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arctichotch · 3 years ago

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aaron hotchner x reader - fluff alphabet

feel free to send me more requests!

warnings: alludes possibly to some nsfw stuff (dom hotch)

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Aaron is quite the romantic despite popular belief. Of course, neither of you actually have much free time because you’re constantly on the go with different cases but he does try his best to take advantage of the time both of you are home. He loves to whisk you away on romantic dinner dates but equally loves when you both order a takeaway and watch a movie with Jack.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admires your devotion to your work, to your team, to him and to Jack. He appreciates how much you put into your work and your relationships and that your family always comes first.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Anything you’d like to do he’d be up for. Whether it’d be going out for a walk or sitting at home eating ice cream and watching tv. He’d be there for you.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

From the moment you two got together, actually even before that, he pictured a long life with you. He doesn’t want to live a single day without you by his side.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

I don’t really know how to answer this one, because like yes Hotch is dominant but like??? You are both equal in your relationship which is very important to both of you.

However in the bedroom you best believe Hotch is the dominant one.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Obviously it depends on the situation. But yes, Aaron is generally very forthcoming and willing to communicate and fix things if they’re gone a bit askew.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is incredibly aware of how lucky he is. He is so grateful for how you’ve integrated not only him, but also Jack into your life. He’s aware that he has more baggage than the average guy and that he spends more time working than he should so he knows that he’s lucky to have you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

I don’t think Aaron is a secret-y kind of guy. I think he’d do everything he could to ensure that your life together is as honest as possible. Obviously it’s hard sometimes working together but with your personal life he does try to keep everything very honest.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

I don’t think ‘change’ is necessarily the right word but you have brought out his softer side. He smiles a lot while around you and is even less uptight at work, so much so that Morgan has started to crack jokes.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I think Aaron is too mature to experience jealousy, jealousy if you get me. But if some cop comes up and starts hitting on you while you’re working on a case he might feel a little twinge of jealousy. He might experience some insecurity but he’ll always talk it through with you

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

This man is 100% a good kisser. He’s amazing. Your first kiss was after he drove you home after a tough case and walked you up to your door. He didn’t plan to do it, it just happened naturally.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

I think he’d want to have a proper conversation about it. You both work together so he would want to make sure that any relationship you two do have wouldn’t affect (or effect idk) your work relationship or the teams dynamic. He also has to think about Jack. He want to make sure there is no possibility of him getting hurt in anyway and that you were also ok with him having a kid.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Hotch, I feel, is quite a traditional guy. Obviously his first go at marriage didn’t exactly work out so I think he’d might be a bit nervous that he’d screw it up again but other than that I think he’d love to marry you.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Once again, I think he’s quite traditional so things like love or darling or honey are his go to’s

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He’s such a softie tbh, like a teenager in love for the very first time. Small touches, holding doors, lingering glances. And being on a team of profilers all of these things are picked up on. The team are just delighted that you both finally got together

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

I think the most PDA you both show is what I said above. You both have to be professional and never want your relationship to get in the way of your work.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

I suppose the fact that he’s a profiler maybe. He always knows if something is wrong

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Hotch loves a good, classic, romantic night out. But often times you both are too tired to do much so you stay home and order a takeout. Anytime where you actually get to spend time together is good time in his eyes.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Of course. Hotch loves to watch you work and is so proud of how much your skills have come along since you started at the BAU.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

I think with your jobs, routine is quite good, well as much routine as you can actually get. But he’s always up for new things too as long as you are.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He knows you so well. It’s like he can read you like a book sometimes.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

It’s so important to him. You are part of his family, part of his entire life.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

If this guy isn’t defined as a big cuddle monster idk what is. He’s always attached to you when you’re alone, especially at night.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

YES. very much yes. Big cuddler, big kisser, big hugger. all of it he just wants to be near you.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Well he rarely actually gets a chance to miss you because if you’re not home together you’re on a case together.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’ll do what he can to always make your relationship work but he’s no idiot either. If he can see that the relationship is falling apart then, no matter how painful it is, he has to deal with it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #my writing #bau #fic #criminal minds fic #fluff alphabet #dont let this flop please i need validation

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imagine-that · 4 years ago

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Good for you

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: angst? Anger? Idfk, breaking things, rage ig.

( A part 2 to White Horse )

AN: I didn’t have this one planned as a part buttttttttt I heard the song and I had a Loki’s perspective idea for this fic and I just started writing it and now it’s finished andddddd I kinda like it even more than I liked White Horse 😊😊 here’s the song if you want to listen while you read or whatever ❤️❤️

Loki glared up at the ceiling, staring up at the art of a mural painted over the surface for what seemed like the thousandth time that day alone. He showed absolutely no desire to do much else lately, not unless visiting Heimdall counted as something to do, but he never did that just for the purpose of chatting.

Since you’d ran away, he was even worse than he was before. He was cold towards anyone who approached him, he snapped at the very slightest of things and he spent his days obsessing. Obsessing over where you were, what you did, who you were with. Essentially, if it had anything to do with you, he demanded to know even the smallest of details.

For whatever reason, he didn’t dare go down to Midgard to look for you. Heimdall believed it was because he only worried for you and somehow deep down he knew this was better for the both of you but he kept this theory to himself, not wanting to further enrage the god.

“Where is she/he/they now?” Loki barked as he walked through the gates, not bothering with a normal greeting.

“Y/n is just out for a coffee your highness, there is not much to say from the last time you asked.” Heimdall said simply.

Loki shakes his head with a cold laugh. “And? Who is she/he/they with then? Midgardians typically go for coffee in pairs. They use it as a date.” He sneers, glaring just at the thought.

“It seems that she/he/they is with another person yes.” Heimdall says, hoping it won’t send Loki over the edge to hear.

“Of course.” He mutters under his breath, storming away without another word to Heimdall, his brain flooding with an overwhelming amount of memories with you, making his jaw grind as it tightened.

Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world

His thoughts were plagued with the idea of you with another, your hand held in someone else’s, your laugh being another persons treasure. It filled him with an envy as green as his cloaks, his blood boiling at the mere idea.

He stormed through the throne room, ignoring his fathers shouts of anger for the interruption, ignoring Thor’s cries of concern and heading straight to the only place he felt he had left of you; your room in the palace.

As angry as he was, he gently shut the door behind him rather than slamming it, not wanting to disturb the peace in the empty room.

To others, that was exactly what it would look like; an empty and vacant bedroom waiting to be used. But to him it was the last place he’d seen you, the last time he’d ever seen his one true love was in this room and he couldn’t handle the idea that it could be the last time ever.

He glanced at the photos you’d left decorating your dresser, the only sign that this room was ever once used for anything more than a guest room.

He stared at one of the photos with a blank stare, grabbing it off the dresser and looking down at your still smiling face intently, as though if he stared long enough, it would pull you right out of the photograph and back to him. But then he flashes back to the last night you two had been together, the way he’d been so blinded by his love for you that you’d managed to deceit him and he cried out in anger, tossing the frame across the room where it smashed as soon as it hit the wall.

He was breathing heavy, collapsing down to the ground on his knees.

He remembered Heimdall telling him that you had been seeing a therapist, coping much better with the trauma he’d put you through when you started seeing the professional. Despite his love for you, he was jealous beyond belief.

He was a god, he was good looking, he was a prince. He should be the one thriving without you, so he thought. But instead he was the one falling apart at the seams.

And good for you, I guess that you’ve been workin’ on yourself

I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

He cried out again, anger filling his entire body with a hot rage.

Thor slammed the door open, rushing over to his brothers side. “Brother, what is the matter?” He asked, crouching down beside him.

Loki laughs humourlessly. “What is the matter? WHAT IS THE MATTER? The one person in this world who has ever chosen me over all else, who has ever loved me unconditionally has ran off into the sunset, probably with a mere mortal. And I am at fault for it. That, dear brother, is what is the matter.” He growls, a sad smile painting his lips.

“Y/n will return brother, at which point you may apologize for the problems between you two.” Thor assures him.

Loki scoffs, looking up at his brother with narrowed eyes. “Dare not speak her/his/their name brother.” He warns, his jaw stiff again.

Since your departure, the only person who’d said your name was Heimdall. Not even Loki himself could bring himself to say it, the pain still too raw.

Well good for you

You look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

“It will happen Loki. Give it time.” Thor says again, ignoring his brothers threat as he rises to his feet, patting Loki on the shoulder sympathetically.

Loki doesn’t move, stays in his spot planted on your floor, surrounded by his memories while Thor leaves.

He pulls himself up, but only to let himself lay on your bed rather than looking so pathetic and powerless on the floor, feeling he at least deserved that much dignity.

“Dearest I miss you.” He murmurs to no one, staring up at the ceiling once again, this time not quite glaring. The intricate golden and silver designs on your ceiling were more delicate, softer than the ones in his own or in any other room in the palace really.

“Loki I don’t need my own room in the palace. I have yours! That’s plenty enough for me.” He could practically hear your voice, your hesitation at staying in the palace officially due to the royalty part of everything fresh in his mind as though it were only yesterday and not three or so years ago.

Now you were probably off living your dream Midgardian life, something that was completely beyond him in your eyes apparently. He could almost see you, walking around in the streets on Midgard, savouring everything you saw, smelt, tasted. From what Heimdall had said, you were perfectly content being so ordinary.

Good for you

You’re doing great out there without me, baby

God I wish that I could do that

He hated thinking of you, every moment he did was a moment he had to spend missing your presence. In yet another fit of rage, he threw a crystal vase at the door, the shattered pieces spreading across the floor.

He forced himself to his feet, making himself leave your room, abandoning the broken items as he simply walked around them, slamming the door behind him. He’d already disturbed the peace in the room just by being there, he knew, and to think otherwise would be foolish and stupid.

“Prince Loki, are you alright? I heard something break and it sounded as though it came from your room.” A young maid asked as she approached him, worry apparent on her face. Loki recognized the girl as one who had been crushing on him for years, one who often made you bubble with jealousy whenever she was around.

He smirked at the girl, a new idea popping into his head, one that would surely have hurt you as bad as your leave had hurt him.

“I am alright, I slipped and knocked down a vase, that is all.” He explained, trying to regain his usual charm and confidence.

The girl nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I’m so glad.” She says, batting her eyelashes his way in a manner he was sure she thought was attractive to him. He ignored it, focusing on his goal.

He grabbed the girl and pulled her into his room, shutting the door and pushing her up against it, wasting no time as he attacks her lips with his own. She lets out a gasp of surprise but immediately returns the gesture, kissing him hard. He holds her at the waist with one hand, going to cup her face with the other but opens his eyes for a mere moment and is suddenly seeing your face.

He blinks harshly, until it’s the girl standing in front of him again, watching him with a confused pout. Just as she’s about to speak, more than likely to ask if he’s alright again, he pulls the door open, shoving her out and closing it behind her, his eyes wide as he runs a hand through his hair, breathing heavy once again as he falls to the floor, his back against the door.

“Loki she was staring right at you! She’s practically in love with you! And I’m standing right there and she still makes googly eyes at you!” You had scoffed whenever the maid was around.

He so badly wanted to be able to laugh about your jealousy towards a girl who meant nothing to him compared to you, whose name he couldn’t even remember. He wanted to caress the side of your face, the pad of his thumb to your lips while he reassured you that he was all yours, no one else’s. But he couldn’t turn back time, this he knew.

“My love I’d give anything to get you back to me.” He chokes, starting to sob into his lap.

I’ve lost my mind

I’ve spent the night

Crying on the floor of my bathroom

He spends the whole night there, leaned against the door, getting nothing but an hour or so of sleep. The next day, he uses a simple spell to make himself appear fine, not able to bear the embarrassment of others seeing him breaking down like this.

He ignores any castle staff onlookers, going on in his stride straight back to the bifrost, following his newfound unhealthy routine.

“Prince Loki I must advise you as to how toxic this is becoming for you.” Heimdall warns him, letting out a sigh as Loki holds up a hand to silence him, watching expectantly for an answer to his unasked question.

“Y/n has been settling into her/his/their new life. She/he/they is starting a Midgardian job today.” Heimdall finally explains, giving up on his attempts to preserve Loki’s feelings.

“I see.” Loki hums to himself, the gears in his brain shifting.

“Was that all?” Heimdall asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Send me there.” Loki says suddenly, looking over at Heimdall for the first time in all of his many visits. Heimdall looks back in slight shock.

“What do you believe that will accomplish your highness?” He asks, trying to fight Loki on the matter respectfully.

“I need to see my love there, happy. I need to see it for myself.” Loki responds simply. Heimdall glances at him once more, nodding as he knows he’d never be able to talk him out of this idea. He tells him where exactly he’d be able to find you reluctantly.

Heimdall opens the gates wordlessly, sending Loki on the way down to earth. Loki arrives, dusting off his clothes as he uses another spell to make himself appear completely different from usual.

Though he’d only spent a brief period on Midgard, he knew his way around well enough that he could find the address Heimdall had given him fairly quickly, walking through the streets of New York to find it.

“Of course she/he/they would pick New York.” He thought to himself bitterly, winding past other tourists until he reached the building he was looking for. He was about to enter when something caught his eye in the window of a small coffee shop next door. He saw a flash of y/h/c, the exact shade he’d seen so many times and froze, staring on at the source.

And there you were, with men and women and people all around you, chatting, laughing, drinking with them. He saw the warm smile on your face and his heart melted knowing he wasn’t the source of it this time. He couldn’t hear what was being said through the window but he knew it was important from the sole fact that it was making you laugh. He felt tears starting in his eyes, a wave of hurt hitting him again and again inside, drowning him.

But you’re so unaffected,

I really don’t get it

But I guess good for you

He watched, unable to move from his spot, eyes glued to the familiarity of you. He wanted your warm embrace against his cold to the touch skin, your lips on his.

But he felt another wave, one of anger. You’d left that touch, that safety net, for this. For midgardians, mere mortals. How could they possibly offer you more than he could, he wondered.

He took a deep breath, stalking into the coffee shop and getting in line to order, wanting at least one thing to come out of this disaster of a thought to come to where you are.

“No no, my ex... he’s a good guy. We just weren’t really meant to be, I guess? It was... complicated.” He overheard you say, his eyes darting to you. He tries to turn his gaze away, realizing what he’s doing but you look up, your eyes meeting his. For a moment the both of you keep eye contact, Loki too scared to look away and you confused as to why this man you’d never seen has such a familiar stance to him.

You blink a few times, turning back to your group and continuing your chat, making Loki breath a small sigh of relief. He mutters his order to the poor barista, her swooning over him, even in his disguise. Once his order comes up, he storms out, not bothering to look back at you as you start talking about your new job, new apartment, your new life essentially. He frowns at the thought of you being in any place that would be unfamiliar to him, trying to think of how you might feel living without him.

Did you miss him as much as he missed you? Had your comment in the shop been a hint that you were miserable like he was? But he knew that neither of those would possibly be true. Your smile said it all; you were already moving on perfectly fine without him. It was as though you were almost trying to erase your history with him, from his perspective anyway.

Well good for you, I guess you’re getting everything you want

You bought a new car and your career’s really taking off

It’s like we never even happened, baby what the fuck is up with that?

Unable to bear the thoughts multiplying in his mind, Loki ducked into an ally, curling into himself against a wall, starting to cry again.

He groaned in frustration, his head in his hands. You were unraveling him, he wasn’t sure how and he didn’t like how it felt. He’d always been at least somewhat levelheaded but with you gone, his mind was always clouded, his thoughts were infected with you nonstop.

It was like a disease had overcome his entire body and he had no cure, no antibodies to fight it.

“What have I done?” He asks himself, sighing into his hands, staying in his position crouched on the ground for a quiet moment, seeking nothing but a bit of peace.

He’d only wanted to show you he truly loved you but instead he’d driven you away, into a new embrace.

He runs a hand over his jaw, willing himself up. If he couldn’t hear to see you, there was no purpose in him furthering his stay. He decided silently that the best option for him was going back and waiting for Heimdall to open the gates, to get him as far away from your soft features and glowing personality as possible before he did something he’d regret, like approaching you and outing himself as a stalker, not that he really cared anymore. You’d never see him the same as you once had, this much was clear.

