#platonic love needs to be showcased far more

[tremendously-crazy]

Ranting about ACD Johnlock because these Victorian husbands need to be happy for me

What the hell happened between Holmes and Watson in 1902 and 1903?

Context: 3GAR is described as happening in July 1902, and ILLU happened in 1902. CREE and BLAN happened in 1903.

In 1902, Holmes and Watson were inseparable.

I don't even need to elaborate when I mention 3GAR. "It was worth a wound" should be enough to remind you of why. I was so touched when I read Holmes seeing his Watson injured and rushing to his side. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. It was amazing to read this seemingly cold, distant, and unemotional man threatening to murder the man who almost killed his best friend. There was loyalty, there was love, and it was beautiful.

According to ILLU, in 1902, they're also frequenting Turkish baths together. (which, I might add, was a common place for homosexual men to gather, do with that knowledge what you may) They're lying side by side on two couches with nothing but a blanket on either of them as they dry off. Watson hears Holmes is injured and nearly passes out, and he rushes to Baker Street to see him as soon as possible. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. He gingerly sits at his bedside to ensure that Holmes is okay. These are all very intimate things to do between friends. Indeed, this even suggests the possibility of the two being lovers.

IMAGINE that. These two are inseparable. Clearly, these two stories help to build on the idea that they love each other (platonically or romantically. To me, they seem romantically involved, but even as friends, they do love each other. It's all up to personal preference.) Their relationship is so strong, more than anything we have seen before. These stories showcase their love for each other and how passionate they are for each other.

Now, flash forward to 1903, when CREE and BLAN take place, and we are given an entirely different narrative. Watson describes himself as one of Holmes's "habits" in CREE, saying he felt as though he was an accessory to Holmes. Their relationship is "peculiar," and he is only called over to Baker Street as some kind of tool Holmes can talk to or use on a case. Holmes can rely on Watson, and he is, in a way, taking advantage of his reliability. Throughout the entire story, we can feel the tension between these two (remember how Watson had to stress over his practice in order to join Holmes on the case, and Holmes seemingly did not care at all). It seems partially resolved by the end, but there is still a feeling of bitterness that was fully apparent to me while I was reading it. It seemed like their interactions were angsty and passive-aggressive.

In BLAN, Watson does not even live with Holmes anymore, around a year after 3GAR and ILLU. Holmes explains he has "deserted" him for a wife, which he described as "the most selfish action I can recall in our years of association." Holmes was alone. In the story, Holmes cannot stop talking about how much he misses "his" Watson.

These four stories have such a sharp contrast. They have been absolutely terrorizing my brain a lot as of late. I feel like them being so close in ILLU, and *the* moment in 3GAR are some of their strongest moments together. They are both so terrified to lose each other. How is it that a year later, according to the canon, they are barely on speaking terms? My question is, if we are to trust the canon dates, what happened during those months that caused them to drift apart so terribly? How could Watson leave his Holmes for a wife so recently after these frightening events?

Another point about this supposed second wife. I don't think she even existed. (I do think Mary was really Watson's wife, and I might've reblogged a post about it somewhere) But about the second wife. As far as I'm aware, she's mentioned one (1) time in one (1) story by Holmes, and it was likely just a ploy by ACD to separate them (oh well, I'll just give him a wife. That'll separate them good enough.) It's easily enough ignored for that reason. Watson was, in fact, away from Baker Stret, but the idea of a wife was, in all probability, just made up by Holmes as an excuse for his absence.

I'd like to add my personal headcanon because the continuity in Sherlock Holmes is actually so messed up. John is called James in one story (TWIS, if you want to see for yourself.) October 9, 1890, is called a Saturday when it was really a Thursday (REDH) There's a story set in 1892, when Holmes was supposedly dead... etc, etc. Given the known unreliability of dates in these stories, would it be so unreasonable to suggest that the dates of the four I have talked about were swapped? That, in fact, CREE and BLAN were a falling out in their relationship and that ILLU and 3GAR was their healing? That the former were set in 1902 and the latter, in 1903? I can understand that after knowing someone and living with them for so many years, you may start to take them for granted. But after you narrowly lose them, you would not do such a thing again. (Especially not only a year after such a traumatic experience!!) Therefore, I believe CREE and BLAN were examples of how their relationship was beginning to fail and were actually set in 1902 (or some other date in the latter days of their relationship), and ILLU and 3GAR were reminders of how much they meant to each other, and they happened in 1903 (or, more simply, a year after CREE and BLAN).

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. I know this is completely incorrigible and nobody's gonna read it but I just wanted to get it out there.

TL;DR: Late Sherlock Holmes canon sucks. No way that they had both near death experiences in 3GAR and ILLU, and less than a year latery they can barely stand each other in CREE and BLAN. My personal headcanon says CREE and BLAN were moments of stress in their relationship and that 3GAR and ILLU happened afterward to remind them of how much they appreciated each other and help reconcile them.

[python333]

I am in need of more Dad Price! I love your how you write the relationships between 141 and the reader.

carry me to bed, please — python333

— — — —

synopsis the 141 base is cold-- luckily, price had told you that his office is always open to you, since it's far warmer in there than the rest of the base. cue some comfort no hurt (???? i think this counts as that) and so much fluff it will give u cavities.

relationships platonic!cap. price & gn!reader.

characters cap. price.

word count 2.2k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], no usage of c/n [code name/call sign], maybe one or two pet names used.

note tysm for the req anon!! and yes omg i agree i think we all need some more dad price :3 so heres some dad price for everyone, he carries u to bed because i say so and totally not because i miss pretending to be asleep in the back of my dad's car after a late night drive and forcing him to carry me to bed. totally not haha. stop looking at me like that. anyway!!! i hope u enjoy this fic, its short & sweet and is literally just so fluffy i loved writing it sm!!

