself into, and she’s stayed this long. Has she ever asked you to stop what you were doing or to choose between her and Spider-man?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Then she’s not going to,” May explained, and you couldn’t help but nod, even though neither of them could see you, “She’s chosen to stay this long. If she was going to leave, she would’ve done it by now.”

There was a silence creeping out of the dining room as the conversation paused. You wondered if he believed it. Because May was right. It was hard, and you worried almost constantly about Peter, but you loved him. You loved him no matter how many dates he skipped out on to go fight crime or how many nights he woke you up at two in the morning to help patch him up after a fight. And you weren’t going anywhere.

The air felt heavy, and you felt your heart tighten a little. You knew Peter was a bit insecure and anxious. You knew that sometimes he didn’t feel good enough, he was overwhelmed and he felt as though the world was on his shoulder. But you had hoped that he knew that you would never think that he wasn’t good enough.

You weren’t quite sure what to do, but you couldn’t let him think like that. Before you could even think of a plan, you were walking into the dining room.

“Oh, uh, hey,” You could tell by the look on Peter’s face that he knew that you had heard their conversation, “How much of that could you hear?”

“All of it.”

All three of you froze for just a moment, before May stood up, “Well, why don’t I go finish the dishes while you two talk.”

“Peter, you know I’m not leaving, right?” You asked, sitting next to him as May walked out of the room.

“I know,” He sighed, “I just… You deserve so much better. I’m kind of a terrible boyfriend, (Y/N). I’m not super reliable, and I know I stress you out.”

“I’m stressed because I care about you, Pete. I love you and you’re constantly putting yourself in danger, but I understand it,” You explained, grabbing his hand on the table, “I love how much you want to help everyone, and I’ll always be here when you need me. I don’t mind if you have to run out on dates, because I know you still care. And you’re not a terrible boyfriend. You’re an incredibly caring person with the world on your shoulders, and you don’t have to do that alone, Pete. I’m right here, and I’m going to stay right here.”

You could see tears welling up in his eyes like he had been waiting for years to hear that. And maybe he had. You squeezed his hand lightly, hoping to reassure him a little. He looked up at you, looking at you like you were the only person in the world. Like if he had to trade the moon and all the stars in the sky to keep you safe, he would. Like you were the only thing that has ever and would ever matter.

“I love you, Pete,” You whispered, hoping it would finally get through to him.

“I love you too,” He replied, you saw his hand slip into his pocket, his fingers nervously fidgeting with something. You could tell he still had something on his mind, and you were pretty sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t want to push him. He’d ask when he was comfortable and you didn’t want to push him before that, “You heard the whole conversation, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m sure you already know what I have to ask,” He sighed, sliding out of the chair and down to one knee, verifying your suspicions, “I wanted this to be more romantic, but, uh, well…”

You nod. You had a feeling he had already rehearsed the speech he was about to give at least twenty times, so you weren’t going to interrupt him, but you wanted to signal that he should keep going.

“(Y/N), I know it’s not easy to be with me. I’m flaky, I stay stupid stuff half the time, and I’d never wish the pressure of dating a superhero on anyone. But through all of this, you’re here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know if I could do what I do without you. You make me feel like the weight of everything I do isn’t as much as it is. And you give me something to go home to, somewhere safe and warm. (Y/N), you’re my lifeline through all of this mess, and it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would marry me.”

You’re crying so hard by the end that you don’t even notice the ring he pulls out of his pocket. You’re too busy trying to look him in the eyes through your tears, “Of course I will.”

You dropped down to hug him, and he pulled you as close to him as he could. It was a firm hug, and you could tell he was focusing really hard on not squeezing too tight. So you hugged him tighter. You staying like that for a few moments, soaking his shirt with happy tears, before he pulled back from the hug to grab your hand and slide the ring onto your finger.