Memories of the first I love you came to his mind suddenly.

“I love you Loki, and I know you love me too so stop acting so silly and just say it, please.” You had begged him. He had merely smirked and ran off, telling you you had to catch him to hear it back. You’d chased him around the gardens and the libraries and balconies of the entire palace until you’d caught up, out of breath as you’d grabbed his cloak and pulled him towards you and kept him rooted to his spot until he returned the words.

He’d been hesitant, merely to tease you but he’d said them back, said them multiple times while he had kissed you all over, overjoyed by the sense of protection and love he felt with you.

He shook his head with a bitter laugh to himself at the bittersweet memory, seeing as how things were for you now.

He trudged his way back to the gates opening, kicking a rock aggressively all the way there, trying to contain himself enough to not scream out in anger the way he had been doing in his room. But every time he managed to calm himself, your smiling face found it’s way into his brain, making him lose all feelings not involving anger.

He kept trying to remind himself that it had been your choice, that you’d left him without a goodbye or anything of the sort on purpose to make the wound sting more but it did nothing but make him feel agony for the hurt he’d put you through.

And good for you it’s like you never even met me

Remember when you swore to god I was the only person who ever got you

Well screw that and screw you, you will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

His rage was finally starting to blind him again as he marched to the gates, just how he liked it. The idea of you with another person was still what really set it off. Seeing you hurt but watching you thrive and move on was more, it was worse. It filled him with feelings he’d never thought he’d feel towards you in his life but he was and he didn’t feel as bad as he thought he would.

‘No one leaves a prince. Not unless they are absolutely crazy.’ He thought to himself smugly, waiting at the gates for Heimdall to open them. He gets pulled through, up to Asgard where he dusts off his smooth suit, relieved to finally be out of the disguise he’d chosen.

The smile on your face when he’d seen you with the Midgardians was glued to his brain, his focus flying all over the place at the memory. He couldn’t figure out quite what it was that was making him so agitated himself, knowing he missed you but suppressing the extent of it.

Asgard felt empty, superficial almost without you there to watch everything in such a natural awe that he’d so admired for so long. It was as though all the colours of the home he’d so cherished for so long were drained right down the gates when they’d opened and swallowed you whole.

He couldn’t bear that you’d managed to run off with not only his trust and dignity but his sanity along with it.

Pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, Loki stormed back to his own room, avoiding yours at all costs as he forced his doors open, slamming them behind him and grabbing anything breakable in sight, tossing it at the balcony doors. If anyone had walked in they would’ve thought he’d truly lost his mind but to him, that much was at least somewhat true.

Maybe I’m too emotional

But your apathy’s like a wound in salt

Your deceit was controlling more of his life, his thoughts, his entire being than he’d ever care to admit. He was consumed with a need for you, a thirst to be near you again and everyone could see it was driving him to the edge of a cliff, the only possible person to pull him back up being the one pushing him to it in the first place. Still, he knew it was all his own doing. That was how he knew part of his latest insanity was due to the built up guilt from so long.

Even so, he was enraged. With you, with himself, with the world. It was a mix of everything.

He could almost feel the gentle touch of your hand to his shoulder when he was upset, your lips pressed sweetly to his temple in attempts to cool him off.

“You can’t hold pointless grudges all your life Loki. You can try but I’m not sure it would be any fun.” You’d teased, making him smile despite his sour mood.

He cried out, throwing another priceless item from his hand, crumbling to the ground yet again. The stress was eating away at him.

Maybe I’m too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Thor heard the crashes and smashing coming from his brothers room and went running, pushing open the door with all his strength, his mouth agape as he was met with the sight of his brother screaming in agony.

“Brother, talk to me.” He commands, trying to stop Loki from throwing anything more. Loki thrashes against his brother, sobbing while he yells out, fighting his brother with all his might.

“Loki stop fighting me and tell me what is wrong!” Thor commands and Loki falls to the ground on his knees, exhaustion hitting him like a brick.

“I am fine. Everything is fine.” He murmurs, smiling at his brother easily. Thor shakes his head, not accepting the answer this time.

“Tell me.” He says again and Loki sighs, a hollow laugh choking out of his lips. He removes the spell he’d used, revealing his true self, in pyjamas, his hair an extreme mess, his face sunken in and pale, more so than usual. His eyes were bloodshot beyond belief.

Thor audibly gasped at the sight of his brother covered in his own blood, the shards of the glass having cut into his hands and his feet several times. Loki sinks in against the edge of the bed, looking up at his brother tiredly.

“There. Now you have seen the true me.” He mutters, not saying anything else as his mouth sets in a line.

Well good for you,

You look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

“Loki... I had no idea it was this bad brother.” Thor said quietly, sitting down awkwardly next to his brother on the floor. Loki quickly pushed away, not wanting to face anyone’s pity for even a moment.

“Leave me be brother, I keep this disgustingly weak display hidden for a reason.” Loki growled, avoiding his brothers eyes, staring at the broken glass laying at his feet.

Thor stands, not wanting to ignore Loki’s wishes and leaves him with his thoughts, his brows still furrowed in worry as he shuts the already busted door behind him gently.

Loki runs both of his hands through his mess of hair, squeezing as though to rid himself of the memories locked in place, taunting him on an endless loop.

“You can never get her/him/them back. Never ever.” They seemed to whisper in his mind, the sound of silence in the room only amplifying their nonexistent voices.

He smacked his head harshly, trying to push them out, trying to get back to the quiet while tears rolled down his cheeks, wondering once again why he had ever done anything so cruel to you as he had.

“I am so very sorry my darling.” He whispered into the emptiness softly, hugging his knees to his chest.

Never once had he ever felt so broken down or lonely in his existence, never once had he ever felt so much remorse mixed with anger as he did right then, knowing it was too late to even apologize in the first place. A part of him wondered if you felt anything regarding him at all anymore. A deeper part of him wondered how long it would be til you purposely forgot him entirely, all emotions about him disregarded just like that. And he knew if you did he had to live with the fact that he deserved every moment of it.

Good for you

You’re doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath

Ignoring the blood drying on his hands and his feet, Loki went into the bathroom and splashed ice cold water onto his face, trying to get a more level head out of it. While the shiver it gave him did wake him up a bit, his mind was just as clouded, just as distracted.

He groaned, slamming his fists down on the edge of the sink, nearly cracking it with the strength used. Suddenly his room felt too solitary and confining. He put on his facade again, cloaking any form of injury or sadness with his powers. He walked into the gardens, nowhere else to stay away from others while not feeling claustrophobic, though sending him back in time for a mere moment.

“You know Loki, you ought to spend more time out here. These plants are so pretty. And the flowers all smell so good. How could you not just run away from everything in the world and hide out here from it?” You asked. He had chuckled, pulling you along the path and deeper through the enchanting maze of greenery until you had reached the bench.

“My mother took me here as a child. She said it was our place, for our escapes from reality. She told me to only show it to those I truly trusted or were truly enchanted with. You are both of those things to me y/n.” He had told you as he held you in his embrace, carefully picking a flower and handing it off to you, the first gift he’d ever given you.

He smiled slightly at the memory, thinking how ironic and poetic that he was now doing exactly as you had suggested that day and running from his responsibilities. He missed the way even the most mundane of things had been so easy for you to enjoy.

He laid in the grass, ignoring the stinging in his feet and the twinges of pain in his palms from his cuts, taking comfort in the memories he had. Those, he was thankful you couldn’t have taken with you. He felt pathetic. He felt weak and vulnerable and all the things he’d never wanted to feel in his life. And even worse, it was because of the one person he thought he could always count on to protect him from those terrible feelings.

He hummed absentmindedly to himself, feeling much more calm with the fresh air and sounds of nature rather than complete silence. He still didn’t feel quite like himself but he was unsure if he ever would again anyway. At least now he felt somewhat in control of his own mind.

I’ve lost my mind

I’ve spent the night

Crying on the floor of my bathroom

As he watched the sky, Loki thought of you, every mark, scar, line, feature of yours, drawing out your face in his mind, the most memorable moments with you playing like a film sequence. His smile fell a little as this day, his impromptu visit from earlier came to his mind.

Whether he was truly angry at you for leaving wasn’t the question anymore. Not really. The question had more so become whether you’d really loved him at all or if he had fooled himself into believing you did.

He silently decided on the latter, knowing you had too big a heart to ever put anyone through that level of hurt.

Still, he seethed with jealousy thinking of the boy who had been sitting the closest to you in the little coffee shop, the way he had looked at you the same way Loki always had. And it hadn’t seemed to him like you’d been too eager to pull away either, which only made it sting worse.

He closed his eyes in a small show of defeat to no one, knowing you were better off without him around to flip the world upside down for you. Deep, deep down he knew you needed a stability he wasn’t ready to provide yet, though he would never ever admit that to anyone, much less himself.

No, instead he missed holding what was his in his arms, making you feel safe and comfortable like he had for so many years. Anyone’s hands on you other than his made him feel a blind rage even on his best day and right then it was the worst day he’d ever faced, making the anger spread like wildfire through him.

The image stood at a standstill in his brain and he convinced himself that one way or another, he had to get you back to him.

But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it

But I guess good for you

Well good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

———————————————————————

Tagging: @peachybaes , @wolfish-trickster and @writinguntilmyheartgivesout (thank you guys for the support on White horse, you have no idea how ecstatic they made me, my heart was very happy, I appreciate you, and all my other readers 💖💖)

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

Text

AITA

My bestie’s latest quarantine hobby is trolling through AITA on reddit and sending me ones she thinks will make me mad, so. I got inspired.

E/R, modern AU.

The sun was bright and the mood, all things considered, was high, as the crowd gathered by the river in preparation for the march downtown to call for defunding the police. Black Lives Matter was leading the protest, and Enjolras had volunteered Les Amis to serve as support and allies in whatever way they could, which mostly meant making sure folks were wearing masks and that no one decided to try something stupid with the cops.

“Good crowd,” Courfeyrac remarked, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as he glanced around before looking back at Enjolras. “As much as I’m sure it’s killing you that they’re only calling for defunding and not abolition.”

“Yeah, well, not even a year ago, no one was talking about defunding the police,” Enjolras pointed out, a little sourly, adjusting his mask, which was emblazoned with WHITE SILENCE IS VIOLENCE. “I’ll take what progress I can get.”

Courfeyrac smirked. “You sound practically moderate.”

Enjolras scowled. “Take that back, or—”

His threat was cut off by the arrival of Joly, Bossuet and Grantaire. It was hard to tell by the masks all three wore, but Enjolras was pretty sure that all three were grinning, and judging by the way Bossuet was swaying, just slightly, it wasn’t just because they were in a good mood.

“I’ll take it you three decided to hit up a brunch spot on your way here?” Enjolras asked, even more sourly than before.

“A man has to eat,” Joly said innocently, which would have gone over much more believably had he not giggled at the end.

“Besides, we only ordered one drink,” Bossuet assured him.

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess,” he said dryly, “you each ordered a bottomless mimosa.” He didn’t wait for any of them to confirm it. “And how many refills of said drink did you also order?”

Joly and Bossuet looked at each other and laughed, and Grantaire pulled his mask down to grin lazily at Enjolras. “Let me put it this way,” he said, “more than one and less than ten.” He paused. “Probably. I did lose track after about seven.”

Snickering, Joly and Bossuet headed over to join the rest of Les Amis, but when Grantaire made to follow, Enjolras blocked him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You’re drunk,” he said accusingly, and Grantaire’s grinned widened.

“Well, I’m sure as shit not sober.”

“Put your mask back on,” Enjolras ordered, less concerned for himself, as Grantaire was part of his quarantine bubble, and more for everyone else milling around before the march started. Especially any journalists who might love to get a shot of BLM protesters breaking the mask mandate. “And go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire slowly pulled his mask back up over his mouth and nose, smoothing it into place before looking at Enjolras plaintively, all trace of humor vanishing from his expression. “Let me stay here,” he said, his voice soft, and not just from the cotton that covered his mouth.

Enjolras shook his head, well aware that even if Grantaire might suddenly sound sober, he wasn’t. “Go home,” he repeated. “The last thing we need is your drunk ass picking a fight with the cops or something worse and turning this whole thing into a riot instead of the peaceful protest its organizers intended.”

“What, you think I’m incapable of going two or three hours without starting a brawl?” Grantaire asked, incredulous.

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “I think you’re incapable of a great many things.”

Grantaire’s lip curled. “Like believing, thinking, willing, living and dying?”

“Only you seem to think you’re incapable of dying,” Enjolras said quietly, before repeating, one more time, “Go home.”

But Grantaire shook his head, taking a step toward him. “If you’re so worried about it, then send Bahorel home, too!” he insisted. “Send home Joly and Bossuet who are just as drunk as I am. Or else let me stay.”

“No.”

Enjolras said the word calmly, but Grantaire recoiled as if he had shorted. “And why not?”

“Because I trust them!” Enjolras burst, his temper getting the better of him, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before adding, what he hoped was a calmer way, “I trust them to actually listen to my instructions and keep themselves out of trouble.”

But something in Grantaire’s face clouded as soon as Enjolras had said that he trusted them, and Enjolras had a bad feeling that he hadn’t really listened to the last part. “Right,” Grantaire said, a little dully, already turning away. “Well. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed, reaching out to catch his arm, but Grantaire shrugged him off, wandering towards the river, the hunch of his shoulders the only indication that he had any care in the world. Enjolras stared after him for a long moment, his expression troubled.

----------

Four days later, Grantaire rolled over in bed when his phone buzzed. He picked it up off his nightstand, saw that it was a text from Enjolras, and immediately tossed it down again, groaning.

He hadn’t talked to Enjolras since that morning of the BLM protest, and at this rate, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. Not when he knew that Enjolras didn’t trust him.

Joly would tell him he was being dramatic, and Bossuet would tell him to just text Enjolras and apologize and move on, and since Grantaire wanted to hear neither of those things, he also wasn’t talking to Joly or Bossuet.

Instead, he rolled over onto his stomach, grabbing his phone and stubbornly ignoring the text message from Enjolras still sitting, unread, in his messages. Instead, he clicked on twitter, figuring if he was going to sulk, he might as well sulk while reading about someone else’s misery.

A half hour later, Grantaire had scrolled through what felt like half of twitter before he stumbled upon a random tweet that linked to an ‘Am I the Asshole?’ post on the subreddit of the same name, and he glanced at the clock before deciding he had enough time to waste a couple of hours on a whole new level of misery.

He might’ve kept scrolling for hours, when he stumbled upon an AITA post that was surprisingly familiar.

Suspiciously familiar.

Like he had lived it.

He hesitated for only a moment before clicking on the post.

Posted by u/RadianceoftheFuture 8 hours ago AITA for kicking my friend out of a protest?

So I (25M) was attending a BLM protest the other day with the social justice organization I run. One of my friends, who we’ll call ‘R” (28M), showed up drunk and, IMO, looking to start a fight. This was the last thing I wanted, since we were there to be good allies, and starting fights or inciting a riot as white folks who will get away with it ain’t it. So naturally, I told him to go home.

Now here’s where I may be the asshole. R started arguing with me, and pointed out that some our other friends who were also there were also drunk, and one of our other friends who was there has a history of starting fights, so he asked me why I wasn’t making them leave. I told him it was because I trusted them.

Which is true, but not exactly how I wanted to word it, and I could tell that he was hurt by the implication that I didn’t trust him. And I do trust him, but I also didn’t want to spend the entire time worried about him. Anyway, he left, and he hasn’t talked to me since. If I’m the asshole, I want to apologize so that we can go back to being friends, and even if I wasn’t, I still want to figure out a way for us to talk again. I miss him. So tell me, AITA?

Grantaire stared at his phone, torn between something warm spreading in his chest at the fact that Enjolras cared enough to ask anonymous strangers on the internet about this, and freaking out because Enjolras had posted about their disagreement on the internet.