Price’s office has always been warmer. 

A majority of the 141 base was incredibly cold, especially the training rooms. You could see why, there’s a bunch of people sparring or whatever. It's more useful for it to be colder there, and that’s all fine, but it really gets on your nerves sometimes. 

Especially because you were doing target practice in those same rooms more than actually sparring people, which would always end with you walking out of that same room a mere hour later, freezing your ass off and heading to the showers to turn the water to the hottest setting and defrost yourself in there. 

And almost immediately after you were done showering and putting your clothes back on, the cold 141 air would hit you again, and you’d slowly freeze all over again.

This was a fairly known issue among the other soldiers, a majority of them teasing you for your obvious shivering throughout the day. Price, however, after hearing about your small issue, went about it in a completely different way. 

You remember just a month ago when he had first heard about it, he had gone around base trying to find you and eventually found you in the recreation room, just scrolling through your phone. 

Covering every inch of your forearms up to where the short sleeves of your shirt ended were goosebumps, and the slowness of your thumb as you scrolled through your phone almost perfectly showcased just how cold you were. 

He’d walked right up to you, one of his jackets with a fluffy interior bundled up in his hands, and he’d waited for you to notice him before talking. In short, he mentioned how he’d heard about how you had an issue with the cold temperatures of the base, and decided to give you one of his jackets. 

You had gratefully accepted it and had it on for the rest of the day, a few others who recognized Price’s jacket had teased you for it but you didn’t really mind that—you were more focused on how much warmer you felt. 

So then, just a few days later, after seeing you in his jacket every day after that initial conversation, Price had walked up to you again and offered something else. He’d told you about how his office was generally warmer than the rest of the base, and he had an extra chair in there for you to sit on. 

Naturally, you let him know of your appreciation of his offer, and just after dinner, when you knew you had nothing else you needed to do that day, you knocked on the door of his office and let yourself in after he granted you permission to do so. 

He must’ve known you would’ve been wanting to enter his office, because when you walked in a chair was already pulled up right next to his behind his desk, as well as a small blanket. You’d immediately spotted the chair and blanket and quickly walked over there, your immediate interest in it making an amused smile grace Price’s lips as he watched you pick up the blanket and sit in the chair, unfolding said blanket and throwing it over yourself. 

You vaguely remember drifting off to sleep in that very chair and waking up in your own sleeping quarters. You never really asked Price about the specifics of what happened, but you’ve always had your suspicions that he’d carried you there—well, not really suspicions, since that’s the only logical thing that could’ve happened, but you never know. 

You can’t really imagine Price carrying you to bed, like some dad who had to carry his kid to their bed because they pretended to fall asleep in the back of his car while driving home, but you can’t think of what else could have possibly happened. 

So while you walk to Price’s office now, arms crossed to conceal the goosebumps formed on your arms, you think about the warmth you’ll finally feel once you get to his office. You had made the dumb mistake of leaving the jacket he’d lent to you in your sleeping quarters and hadn’t had the time to go back for it all day. 

Sure, you could go back to your sleeping quarters now and just put on the jacket to warm yourself up, but you had a whole room open to you that was warm even without a jacket, and if that wasn’t enough, it had a blanket in it as well for you to use. So in your mind, it was only logical to go there instead. 

Plus, you enjoyed being in Price’s presence, finding it oddly calm, but that’s not the point. 

You eventually reach Price’s office and uncross your arms to knock on the door, a little bit surprised at how quickly he calls out, “Come in!” 

You open the door wordlessly and close it behind you once you walk into his office, and see the chair still by his own with the same blanket you use neatly folded on top of it. Price looks up from his computer and smiles and nods at you before going back to his work, leaving it up to you whether or not you wanted to just be left alone or chat with him. 

You immediately walk over to the chair and do what you usually do, picking up the blanket and sitting down on the chair, then unfolding the blanket and throwing it over yourself. The room was warm enough for you to go without a blanket—but the blanket was just so much warmer and more cozy, you don’t think you could really go without it.

You toe your boots off and bring your knees up to your chest, bringing the edges of the blanket over your legs and holding the two ends of the blanket together with one hand, the other grabbing the arm rest of Price’s chair for a moment to roll your chair closer to his before letting go and letting your hand retreat back into the blanket. 

Price spares a glance at you once you’ve rolled your chair closer to his before taking one of his hands off of the keyboard of his computer and reaching over to wrap it around your shoulders. It’s significantly harder for him to type this way, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when you hum contently at the physical contact and lean your head to the side to rest it on his shoulder. 

“Why didn’t you have your jacket on?” It takes you a moment to realize he’s asking about the jacket he lent to you. 

When you do realize that’s what he’s asking about, you respond in your tired-raspy tone, “Forgot it in my room.” 

“And you went here instead of going back to your own sleeping quarters to get it and put it on?” Price asks, both somewhat amused and flattered. 

“I did,” You hum, before asking, “Is that an issue?” 

“No, no, not at all,” Price quickly says, squeezing your shoulder gently for a second, “I’m flattered that you decided to come to me.” 

You don’t respond verbally, instead simply letting out a tired huff through your nose, watching as Price types up an email to someone on his computer—to whom, you can’t tell. Your sleepiness and the warmth of the room, the blanket, and Price’s arm around your shoulders causes your eyelids to droop a bit and as a result your vision blurs just a bit, making you unable to read who Price is emailing. 