“Congratulations,” May interrupted from the doorway, a wide grin on her face and proud tears in her eyes, “Now what do you say we have some cake to celebrate?”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 18:

“That’s pretty much all I got from him,” You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “That he doesn’t want me to know because other people talk bad about him.”

“That’s...” Selene trailed off, seemingly just as lost for words as you were.

Your best friend was making tea for the both of you, bustling around her kitchen as you spoke. Truthfully, you were thankful she invited you over. You didn’t think you could process this information by yourself.

You’d been going back and forth over it all day, trying to decide whether or not it was your place to share what you knew with Selene. You wanted to keep sacred the trust Bakugou had in you, but on the other hand, the longer you thought about his words the more worried you became. Deliberating on it further wouldn’t help you, but maybe talking about it would?

Either way, you just decided to cut your losses. Maybe a stronger woman could’ve kept this too herself and been fine, but you simply weren’t her.

“Yeah. I know.” You responded, falling back against her couch, and slumping into the armrest. “I have no idea what to do with that. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t come up with any scenario that’s good.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” She nods, bringing your mug over to you.

“It’s just- I can only think of two reasons why that’d upset him so much, right?” You sip your tea. “One- he’s just being overly dramatic about it, but honestly, considering Bakugou’s reactions, that doesn’t seem to be the case. And two...”

You wrung your hands nervously. Selene only sat down next to you, a hand on your shoulder urging you to continue.

“Or h-he’s a bad guy. A really bad guy.” You spoke, suddenly sick to your stomach. “Like, a criminal or something. I mean, that’s the only way right? He said people talked about him, a lot, using his name, and then said I could look him up and find bad things, so that has to mean he’s like comitting crimes right? That he’s probably not good, and he’s got a record, because why else would anyone talk that badly about him, so much to the point where it’s synonymous with his name, if he didn’t do something horrific?”

You pulled your knees up to your chest, curling your arms protectively around them. Saying all of this out loud made you feel sick, but you truly couldn’t think of another explanation.

“Maybe...” Selene tried, but she seemed to be coming to your same conclusions as well. “Yeah. That’s- I can’t think of another reason either.”

“Yep.” You admitted defeatedly.

Silence fell over the room as you sipped from your mug. You tea was piping hot, nearly boiling, but it didn’t make you feel any warmer. You were cold, and you couldn’t stop your fingers from trembling.

You wanted to believe he was good, and you still sort of did from your personal interactions with Bakugou- But if looking up his name would show you a record of all his past actions, and if he was ashamed of them? Then how good could your soulmate really be?

It made you sick to think about. You’d wanted to save people and help them and do good your entire life- you didn’t think you’d be able to handle learning that your soulmate didn’t feel the same. That he hurt people instead.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Selene slug an arm around you, pulling you into her side. “Maybe- maybe it’s a misunderstanding, you know? Have you tried talking to him again about it?”

“No. Can’t.” You pull your phone from your back pocket, opening your messages to him. “Look what he sent me this morning.”

“He sent that at 5? In the morning?” Selene asks. “That’s.....”

“Suspicious.” You huffed, grabbing your phone from her and turning it off. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

“Y/n,” Selene lays her head on yours, squeezing you close to her. “I’m sorry. I-I know you were excited about him.”

“Yep. I was.” You wrap your arms tighter around yourself. “You know what’s even worse though?”

“What?”

“I-I think I meant it when I told him I’d like him anyway.” You confessed quietly. “Even if I did find out he was bad, I-I’m not sure I’d stop talking to him.”

Selene didn’t say anything, only pulling you even closer as you sniffled.

If thinking about Bakugou’s words made you feel sick, your own feelings made you downright nauseous. You truly didn’t think you’d be able to stop talking to him- you were already far too attached.

You couldn’t explain it either: why you already felt so, so, tied to him.

All you knew was you’d been waiting your entire life to be as happy as Bakugou made you. All you knew was that the sound of his voice made your heart jump and settle at the same time. All you knew is that your soul was finally being completed- and, selfishly, so, so, selfishly you weren’t sure you could ever give that up.