The man had only two speeds, it seemed, and somehow, Grantaire always ended up dealing with Enjolras on the highest speed.

Numbly, and mostly in an attempt to gather his thoughts, Grantaire scrolled through the comments on the post, unsurprised to see a decent mix of judgements from the redditors. More than expected YTAs (you’re the asshole), plus a number of NTAs (not the asshole), and, predominantly, a smattering of NAH (no assholes here).

Halfway down the page, he paused, realizing that the person who had written the post had responded to a question.

u/oldcoats_oldfriends - 7 hours ago INFO: why do you trust your other friends and not R?

u/RadianceoftheFuture - 6 hours ago Because R has a history of getting himself in trouble, whether by running his mouth off when he shouldn’t or picking fights with guys twice his side, and the trouble he gets into tends to happen after he’s been drinking. So when you put the two together, I was worried he’d do something stupid and get himself locked up or worse. And since keeping an eye on the rest of the protest was important, I knew I couldn’t afford to be distracted by also keeping an eye on him.

And for the record, I trust R with a lot. He’s not as ideological as a lot of us, doesn’t even have a lot of the same beliefs, but I know he would never do anything to hurt the cause, or me. Of course, he might not HELP the Cause, or me, but still. I’ve never once doubted that R would take a bullet for me, if it came to that. I would just never in a million years want him to.

Grantaire swallowed, hard. Of course he would take a bullet for Enjolras, or more, but it had never occurred to him that knowing that might make Enjolras worried. Worried that Grantaire would do something stupid.

If only the man knew that Grantaire worried about Enjolras in exactly the same way.

Hesitating for only a moment, he decided to leave a comment of his own.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 1 minute ago NAH. Sure your friend shouldn’t have been drunk and you were right to kick him out, but drinking doesn’t make him an asshole (though not talking to you might). I am curious why you would have been worried about him. He’s a grown man and not your responsibility.

He quickly closed out of reddit, not wanting to do something stupid and refresh until Enjolras responded, but he only half-paid attention to the tweets he scrolled past, glancing at the clock to see if it was still pathetic for him to check for a response.

But to his shock, when he finally gave in and checked forty-five minutes later, Enjolras had answered, and something in Grantaire’s stomach twisted to know that he was still checking the thread, still seeking a resolution.

u/RadianceoftheFuture - 39 minutes ago Maybe ‘worried about’ is the wrong term, but he’s my friend. I didn’t want him to get hurt, or worse, because he was drunk. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten hurt on my watch, and everytime it happens, it’s awful. And not just because he won’t shut up about it for the next six months - I always feel so guilty, like I should’ve been protecting him. I know that’s not realistic, so the very least I can do is send him home when I think he’s liable to hurt himself. That way I can sleep at night knowing I did what I could.

The breath caught in Grantaire’s throat, and his chest felt tight, especially as he read the follow up comments.

u/valiant.artisan - 34 minutes ago INFO: Are you and R gay?

u/tremble_b4apoppy - 26 minutes ago Dude you may be in love with R.

u/timidinrepose - 21 minutes ago OMG this is the sweetest thing I’ve read all day.

u/Lymantria_dispar - 12 minutes ago. Pretty sure this might go a little beyond just friendship. Either way, I’m glad you care about your friend, and even though you weren’t TA, you should call him and explain why you told him to go home.

Grantaire couldn’t seem to stop his stupid smile as he stared at the computer, and this time, he didn’t hesitate, opening his text chain with Enjolras without reading any of Enjolras’s previous texts. He didn’t need to read them know.

NTA.

He sent the text and held his breath, wondering if Enjolras would acknowledge it, immediately, or try to play it cool. His one word answer indicate the former: Sorry?

But Grantaire wasn’t nearly as willing to play it coy. Not anymore. Your AITA post. I’m giving you my judgment. NTA.

In his mind, he could see Enjolras blush, that same way he did when he was frustrated, two spots of color rising high in his cheek as he stared at Grantaire. You saw that?

Even in his mind, it was a beautiful sight. Yeah

Then you should know, I agree with the majority opinion.

The image of Enjolras blushing disappeared, leaving Grantaire blinking at his phone, his brow furrowed as he tried to think of what the majority option would have been. Oh?

NAH.

Grantaire grinned, but before he could respond, Enjolras texted, Want to come over? I think I owe you an explanation in person.

I thought you’d never ask.

----------

u/ RadianceoftheFuture - 45 minutes ago UPDATE: AITA for kicking my friend out of a protest?

(Original.)

Thank you all very much for your feedback in the original post. There were a variety of perspectives on this, but some of the comments on the original post made me realize that I may in fact feel something more than friendship towards R, and it’s a good thing I figured it out, because he found the post, and even commented on it without me knowing! Anyway, we talked, I explained how I felt, and it turns out R’s had a thing for me pretty much since he’s known me. Anyway, we’re dating now, and while this isn’t exactly going to solve my problem of worrying about him, I also think he’ll be on somewhat better behavior now. For my sake at least.

We still have a lot to work on together, but we’re moving in the right direction. And to think, I probably never would’ve figured it out if it weren’t for reddit, of all the websites.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 3 minutes ago WIBTA for hijacking my boyfriend’s reddit post to tell him that I love him?

u/ RadianceoftheFuture - 2 minutes ago YTA for sitting literally two feet away from me and responding to a reddit post when we could be doing something far more exciting.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 1 minute ago ...good point.

#enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #reddit au #that pained me to type #anyway #developing relationship

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lotusjwy · 4 years ago

Note

"Just leave me ALONE" for Xicheng? Preferably if LXC says it JC? Preferably in public or in front of wangxian and the juniors ? E.g. JC is the only one, who notices LXC is having a bad day and he more or less subtlely tries to get him to talk ? But LXC tries to be fine cause he is out of seclusion so he can't still have bad days'?

But if you have another idea do that! no pressure ! Thanks in advance !

hello there, the way this is so specific has been killing me for DAYS 😂 I had to send screenshots to my friend bc of how specific it is dude, like I love that you know exactly what you want bc it makes my brain not have to work as hard, but BRO dskjfhkasd why do u like to see my boy suffer So much 😭😭😭

i hope this lives up to ur expectations!!! 🥰

It had been a long day. A long and tiring day, so if he lost his temper, he couldn’t be blamed, right? He just wanted to go back home and play the flute, perhaps sleep a little, but he was absolutely done with spending time with everyone else. So, why did he find himself still in the company of so many people? Why was he still sitting here with Wangji, Wei Wuxian, Jiang Wanyin and a handful of juniors? Why?

This was all Wei Wuxian’s fault, he was the one that insisted everyone spend more time together. Xichen already saw plenty of Wei Wuxian, Wangji, Sizhui and Jingyi, as well as often seeing Jiang Wanyin and Jin Rulan, due to sect business. If anything, the only person here that Lan Xichen rarely saw was Ouyang Zizhen, and it wasn’t as if he’d spent much of the day speaking to him.

Jiang Wanyin had taken it upon himself to seat himself down next to Lan Xichen, talking to him, hoping that he could get to the root of why the other had been acting differently. “You’ve been quiet all day, which is completely fine, I get that. Sometimes everyone is a bit too much to handle, but Wei Wuxian insists on family bonding, whatever the fuck that me-”

And he just would not stop talking, he’d been talking for so long, all day, when would he stop. “Just leave me alone. You keep speaking to me as if I’ve shown any indication that I wish to continue this conversation. You’re quick to call Wei Wuxian a chatterbox and an annoyance, yet have you ever looked inward?!” When he was met with a stunned silence, he realised something was incredibly wrong.

Oh. Oh no. He had said that out loud, hadn’t he? Well, he couldn’t take it back now, and he had wanted to be left alone. It wasn’t his fault Jiang Wanyin wasn’t taking the hint. Xichen did feel a little bad, when he saw the hurt expression on lJiang Cheng’s face, that abruptly was wiped from his face, only to be replaced by a blank face.

“Apologies, Zewu-jun. I appear to have overstepped.” He stood and gave the other a stiff bow, before leaving the room, not looking or speaking to anyone, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

Wei Wuxian stood awkwardly after his brother had left the room, wanting to follow him out, but knowing that the other probably wanted to be alone right now. He also knew that he shouldn’t be the one going to ensure he was okay, “Xichen-ge…”

“I am aware, no need to scold me.” Lan Xichen’s voice was terse, knowing that everyone in the room was staring at him in shock, possibly all wanting to scold him for his behaviour.

“Jiujiu was only trying to make sure that you were okay. Talking helps sometimes, you know. He rarely reaches out to people like that, but he did to you.” Everyone here knew his uncle’s temper, just as well as they knew how much he cared, if anyone here didn’t know that, then they shouldn’t be here. They didn’t belong here.

Lan Sizhui put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Jin Ling, should you be saying this here?” He knew that Jin Ling was cross with Zewu-jun, but he didn’t want the other saying anything that he may regret later on.

“It’s nothing everyone here doesn’t already know about him.” He scoffed out, his voice dripping with disdain towards Sect Leader Lan. How dare he take his uncle’s kindness for granted.

Xichen tuned out the remainder of the conversation, thinking about the mess he had put himself in. It wasn’t that he disliked Jiang Wanyin, quite the opposite actually, and yet here he was near yelling at him in front all of their friends and family. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been stuck in his thoughts before he realised that he was being spoken to by Jin Rulan again.

“Well? Are you just going to sit here and wallow in your stupid misery, or are you going to go apologise?” There was a fiercely protective look in the younger’s eyes, showing that he’d physically fight the other, even if it meant losing, for his uncle’s honour.

“Jin Ling!” Wei Wuxian sent a sharp look to the younger, inwardly cursing that Jin Ling seemed to have inherited his mother’s fierce protective nature. He felt the same, but he also had the sense of knowing that saying everything you felt could backfire on you within seconds.

“Don’t get mad at me for being mad at him! He was being an assh-” the rest of whatever he was going to say being smothered by Lan Jingyi’s hand, which was conveniently blocking any other derogatory words that Jin Ling may want to speak.

“Alright, alright, young mistress, it’s okay. Let’s calm down now. He’ll go apologise now.” Lan Jingyi gave his sect leader a pointed look, as if telling him that if he didn’t leave to go find Sect Leader Jiang right now, then he would release his friend and let him unleash his full anger at him.

With a stiff nod, Lan Xichen left towards the direction Jiang Wanyin had stalked off to. He found the other leaning on a tree, staring up at the sky, seemingly lost in thought. He slowly approached the other, contemplating how to best bring attention to himself.

“I-” He jumped slightly, when he was cut off, not realising that Jiang Cheng had even noticed him approaching.

“Save it. No need to apologise, I know you were bullied out here.” His voice blunt and to the point, void of any emotion, as if he were trying to protect himself.

Xichen was stunned silent, not knowing how to respond to that. He had been told to come apologise, so it wasn’t as if he could refute that. “Oh.”

Jiang Cheng sighed and shook his head. He had guessed that his nephew and brother had made the other come out here and apologise, but he was hoping that Lan Xichen had wanted to come out on his own accord. Evidently not. And why should he? It’s not as if Jiang Cheng was someone that was important to Lan Xichen. All he’d done was annoy him today.

Lan Xichen walked closer to the other, offering him an apologetic look, “whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“I find that hard to believe.” How could he be wrong, when all signs pointed to his conclusions? He’d been annoying, when he hadn’t intended to be. He’d been compared to Wei Wuxian of all people.

“I’m sorry.”

And for what it was worth, he did sound very apologetic, but Jiang Cheng didn’t seem to believe it. “I said save it.”

“You did. However, I do genuinely mean it.” Xichen looked at the other, focusing on how the other was mindlessly fidgeting with Zidian. I’m making him uncomfortable. “I was told to come out and find you, yes, but I would have apologised on my own. I wouldn’t have left it li-”

“Don’t worry, Sect Leader Lan, I won’t let this hinder our sect relations. I’m not so petty so as to do anything that was affect either of our sects, for a personal matter.” Jiang Cheng cut off Lan Xichen, yet again, seemingly realising why the other had gone out of his way to come out to apologise.

“That’s not-” Lan Xichen was beginning to grow very sick of being cut off midsentence.

“I won’t interfere with any of the trade agreements we have existing already, nor any that we may broker in the future.” Jiang Cheng was rambling now, thinking of anything he could, to ensure Lan Xichen that he didn’t want their sects to fall out with each other. “Oh, we were discussing having our junior disciples have an excha-”

“Would you shut up?” If the other would just stop sprouting out useless information, this conversation could end less painfully than it needs to be, instead Jiang Wanyin seemed to want to draw it out.

Jiang Cheng blinked in shock, his mouth falling open. That was the second time he’d made Lan Xichen burst out in anger like that. Wow, he must really hate me.

“If you would just let me speak! I do not dislike you, nor do I think that this should affect our sects standings with each other.” Xichen’s voice was strained, as he struggled to keep his frustrations with Jiang Wanyin at bay.

Jiang Cheng simply nodded in response, “of course not.”

“You don’t believe me.” Disbelief coating his voice, he stared at the other with narrowed eyes.

“I…” he struggled to find a way to word this, without being insulting or rude, “I believe that you do not wish this to affect our sect standings. Nor do I.”

“But you believe that I dislike you.” He put it bluntly, not enjoying the circles they were seeming to go in this conversation.

With a shrug, he nodded. There wasn’t much else he could say on it, it’s not as if he could make his own beliefs go away with the snap of a finger.

“And nothing I say could convince you otherwise?” Xichen was close to losing it at the other again, not knowing how to change the direction of this conversation. “Not even our past relationship with each other, prior to this evening?”

“Sect Leader Lan is a kind man. He gives chances to those who do not deserve them. I simply overstepped my boundaries tonight.” Jiang Cheng was looking up at the moon, his voice void of any emotion as he spoke.

With a sigh, Lan Xichen moved to stand in front of the other, needing to capture his attention somehow. “And sometimes he simply has bad days, that have nothing to do with those around him.” He said it lightly, but his face showed that he was being serious. It really had been a bad day that had come an unfortunate end.

“But I didn’t help.”

“No, you didn’t. But I should have verbalised that, instead of ignored you.” Thinking about it for a moment, he added on something else, “which is why you kept speaking to me. Other times your company and conversation has kept me from my bad days, it was only safe for you to believe that it would be okay today. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Hmm.” He only hummed in response, as if he didn’t want to accept that he played no fault in the situation.

“I don’t know what else I can do to convince you otherwise. I promise you that we are okay. As long as you can forgive me for speaking to you like that.” Right. Apologising was what he’d come out here to do in the first place.

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes and looked at the other incredulously, “of course I forgive you, I was being fucking annoying and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.”

Lan Xichen shook his head almost immediately, “I’d argue out of everyone we’ve been with today, it is a place where you are welcome to stick your nose into. I should have communicated that I wanted silence, it wasn’t your fault.”

When Jiang Cheng didn’t respond, Xichen sighed and nodded, “fine, I can see that this will take some time to move past. But can we do that? Forget about tonight, learn to better communicate with each other? A relationship wouldn’t be possible otherwise.” He quickly turned away from the other, choosing to stare up at the sky, instead of seeing the disbelief on Jiang Cheng’s face at what he had just said. He had more or less confessed his feelings.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened in shock as he processed what he had just heard, his cheeks beginning to burn at the implications. He coughed into his fist, “uh, yes. We can do that.”