You can faintly hear Price mumbling, reading out the email as he types under his breath, and the sound of his soft voice gently lulls you to sleep. It’s never been this easy to fall asleep, You realize, I’ve been here for what, a minute? Two minutes? And I’m already falling asleep? 

You aren’t complaining, of course. You let yourself fall asleep, faintly hearing Price’s soft chuckle once he sees that you’re falling asleep, and for a good hour or three you have some uninterrupted rest. 

That is, until you’re awoken by some small movements near your head. 

You don’t open your eyes or anything yet, instead simply waiting to see what happens. You feel the shoulder you were resting your head on move out from under your cheek and before you can even mourn the loss of your pseudo-pillow, you feel gentle hands peeling the blanket you’d been using off of you and hear it being tossed somewhere else. 

Then, you feel a hand snake behind your back, and one goes under your knees. You manage to keep your body relaxed as Price picks you up, hearing him give a soft grunt as he lifts you up from the chair, and he stands in place for a moment—presumably to make sure he has a good hold on you—before beginning to walk away from the chair. 

You hear the soft thumping of his boots against the floor as he carries you over to his office door, and he reaches the hand that’s under your back out a little farther to twist the knob on the door before retracting his hand and kicking open the door. 

He walks out and kicks the door closed behind him, making sure to readjust his hand so that it’s more secure under your back, before continuing to walk down the hall towards your sleeping quarters. You continue to remain relaxed in Price’s arms, but just to fuck with him a little bit, you shift a little in his arms and turn your head so that it leans against his chest.

He stops in his tracks almost immediately and you can feel his eyes on you, and you can feel him grip onto you tighter before continuing to walk down the hall. 

“Thought you were clingy enough when you came into my office instead of going to your own sleeping quarters,” Price muses quietly, his breathy voice just loud enough for you to hear, “But no, apparently you’re clingier in your sleep, always needing to be closer to me. You’re lucky I don’t mind.” 

You hold back an amused huff at his hushed comments and instead remain silent, and in just a few more steps Price is at the door of your room, extending the hand below your back once again to twist the knob on the door then retract his hand and kick the door open. 

He walks in and doesn’t bother to close the door behind him, instead simply walking over to your bed and gently setting you down, much to your disappointment. You can feel him still standing there even after he’s already set you down, and he sighs to himself before bringing the covers up and over you, basically tucking you into bed. 

Tucking you into bed. The thought of it is enough to make you have to fight the urge to smile, trying to maintain the pretense of you being asleep. 

Even after Price has tucked you in, he still stands there for a moment, as if thinking of anything else he has to do while in your sleeping quarters, before suddenly you feel him leaning closer to you and feel him press a soft kiss to your forehead just a second later.

“G’night, lovey,” Price murmurs against your forehead, before pulling back and sighing down at you. Then, he finally walks away from your bed and leaves your room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Oh. You blink your eyes open once you’re sure he’s left and find yourself staring up at the ceiling, slowly blinking up at it, not sure what to think. Huh. 

So that kind of… confirms that he carried me to bed that night, You think, Which is making me more emotional than it should be. 

You sigh and turn onto your side, closing your eyes again, your thoughts beginning to loop until it’s basically just, He carried me to bed, he kissed me on the forehead, he called me lovey, he carried me to bed, he kissed me on the forehead, he called me lovey— 

For whatever reason, your brain is particularly stuck on how he’d carried you to bed. Not the other things that, to you, seemed far more affectionate. But for some reason, the fact that he carried you to bed gets you all warm inside, almost as warm as his office. 

Maybe it’s because of the gentle way he cradles you as he carries you to bed, or the quiet musings he’d spoken under his breath while he thought you weren’t listening, or the fact that he’d never mentioned that he carried you to bed after you’d fallen asleep before and had just left you to either guess or forget about it—whichever reason it is for why your brain is stuck on the fact that Price carried you to bed, all you know for sure is that it’s enough to reduce you to a soft pile of mush even just thinking about it. 

You eventually fall asleep after a few minutes of forcing yourself not to think about it too much, and the next morning, when you see Price, you don’t say a thing about anything that happened the night before.

[winxanity-ii]

Umm, are y'all ok???

I just want to say that it feels a bit unfair (read: weird as fuck) that people are uncomfortable or feel that Andy only deserves a 'platonic bond'. And this isn't just me assuming but based on me scrolling through Tumblr—specifically the Alien: Romulus tag—and seeing plenty of Tyler, Rain, Bjorn, hell, even damn Xenomorph yandere/romance/smut stories but zilch for Andy.

I even received an ask telling me that I shouldn't continue writing Andy as a love interest but instead to make it a 'platonic' familia one. And all I can say to that person: please go to hell. It's wild that the audacity was even implied.

As far as I know, I'm the only one writing Alien: Romulus content that showcases Andy in a romantic light, and I plan to continue doing so. He deserves to be seen as a versatile android—whether that be a yandere one who loves the MC or a sweet soulmate that's always there—just like the other androids in the Alien franchise receive. *cough* Walter *cough*.

I don't know, sorry for going off on a tangent, but this is something I just needed to get off my chest. I'm practically filled with butterflies at the opportunity to create such a love story for a character that swept so many, like myself, off their feet. Andy is perfect and he will continue to receive stories from me until a bunch of people can get it into their thick skulls that he deserves to be thirsted after just like the rest of the cast…

At the end of the day, my version of Andy is staying romantic, yandere, or whatever I see fit and if you don't like that, please do your part and create more stories centering him in the vision you'd like to read/see...