Selene leaned forward, grabbing her TV remote off the coffee table in front of you.

“Don’t. Please.” You sighed. “I love you, but I really don’t want to watch your trashy reality shows right now.” 

“I’m not, I’m not, don’t worry,” She knocks her shoulders lightly into yours. “Just local news for background noise.”

You groaned.

“What?” She asked, looking at you a little strangely. “Did Bakugou give you a problem with the news now, too?” 

“No, this- it’s not about him.” You rubbed at your eyes tiredly. “I still have that project remember? I usually watch the news for inspiration, so it just reminded me of it ‘sall.” 

“Oh, okay. You want me to turn it off?”

“No, it’s fine- it’s already on.” You curled into yourself just a bit more, voice tired and depressed as you felt. “Might as well just watch the hero stuff just incase I suddenly, like, get divine inspiration or something.”

“Oh my- you make it sound like you’re doomed!” She nudged you playfully. “C’mon, Y/n we can watch it together. You never know, maybe both of our single brain cells can think of something.” 

You just huffed a laugh, taking another sip of your tea and focusing on the TV.

On screen was another disaster scene, except this time in Jaku City. The city was decimated- buildings were turned sideways, smoke and fire were billowing, and loud explosions could be heard. There was another tar monster, but this time it was a lot larger than the one in Hosu. It was a black, twitching, fluid mass of poison that sucked up everything in it’s path, and seemed to be resistant to almost all attacks. 

There were multiple heroes on the scene, but it was all the same top pros you’d been seeing for what felt like years now. You recognized Deku, Shoto, and Uravity all working together, attacking and regrouping in the fray. It didn’t seem like they were making any progress, though. 

“Top pros have been working to stop the threat for hours now, but almost no progress has been made,” A reporter suddenly stepped into the frame, face visibly anxious. “They’ve been at it since early in the morning, but there has been virtually no change since they first infiltrated the hideout....”

You zoned out. You didn’t know who you were kidding, you couldn’t get anything done. Your brain just couldn’t seem to focus on anything but your soulmate. 

—/—

Bakugou still hadn’t texted you, and it’d been three days. You’d check your phone almost constantly, hoping and praying for even a single buzz, but it never made a difference.

On the fourth day, you texted him.

You don’t know what made you send the last two texts. You couldn’t explain it, even to yourself- but something just felt wrong. 

Bakugou hadn’t missed a single text from you since the very first day you contacted him. He might’ve been angry, and harsh, and volatile, but he was consistent. Even if he’d complain the entire time, he’d answer you, he always did. And if you didn’t contact him first, then he reached out to you. Either way, he was always around for you.

But not this time. 

Days went by and your texts stayed unread. There was a pit in your stomach, one that was steadily growing by the hour, and by the end of that week you felt like you were gonna cry. Every second was spent worrying, you couldn’t focus, and your school work was suffering. Nothing seemed to make you feel better. You weren’t sure when you let him burrow so far into your heart, but he was there now, and there was no use denying it. 

Your earlier questions about who he was, and whether or not he was good, seemed to fade entirely. You just wanted to hear his voice again. You just missed him. The ache you carried with you became a solid thing- sitting cold and heavy on top of a heart that had just learned how to be warm and weightless. You hurt, everywhere, and all you wanted was for him to be okay. 

Your phone was never far away, in your hands or pocket every second of the day- even when you fell asleep. But it didn’t matter. You phone never rang no matter how much you willed it to.

-/---

lmao this is kinda short,, but the original draft was wAY too long so i had to split it ahaha

[tomurasprincess]

Villain Deku with 12. I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping.

Pairing: Villain Deku x Reader Quote: I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping. Word: Stalking Warnings: Noncon, drugging, stalking, manipulation, yandere

Prompt Masterlist

You smile at the green haired man in front of you as he orders his usual, a plain black cup of coffee. You’ve been a barista here for several months now, and the man has become one of your regular customers. Although somewhat shy and awkward, he is friendly and pleasant to talk to, and you have come to really look forward to his visits.