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elichorph · 4 years ago

Text

ok hi i’m back with a second character ...

the member of the yale's elite, they're twenty three and a grad student majoring in film & media studies. they are as amicable as they are histrionic.

stats:

full name: gordon minjun teller nicknames: goose. gordon is for business only age: twenty three birthday: june 13, 1997 chart: gemini sun / cancer moon / leo rising gender: cis male pronouns: he / him sexuality: bisexual & biromantic height: 6′1 hair color: blue (now blonde) tattoos: none piercings: nose stud (right side), earlobes (always have silver hoops in them)

PINTEREST BOARD

blackmail:

while the public believes that goose’s family retired and moved to another country, this was actually released as a coverup because they went missing. goose withheld information from the court about their last whereabouts which could have prevented it from becoming a cold case.

he was expelled from high school after vandalizing a statue on campus and his uncle paid the school to go back on their decision.

he lost a third of his inheritance money to a cult he briefly followed in his sophomore year of college while looking for guidance.

backstory:

tw: implied death

right at birth, goose was adopted into the teller family who were pretty well known. his father was a young ceo of an oil company in texas. goose’s family eventually became public figures and tabloid favorites after a long riveting love story between his father and mother, who belonged to opposing business families. it really was a quick rise and fall to fame, starting when it was revealed goose’s adoptive mom, grace, couldn’t have kids, he was in her arms not even a month after and right out of them thirteen years later when she disappeared and the family really was never to be heard of again.

but as the only adopted child into a family who had to keep their public image up, goose’s dreams of being a fun loving kid were crushed. really, it was strictly gordon - gordon on the tabloids, you’d see his baby face like aw thank god grace got to have a kid of her own <3 he was posted up at galas, listening to his dad speak about oil and shit every weekend and going back to his small private school every monday and it was just the same routine conditioning to keep the image of the teller family spotless and to hopefully get gOrDoN to become the next ceo.

that all kind of went to shit though when goose turned 14. his parents miraculously went missing (don’t ask me what happened i don’t even know) one night when he was tucked into bed. seriously, he woke up one morning and they were gone and suddenly there were police storming the house and he was being questioned and things weren’t routine or safe anymore. in order to still save face for the family though, news was quickly put out that the family went on a private vacation while the investigation went on privately. it was taken to court, people signed nda’s, and all little goose knew was that he his parents were going to a party that night and hadn’t told anybody else and he was too scared to tell anyone. at one point goose became the main suspect and he had to put his freshman year of high school on pause, but he was dismissed months after even though he hadn’t shared the detail that they went to a party. if he had shared it, they literally would’ve been found. eventually, there were no new leads, the case was declared cold, and an official statement was put out that the teller parents “retired” and “moved” to a different country that wouldn’t be disclosed and gOrDoN would be under the care of his uncle.

gordon was like mad though haha. even though he’d gotten his family’s entire inheritance as a fifteen year old and should’ve been happy that he was basically a millionaire, he wasn’t used to things not being in the same routine and actually having to make decisions for himself. newsflash, but goose can’t handle emotions really well and he got angry and well i don’t know if you’ve seen donnie darko where donnie literally put an axe through the statue’s head and spray painted “they made me do it” below the statue? but yeah, that. goose wasn’t slick though, got caught by security, and his uncle paid the school to let it slide and then sent goose to a boarding school in maruland.

he spent the last couple years of high school trying to figure out who he actually was outside of the tabloids and the teller name and image, and eventually got the hang of it by the time he enrolled at yale. he started going by goose instead of gordon, went into film instead of business like his family wanted him to and slowly started to blossom into the weirdo he is today <3 his dad was in the elites so he was able to secure a legacy spot and reluctantly said yes to joining. he was kinda quiet the first year, but now he’s all gungho to do charity events and make people happy and shit like that.

his sophomore year though he kinda doubted the path he was on and his naive ass got roped up into a cult. anyways, he ended up trusting them a lot and donated 1/3 of his family’s inheritance to the cult and kinda blew it. goose was acting hella weird around this time though, i imagine people around him could kinda sense he wasn’t like alright for a few months. anyways someone ended up giving him an intervention about acting kinda whack and he realized and thankfully was able to leave the cult pretty unscathed. but he is deeply, deeply ashamed about his time in the cult though.

personality:

he is one gigantic deranged baby. like he is baby, but he’s also kind of crazy. if goose feels any normal emotion, it instantly bass boosts and he feels it in full. goose genuinely is so sensitive, he’ll physically flinch if you say something merely mean to him because he was used to growing up so perfect that he really can’t take criticism. however, he’ll do his best to patch things up by saying some incomprehensible joke right there and then. the only exception to this is the tabloids. goose has become so immune to them that he will straight up troll them back on twitter because he just doesn’t give two shits.

he’s incredibly kind. so so so kind (not really gentle though). the type to remember your favorite candy bar and hand one to you on a random tuesday. he’ll remember your name even if you’ve only met once and even if you didn’t give him your name, he’ll look it up somehow just so he knows next time. he loves to make jokes all the time. none of them ever make sense, but they’re funny to him and he won’t apologize for it. and he’s LOUD. you probably can hear his cackles and snorts and dramatic screams even when you’re on the other side of campus. he’s just a kid in a candy store excited to finally enjoy life, especially now that things have seemed to settle down. even though he’ll probably have a whole breakdown and a half the first time the blackmailer mentions his name.

yes, he actually believes he’s being haunted by jfk. goose had a string of dreams about him and witnessed some doors opening and closing on their own around the same time, and he quickly jumped to the conclusion and never thought twice about it. another strange belief that goose has? that he’s friends with a ton of a-listers. even though it’s mainly jessica alba, he won’t hesitate to tweet at extremely famous actors and thank them for getting lunch with him even if they’ve never spoke. multiple management companies have his twitter handle blacklisted. while he currently has blue hair, it’s always quick to change. for how much he dyes it, it’s surprising that it doesn’t feel like hay. if goose feels a mental breakdown coming or simply is bored or needs attention, his hair color will do a straight 180. he hasn’t had a natural hair color since he enrolled at yale.

things that are very goose: beat up yellow high top converse, getting to know every person in existence, having memes plastered over his wall to make him smile after a long day, wearing fancy cologne to the grocery store because one cashier said he smelled good and he thinks it makes them happy to wear that, throwing a shoe across a crowd at a party, going to sulk in the bathroom or leave the party early when a song plays that brings up bad memories, keeping every movie stub, restaurant punch card, and lost button in a little scrapbook just because he wants to remember the good things in life, thinking the karate kid is the best movie to ever exist despite being five years into a film major.

wanted connections

since he doesn’t have any pre-established connections, here are some ones that could kinda be fun

someone who protects his naive ass <3

an ex or old one sided crush who hurt him so bad lmao. they really wouldn’t have to a lot to do that, but it would be juicy if they did

roommate? maybe? he lived in a really shitty apartment his first few years, maybe they convinced him to move out or moved in

or neighbors? like he will knock on their door 3 times a week with half burnt brownies to offer or because he doesn’t know where his tv remote is and needs help

someone who gave him the intervention about like “you’re acting weird are you okay” that indirectly got him to leave the cult and he feels like he’s forever indebted to them

someone who just despises goose and he doesn’t understand why and tries to make things better even though it just makes things worse

family friends? maybe? when he was in ct and his uncle didn’t let him come home with him during the holidays he would go to their house or something like that

gentle romance <3 maybe. Please

he’s their secret admirer and sends them gifts and flowers and writes them bad poems and recommends them shitty romance films

someone who takes advantage of how naive he is

anything <3 come 2 me or i will dm you or venmo you and force u to plot with me

#intro

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killitquick · 6 years ago

Text

A Joke.

Request: Can u please do 82 with Michael gray peaky blinders.

Warnings: blood and death mentioned.

Finn, Isiah, and Michael were drinking together down by the cut. It was a warm summers evening and the boys had a bottle of whisky between them. You were at home however writing a paper for class. You were studying to be a nurse and nothing was going to get in your way. Not even Michael Gray. This was going to be one of your last papers of the year and you wanted it to be good. So good that it would be Mindy Fabriello’s. She was dumber than a sac of hammers but somehow she managed to get by and somehow her paper seemed to be better than yours by huge margins. So you had sent Michael out to so you could just sit in silence and work in peace.

You suppose it’s your fault for what transpired that day because you sent him away. You figured he’d go to the office and work on some business stuff for Shelby Ltd. but you were wrong. You had never thought that he would go and get dumb and dumber.

Michael lay in the grass his hands behind his head creating a make shift pillow. His eyes were closed in blissful drunkenness and his skin soaked up the last few rays of the sun. Michael drifted in and out when he heard Finn start talking.

“ Wouldn’t it be funny if”

You were sitting in the living surrounded by notes, text books, and crumpled up pieces of paper. You notices the sun dipping down and sigh. You were becoming frustrated beyond belief and you had wished that Michael would come waltzing in through the door. You were hoping that he would come and take your mind off of things. At the thought of Michael you started to feel the familliar twinge of want start coursing through your veins.

As if god himself answered your prayers you heard the door open and slam into the wall. You were confused for about a second before Isiah came running in out of breath with blood all over.

“ It’s Micheal, he’s hurt bad” he wheezes out.

Everything in your hands and lap drops too the floor. You stand up in a rush knocking over the coffee table sending tea all over the floor. You don’t even stop to put on shoes you just run after Isiah. You dress flows behind you as you run through Small Heath after Isiah. When you get there you see Finn pacing also covered in blood. There’s something stick out of Michael and you can see the blood all over his creme coloured shirt you had passed him this morning. It’s all over his face and neck and you gasp at the sight. You rush to his side and check to see if he’s breathing when he body lurches forwards.

A scream erupts out of you and you propel yourself backwards. The sound of the boys laughter hits your ears and you catch your breath as you see Michael with a dazzling smile on his face. You see his mouth move but you’re so confused you can’t wait hear what he’s saying.

“ It’s just a joke baby, I swear” he laughs out. Hands clutching his sides.

Your mouth opens and you plan to yell but all that comes out is a choked sob. The tears roll hotly down your face and you can’t contain it. You had felt everything in you stop when you saw him lying there, everything in you ran cold but you held on because you needed to. You’re training had kicked in and you went straight to work pushing down any feelings you may have had but the crisis had been averted and everything burst in you.

The boys laughing die out as they watch you sob on the ground. Isiah quickly notices your bare and now black feet and he frowns. Finn was right it would be funny but now it wasn’t and he had felt the pit of dread start to grow in his chest. Your house wasn’t far from here and so he took off to your home to grab your shoes for you. Michael had never seen you cry and knowing he was the direct cause of it made his heart break. He thought the idea was a good one but he was also drunk. He watched as your from crashed in on itself and he stumbled forward reaching for you. Collecting you into his arms he held you as you sobbed.

“ Im sorry. Im so sorry” he repeats into your hair.

Finn watches horrofied. He didn’t think it would go like this and he didn’t think he’d feel like this. He just stood there and watched as Michael tried to console you. He supposed the idea was a tad cruel and a sober Finn would have never even thought of it, but he had and it was directly his fault. Finn looked around for Isiah and saw he was running back towards the group with a pair of shoes in his hands.

“ ‘ere, I got your shoes” you here Isiah say.

You had stopped crying and now just sat in Michael's arms covered in red paint that in the heat of the moment look strikingly like blood.

“ Thank you.” You say pulling them on.

Michael took you home right then and there. You guys shared a bath cleaning all of the bright red off of your bodies, and then went to bed. Since Michael was still quite drunk he had fallen asleep quite easily with you pressed against his chest. However you couldn’t sleep you were wide awake. You had slipped downstairs and sat in the living room turning on the lights, you quickly finished your essay and tucked everything away into your school bag. You sat in the silence and a plan formulated in your head. What happened today would not go silently in the night, oh no!

Michael was a heavy sleeper, that he knew. He was an even heavier sleeper when he had been drinking, usually you would wake him up with breakfast and coffee and he would sing your praise because “ damn woman you make a mean breakfast, and this coffee could bring the dead back to life” but today that didn’t happen. Michael awoke because of the sun being high in the sky flooding the bedroom with natural light. He groaned and rolled over searching for you body but couldn’t find it. He opened his eyes to see that all of your dresser drawers were left open and empty. Immediately sitting up Michael then notices the closet door and how all of your dresses were gone too. He jumped out of bed flying down the stairs looking for any existence of you but he couldn’t find anything. Michael was distraught he had never felt this panicked in his life, and he literally had a gun in his head once. He ran back upstairs and noticed the letter addressed to him on the night side table.

Dear Micheal,

After the stunt you pulled yesterday I no longer feel safe in this house. I can not be with someone who thinks a joke as cruel as that is funny. you’ve broken my heart and I have nothing left to say but goodbye.

xx (Y/N)

Time stopped, it was like everything was working in slow motion now. He had no idea where you could have even gone but he knew he needed you back. He couldn’t do anything by himself. You had taken care of everything for him since you guys had started to date. How was he to survive without your love. He pulled on pants and a random shirt and ran down the stairs. He stopped to put his shoes on but that’s the only time he did stop. He ran all the way to Polly’s house where he banged on the door with all his might. His chest was heaving his throat was burning and he could feel the familiar sting of tear right behind his eyes. The door opens and he starts yelling for his mum.

“ What’s wrong” Arthur asks

“ She’s gone. She left. It’s all my fault” Michael puffs as he makes his way into his mothers house.

It isn’t till he gets to the parlour that he hears your laugh. He can hear you talking with Polly and Ada about the betting shop. He walks into the room and see you there in all of your glory. Your hair is pinned up out of your face but the sun is caught in and it makes it seem like you’re glowing. Like you have a hallow above your head. His knees are weak with need as he watches you laugh.

“ Darling. Y-Your note” Michael says catching your attention.

Your eyes slide up his body. His hair is in thirty different directions his shirt is un tucked and his shoes are hardly done up. You take a sip of tea letting the hot liquid slide down your throat before you respond.

“ Oh that!” you exclaim a smile wide on your pretty face

“ Yea that” Michael grumbles

“ That was just a joke love”

#Michael gray x reader #Michael Gray imagines #Michael gray fanfiction #Peaky Blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #Peaky Blinders fanfiction #imagines #imagine #x reader #fandom writing #fandom readers #fandom fanfic #fandom imagines

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shalasin · 7 years ago

Note

i stop when u stop supporting pedophilia

This response is 733 words long so please prepare yourself if you actually plan on reading this.

First of all, I am going to assume that you are the same person who has been sending me messages for the last couple of day. Ever since my last response to you (or at least who I assume is you), I have made an effort to ignore the bullshit that has been slipping into my inbox, and I have simply deleted the other messages, and while I would like to ignore this as well, I simply cannot bring myself to do so.

I am beyond annoyed with this, not mad or upset, just plain and simply annoyed. You have absolutely no concept of how a dictionary work and you also have failed to use the basic rules of grammar! If you would like to continue your attempt at insulting me please educate yourself, as you sound like an ignorant asshole.

pe·do·phil·i·a (noun) - sexual feelings directed toward children.chil·dren - plural form of child.child (noun) - a young human being below the age of puberty or below the legal age of majority.

Considering I ship Sheith, a ship between Keith Kogane (age 18 – friendly reminder that my boy turns 19 on Monday) and Takashi Shirogane (25) I would have to say there is absolutely no way Keith is “a young human being below the age of puberty or below the legal age of majority.” Now I am going to assume that you are a Klance shipper (and there is nothing wrong with that as I also love Klance) but, I hate to break it to you, by definition of child, Lance is a child and so if Klance was real, Keith (an adult) would be attracted to a “child”. If you want attack me and use words to fit your agenda, don’t blame me for doing the same thing to you. (And for the record, no, I don’t think Klance is really pedophilia.)

To continue with your English lesson, if you insist on harassing me, please do it with proper grammar. I think what you mean to say is “I’ll stop when you stop supporting pedophilia.” Please don’t be afraid to convey your message properly! Text talk will only get you so far in life.

That being said, I think you may need a lesson on how to treat others. If you do not agree with someone, leave it be, walk away and ignore it. I don’t care if it is something as big as religion/politics or something as small as your favorite color, do not harass people over it. Please, this is something you obviously desperately need to learn. Unless someone is going out of their way to hurt themselves or others leave it be. I absolutely despise Donald Trump and I am trans, however, I have two or three close friends that support Trump due to religious beliefs and also do not support LGBT+ rights due to religious beliefs. I in no way support their ideas, but I do not engage in conversations that lead to these topics, as all they do is piss me off and frustrate me to no end. They also do not support me and my “choice” to be trans, but they respect me and do their best not to hurt me, and in my opinion, that is the important part. They do not attack me or try to harass me just because they do not agree with me and my “choice”.