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Summer brings feelings to the surface; maybe not enough to bloom, but certainly enough to grow.

Word Count: 6K

Divider was created by the lovely and talented @hellfire--cult❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4

Summer, 1983

Summers are for (fill in the blank).

For you, summers were for stuffing your piggy bank. For Eddie, summers were for spending his time doing whatever he wanted to do rather than what someone else told him to do.

For Robin, this summer in particular was for keeping score of every time she caught Eddie staring at you from across the corridor in Starcourt mall. He had a clear view of Scoops Ahoy’s serving counter from his checkout counter at Radio Shack, which seemed to be a double-edged sword; he could see you perfectly, with no obstructions other than the odd passers by, but this also meant that Robin could see him ogling you clear as day. 

She had bought a dry-erase board specifically for the purpose of keeping track. The words “Stalker Score” were scrawled across the top in black, sporting a tally mark for each time that she’d caught him staring at you, enraptured by the way you just…Eddie wasn’t sure, exactly. Existed? Moved? Smiled? Glowed? 

Dial it back, Munson. 

Eddie shook his head, dark curls that had escaped from his ponytail swishing around his fluorescent-lit face. The vignette that had formed around you in his mind, blurring out any surrounding details in his periphery, cleared away until he registered Robin Buckley grinning smugly at him from behind your unsuspecting frame. She glowered in the little window behind you, brandishing the white board that now showcased six tallies. 

Shit. He needed to work on his subtlety. 

So far this summer, it had become apparent to Eddie that Robin was under the impression that he had a crush on you. It was ridiculous- was Eddie really the only person at his school besides you who believed in platonic male/female relationships? Was everyone else that small-minded? 

Duh, he reminded himself, you’re in Hawkins. 

Eddie pulled himself out of his reverie when he felt a hand give him a friendly clasp on the shoulder. “You’re good to clock out, Ed, we’re slow enough that I think I’ve got it from here.”

Half-smiling with his eyebrows raised, Eddie turned toward his boss excitedly. “You sure, Bob?”

Bob- Eddie’s manager- smiled kindly, sending a conspiratorial nod towards Scoops Ahoy. “I know you’re going straight over there anyways once you’re done. If you want to thank me, you can bring me over a vanilla shake.” 

Bob was probably the only kind of manager that Eddie could see himself keeping a job for. When you’d suggested he apply for the new Radio Shack opening up across from Scoops at the mall, he’d actually cringed. Like, physically cringed when he pictured himself in a polo and khakis. However, when he thought about how nice it would be to have some money to throw Wayne- not to mention play around with for himself- he’d actually seen more pros than cons. When Eddie had actually been offered the job, he was surprised by how much he actually enjoyed the idea of working over the summer. Part time employment meant his shifts only lasted about five to six hours, and because the location was new, Bob had been happy to accommodate Eddie’s request to line his schedule up with yours. 

Because he was your ride to work. Not because he was some kind of stalker or anything. 

Eddie grabbed his things from a small cubby in the back with his name on it, hopping into the staff restroom/supply closet to change out of his uniform. Summer was a respite from daily encounters with asshats who seemed to think close proximity was the only reason they needed to beat him up. Eddie wasn’t about to stroll out of his place of work in khakis and a firetruck-red polo and give said asshats a different reason to make giving the freak a black eye their summer pastime, too.

Your smile when Eddie entered Scoops was sunlight after an afternoon bathed in artificial light. Surrounded by the overwhelming and tempting scent of vanilla and waffle cones, he wondered whether the sudden increase in his heart rate was a sugar rush he was getting simply from the sight of you. Was it possible for something to look so sweet, it spiked your blood sugar?

“Bob let you off early!” you said, cheerily. You were shoulder-deep in a tub of rocky road, scraping the last delicious bits of chocolate goodness from the crevices at the bottom before replacing the tub entirely. 

A small boy stood with his mother at the counter, waiting patiently for you to finish scooping his ice cream. Eddie didn’t miss the way the mother looked at Eddie- his ripped black jeans, his Iron Maiden tee, his bag that sported pins and patches displaying various offensive words and quite a few hellish creatures drawn in sharpie on the canvas material by Eddie himself. He saw her eyes harden in disapproval as she tugged her kid protectively closer to her leg. 

You, however, smiled at him like he was the most harmless thing in the world- and to you, that’s exactly who he was. Harmless Eddie. Familiar Eddie. Couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried Eddie. 

He was okay with you seeing him that way. It meant that you let your guard down for him- it was like you had a fence around the real you, the parts of you that he had never really seen before this year. Eddie was harmless, so you trusted him with those parts of you- and now that he’d been allowed behind that fence? He never wanted to leave. You were becoming his favorite exclusive, VIP-access-only club. 

“Yeah, and all I have to give him in return is a vanilla shake.” Eddie leaned against the counter, batting his eyelashes at you as he gave you an award-winning smile. 

You raised an eyebrow, nestling a perfect sphere of rocky road into a cake cone and handing it to the little boy over the counter as the mother handed you a five. “Well sure thing, one vanilla shake, coming up!” you opened the register and handed the mother her change as your eyes landed on Eddie, “That’ll be $2.50.” You punctuated your sentence with the mechanical sound of the cash drawer closing. 