He gives you a small smile back as he reaches for a sugar packet, but otherwise makes no comment to you. You mentally frown at this, as he’s usually so overflowing with conversation that you can barely keep up.

“Hey, are you doing okay,” you venture to ask the question that’s making you worry for him a bit.

He perks up at the comment, eyes lighting up at your concern. “I’m okay, really! Just some problems with work.”

“Oh really? What work do you do?” Even though he’s a regular, coming in at the same time every day for weeks, you don’t really know a lot about him. You’re excited to finally have an opportunity to learn a bit more.

His gaze darkens just a bit, his smile fading slightly, so subtle that you’re not even sure you saw it. But then he’s back to normal and you realize that you must have imagined it. You’ve been a bit on edge lately, constantly feeling as if someone has been watching you. You’ve considered going to the police, but ultimately decided that they wouldn’t take you seriously.

“Oh, I run my own business. Things have been crazy lately, but I think I finally got them settled down. Now I have time to focus on my more personal projects.” He chuckles at that as he glances at you.

“I’m glad to hear that!” You smile at him before turning back to your work, beginning the long process of ending your shift. The man had shown up much later than usual, and it was almost closing time. At his questioning look, you explain yourself. “Oh, I have to get ready to close up the store. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t mean to walk back to your place in the dark, do you?” His face twists into a look of worry. “There are a lot of villains in the streets lately.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I walk home at this hour all the time. I’ll be fine,” you wave him off.

“No, I insist. I need to walk you home.” You’re surprised at the change in his tone. He suddenly sounds completely in control, no hint of the awkward man who sometimes stumbles over his sentences and mumbles to himself.

“I - I guess if it’s that important to you.” You suddenly didn’t feel comfortable at the idea of walking alone in the dark with him. Something was rubbing you the wrong way, and you weren’t sure what. But you had no reason to decline, and the man in front of you didn’t look threatening at all. So you accept the invitation. It might be nice to have company on your walk home, anyway. Maybe you’ll feel less like someone is following your every move.

“Good! I’d hate for you to get snatched up by some villain,” his bright smile turns slightly sharp. Dangerous looking. It’s enough to make you reconsider, but the man seems to notice your hesitation as he begins to rush you through your closing procedures of the store. He grabs your arm, not enough to harm you or bruise you, but hard enough that you couldn’t begin to get away.

As he almost drags you out of the store, you decide to make conversation to try and calm your nerves. “I’m sorry, I’ve been really rude. What’s your name?”

“You can call me Deku,” he chirps happily. The name strikes you as odd, somehow familiar. You can’t quite place it, no matter how hard you try.

You open your mouth to tell him your own name, but he cuts you off mid sentence. “You don’t have to tell me your name, I already know it.”

You freeze in place, mind running through so many scenarios of how he could know your name. “Don’t be nervous! It’s on your name tag.”

You relax just a bit, as you try to avoid thinking about how you lost your name tag several months ago and were never able to find it. Something is wrong about this man, and you know you made a mistake following him. You just want to get safely into your apartment, away from him, until you can figure out what to do.

But then it hits you. Your apartment. You never gave him directions to your apartment, and yet he’s following the exact path you take to get there, turn for turn. You’re unable to hide your panic now, mouth opening to scream for help. But you never have the chance.

A scarred hand clamps down on your mouth as he drags you into a nearby alleyway. He gives a long suffering sigh at you as you struggle to break free. You feel something cold press into your throat as he grins down at you, and you realize it’s a knife. “You just couldn’t behave a little longer, could you? It’s okay though! I have no problem doing this here.”

“Please stop, I don’t have anything you want,” you whimper in fear. The knife gently glides down your neck, pressure firm enough that you can feel it but not enough to cut. He pauses as he traces your collarbones with the weapon, and hums as if he just thought of something. “You know, I’ve always wanted a picture of you since the first day I met you.”