I do not need you to like Sheith or ship it, I just need you to leave me the fuck alone and stop harassing me. It is a ship consisting of two cartoon characters and I am not hurting ANYONE. If Sheith somehow ��triggers” you do not visit my blog! That is the simple thing! Just do not even bother visiting as it should be common knowledge at this point that most of my posts are either Keith or Sheith.

Finally, while I am reluctant to turn off anon on my ask box, if I receive another message from you, or anyone else, I will be turning anon off for however long I see fit. For the time being I will leave it on as I do want people to feel free to interact with me in a nice environment where they don’t have to “expose” themselves. But do everyone a favor and just back it up and leave this alone for good.

#vld #discourse #voltron #sheith #shaladin #shaladin discourse #pro shaladin #anti shaladin #tagging in case y'all have this blacklisted so you don't have to see #for real though #just leave me alone

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yaelsstory · 7 years ago

Text

Product Of A Murderer - Chapter 3

Summary: Yaël, a twenty-four years old girl with the powers to control the four elements, lost all her memories after a terrible incident. While trying to get her memories back, she somehow befriends Wade Wilson and Peter Parker. It’s a bumpy road, because after being gone for almost a year, everyone thinks she’s dead and there are many different reactions to her comeback. That …and while struggling to remember her life as it was before, she discovers that she isn’t who she thought she was. Maybe there are a few things she doesn’t want to remember at all… .

Note: This story is the third part of the Sweet Child of Mine-serie. You can read the other parts of this serie on AO3 on my account (Caspinn) or on my friend’s account (kalkoenvsneoklak).

If you want to read more about the story of Peter, Tony and Steve, you should read part one of the series: Being a Stark.

If you’re interested in the story of Natasha Romanoff and James “Bucky” Barnes, I suggest you to read part two of the series: Golden Locks, Silver Arms.

The next morning, Yaël got a call from Diego with the message that if she didn't show up today, she'd be fired. In compensation, she worked a lot of extra hours in the following few days. On Friday, when she finally got home, she took a shower and put her pajamas on along with her fluffy socks. Once seated on the couch she received a text from Wade. A bit ashamed for not texting him earlier, due to her long working days, she opened it.

- Yo, Sugarmuffin. Chasin the Squirrelgirl took me a few more days than I expected. Or maybe my decapitation did after I fell from a tree... on an electric fence. Ukno, the sort with the sharp pin-thingies on top? Like in a jail? Not that I ended up in jail during the 6 days we didn't see each other. Hehehe. Well, anyhow, I somehow ended up in Death Valley, ukno, that place with all the sand and rocks? It took me until 2day to grow back arms and hands, so now I'm able to text again. I'm still laying in the sand at the moment, since I still only have grown back baby legs... But I think I'll be back by tomorrow evening. So, what do u think? Wanna hang out?

Yaël grinned as she read the text. So, this man really couldn’t die? How was that even possible? Or was he joking? How does a man get immortal? She received a following text.

- Because I'm a mutant, you know, like mutated. Like, really badly mutated so I have this stupid face now

Then he send her a selfie, making a peace-sign with a freakishly small hand. In the background there was only sand and rocks, like he had said. Yaël typed an answer.

- How did you even know what I was thinking? Dude, so if I shoot you in the head, you still won’t die? I had a lovely date with X a few days ago and worked long shifts after that, but I think your life has been a bit more adventurous in the past few days. See you tomorrow, moron. Xoxo.

Yaël sighed as she put her phone away and jumped on her bed which bounced back a little. Maybe Wade was a few hundred years old?Did being immortal count as a superpower? Wait a minute, was she mutated too?

She should call Cap and ask him… Yaël used to discuss everything with the man, because it always seemed he had some kind of answer to all of her weird questions and his patience was golden. She could ask these mutant-questions to Wade too, but the whole point was that she missed calling Steve for the simplest things. And having a conversation with Wade could go anywhere instead of getting answers.

She wanted to call Cap as soon as she remembered him, but then she discovered Wade had been right. X and Fury were keeping things from her. When Yaël had asked X for Steve’s number, he had shaken his head.

No, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that yet. You see, everyone that once knew you, thinks you’re dead, X had explained.

Of course, Yaël had asked him why.

That’s a decision Nick made. I think he sort of wanted to test you, see what you are worth without anyone around you to influence you. Maybe he wanted to see your true colors.

But Yaël was smart enough to understand. Fury put her in a cage like a wild animal to see if she’d become the beast he thought she was.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I want you to see your friend again. I’d be a shame if we’d keep you separated, but I want to talk to Nick first. So that he has a chance to prepare Steve and the others, if he wants to.

So, everything was actually in Fury’s hands… Great!

To distract herself a bit from her frustrations against Fury, Yaël took her phone back and went on the Wi-fi of the hotel next to the apartment-building. She researched about rosin for her bow and checked the prices for a new cello again. She had already done that a few times and every time she was disappointed again in how pricey these instruments were.

Without knowing it, she must’ve fallen asleep, because suddenly she was standing in the woods again.

“Jesus, am I going to have these dreams daily now?” she mumbled to herself.

“That’s strange, your beliefs never laid with Jesus.” Yaël turned her head. There he stood, not Steve, but the black-haired man. He was wearing some kind of brown, worn cloak which covered his whole body, so she couldn’t see what else he was wearing underneath. She couldn’t even see his feet by the length of the thing. Yaël had the feeling that Steve wouldn’t enter these kinds of dreams anymore now that she remembered him.

“How would you know that?” she asked him after she remembered he had said something. The man just shrugged as an answer. “Okay, then who are you?”

The man’s lips turned a tint lighter as he pressed them together after that question. For a split-second, it seemed like Yaël hurt him. But then, a smirk ran over his face as he answered.

“That’s not important now. What is of importance is that you break out of that cage.”

“Why?”Yaël asked. Not that she wanted to stay in that glass box, of course. The guy lifted his eyebrow sarcastically.

“How fast do you think you can get your memories back when you’re stuck in a doghouse?” he asked.

Yaël looked around. The cage was sealed with another glass plate that also looked like it was unbreakable due to its thickness.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to get out?” she heard the man mumble bitterly. He made her feel dumb.

“I have the feeling this cage was specifically designed to keep people like me in. It’s protected against my powers, somehow, I think,” she whispered these last two words, as she wasn’t really sure why she thought all of this. The man sighed, but his face softened.

“They once were, in the real world, when you were really stuck in it. But this is a dream, remember that. You can manipulate it.” Yaël nodded. Yeah, he was probably right. The problem was, Yaël knew well enough that she wasn’t trained at all. Controlling her powers was a big challenge. But she had to try.

Yaël breathed on deeply and rubbed the palm of her hands against each other. It had been a long time since she had done this, from before the accident. She sped up and as she breathed out again, she opened her hands. At that exact moment she steered a massive amount of fire against the glass wall.

Flames shot around and rebounded from the glass. Within a second, Yaël had the feeling she turned the cage into an oven and she was getting baked in it. The smoke started to suffocate her as she tried to take the flames back.

“Not your smartest move, Yaël,” the man said dryly, but he did nothing to help her. After a struggle, Yaël got rid of the flames, but was still stuck with some smoke and she was oh, so cold from using fire as she used a lot of her own body temperature to create the flames. She coughed and rubbed her eyes. Her heart raced as she started to panic.

Stones, she was in a forest, there are stones and rocks. Her lungs itched as she stumped a foot against the bottom glass plate. She shoved her feet apart from each other and bended her knees. As she quickly launched her fist into the air, she heard the dirt outside the cage, in front of the man, split open. Calmly, he took a step backwards with his hands against his back, to stay out of the reach of the giant rock she pulled out of the ground, like he had seen her doing that trick a million times before.

Yaël made pulling movements with her arms, her hands were formed into fists. As she kept moving, the rock rammed and smacked against the glass wall. It made a few cracks, but it went way to slow. Yaël had trouble with breathing from all the smoke.

“It’s just a dream, you can break it!” the man yelled at her. She almost didn’t hear him, with all the noise the rock made while smacking against the glass.

Yaël’s eyes itched so badly, she felt tears running down her face. Being cold while standing in warm smoke was a strange feeling. Moving her fingers started to feel weird. All her instincts yelled at her, she needed to do something or she’d die in that stupid cage. With one hand, she kept knocking the rock against the wall, with the other, she wiped away her tears.

Her tears.

Within a second, Yaël was steering water into her hand, froze it in her fist into a sharp shape and started throwing these pieces of ice, one by one against the cracks she was making with the rocks she was steering with her other hand. To be able to keep making ice, Yaël needed to distract some water from her own body. Which made her, by the time the glass shattered into pieces, dehydrated, cold and exhausted.

Yaël expected to be smacked by a pile of falling glass so she bowed and put her arm in front of her face, but it never came. When she looked up, there was no glass, not even a splinter. It looked like there had never been a glass cage in the middle of the woods.

“Oh shit,” Yaël mumbled, she looked around while rubbing her sore hands and could finally breathe again.

“Told you,” the black-haired man said proudly from behind her. But she didn’t hear him. There was another man, she just saw him when she turned around to search for any sign of the cage that had just caved in. He was sitting on the chair Cap sat in last time in her dream, when he was guarding her.

So it seemed this man was guarding her too, but he didn’t notice the missing cage, like it was still there, like Yaël never even used her powers. He just sat there, frowning at the screen of his tablet. It reminded Yaël to her last dream, when Cap didn’t notice the rain. Maybe her memories overlaid in this dream-world, but it was freaking confusing her. What parts of this dream belonged together? The man had dark hair, a goatee and dark eyes. His knee went up and down nervously.

Yaël heard something to her right and saw… another man. Great. He looked like a professor that needed a big coffee. He had a stubble, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His brown eyes looked tired and his hair was turning grey.

Yaël thought she saw something move to her left this time. She immediately knew who it was: the read-haired woman. She had seen her in the memory of Steve she had during the session with X. The professor also had shown Yaël a picture of the redhead. The woman looked at her nails for a moment and then crossed her arms. She shone out arrogance, but it made her look kind of badass.

Yaël scratched her head, she was a bit surprised. “Why are there suddenly so many of you?”

Everyone looked up, a bit confused, except for the cloaked man. He was the only one who reacted.

“We are all different paths, different memories you can chose to follow. You can choose who you want to follow tonight.”

Somewhere Yaël heard knocking.

“Will everyone come back next time after I followed someone in this dream?”

“I’m not sure… but…” The man looked confused and stared to the sky, like he was searching for something. Did Yaël just hear her name somewhere? He looked back at her and threw her a sad smile. Yaël frowned at him, blinked and when she opened her eyes, she was staring at the ceiling. For a second, Yaël felt dizzy from the sudden change.

“YAËL, GET UP AND OPEN THA DOOOOOR!” she heard a familiar voice yell from the hallway, crawled out of her bed and stumbled towards the door. “Yaël, sweet muffinpoodle!” Wade said as she opened the door. He immediately hugged her, but he hadn’t grown back to his full height, so he planted his face between her breasts. Yaël somehow had the feeling he had planned that, as he didn’t retract for a few seconds.

“Has your brain been ripped out too?” Yaël growled as she walked backwards into her apartment and shut her door while Wades face was still planted against her chest. Wade mumbled something. “What?”

As he finally let her go, he said “I just missed you!”

“Is that why you’re so early?”

“My legs suddenly had a growth spurt.” He grinned. “Oh, and I brought you something, because your hair really looks like shit…” he mumbled while digging into his ninja-turtles bag.

“Thanks,” Yaël answered sarcastically “I haven’t had any money to take care of it.” Wade was right. Yaëls blue hair was turning lighter and lighter and her darker hair started showing again at the roots.

Wade finally found what he was looking for: a bottle of hair dye. He raised his hand, holding the bottle, with full glory. Yaël raised an eyebrow.

“Wade… you bought purple dye,” she stated. Wade nodded enthusiastic.

“Cool ammiright?”

“My hair is blue,” she continued.

“Yaël, sometimes you need some change.”

“Do you see how much hair I have? You can’t do it all with one small bottle of paint!”

“Oh…” Wade looked a bit disappointed at his bottle. Then he looked back at her with a wide grin “Let me try it!”

“No.”

“We can binge-watch a series while I’m taking care of you. I have,“he started digging in his backpack again and pulled out some DVD’s, “Grey’s Anatomy, Supernatural or Rick and Morty!”

A few episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and Supernatural later, Yaël stepped into the shower to rinse her hair. When she got back out and dried it with a hairdryer, she grinned widely. Wade somehow managed to make the purple blend into the blue, so her hair was half-purple and half-blue. At some random places, the purple stood out more and on other places, blue, but Yaël thought it looked pretty cool for being an experiment.

Wades eyes shone like the eyes of a little girl when she stepped out of the bathroom. He was almost back at his normal length, Yaël noticed as he stood up.

“You need a cute name, like the characters from My Little Pony! Because girl, you look like an adorable, tasty cupcake.” He said while he was checking her hair.

“Are you flirting with me?” Yaël wiggled her eyebrows and smirked.

“What?! Hell no! Eew. My heart belongs to Parker and Parker only, girl.” Wade saved himself with some arrogance. “By the way… I’m going to invite Peter to join us this evening,” he added quickly. Yaël rolled her eyes.

“Oh, poor boy…” she mumbled.

“Yeah, so maybe you should put on some clothes,” Wade told her. Yaël looked down. She was still walking around with only a towel bound around her body from getting out of the shower.

“What? Are you afraid Peter will be attracted to me instead of you?” Oh, Yaël loved teasing her raisin-friend.

Yaël got herself dressed and a few hours later, after ordering some pizza, she heard a knock on the door.

“You go,” she said as she pointed at Wade “You invited this innocent soul, now you let him in, nah!” Wade jumped up and danced towards the door. Yaël put out the TV . She had seen enough of hospitals and the Winchester for today.

“Parker and pizza, best combination ever!” Wade joked, but he didn’t get a smile back. Instead, the teenager looked somewhat grumpy. He probably wanted to fill his evening differently, but he was trapped by Wade now. Peter dropped the pizza boxes on a small table that was meant as a post-table, but Yaël never got any mail, so it was permanently empty.

She saw the teenager stare at her hair while mumbling something to Wade about bringing his own pizza so he’d have something to eat if Wade started to probe him.

“You like it?” Yaël asked after Wade reacted fake-insulted by bringing his hand to his mouth.

“It’s artsy,” Peter answered a bit doubtful. He looked so uncomfortable that Yaël automatically threw him a wide grin. She stood up to get her box of pizza and planted her butt on the couch again with her feet on the small table in front of her.

“Hey, Petey, think fast!” Yaël looked up to Wade, who had yelled, while nibbling on her pizza. She was trying her best to keep the cheese out of her hair.

There he stood with a cheeky, almost evil-looking grin on his face and… her plates in his hands, which he was already throwing at Peter. What the actual f- HER PLATES!

Yaël dropped her pizza and made a movement with her hands. This way, she used air to make the plates fly over Peter instead of flying right in his face. The boy also seemed to have massive reflexes as he jumped back from the plates and before Yaël even noticed Wade pulled out a gun, Peter already had jumped up. Wade started shooting at the boy’s feet and out of reflex, Yaël stomped her feet. The tiles of her floor flew into the air. Using her powers, Yaël built a wall with the tiles. This way, she used it as a shield for her and Parker.

Wade lost his senses, Yaël was sure about that. Why would that freaking psycho start shooting at this boy?! With a few steps, Yaël put herself and her shield in front of Peter. Yaël checked on the teen, hoping he wasn’t hurt. Her mouth fell open and she stared at him, hanging on a wall like he pasted his hands and feet to it.

Okay, so, whatever. Peter Parker is a sixteen years old boy who can climb and stick to walls. Yaël surely didn’t saw that coming, but that was the least of her worries at that moment. She focused back on Wade.

While she was still keeping her wall of tiles up with her hand, she simply stared at Wade, more specifically at the hand that was shooting around and aimed with her other hand.