The mother was quick to take her son by the hand and turn tail to exit, but not without throwing one last disapproving glance in Eddie’s direction. He thought about flipping her the bird, but with you here, he felt like taking the high road. Eddie met you at the register, setting his elbows on the counter and pouting. 

“But what about the best friend discount?”

Robin appeared in the window behind the counter as if summoned on the spot. “Excuse me, the what discount?” 

You replied to Robin without looking, keeping your eyes on Eddie. “Robin, a person can have multiple best friends, this isn’t the fifth grade.” Unbeknownst to you, behind your back was an ever-so-smug Robin Buckley, adding a tally to the Stalker Score. 

Eddie shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. She was quick to hide the board when you glanced over your shoulder to see what Eddie was shaking his head about. You shrugged, smiling wryly at Eddie. “I’m assuming the ‘best friend discount’ is free?”

He smiled widely, nodding ‘yes’ with eyes that reminded you of a toddler begging for a cookie. You tried to hold your ground, you really did… but those eyes were your kryptonite. 

You sighed, shaking your head exasperatedly as you began scooping vanilla ice cream and dropping it into the blender bowl. 

This was how most days went now- without school to hinder either of you from spending your time how you wanted to, you both spent the majority of your time with each other. Sometimes Robin was there too, or some of the Hellfire guys, but you were always together. At first, the reason for that had been your lack of a car- but the third week of summer vacation, you’d received a call from the mechanic that your old sedan was finally road-ready. Eddie had driven you there to pick it up, and if he was being honest with himself, he’d been genuinely afraid that this meant the end of your constant company. He’d been surprised when he received a call from you the next day asking why he wasn’t parked in front of your house, ready to drive you to work.

“You aren’t driving yourself?” He’d asked, confused. 

Your voice was crackly over the phone, but he could still hear your frustrated sigh. “We work across the hall from each other, Eddie, we save on gas if we carpool.” 

Relief washed over him like summer rain. It nurtured the soil, helped his confidence grow taller. 

“I’m not sure you’ve ever even offered to split gas with me, ace.” Eddie leaned his shoulder against the wall, fiddling with the telephone cord as a smirk got cozy on his lips. “Is this you offering?”

You huffed out a laugh. “I walked right into that one.” 

Eddie shook his head, cheeks hurting from the size of his smile. “Sure did.” he chuckled. “But I would never ask you to pay, seriously. Just throw me free ice cream every once in a while.”

“I will do no such thing, that’s against company policy-”

“I’ll be at your house in five!” Eddie chirped, interrupting you completely, “If you can have a scoop of cookies & cream ready for me at the end of my shift, that’d be great!”

He snorted upon hearing your scoff across the line. “Oh, it’d be great, huh?”

“And do you guys do that chocolate fudge dip thing? Yeah, if you could just drench that fucker in chocolate sauce too, that’d be spectacular, ace.”

“Since when am I ‘ace’?”

“See you in five, ace!”

Even though you didn’t need to catch a ride with Eddie, you still did. Your car worked perfectly fine, and yet you barely drove it. You enjoyed those precious moments with him too much to give them up. He drove you to work. He drove you to Robin’s. He drove you to Gareth’s whenever he had band practice (you loved tagging along, even if it was just to sit and listen. Sometimes you brought a book and pretended to read it. Sometimes you didn’t have enough self control, and just stared the whole time- Eddie getting lost in the music, you getting lost in him.)

When the temperatures got unbearably hot, Eddie drove you and Robin to Lovers’ Lake. The three of you would make a day out of it, bringing towels to lay across the sun-bleached wood of the dock and a cooler filled with sodas even though you all knew you should probably be drinking water- but you were young and stupid in little, non-life-threatening ways. You let yourselves get drunk on the sun and each other’s company.

For Eddie, lake days were dangerous. 

He had always known that your body was not a difficult thing to look at- he wasn’t blind. But there had always been a barrier between Eddie and the understanding of just how not difficult to look at you were. That barrier had been clothes. 

The first lake day, you’d climbed into his van wearing trendy, high-waisted shorts and a cropped tee. Safe. Basic summer clothes. Eddie hadn’t thought much of it. 

Then, once the three of you had set up all of your things on the dock, you kicked off your flip flops, brought your fingers to the waistband of your shorts, and unbuttoned. Then, Eddie heard the sound of your zipper. And he just…froze. Because he knew what happened next, and in the back of his head he knew it made sense that you were taking your shorts off in front of him, out here in the open- you were probably wearing your swimsuit under there. You were at the lake, so of course he was going to see you in a swimsuit. Duh. It wasn’t a big deal. 

But then your ass just… popped out of your shorts. 

You brought the shorts down over your hips, and that ass… he saw a lot of your ass. You were the kind of girl that kept up with the trends, and the current trend was a very high-cut hip. You delivered. Your hips were front and center, accentuated by the cut of your suit. The morning’s movement had caused the fabric to wedge itself further…up. In? Eddie didn’t know which preposition to use, but he knew he was thankful for it all the same. Your back was bare, save for just about an inch of fabric that made up the strap of your top. He saw more skin than fabric, more skin on you than he’d ever seen. His brain was short circuiting. 

You turned. He forgot to look away. When your eyes locked on his, you smiled shyly. You’d hoped he would look at you. You had bought this suit despite your better judgment- normally you didn’t show this much skin, but for Eddie you wanted to. You wanted him to see you and want you. 

And want you he did. Eddie did everything he could to hide it, but oh… every time he laid eyes on you, he never wanted to stop looking. It was a problem. Specifically, his problem was that little fleshy part where your hip became your thigh, where your fat folded just so and formed a little sideways V-shaped crease. He wanted to touch that spot on your skin, wanted to grasp it, palm it, lick it, bite it. 