Your haste to get out of this situation overpowers how strange the request is, and you find yourself babbling your agreement. “Yes, you can have a picture of me, I don’t mind! Just please, let me go home.”

He laughs at that as a hand dips down into your pants. “Oh, that’s not all that I want.” He wastes no time sliding a finger in between your folds as he grazes your clit. He works tight circles against the bud, moaning into your ear as he begins to kiss and suck at the pulse point on your neck.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” he murmurs in your ear. “But I’ve been so busy running my organization that I just didn’t have the time. Had to content myself with watching you from afar. Until now.”

It suddenly hits you like a bolt of lightning, where you heard his name. Izuku Midoriya, the fallen hero. He graduated from UA at the top of his class, was even expected to take All Might’s place as the Symbol of Peace. But he vanished without a trace. There had been rumors that he was sighted in areas of heavy villain activity, but they were dismissed as just that. Rumors. There was no way anyone chosen by All Might could go villain, after all.

And yet the proof stands pressed against you, fingers rubbing your throbbing clit as he bites and sucks at the skin of your neck. You can feel yourself getting aroused, lubricating his talented fingers with your juices. He gathers it on his fingers as he presses two of them inside of you, rubbing the bundle of nerves with the palm of his hand.

“No, oh god, please stop,” you plead with him. “Deku, just let me go, I promise I won’t - ahh - tell anyone I saw you.” You let out an involuntary groan as he thrusts his fingers inside of you, grazing your g spot with every thrust and making you see stars. You hate that you’re getting so aroused by him finger fucking you.

“Oh, did you finally figure out who I am?” He chuckles as he presses the point of his knife into your skin, barely grazing you but still causing your blood to drip down your collarbones. He eagerly laps at the blood as his fingers pick up the pace. You feel the coil inside of you tightening and realize you’re about to cum. “Deku, shit, oh god please.”

“Shh, just cum for me doll. Cum all over my fingers.” He coaxes you into an intense orgasm, causing you to let out a squeal as your walls clamp down hard around his fingers. You’re still riding the high of your climax when a slightly wet rag is placed over your mouth. Your eyes widen as you try not to breath in, but it’s too late. You inhale one sharp breath and your system is instantly being flooded with the clothform.

The effects are quick, too quick, as you feel yourself dragged down into unconsciousness. Your head feels like it’s in a fishbowl as you hear the click of a camera and Deku’s delighted laughter. “I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping!”

But before you completely pass out, you have the chance to think one last thing.

You really should have trusted your instincts.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @monst, @lildreamer93, @marlowewrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @league-of-thots, @shigaraki-is-my-master

[lyallblacklupin]

Sirius tries to remember Remus.

Post-Azkaban Wolfstar: Angst with Hopeful Ending.

Sirius is battling with his memory after Azkaban. 12 years of dementors torturing him, that had caused some real damages to his brain. He doesn’t remember people until they introduce themselves to him. Everyone is steering clear his way but Remus hasn’t given up on him yet.

These days are sickening. They make you feel so lonely and ugly. They tell you—no they scream at you that you don’t deserve anything. Know why? Because you don’t matter. You don’t exist. The most horrifying thing about those voices is that they can make you believe they are saying the truth. Like I did. And I still do, and believe me, it’s not good.

Life is just unfair is so easy to say, it’s just a slip of tongue as if you are consoling a group of people, like Madam Hooch used to when we would lose to Slytherins because they played dirty. However, realizing the fact how unfair life really is, is gut-wrenching. It forces you to become unlike yourself. It puts malevolent ideas in your head for the people who you love—or used to loved. I would go on and blame these walls, but then I’m questioning the universe that why did I have to be born here? The Grimmauld Place 12? And then I’m eventually answered; Life is unfair, you git, haven’t you get it yet?