“Hey!” Wade yelled as his hand froze. Yaël was perfectly capable of steering this power without using her hands, but using them was easier and made her more in control of her powers. Fire and water she could steer the smoothest. She could use these with just a blink of her eyes. Earth or stone was a bit harder, because of being a literal hard element. With this element, she always needed to move a limb as it felt heavy to manipulate this element. But air… that was a complete shit-element. Whatever she did with it, it always ended with a struggle, a fail or tiredness.

So after using air to change the course of the plates a bit so they wouldn’t fly into Peter’s face (she couldn’t even steer them to softly land on a table or shoot them back or anything), and after using it together with earth to make a shield for so long, she felt completely drained. She was trying her utter best to land the tiles back on their place, but some of them just fell and clattered against the floor, so she just let go of the air and fixed them quickly by using her earth-powers.

Peter and Wade didn’t even notice her clumsiness, because while struggling with the tiles, Yaël had already frozen Wade up to his neck without even noticing it. Yup, that’s exactly why Fury said she wasn’t trained enough. She quickly stopped the freezing procedure. Wade looked at her sheepishly, but she didn’t feel sorry.

Who did this guy think he was, tossing her plates around and shooting holes in her floor like that? Maybe Fury should pay him less after this act of insanity.

“What the hell is going on?!” she barked at him. She might be exhausted after trying to use her air-powers, but this man made her freaking rage! Yaël really didn’t have the money to buy new plates or to pay Peter’s hospital bills if he’d get hurt.

“Well, he’s Spider-Man, of course!” Wade said it like it was an obvious fact, like those words would justify his actions. Well, Wade could go screw himself.

“So, what? You just decide to throw my plates and start shooting at my floor to proof that this guy can swing from one building to another? There are other ways to do that, Wade!” Yaël barked, Wade flinched a bit.

Yaël was still giving Wade a death-glare as Peter asked: “I just want to know how you figured it out?” He looked confused and a bit stressed out. Was the Spider-Man-thing supposed to be a secret? Yaël understood, she didn’t want the whole world to know what she was capable of either. And Wade just gave away this boy’s biggest secret.

“I just know things; how’s MJ by the way?” Wade asked casually. He was way too relaxed for someone who just almost got frozen to death. On the other hand, Yaël knew she couldn’t have killed him. But right now, she wished she hadn’t stopped freezing him, so his head would be frozen too, because he didn’t look sorry at all.

“Who’s MJ?” Peter asked.

“Oh, you haven’t met her yet? Come on, I want pizza. Yaël, get me out of here!” He tried to wiggle his way out of the ice, but that was impossible. He’d have to wait until Yaël freed him or until the ice was melted.

And Yaël wasn’t going to help him. She took her box back from the table and sat down in her sofa again, signing at Peter to follow her. While they were eating, Wade made enough noise to talk for the three of them. He whined about his pizza and being hungry.

If she could just call Steve and rage about this new friend to him, because Wade surely still was her friend. Yaël was sure she’d find it hilarious tomorrow. And Wade was her only friend at this point. Was Peter a friend? Does kidnapping someone make you friends? Well, if Peter wanted to leave, he could, Yaël wouldn’t stop him. But he stayed, which made her kind of glad, because she didn’t want him, the only normal guy in her company right now, to reject her.

Yet, having a Steve would be fun too. He’d be so mad at Wade, well, he would’ve preached to the psycho until Wade would’ve fallen asleep or something. But right now, her dear friend still thought she was dead…

As Wade was still being grumpy about his pizza and rambled just to annoy them, Yaël took a look at Peter. He was just staring at the wall with glassy eyes, while eating his pizza.

“There’s something on your mind,” Yaël noticed. Oh, did she just say that out loud? Maybe she shouldn’t have said that, she didn’t want to break into the guy’s privacy. She saw Peter turn a bit in his seat, he looked so extremely uncomfortable that Yaël wanted to tell him he could ignore her statement, but he answered instead.

“I-I just don’t know you guys. Nobody’s supposed to know, but yet here we are, Wanda knows, you know. I wonder who else does.” Who’s Wanda? Whatever, Yaël wasn’t supposed to know this boy’s secret and now she did, thanks to dickhead Wade.

“There’s that old guy in the restaurant, with his moustache!” Dickhead Wade pointed out. Yaël cocked her eyebrow and glanced at him as a sign that he should shut up with his weird answers that no one understood. And then she got an idea, a way to make Peter feel better.

“You know, they send this idiot to me because they figured I need friends?” Yaël pointed with her thumb to Wade, who acted like he was offended, but nobody cared.

“Who are they?” Peter asked friendly.

“Two men, they introduced themselves as Professor X and Nick Fury.”

Peter’s eyes grew bigger “No way! You know Nick Fury and Professor X?” First,he spoke a bit louder and faster out of excitement, but then… he started rattling.

“Everybody’s heard of them, Nick Fury is like the most secretive guy-“

And he’s a complete ass, Yaël thought, but she didn’t interrupt Peter

“-we even thought him dead for long until he showed himself again during that Ultron-disaster! But Professor X! Man what’s it like, having him in your head?”

“Well,” Yaël scratched her head “It’s weird, man. He helps me remembering stuff by triggering my memories or something like that.” Peter lifts an eyebrow to Yaël, but it was Wade who explained it to him.

“Her brain’s scrambled and she doesn’t remember a thing.” She remembered Steve, but he might not remember her anymore, she thought sadly.

“I just figured out my dad wasn’t really my dad, and there’s a slight possibility that my real dad is still alive, and now I’m waiting for the DNA results,” Peter suddenly said. Did he say it to make her feel better about her mind-error?

Somehow, Yaël had the feeling that this boy couldn’t talk about this problem to anyone. It must be so damn frustrating, waiting to find out who really is your dad. But on the other hand, the way he spoke sounded like the man who had raised him, had died. So maybe, just maybe, if he finds his real dad, the man can be his new father figure.

Yaël sometimes missed someone like that, or someone like a big brother, like when she had troubles with the drains, or when she didn’t know what to read or what to play on her cello. Yeah, it must be great to have someone to fall back to.

But Yaël wasn’t naïve, she knew that if Peter figured out who his real das was, it still didn’t mean the man would take care of him or even want to know him. This man wouldn’t make Peter’s life all rainbows and cupcakes, per se. But when Yaël looked at his young face with eyes that show that the boy has already been through a lot, she could only be optimistic for him.

“Wow, but if he’s your dad, that’s kind of great, right?” she asked with a big smile. But Peter just shrugged.

“I’m not sure I want to know the answer to it,” he answered. Then he stood up, whiping his pants so that he was clean from pizza-crumbs. He was ready to leave, Yaël noticed, as she saw him looking around for his backpack.

“Well, if you want a daddy so badly, you can call me ‘dad’. Daddy Deadpool, wouldn’t that be great?” Wade suddenly said with a grin. Yaël sarcastically slapped her forehead after that. She did her best to keep her face straight, because she didn’t want to give Wade the pleasure to see her laugh at his dumb joke. Wade was still punished for being an aggressive dick, after all.

But Parked seemed shocked. Yaël had thought the boy would be used by Wades jokes by now. The boy seemed like he was boiling.

“Deadpool?!” He groaned. “Out of all people that have to stalk me, it has to be the one who would be able to send me to an early grave.” Oh, so that was his problem.

“Hey, I take that as an insult!” Wade shouted back. But Peter just ignored him with a hard face.

Oh, boy. Yaël needed to find something to distract these two before they’d kill each other. Not that Deadpool was able to move, nor did Peter look like someone who easily killed people.

“Hehe, funny, you both have superhero names!” Yaël muttered. Wow, nice work, Yaël, she thought sarcastically. Peter threw her a questioning glance and it was Wade, of course, who got distracted immediately.

“Yeah, cool, right? We should team up, become Spideypool!”

Peter shook his head “No way, are you even a hero?”

“And what if she joins us?” Wade nodded to Yaël, ignoring Peter’s biting question, still frozen like a popsicle. Yaël saw the curiosity in Peter’s eyes as he turned to her, also a bit distracted now, just a bit.

“Well, what’s your, eh, other name?” he asked.

“I don’t have one.” Yaël said. She didn’t want some kind of special name either.

“Why not?” Peter lifted an eyebrow.

“I’m not a hero, Peter. I work in gardens and play cello on the streets.”

“But you can be one, with powers like yours!” What could Yaël say? That she didn’t feel like a person to look up to? That she had the feeling she has done some horrible things in her past? She was no example, no hero. Yaël couldn’t even fully control her own powers.

“-the Mighty Sorceress, or The Element, or maybe The Rainbow Pony, or…” Wade’s chatter about finding a fitting name for Yaël pulled her out of her thoughts. Peter was even smiling a bit. What a weird group of friends have they created.Yaël grinned. Yes, Peter clearly had become a friend.

“You pay me new plates!” she growled at Wade as soon as Peter had left. She wasn’t finished with Wade just yet. It surprised her that nobody came knocking on her door yet to check if she was still alive after all the noise of gunshots and shattering plates. But she guessed everyone just minded their own business in this building. They hadn’t come on between when they heard her neighbor had fought about drugs with a dealer in the hallway, either. Luckily, only a few of Wade’s shots got through the floor, but Yaël didn’t know how to explain this all to Fury. He’d be so pissed.

Wade nodded quickly. “Yes, my German butterfly, I’ll buy you the fanciest plates ever made.” He answered her demand with some fear in his eyes. Yaël wasn’t sure if he was acting or not, but she didn’t care.

#oc #peter parker #spiderman #Steve Rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #stony #deadpool #wade wilson #professor x #Charles Xavier #Nick Fury #norse mythology #The Avengers #memory loss

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declanflores-blog · 7 years ago

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hello loves !! my name is drea and i’m super stoked to be here. i haven’t rped in like 2 years so i was lowkey hesitant about sending an app?? but i’m glad i did and i’m ready to have fun with y’all! let’s make this rp last. more stuff about me: i talk way too much & english is not my first language so i apologize in advance for any mistakes i might make. i also love writing angst too much.

here’s my baby declan flores, my insecure bi cinnamon roll the songwriter ( come love him i literally want a connection w/ all of u & i got some ideas at the end of this post )

i’ll just put here what i sent in my app! it’s kinda long ahhh but this is p much his backstory, i’ll probably end up doing a fancier statistics page or w/e. trigger warning: homophobia

declan comes from a big & very religious family. his parents have always been very strict, particularly with their beliefs and how they passed them on to their children. for most of declan’s life he believed that if he sinned he would go to hell, he had to pray every day, wait until marriage to have sex, being gay was wrong, etc… he didn’t really know another way of thinking until he went to high school, where he befriended a few people that weren’t heavily religious and kind of challenged his way of seeing the world. as he grew older and surrounded himself with other opinions, he eventually realized that his parents’ beliefs and ideals weren’t perfect. he began doubting god but he kind of kept that to himself, so to his parents he was always the perfect son who could never disappoint them.

he started a band with his three best friends when they got out of high school & they were kind of punk rock and all. declan always really loved music, it’s his biggest passion, but tbh his voice isn’t that great and people tried to tell him but the band was under the illusion that they were good lol. it kinda worked out for a while, they reached a small amount of fame; they could have made it, but then declan started developing feelings for the guitarist of the band. they were best bros and declan thought he was on the same page but the dude pretty much told him “no, i ain’t gay”… which ultimately created a lot of messy drama within the band and they eventually broke up. this is when everything in declan’s life started falling apart — he was super lost because he didn��t understand how he could have feelings for a man (again, for most of his life he was told that that was wrong) & his religious beliefs were tested once again. he mistakenly thought he could come clean to his parents about what was going on in hopes that they would support him, but obviously it didn’t go that way. he quickly went from ‘perfect son’ to the family’s black sheep. as much as he tried, he couldn’t get his parents to see that their beliefs were fucked up & what saddened him the most was that they were convinced he was ‘sick’ for having romantic feelings for a man.

at that point declan was like 20 so he moved out of home and since then he hasn’t returned. he’s 25 now and he still speaks to his siblings sometimes, but his relationship with his parents is pretty tainted. he doesn’t really have a home, he just kinda crashes on his friends’ places when he needs to, but he started earning money for himself with songwriting. ever since the band fiasco he has accepted that he’s not suited for the actual singing and performing, but he rather likes being backstage and writing songs. he’s well known in the ‘behind the scenes’ world of hollywood because he’s written some bops for really popular artists and his lyrics are really good. he was asked to write a song with/for the unapologetics & one thing led to another — now he’s touring with them and getting the opportunity to be around music all the time which keeps him happy. he doesn’t really have any goals; he’s the type of person that just goes with the flow and doesn’t plan for tomorrow.

i guess the skeleton in his closet is that declan is bisexual, he just doesn’t know it yet. he has a really hard time accepting that concept, mostly because he refuses to accept that he’s attracted to men. he feels like he has to choose a side — men or women, and due to his religious past he’s only accepts his attraction for women.

declan is generally a nice person, he’s a great friend & listener, but a really hard person to get to know, which is ironic since he pours his heart and soul into his lyrics. but he’s one of those people that shares lots of useless details about himself to give you the sense that you know a lot about him when in fact you probably don’t even know that he doesn’t talk to his parents anymore. he has a lot of friends but considers himself to be a loner, not because he wants to, but because he thinks it’s better that way. he’s terribly afraid of being judged, namely for his sexuality, so he keeps a distance from anyone who tries to get too close and only vaguely shares his feelings through songs. he can be a bit aggressive when people criticize him because he takes everything personally, so if you get on his bad side expect him to be an asshole. deep down (like very deep down) he’s a hopeless romantic, he just wants to be loved unconditionally and learn how to accept himself ??

IDEAS FOR CONNECTIONS !!

( so i restricted the first 3 to male & female simply bc they tie in with declan’s ‘secret’, so they’re more specific and only make sense a certain way. but i absolutely want to plot with everyone and do more stuff besides what’s mentioned here!! so hmu if u wanna take any of these or if u have a wanted connection of your own that u think declan is perfect for than lmk i’m honestly up for anything ay)

CRUSH — so i’d love for declan to have a lil crush on a guy and it’s basically the thing with the ex best friend happening all over again. this would be someone that declan is good friends with, but he feels attracted to him / them and he tries to repress those feelings as much as possible because he’s convinced it won’t be reciprocated and he doesn’t wanna get his heart broken again. also, u know, the whole ‘i refuse to like dudes’ thing. so this other person tries to keep this friendship going but declan often distances himself on purpose. this person doesn’t need to have a crush on declan back, i honestly have no preference so that’d be up to you!!

FLING BUT NOT REALLY — shoutout if you watch shadowhunters bc this one is kinda inspired by #malec HA. so this would be someone (male) who is a lot more comfortable with their sexuality and kinda flirts with declan all the time, mostly for the joy of watching him get all flustered and taken aback. sometimes declan flirts back without meaning to so there’s some ~tension but nothing beyond that ever happens because declan runs away as soon as it gets serious. this person is p sure that declan is bi but he / they have never confronted him about it. this could honestly go a million different ways so idk, just a general idea!!

ACTUAL FLING — so i was thinking maybe he has a ~thing going on with a girl and p much everyone can see it, like they’ve both hinted that they like each other (but the actual extent of those feelings can be discussed). they can’t seem to go forward though bc one minute declan is really sweet to her and the next he doesn’t seem interested anymore. he doesn’t feel like he can trust his feelings for anyone & he fears that he might be taking advantage of his feelings for her to forget about men (again, the concept of bisexuality: 404 error), so he knows that if they got together he wouldn’t be 100% honest with her and bc he genuinely cares about her as a person he doesn’t want to hurt her. u get the kinda angst i’m trying to convey here

BEST FRIEND / RIDE OR DIE — basically the only person in the world who really knows declan inside and out. they know everything about his parents, about his insecurities and why he’s so closed off. somehow they’ve truly earned declan’s trust which is a very rare thing

ENEMY — someone who declan can’t stand (and vice versa) which is really inconvenient since they’re constantly running into each other on tour. not sure what could have sparked this relationship (or lack of) but since declan is really defensive about basically everything i imagine they can’t be in the same space for more than 10 minutes

SONGWRITING BUDDIES ?? if your character is in one of the bands and writes songs we should def figure out some sort of connection cuz declan is on the tour to spend time with you!! & this could ofc go hand in hand with any of the previous ideas if you’d like

idk what else give me all the things

#tcbintro #ooc.#man i hope this shows up in the tag lol #gotta post this now bc i'm going to be busy all day but !!