This was bad.

Eddie wasn’t supposed to see you that way. That wasn’t part of the plan- you were his friend, he wasn’t willing to jeopardize that friendship just because he saw you in a bikini and liked what he saw. Liked it a lot. Platonic, guy-girl friends were all he would ever let himself see the two of you as, because anything else came with a whole lot of complications that he really didn’t want to have to navigate. Was terrified to learn how to navigate.

Besides- friendship was simpler. Comfortable. It almost scared him how comfortable it felt, being around you. Eddie had never been good at romance; never allowed the warm fuzzies and butterflies to evolve into anything more than pulling a girl’s pigtails or swiping his sweaty palms on his thighs.

Or dressing up like Jason and scaring girls through their bedroom windows. 

Whatever. Eddie could handle this. He was mature enough to simultaneously want to squeeze the skin of your hips and know that he shouldn’t. Won’t. 

He was mature enough. Seventeen years old, practically a grown-ass man. 

Growing ass man. Definitely an ass man. Growing harder by the second, staring at that ass. 

Good lord. Horny bastard, calm the fuck down.

You giggled out a girlish squeal, shielding yourself from the splash of the lake water from Eddie’s cannonball that sprayed you where you sat on the deck. Eddie hadn’t had much of a choice- you and Robin would only see his burgeoning boner while it was above water, so underwater he went. 

When his head popped above the surface, however, he accidentally gasped water into his nose and lungs when he realized he was eye-level with where you sat on the deck, dangling your toes into the water. He hoped his coughing hid the effect you had on him, a vision of midwest summer decadence. 

Knees, shining with sunscreen that glinted in the sun. Thighs met hips. Hips met love handles, creasing into a little dip that made his dick go from halfie to hard-on.

You were not going to make this easy on him. It was almost like you were trying to get him to break his vow to keep things platonic, because the things he wanted to do between those thighs right now were not platonic. Were you doing this on purpose?

Eddie escaped underwater, and you giggled smugly in his absence. 

Yes. Yes, you were.

“He was staring at you so hard, I thought he was going to set fire to the deck.”

Ever since Eddie had dropped you and Robin off at your house, she had been spending the better part of an hour trying to get you to admit that there was even the most remote possibility that Eddie might like you back.

You’d finally admitted it to yourself before the end of the school year; you were head over heels for Eddie Munson, fallen victim to a crush of the highest degree. You were aware… but that didn’t mean you were ready to admit it to Robin, especially after an entire few months’ worth of time repeating to her over and over that you and Eddie were “just friends”.

Which was true, but that didn’t mean you wanted things to stay that way. 

“He’s a teenage boy and I was next to naked,” you said, trying not to grin like an idiot (and failing). “-of course he was going to look. That doesn’t mean he like likes me.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He was like liking you so hard, I think I saw him drool.” Throwing herself onto the edge of your bed, she grabbed the magazine you’d begun half-heartedly flipping through and flung it to the floor. 

“Hey! I was reading that!”

“Bullshit, you’re avoiding your feelings.” Robin leaned in, burning a discerning, focused stare into your retinas. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not crazy for that dingus.”

You wanted to meet her challenge, you really did… but instead, you squeezed your eyes tight, sighed heavily, and let the words rush out at a rapid speed that rivaled your pounding heart. “I can’t, I am crazy for that dingus.”

“I KNEW IT!”

You clutched desperately at her knees, which were tucked excitedly up to her chin to frame her giddy expression upon hearing your admission. “You can. Not. Tell him.” You pleaded, desperation in your eyes.

Robin was cackling in the face of your pain, still high on the feeling of being so incredibly correct. “Oh I’m not telling him anything.” She giggled matter-of-factly. “You are.”

You blanched, taken aback and immediately defensive. “Like hell I am!” you screeched. “I am doing no such thing, thank you.” 

“What’s the harm? He is so blatantly in love with you, it’s hard not to laugh when I see his big ‘ole ridiculous goo-goo eyes-”

“Whoa, I think ‘in love’ is a very strong way to put-”

Robin’s eyes were comically wide. “Because the way he feels is very strong!” Her arms were flung out to either side, flabbergasted at how blind you could be to something that, from her angle, was clear as day. “Eddie Munson feels very strongly about you, if he feels any stronger, he’s gonna combust. You might combust.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s a massive exaggeration.”

“Or…” A smile crept onto Robin’s lips, eyes narrowing slyly. “...you both just get so pent up that you combust together-”

Whatever might have followed that sentence was cut short by a pillow thrown into Robin’s face, met with muffled cackling on her end and helpless groans on yours. “What am I going to do?” you whined, flinging yourself back onto your mattress and smacking your palms over your eyes as if applying pressure might just ease the anxiety in your chest and the butterflies that fluttered lower when you thought about her insinuation. What might that look like- combusting together? 

“Well, the way I see it,” Robin chirped, entirely too happy about your situation, “-you have two options. Either you make the first move, or you sit and wait for him to do it.”

You remained unmoved, eyes covered in your anguish. “What about a third option, where I keep on doing the same thing I’ve been doing and acting normal and just crushing so hard I want to cry while I pretend that everything is fine?”

Robin was silent for a few long moments before finally jabbing you in your side and causing you to yelp and convulse away from her. She knew you too well- your subtleties, your tickle spots, and especially when you were in denial. 