The nights are terrible here, I hear Kreacher whispering to my charming mother’s portrait, I hear the floor creaking even though no one comes here, except they are invited by Dumbledore—which sounds weird because it’s my house but again, life is just unfair.

Right now, I’m struggling to sleep because there is a prickling fear sitting at the edges of my body. The fear of Dementors for taking the last of everything away.

I still have some good memories, like the one when James made me Harry’s Godfather. Harry’s big emerald eyes were streaming with fat tears until he was given into my arms. I can remember that I had gasped at the scene, and so did the others in the room.

“Oh Sirius! He was crying for like an hour! But he stops now!? I swear this is not a coincidence!” Lily said, but James had been quiet.

“Prongs?” No answer.

“Prongsie? Hey!” Because I caught him pressing his hand on his mouth forcefully, his face blotchy, and he didn’t stop sniffing. He was crying! “What? Like you—father and son both work alternatively? When Harry stops crying, he transfers his weeping mantra to you, and vice versa?”

“Shut up!” Before I said something, I let out an ‘oof’ because James shoved me in his embrace, sandwiching Harry in middle of the process. Harry was giggling with his tear-stained face. His laugh was like music to my ears. I didn’t mention that. I was in love with Harry. He felt like my own child. I never thought I’d feel this exuberance but there was, more than I expected. I was bad at displaying true affection in front of people, but I couldn’t help when Harry’s tiny and chubby hands brushed the collar of my jacket, utterly in awe with the feeling of material on his fingers, I completely forgot James was hugging me, and I managed to press a kiss on Harry’s cheek. He smelled like soft babies. I was in love with that scent. I wanted to hold him forever.

I can never forget that memory. It helps me cast a patronus. There is also something vague about that memory. There is someone too in the small crowd, behind me, other than James. I can remember there was the blonde girl, Mckinnon, and her best friend, Meadows-something. I struggle with names. Sometimes I forget—

“Sirius?”

—Remus’ name. I have to see or hear the person to see if I can remember.

“I’m in my room?” He calls me out every time for like the hundredth time he has found me in my bedroom, and yes, I am still in my bedroom. He won’t stop calling me out. Sometimes, he is very annoying.

“Oh yeah, Of course.” He appears at the doorway, leaning to his left, smiling weakly. He looks tired. He is short of breath. I want to give him a glass of water but my limbs are protesting.

“I could give you a glass of water, but I—just don’t feel like getting up.” I didn’t want to say that but I did because the expressions on Remus’ face are priceless. There is awkwardness written on his face with a hint of shock and sadness. There is nothing pretty about that, but it brings back an indistinct memory I enjoy that I cannot tell. I am disturbing. That’s another trait I have discovered about myself ever since I came back from Azkaban.

“No, it’s alright. I just had water. Not thirsty at all. I—umm…I brought you something.” He says, and then I notice a package in his hand.

“Hope it’s not something you and your werewolf buddies plays with.”

“Ha, no, I wish. But it’s something I needed to give you…from a very long time.” He comes and sits beside me. I had to sit up because I can’t let him touch me. I don’t know why but I am always scared of Remus Lupin, and it is my secret, “Here.” He gives me the package, and looks into my eyes. I try looking away but I couldn’t try harder.

“Happy Birthday.” He whispers, and it sends a shudder to my body. What is the date today?

I open the package, and there it is. A photo frame. It was a leather frame. Black. I am trying not to look at the picture so I distract myself by admiring the leather. And again, I remember Harry. But it is a forced visualization so it doesn’t last longer. I am very much aware of Remus’ presence. I am also getting short of breath now. I look at him and he is already staring at me. I smile at him, but he frowns. And then I frown, too. What is wrong? I saw his hand coming up near my face, and I bat away.

He is gawking at him with wide and horrified eyes, and a hurt expression.