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unluckyxse7en-moving · 8 years ago

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RIP Winnie.. i'm so sorry for your loss. i know how painful it feels to have your pet pass away while you're not around to see them go and i really hope you're doing ok. if he passed on then i'm sure he's up in kitty heaven having a wonderful time, and i'm sure you have people to talk to but i am also here if you need anyone :'u

Thank you very much for the condolences. To be honest, a part of me is glad I got to see him one last time , when I went home for winter break… He’d vanished a few times prior to that but had returned both times after a few days, and back then I was worried I wouldn’t get to see him. So while it hurts to have him vanish like this while I was away, I’m glad I saw him and spent time with him before this happened.

It’s probably for the best, as well - if I were there for all the days he’d be gone, I just know I’d stand vigil at the door. Given I don’t have anything to do while I’m home, anymore, I’d probably have just spent the majority of my time checking the doors and yards for him several times a day.

I hope you don’t mind me expressing this much about it - it’s going to sound pretty silly honestly, and I didn’t want to say anything about it at first because I know how stupid it sounds. But, to be honest, we haven’t found his body or anything. We haven’t seen him dead. The main reason that Winnie we think he’s dead is, was my mom distinctly heard a scratching at the door… and when she went to open it, she heard a meow. But when she opened the door there wasn’t anything. No cat, no movement of something off the porch, nothing. One of our other cats, Winnie’s sister in fact, had been resting next to the door but hadn’t reacted to any noise. My mom called Winnie’s name to be sure - he was always a smart boy, and would come running to his name just to show us he was ok even if he didn’t want in. But nothing. And while that could just be a sign of my mom’s distress, I don’t feel like that would’ve happened when it did - it’s my sister’s birthday and my mom was busy getting ready for a day out while I talked to my sis on videocall. my dad had a dream just last night with Winnie in it… none of us ever really see our pets in our dreams like that unless they’ve passed on, and the two things happening so close to each other doesn’t sound good. Mom just had this feeling deep down that that was it, that that was Winnie saying goodbye.

Writing it out, in retrospect, it sounds preposterous to believe my mom’s impressions. Even when she told me on the videocall, I kept looking over at the door. I wanted to say, “go check again. Keep the door open so you can watch. Maybe he’ll show up before you guys leave. Maybe he’ circled around back, maybe he’s at the back door.” If I were home at that moment, I would’ve opened the door, and sat out on the porch and waited. Waited until we had to leave, or until I got some sign.

It doesn’t even feel right to think of him as dead right now. I feel like things shouldn’t end this open, we shouldn’t have to assume our cat’s dead just because he was acting weird before vanishing, and because of how long he’s been gone, and because of two separate incidents that could easily be signs of worry rather than any psychic intuition. I’m one of those people who believes in that sort of intuition to an extent, but I don’t feel ok just saying, “yeah my cat’s dead because my dad saw him in a dream, and my mom answered the door for his ghost.”

But Winnie’s been gone for a few weeks straight now with no sign of him. We don’t know where he is or where he went. We may never find him again, and without these incidents ….. I’d just keep waiting. I’d watch for him every time I went home, every time we’d drive down our street I’d watch for him, sitting on the porch waiting for us, meowing at us even when we were still in the car. I’d look out the back door a lot out of habit, except now every time I’d look it’d be for some sign of him. Every time I’d open the front door, I would probably call his name and watch for him, and get nothing back. It wouldn’t matter how long it’d been, I know if I went home this summer, or this winter, and still thought he was just missing, I’d keep watching. I’d keep waiting. And I don’t think I’d be able to take that.

So I guess, rather than knowing for certain he’s dead, rather than taking what happened with my mom as “his spirit came to us to say bye”, I’m just taking this as the moment that I need to come to terms with the fact that he probably is dead by now. While I deeply want nothing more for him to come back, and I don’t want to write him off like this, I can’t do anything to bring him back no matter where or how he is now. If he does somehow come back I will be ecstatic beyond belief, and feel silly for thinking he’s dead and getting so worked up like this, making such a fuss. I can almost guarantee a written apology will occur if that were to happen, for making such a big deal over this only for him to come back to us safe and sound. But I can’t expect such a happy ending anymore.

So thank you so much for sending this message in - and for letting me let it all out like this. I really needed this, and hopefully I’ll be able to pick myself up from this and move on like I need to. Thank you.

#long post #blablablah #Winnie #Winston #cat #animal #sad #sorry I just started babbling I think I needed to though.#I'm also publishing this publicly bc I felt kind of ashamed for thinking he's dead for such vague reasons at first but #I need to not feel bad for going to such lengths given the circumstances and I'm hoping posting it will help me look at it from outside of #shounenghost #ask and ye shall receive #gripegripegripe #family tag

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erosanova-blog · 8 years ago

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Star-crossed or Simply Cross?

(Reader's note: This is a paper originally submitted to a CSU class Fall 2015, I simply posted it for your entertainment. I believe the original requirement for page length was 5-8. This paper was 18 pages. Only minor changes have been made, mostly formatting for the blog's sake. I may update it as necessary.)

“WELCOME BACK TO 98.99 F.M., THE TORNADO! UP NEXT WE HAVE BLAKE SHELTON’S HIT SINGLE “God Gave Me You.” THIS ONE GOES OUT TO ALL THOSE STAR-CROSSED LOVERS OUT THERE, SO GRAB YOUR HONEYBEE AND PUT YOUR BOOTS TOGETHER!”

“I've been a walking heartache I've made a mess of me The person that I've been lately Ain't who I wanna be

But you stay here right beside me Watch as the storm blows through And I need you

'Cause God gave me you for the ups and downs God gave me you for the days of doubt For when I think I've lost my way There are no words here left to say, it's true God gave me you

There's more here than what we're seeing A divine conspiracy That you, an angel lovely Could somehow fall for me You'll always be love's great martyr I'll be the flattered fool And I need you

God gave me you for the ups and downs God gave me you for the days of doubt For when I think I've lost my way There are no words here left to say, it's true God gave me you

On my own I'm only Half of what I could be I can't do without you We are stitched together And what love has tethered I could never undo

'Cause God gave me you for the ups and downs God gave me you for the days of doubt God gave me you for the ups and downs God gave me you for the days of doubt For when I think I've lost my way There are no words here left to say, it's true God gave me you, gave me you Gave me you.”

(Shelton, 2011)

Easy to grasp but often impossible to feel; sometimes invisible to the eye but apparent to the mind; it sends you into the depths of the ocean and the height of the clouds, but eventually everything comes back to its final resting place. It’s easy to say but difficult to be sincere, it’s easy to taste but hard to digest, it’s held in high regard to some but stomped on and spit at by others. It will take both a juvenile woman and a grown man to his knees, and it controls the very world around us. Love. Merriam Webster defines it as

“1a (1): strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties <maternal love for a child>

(2): attraction based on sexual desire: affection and tenderness felt by lovers (3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests <love for his old schoolmates>

b : an assurance of affection <give her my love> 2: warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion <love of the sea>”

(“Love,” merriam-webster.com)

Also, according to this website, “love is currently in the top 1% of lookups, and is the seventh most popular word on Merriam-webster.com.” However, if you look up “true love” there is no definition. So what is true love, and how does this ideology skew our perspective on the world? Who benefits from this given version of the truth, how are the material benefits socially distributed? The answer should be obvious: profit-seeking corporations. In the search for revenue firms leave no stone unturned, and even if an anti-Valentine’s-Day-day were proposed by those willing to fight the system so many fall into, businesses would find some way to squeeze every penny from their pockets, from T-shirts to billboards to chandeliers, nothing is sacred. As income goes up on the individual level, higher expectations of monetary dispersion often arise-the richer a person becomes, the more is demanded of that person from their spouse or partner. Instead of buying fifty cents of construction paper and using an old rusty pair of shears to compose something beautiful, Americans find it necessary to throw paper and plastic down in the name of love, even more so when they believe it to be true love. Newsflash: companies like Hallmark, FTD flowers and Cadbury own true love, and in order to discover it, you will most likely need to make an investment towards their capital. There is no way to storm the proverbial Bastille, and people will remain serfs to Cupid’s arrow. Sonja Foss defines an ideological critique as “looking beyond the surface structure of an artifact to discover the beliefs, values, and assumptions it suggests” (Pg. 209).

The concept of true love affects everyone, whether they know it or not. Click your radio on to any given frequency (maybe not a public broadcasting station, unless someone is truly passionate about politics) and chances are you will encounter a song about love or true love. Some claim that the country music genre contains more songs about heartbreak and true love but UP NEXT ON 102.7 F.M., THE POPSICLE, WE HAVE MAROON 5’s NEW HIT, “Sugar,” SO SNAP OFF YOUR SNAPBACKS AND KICK OFF THOSE SKINNY JEANS!

“I'm hurting, baby, I'm broken down I need your loving, loving I need it now When I'm without you I'm something weak You got me begging, begging I'm on my knees

[Pre-Chorus:] I don't wanna be needing your love I just wanna be deep in your love And it's killing me when you're away, ooh, baby, 'Cause I really don't care where you are I just wanna be there where you are And I gotta get one little taste

[Chorus:] Your sugar Yes, please Won't you come and put it down on me? I'm right here, 'cause I need Little love, a little sympathy Yeah, you show me good loving Make it alright Need a little sweetness in my life Your sugar Yes, please Won't you come and put it down on me?

My broken pieces You pick them up Don't leave me hanging, hanging Come give me some When I'm without ya I'm so insecure You are the one thing, one thing I'm living for [Pre-Chorus:] I don't wanna be needing your love I just wanna be deep in your love And it's killing me when you're away, ooh, baby, 'Cause I really don't care where you are I just wanna be there where you are And I gotta get one little taste

[Chorus:] Your sugar Yes, please Won't you come and put it down on me? I'm right here, 'Cause I need Little love, a little sympathy Yeah, you show me good loving Make it alright Need a little sweetness in my life Your sugar! (sugar!) Yes, please (yes, please) Won't you come and put it down on me?

Yeah I want that red velvet I want that sugar sweet Don't let nobody touch it Unless that somebody's me I gotta be your man There ain't no other way 'Cause girl you're hotter than a southern California day)”

(Maroon 5, 2015)

“WELCOME BACK TO 95.7 THE WAVE, YOUR SOURCE FOR THE MOST COMPLACENT SONGS OF ALL TIME! UP NEXT WE HAVE “Here Without You,” BY THREE DOORS DOWN. SO SLIDE OUT OF THOSE GRUNGY LEATHER PANTS AND TORN FLANNEL SHIRT AND HOLD ON TIGHT!”

“A hundred days have made me older Since the last time that I've saw your pretty face

A thousand lies have made me colder And I don't think I can look at this the same

But all the miles that separate They disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face

I'm here without you, Baby But you're still on my lonely mind I think about you, Baby And I dream about you all the time I'm here without you, Baby But you're still with me in my dreams.”

(Three Doors Down, 2002)

“Change it.”

“…didn't have to cut me off Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing And I don't even need your love But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough No you didn't have to stoop so low Have your friends collect your records and then change your number I guess that I don't need that though Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now you're just somebody that I used to know Now you're just somebody that I used to know.”

(Gotye, 2011)

“That’s horrible too *tears welling,* please change it.”

“…if you love me, let me go. And run away before I know. My heart is just too dark to care. I can't destroy what isn't there. Deliver me into my fate - If I'm alone I cannot hate I don't deserve to have you...

My smile was taken long ago If I can change I hope I never know

I still press your letters to my lips And cherish them in parts of me that savor every kiss I couldn't face a life without your lights But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight

So save your breath, I will not hear. I think I made it very clear. You couldn't hate enough to love. Is that supposed to be enough? I only wish you weren't my friend. Then I could hurt you in the end. I never claimed to be a saint...”

(Slipknot, 2009)

“What the hell is wrong with the radio today?!” *Click*

“… See a Robin weep, When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost his will to live. I'm so lonesome I could cry.

The silence of a falling star, Lights up a purple sky. And as I wonder where you are, I'm so lonesome I could cry. I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

(Cash, 1958)

“Awful! Terrible! If one more station tries to proselytize me I’m turning the radio off!”

“Try the Oldies station!”

“… if your baby leaves you And you have a sad tale to tell Just take a walk down Lonely Street To Heartbreak Hotel And you will be, you will be, you will be lonely, baby You'll be so lonely You'll be so lonely, you could die

Well, though it's always crowded You still can find some room For broken-hearted lovers To cry there in the gloom And they'll be so, they'll be so lonely, baby They're so lonely They'll be so lonely, they could die.”

(Presley, 1956)

“That’s it! I can’t take it anymore!” *CLICK*

*GPS chiming in* “If you want to avoid a steep cliff, take an immediate right. Take an immediate right. Take an immediate right. Immediately take a U-turn to return to County Road 18.”

Note the parts in bold and their applicability to my argument. As you can see, no station is safe from the resounding break of a heart, and songs about heartbreak are equally as likely to generate revenue to corporations as songs about true love, and equally as likely to make or break someone’s day. From modern day to the classic rock of the 1950’s, people have always been subconsciously pulled into the waiting arms of a mythical romance, whether it ends badly or not. All of these songs represent love, whether it be true, “normal” or inexplicably absent, from several different genres in a multitude of time periods. Blake claims that a “divine conspiracy” brought a true love to him- but if the story is based on real life occurrences consider his recent divorce from Country singer Miranda Lambert (Shelton, 2011). Maroon 5 claims, “You are the one thing, one thing I'm living for,” which seems to have a slightly morbid inference, and also, “when I’m without you, I’m something weak” (2015). What would the average music-lover in modern America procure from these lyrics? That some divinity scribbled their name next to another's and they were meant to be, and if they lost them or couldn’t find them life wasn’t worth living? That seems like a rather depressing interpretation, but the fact of the matter is our speakers shout these ideas into our subconscious, segregating the lucky few from the unlucky masses. The ideology that star-struck lovers exists causes emotional, physical, and monetary distress. It is an unnecessary idea based loosely on consumerism and false attraction, and the artifacts of this misconception are ubiquitous in our daily lives-they can surround and strangle at any given moment. They also lie in popular music, television, movies, and are even embedded in the scriptures we peruse on Sunday mornings. This epidemic is present throughout the ages as well. Notice the references to heartbreak or losing “the one and only” in the 1950’s rock classics by Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley. The minute differences are songs like “Sugar,” and “Somebody I Used to know” disguise disheartening lyrics with buoyant beats, distracting the listeners from the real message being conveyed.

How about a little micro-narrative to further illustrate my point? Her lips taste like summer strawberries still on the plant, so sweet and growing sweeter by the day. Her eyes are lonesome brown caves echoing with curiosity, reverberating blandishments to every snooping spelunker. Her hair cascading like a muddy spring waterfall, twirling down over soft pink lobes and semi-precious stones; its autumn leaves welcoming a fall frolic with growing humidity. Her skin is a light olive, mellifluous, clean, and delicate. She was different, this was meant to be… forever. She is the epitome of perfection, and their paths were scribbled in the stars- inscribed in twinkling incandescence.