“One of you is going to crack eventually,” Robin said, “and unless you want to wait around for Eddie Munson, lord of avoiding his problems- another way that you two are a match, by the way, you’re masters of evasive action- then I suggest you make the first move.”

You considered her words- Eddie was a serial procrastinator. If Robin was right, and he did like you back, he would probably rather wait around for you to say something about it before making any moves himself. 

So the question was, were you willing to bring it up? To change your whole friendship, flip everything you two had built since the spring, based on the hope that he might return your feelings? 

“Worst case scenario,” Robin continued, “he doesn’t like you back.”

“And he stops talking to me.” you added glumly.

“I don’t think he could if he tried.” Robin smiled. “Look, whether it’s romantic, sexual, platonic, whatever-” you exaggerated a shiver at the word sexual in the context of Eddie Munson, even though the two of you knew quite well that you were anything but disgusted by the idea. “-he’s crazy about you. Whatever you think that means, it’s probably right.”

You grinned shyly, ducking your head lower to avoid Robin’s eyes. “I’m pretty crazy about him too.” 

Now it was Robin’s turn to smack you with a pillow. “Yeah, no shit!” she guffawed. 

The two of you descended into giggles, and for the rest of the evening Robin continued to pester you with quips about Eddie and your massive crush on him. Each time you pretended to be annoyed, but in actuality each joke about how you loooooved him just solidified the idea in your mind of the two of you as an item. You imagined Eddie holding doors open for you in a boyfriend way. Stopping by your work to pester you, but the way a boyfriend would. 

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. 

Eddie Munson, your boyfriend.

You wanted to speak it out loud, just to taste it on your tongue. 

To capture it in a polaroid. To feel it in your hand. His hand, yours. 

Boyfriend. 

Eddie cared a lot about his clothes. 

You knew this, it wasn’t a surprise to you. Everything about him projected the type of man he wanted to be perceived as, so his appearance was- unsurprisingly- carefully curated to his tastes. 

Now, he seemed to think that his own personal aesthetic needed to extend to you as well. 

“Eds, I already have enough shirts, why do you keep handing me shirts? I need shoes-”

Your sentence was cut short by Eddie piling yet another T-shirt and a matching flannel into your arms. You were sure that whatever the limit was for how many items you could bring into the fitting room of this store at a time, you were pushing it. 

“Come on, just try them on for me? Please?” Eddie’s hazelnut eyes rounded out in a pout that you knew would be the death of you one day if you weren’t careful. “I don’t know if you’re ever gonna let me pick out your clothes again, the opportunity to dress you up like a paper doll is just too good to pass up. Humor me?”

You sighed heavily, making your way to the fitting rooms and hoping Eddie wasn’t perceptive enough to notice that you were a little too happy that he was so excited to look at you in any capacity, even if it was technically the clothes he was excited about and not necessarily you. 

If Eddie could hear your thoughts, however, he’d argue that you couldn’t be farther from the truth. He didn’t want to dress just anyone up in a wardrobe of his own design- no, he wanted to see you in clothes that he picked out. 

See, Eddie had been fantasizing about you more and more lately. Not in a weird way… just in a ‘it would be kind of cool to see my best friend wearing the kind of clothes that I like to wear’ kind of way. Was that weird? Regardless, Eddie had convinced himself that it wasn’t weird. 

So there you were, shoving a plethora of denim, flannel and T-shirts into a fitting room. Sure, you owned a flannel or two for when the weather got chilly, as well as at least one pair of black jeans. You had a trusty denim jacket. Why was Eddie so hell-bent on seeing you in these clothes specifically?

You understood once the clothes were on. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeeees?” You could tell from his voice that he was smiling on the other side of the fitting room door. 

Unable to hold back a smirk as you assessed your reflection, you replied, “Was it your intention to turn me into the female version of you?”

Eddie’s heart just about skipped a beat. His palms were suddenly clammy, his face hot. Why did the idea of that turn him on so much? It’s not like they were his clothes. 

You in his clothes. Now Eddie was picturing it. Picturing it… then shaking his head hard enough to make the image fall out his ears. Focus, Munson.

“Bold of you to assume you look as good in black as I do, ace-”

And then you opened the door. 

Black jeans with rips at the knees. Forest green flannel tied snug at your waistband. Tight black cotton hugging your curves and puckering at your chest. A denim vest hanging loosely over your frame, allowing bare shoulders to peek out the sides. 

Eddie’s heart just… stopped. You looked adorable. Fierce. Terrifying and brilliant. You somehow took all of the things he associated with himself and had turned them into things he liked. On him, these clothes looked rebellious to Eddie; they were like armor, meant to scare- keep those who might harm him at a distance. On you? They looked beautiful, striking-

“Amazing.”

Eddie saw your eyes light up and quickly realized he’d said that last part out loud.

 “Amazing!” he repeated, this time, slightly less aghast and more enthusiastic, as if he’d known the whole time that you would rock the metalhead look even better than he did. As if the sight of you in a denim vest that looked an awful lot like his didn’t have this effect on him. “But you’re missing something.”

And then his hands were brushing the skin of your shoulders, pushing the denim vest down your arms. You didn’t fight him as he worked, focusing on the way your arms shifted behind your back, the way your chest inflated forward with the motion just enough for the peak of your chest to kiss the lapels of his leather jacket. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. You hoped that he couldn’t see the evidence that you’d noticed through the fabric of your black tank top.