“I—I’m sorry. I don’t…I just—I am sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you don’t. But you eventually do.” It doesn’t come out bitter. He is smiling at me, but he isn’t done talking, “Sirius, I want to talk. It is eating me alive. Sometimes, I don’t think I am left with much longer in me…But, hey,” He reaches out but stops immediately, “Please…I—I want to talk to you about…Everything or anything. We can talk about us?”

“Us?”

“Yeah…If you want to,”

“There is no Us, Remus.”

“There used to be.” I snort, but he is frowning. I hate his frowns. Why can’t he just smile like a normal person?

“Like what? Did we snog? Or shagged once or twice?” I can’t recall any heterosexual experience, so I can’t say I have never done anything with a guy.

“Sirius, was that picture not enough?” He said with such sadness. And then I look at the picture.

And then I see it. There is a younger version of Remus Lupin, wearing a giant grey jumper, sitting on a library’s table. How decent. There is someone in between his legs, standing before him. It is a dark-haired guy, wearing a Gryffindor tie on his hogwarts’ uniform. He has his hands wrapped around Remus’ torso. A thick curtain of his long hair is almost concealing the half of his face, considering how much it is already buried in Remus’ chest. He squeezes gleefully which causes the younger Remus to erupt with laughter. The scene goes back and forth. And then I spot two people sitting in far distance. They were unmistakably James and Lily. They are the only people I recognize. Those two are cackling because how stupidly romantic the two boys are acting against each other. The picture keeps playing, and I focus again on the couple in the spotlight, and I realize that little Remus is trying to press a kiss on the guy’s forehead but the other person doesn’t stand still, constantly whipped his long hair—and then I freeze all of a sudden. Because I see it. The grey eyes, the long hair, and especially the scar on the left wrist, which still glows sliver in the daylight when I secretly stand in the balcony.

“That is us.” It comes out of my mouth even though I never expect myself to say it.

“Yeah, you and me. We were not just each other’s quick snog, or shagging partner. We go way back, Padfoot. Longer than James and Lily.”

“I don’t remember you…” It comes out as a whimper. I feel stupid and vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m sorry for what I did. I never apologized about this…I wanted to—“

“I don’t remember you…”

“—but I never really got a chance. I’m sorry I thought you could betray the Potters. I’m sorry that I kept myself believing for twelve years that it was you. But I swear to Merlin, I never stopped loving you—“

“I don’t remember you, Remus…” But he is not listening.

“—I used to hate myself for this. I felt disgusting that I still loved you. And then I melted myself in filthy thoughts. No one was there to judge me. I used to picture you all the time, sitting on the sofa waiting for me to come back from the muggle job you hated. I used to see you laying on the bed in the night. I used to imagine myself cuddling up with you. And some days, it was so real that we used to talk till dawn. We used to watch the sunrise together. October 31st used to come and go by, and we pretended it was just another Halloween and you used to say ‘Moony, you hate Halloween because some people dress up as werewolves, and you don’t get to wear a costume!’—“

I stop saying anything. I cannot tell that I don’t remember him because I do. His hand accidently rubs shoulder, and I am suddenly yanked to my happiest memory—Harry’s beautiful hands reaching my jacket—and the ‘someone’ is not just someone who is behind me, rubbing my lower back and laying his head against mine, because it was him. It was Remus Lupin. It is still Remus Lupin, I want him to be.

I cannot tell that I don’t remember him because I am starting to…and it’s a start. He keeps telling me how he spent the last twelve years, so I listen to him because my years were not in an open cage just like his. It was scary to be locked up for years and never to see the people you love, but it must have been even scarier to be free for years and never see the people you love. Remus Lupin has suffered too, and I can’t help but be there for him. 

So as he keeps rambling his stories about his undying love for me, I slip into his space, and wrap my arms around his torso, like I had in the picture, and bury my face into his chest. He is not warmer as he must have been in that picture but it calms me down because his heart is beating against mine, and I am happy to have him alive with me.

Thanks for reading! Stay magical!