Who believes it? Almost everyone who wears a heart on their sleeve, even if they’re wearing camouflage to disguise it. Although the target audience for a lot of these songs are monogamous straight couples, anything can affect a person who wears the right set of ears; who has suffered or embraced extreme forms of love. This drivel is churned out by the bucketful, spooned onto everyone’s plates, from infant to elder, and it controls nearly everything. There are several different kinds of love, let’s begin by defining those. There is familial love, which is, shared between members of a group or family, is purely platonic (sorry Oedipus). Then there is love as companionship, that is, the love between two good friends or the love between a human and a pet. There is mutual adoration, such as the love between spouses or partners, or the love of childhood friends-this is stronger yet similar to love as companionship. There is self-love (no not a teenager’s sticky copy of Marie Claire he keeps under his mattress), that is, caring for yourself, a fathom before narcissism. There is sexual love or attraction, which is based on personal preferences and sensual satisfaction. There is romance, which can be similar to sexual attraction, only embodied with more slow rhythmic music, candles and rose petal breadcrumb trails. Then there is adoration, like the look I’m currently receiving from a red-merle dog named Barley; this can be similar to companionship, or it can be the initial stages of mutual love. Then there is one-sided love, that is, the love of the person sitting in the bushes outside your window at night (not like Romeo calling to Juliet on a balcony, more like an astronaut driving cross-country in diapers so she doesn’t have to stop to go to the bathroom), or a unrequited love. To clarify, many different types of love exist and are very apparent in most everyone’s lives, but true love, destiny, fate, or providence subsists only in fairy tales.

True love seems to be a fallacy spewed by corporations to take our every penny. A man is supposed to spend three month’s salary on a wedding ring… who came up with this idea? You’re supposed to buy flowers, candy or gifts for Valentine’s Day… Why? Granted, this is hardly applicable to penurious individuals or homosexual/transgendered couples (not sure about the intricacies of who buys the ring, or who spoils who in those situations). If true love exists it shouldn’t need material goods to prove its worth, it should be alive and well based on its own merit. If you don’t give a gift on that particular February day, does it mean you don’t love that person? This perception can make some feel gifted while others feel the cold sting of rejection-all based upon the sum of the monetary value collected. The concept that true love could be embodied in chalky red-lettered hearts is borderline imbecilic, yet we waste our money and dental health, buying them up by the millions. What is your love worth?

While some choose to find perfection wherever they can, others settle for less, idolizing the fallacy that true love exists and they are in the midst of it. The cliché that “ignorance is bliss,” can adequately describe at least half of the relationships in existence today. The rationalization that you let your partner get away with lying, infidelity and other sinful activity based upon the fact that you love them and “love conquers all” is a blissfully unaware delusion, and a good example of one-sided love.

Hardened, callous individuals often reject the slightest notion of love, while gushy, love-seeking teenagers desperately obsess over finding it immediately, which usually ends in a less-than-desirable situation. If there are over seven billion people in the world, and there’s only one “true love” out there for each individual, the chances of finding that person are astronomically low. Some people may devote all of their time, money, sweat and tears in the search and still come up empty handed. People buy expensive vehicles and houses, they go as far as buying drugs and alcohol, and they give their social security numbers away on dozens of websites created to find your “perfect match.” Nobody is perfect. If true love existed then two people wouldn’t care about each other’s flaws, they wouldn’t necessarily care about common interests or similarities, they would simply exist to care for each other, unwavering, until their time was up.

The play “Romeo and Juliet,” by William Shakespeare was based on star-crossed lovers from rival families who found each other and died for each other… this is the concept we’ve impressed on our society, that true love is worth dying for. But if true love existed, one partner would want the other to go on living even after their death-to think that they would commit suicide because the other did is simply selfish. However, if two star crossed lovers from rival families can come together, how about two star crossed lovers from different social classes? You rarely hear of real life stories of a janitor marrying an heiress do you? Because of the stratification between classes, finding similarities between one another may be difficult. Sure, there can be a physical attraction, but that only takes the love boat so far; to find a permanent dock here is a rare occurrence. So if the chance of finding true love is one in seven billion, and we rule out all the social classes other than that specific person’s, you’re eliminating at least seventy five percent of the possibilities around the world.

Consider life in the 1950’s; why is the concept of soulmates so much more important now than it was back then? Because people were realists. They were willing to settle for the girl with the prettiest bow or the guy with the sharpest moves at the local barn dance. They came together and took their wedding vows seriously-in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad-they stuck together like glue, they didn’t run off with the pool-boy with the nice posterior or the secretary with a bountiful bosom, with the exception of unusual cases. There was no eternal search for the greener grass on the other side of the fence. People today can barely commit to a monogamous relationship, they prefer polyamorous, which some may consider an eloquent way of saying they want to whore themselves out all over town. Back then, your soulmate was who you cared about the most, you didn’t have to search through seven billion people to find them-they just stood out in the crowd more than the rest. Back then, the criteria for true love was who could provide for a family, not who could spoil you with the richest calories and prettiest petals money could buy. Yet somehow, in the modern era, we have put a price on love.

It is rather difficult to write an essay like this with an unbiased opinion without seeming jaded or spiteful. We are all in search of Sehnsucht (roughly translated as “a pleasurable yearning for some utopian thing or place” (Tokumitsu, “In the Name of Love”). Personally I’ve been repeatedly assaulted almost my entire life with the idea that there is one person who I was meant to be with somewhere out there. And yes, I am fairly jaded, but also exceptionally observant when the plane of true love crashes down into a smoky mass of melted metal and crumpled plastic strollers. When I believed I was in love, and it was true, the radio caused a foot-tapping, smile-starting sensation that inspired goosebumps on every facet. When tragedy struck, the frequencies haunted me, and I found my fingers flicking presets to isolate a few notes that didn’t force my heart into my throat and bugs in my eyes. Tokumitsu goes on to say, “You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do” (“In the Name of Love”). So what if you don’t love what you do, but force yourself into copulation because you believe it will force the lump out of your throat? Many people believe the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and this cliché is responsible for many undesirable situations; it can force one sided love into matrimony with one broken contraceptive, it can force people to do ghastly things with their bodies to move on, or get over the fact that their “true love” ran off with their best friend. Some days you are searching the summit for a higher point with none in sight, others you are tapping relentlessly at a keyboard, hoping the strokes will bring them back to the place where you once threw flowers from overhead to brighten their studies.

And for those with a poetic air swirling about them, this doth proveth that true love is impressed upon thee from the remote reaches of thy kingdom, with heart in sleeve and love on lips:

“Two of the faintest stars in all the heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars

As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven

Would through the airy region stream so bright

That birds would sing and think it were not night.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

O that I were a glove upon that hand

That I might touch that cheek!”

……

“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse they name,

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet” (Shakespeare/Hankins, pg. 45).

So let me get this straight… Romeo briefly meets Juliet at a party then decides to go wait outside her window, spies on her and wishes he was something she was touching? Creepy! Then Juliet decides that if Romeo denounces himself from his family or she leaves hers they can be together? I suppose that’s what makes this story a tragedy, the fact that something must be sacrificed for true love, but in the end everybody commits suicide in the name of it. The modern day reality? Sorry honey, the contemporary Romeo decided it was easier to fornicate with his main squeeze down the block; it was easier for him to assuage the woman of cavalier attitude than to chase the dream of forbidden star-struck love. In his prowler-style brain you may be his “main,” perhaps you’re the exception to his adulterous rules, but he is still with someone else. The brief glimpses you shared at the ball did nothing to waver his bigamous intent. One day he may be willing to die for you but somewhere on the other side of town Mary will be concerned the next day when Romeo doesn’t show up for his morning fellatio. Sound vulgar? Welcome to love- the driving force for many cultures-sometimes even greater than money or power. You ever been “snipe hunting?” “Friends” drive you out into the woods in search of a mythical creature (that simply does not exist), then desert you in the darkness, where you sit and wait until a sense of abandonment creeps in. This epitomizes a lot of the relationships in modern society. Waiting around for something good until you grow impatient and realize everything you believed in was a lie.

Not every example of love, or true love, is as depressing as this essay may make you believe. For example, scientists uncovered two skeletons in Leicester, England who were buried together and apparently holding hands. Although this article makes a lot of inferences, the idea that two people died with each other in each other’s arms seems to be the epitome of true love. In a vast world wide web, corrupt with gossip of celebrity divorces and opinionated arguments, there are a few examples of truly compassionate devotion. Vicki Score, a University of Leicester archaeologist even claimed they, “have seen similar skeletons before from Leicester where a couple have been buried together” (Keller, Mic.com). Also, if we turn to the animal world,

Carl Zimmer claims, “Less than 5% of mammal species live monogamously, with males and females staying together beyond mating, and fathers helping mothers care for babies. We humans aren’t the most monogamous species of the bunch, but we’re closer to that end of the spectrum than the other end, where mating is little more than ships bumping into each other in the night,” and the author goes on to explain that, “It seems that for prairie voles, love is a drug. When male prairie vole mate, their brains release a chemical called vasopressin (National Geographic.com).” There are many examples of monogamy in the animal world, like wolves, Gibbons, swans, black vultures, French Angelfish, and Albatrosses just to name a few. So if true love and monogamy can exist in the animal world, why can’t it exist for humans? We are, after all, animals; some more than others.

The ideology of true love has been commercialized by musicians, corporations and authors to bleed your checkbook dry. Love undoubtedly exists in several forms but the American public could benefit by disregarding this fatuous myth that star-crossed lovers exist, particularly the starry eyed younger heterosexual couples that corporations love to bombard with this sort of propaganda. My suggestion? Don’t let yourself be affected by the hype, and most importantly, embrace the cliché of following your heart, not your wallet. The greatest love you can find may not be at the expense of your checkbook, after all, (to toss in another cliché) it’s the thought that counts. The next time a love-struck holiday comes around, or an anniversary or even a wedding proposal, don’t buy into it-make your feelings count, not your pennies. If your spouse, partner, or even your pet truly loves you, the best proof of this is time spent together, not money. Don’t spend your whole life gazing at the greener grass on the other side of the fence when the blades on your side only need a little time, upkeep, and maybe a sprinkle of fertilizer (I realize that this is a rather gross analogy of sprinkling a certain something to provide necessary sustenance, just keep your minds out of the gutter!). My mother always told me to do whatever made me happy. The irony is, while I was writing this paper, I told her I met someone new, someone who was almost unbearably sweet to me. She responded with “maybe it was meant to be.” I had a good chuckle, then realized how much I love my family, and how lucky I truly am. Sure, we may not be the embodiment of a textbook household, but we deeply care for each other. So instead of walking into the leg hold trap greedy corporations set in your search for true love, take a moment and reflect on your life. Is being star-struck really that important? Or is caring for those you do love held in higher regard?

Works Cited

Elvis Presley. Heartbreak Hotel. RCA Victor, 1956. MP3.

Foss, Sonja K. Rhetorical Criticism: Exploration and Practice. Long Grove, IL: Waveland, 2009. Print

Gotye, and Kimbra. Somebody I Used to Know. Gotye. Samples 'n' Seconds, 2011. MP3.

Johnny Cash. I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry. Columbia Nashville Legacy, 1958. MP3.

Keller, Jared. "Archaeologists Just Discovered the Proof That True Love Really Exists." World Mic. N.p., 17 Sept. 2014. Web. 01 Oct. 2015

Maroon 5. Sugar. Interscope Records, 2015. MP3.

Shakespeare, William, and John Erskine Hankins. "Act II, Scene II." The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. New York: Scholastic Book Services, 1969. 45. Print.

Shelton, Blake. "God Gave Me You" Blake Shelton. Warner Bros., 2011. CD. From the Album "Red River Blue."

Slipknot. Snuff. Roadrunner Records, 2009. MP3.

Three Doors Down. Away From the Sun. Universal Records, 2002. MP3.

Tokumitsu, Miya. "In the Name of Love." Jacobin n.d.: n. page. Web. 2 Oct. 2015. <https://www.jacobinmag.com/2014/01/in-the-name-of-love/>.

Zimmer, Carl. "Love Is A Virus." Phenomena Love Is A Virus Comments. National Geographic/Phenomena, 16 June 2004. Web. 02 Oct. 2015. <http://phenomena.nationalgeographic.com/2004/06/16/love-is-a-virus/>.

Update:

They say the search for love is blind, that if you look for it love will pass you by. In my first semester at CSU, a philosophy professor loosely defined love as something you seek but can never attain. They also say you should stick to your guns and be persistent and resilient. I have one question: Who the fuck are THEY? Why are we letting society define what will make us happy or not? If all is fair in love and war then why the fuck do we have rules for both?

The truth is it's not fair. Sometimes you have to be devious and underhanded to succeed, but is that really success? If a man fishes all day and catches one is he happier than a deckhand who throws his nets and catches 50 in a day? Certainly. But contemporary romance resorts to guerilla tactics, a war of attrition to burn every bridge before cutting the last string. We don't break up with people anymore, we break people. Why? If there are so many possibilities for love out there why do we cause others such torment instead of moving on?

Because its fucking hard to move on that's why. One day you spend every moment with a person, from dawn to dusk, from pillow to pillow; the next... you wake up staring at an impression in the pillow, the one lingering remnant that they even existed. You try to throw everything away or give it back, every little knick knack or scribbled library love note, but you can never get rid of it all... it's like the glitter of a relationship.

And you try to move on but you can't. Just like every other transition in America, there's a waiting period. It's a period where nobody wants to hang out with you for fear you're "on the rebound." It nips notions of relationships in the bud; you're lucky to even get a coffee date. Everyone has their guard up: they either don't want to be ridden hard and put away wet, don't want to go out with you because they like you and it would eliminate any possibility for a future relationship, they just plain don't like you, or they're already taken or interested in someone else. There's this fucking dating limbo we get stuck in after breakups. It's bullshit. We need to end the cycle.

It has taken me years of jealousy, forgiveness, acceptance, hatred, and a multitude of other emotions to get where i am today. I've been thinking alot recently and I think I know why so many relationships fail. Consider a monarchy: one person in power. In most relationships, there is a dominant person and a submissive person. We've been teeter-tottering like this for the last century at least. So this is the idea I've been toying with, although it is extremely controversial and I'm sure I'll be attacked for it: a tripod or table is much stronger and more stable than a bipod. Now I'm not condoning polygamy, because I don't necessarily believe in marriage; marriage in America has become more about tax write-offs than love. It's become about saving relationships, not strengthening them. If you don't believe me consider this: I used to dj weddings and was once hit on by a bride whose husband just returned from serving in Afghanistan.

Because that is the norm, that is what is expected. People wait for others, people put themselves through misery and torture because they think it will look good on Facebook. They have to capture every little fucking emotion to prove their existence. "I think, therefore I am," not, "I post to social media, therefore I am." But the rant on how technology has spoiled romance will have to wait for a later date.

Back to my primary point: when we invest so much in one person, and suddenly that person is gone, our world is upside down. We are fucked, we cry, we sob, we get depressed, and we spend lots of time alone. Why? Most likely an argument in which both parties were too passionate or stubborn to give up and make amends. There is no mediation, and if there is, it's done by a third wheel that is not really involved enough to give a valid opinion. If there were three or more, if one person disagrees with another, the third can mediate or take sides if necessary. I think most political science majors will agree that an oligarchy is much more stable than a monarchy. With an equal dispersion of power and influence, success is more likely.

So why hasn't this happened before (I'm sure it has, but I'm trying to distinguish between a tripod and polygamy)? Well until recently, the ability to be free and open about your sexuality was repressed. When I say a tripod, I don't mean the guy would have two girlfriends (or however you want to configure it with people of different sexes or the same sex), there is a lack of ownership and titles. A couple doesn't always have to mean two. I'm talking about a quid pro quo of caring, love, and even fidelity. Each party cares about each other equally, and shows their love in such a way.

So attack me if you want, this is just a hypothetical rant from a man who has been broken so many times by traditional relationships he's beginning to feel like Humpty Dumpty (which I just realized has an interesting interpretation if you have a mind residing in the gutter). I'm not trying to reform relationships, I'm not trying to force ideas on anyone or offend anybody. I'm just a man in search of happiness, that's why my mother taught me.

Regardless of what you think of my opinions I hope you, the reader, finds happiness, finds (whatever you define as) love, and finds someone (or several) you can grow old with. Even if it's just a number of feral neighborhood cats and whatever plants spring up naturally in your yard. :)

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