Haphazardly folding the vest and placing it on the floor of your fitting room, Eddie then began to remove his own jacket. He slinked behind you and held the black leather as if to drape it across your shoulders, but stopped just short of letting the body-heated lining touch your skin. You realized he was waiting for you to reach your arm back and thread it through the sleeve, so you obliged. 

Eddie’s face was so close; you felt the stray baby hairs at his shoulders tickle your chin when you barely turned your head. As you worked your other arm into the sleeve, he exhaled a little heavier and you felt it as it blessed the back of your neck. You reveled in the goosebumps that rolled down your arms; wanted to know what that breath might feel like everywhere else- anywhere else.

He bent to pick up the vest and hand it to you, but then stopped short as he caught you looking at the new and improved outfit in the full-length mirror. You stared at yourself, decked out in black and plaid but infatuated with the fact that you were wearing a part of him. 

Eddie dropped the vest back to the floor, standing up straight again behind you. He didn’t move away, didn’t move to step back and relinquish your personal space- something about seeing the way your eyes couldn’t leave the black leather in your reflection was acting as some sort of visual pheromone. He couldn’t look away, wanted to melt into the light that he’d never noticed refracted off the surface of that jacket until you were the one it clothed. He wanted to drape himself over you the same way the jacket had, wanted to beat this jacket’s record for square inches of your skin being touched at the same time. 

You had no oxygen left when you saw the way his face had slotted itself in the right angle of your neck and shoulder, had no resolve left to put on a brave face and pretend you weren’t molten beneath these foreign clothes. Your jaw went slack, eyes wide and wanting. His gaze was…possessive, if you dared to call it that. With it, he painted you in his image and signed his name in black leather. 

You would be a willing canvas if only he asked. Was this him asking? Dressing you up like his own personal paper doll? 

Eddie Munson’s doll. You liked the sound of that.

“I’d get it if you didn’t want to walk around school in my jacket,” Eddie said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “If anyone recognized it as mine, you might get some…”

“...unwanted attention?” you finished for him. 

Unwanted. Of course that’s what you thought it would be. Eddie moved to take the jacket from you, but your hand flew up to stop him. 

Your fingers curled around his hand, a vice on his skin that begged like a child pleading for five more minutes. “Can I keep it on, actually?”

Eddie froze, confused. Hadn’t you just admitted that you didn’t want the attention that would come with wearing his jacket around?

“It’s cold in the mall.” You looked at him with wide eyes that shone in the fluorescent lights, and for a second he let himself believe that maybe you wouldn’t mind being seen with him; wearing him. Of course people at school knew that you hung out with him, but wearing a boy’s jacket told a different story, sent a different message. Did you know that? Would you mind that?

“Uh, yeah… you sure?” Eddie breathed the words like smoke, exhaling them into your air after holding them in to mull over until he was sure about them. However, the smile on your face when you answered knocked any air left from his lungs.

“Of course I’m sure…wearing it feels like you.”

His lips revealed a smirk that you’d been sorely missing. “Feels like me, huh?” his hand darted out to squeeze your side, causing you to squeak as your waist went concave, bending away from his fingers on instinct. You giggled, breathy Eddie! Stop!s bouncing out of you as you avoided his hands that made to take advantage of the tickle spot he’d long since figured out. 

“What’s the matter, ace? Thought you liked the way I feel?”

His fingers wiggled mischievously, and you retreated into the fitting room before closing the door in his face. “No,” your voice rang through the door, “I like the way your jacket feels.”

Bullshit. Eddie had heard you. No amount of saving face now on your end would be able to wipe the joy from his smile. 

Feels like you. Wearing it feels like you.

You changed in silence, Eddie separated from you only by a vinyl door about one inch thick. On your side, you pulled his leather jacket back on, pulling the collar up around your neck until it enveloped your skin the way you wanted Eddie to. You quietly inhaled the scent of the well-loved leather, smiling at the way his jacket so eagerly melted into your reflection, like it had belonged there the entire time.

On the other side of the door, Eddie leaned against the wall dividing your fitting room from the next. One tennis-shoed foot rested up against the wall, propping up his knee. Hands slotted into his jeans’ pockets, face tilted upward- he would have made the perfect picture of nonchalance had he not been smiling like a lovesick fool at the ceiling. 

When you finally emerged, the two of you walked toward the counter to pay for your new clothes until something caught your eye, bright enough to stop you in your tracks. 

Platform Chuck Taylors. Canvas dyed a gorgeous stewed-cherry shade of red, the soles still shiny and new- a whole two inches thick- with that trademark black stripe down the middle. Eddie watched as you stared at the beautiful shoes, and he could have sworn he saw the pupils of your eyes turn to little hearts.

And then he watched you check the price tag.

A pained hiss came from your lips as that little sticker on the bottom of the shoe dashed your wish before his eyes. Eddie winced, slightly afraid of the answer. “How bad?”

You shook your head sadly. “They’re $45, which is absolutely ridiculous. A regular pair is only twenty!”

Even twenty dollars for a pair of shoes was pushing it for Eddie; he was a thrifty guy, excited to find a new-ish pair of sneakers at the secondhand store for less than $5. However, Eddie wasn’t going to tell you that. He took pride in what he wore, kept his things clean and in good condition for as long as they would serve their purpose. He was raised by Wayne to be that way.

You wound up purchasing a classic white pair of Chucks instead. “They’re just shoes,” you’d said, “and how often would I really have worn platforms anyways? I’ll get much more use out of these.” But Eddie didn’t miss the way you glanced longingly back at the cherry-red dream shoes. They’re what tugged on his heartstrings enough to make him do something stupid. 

Back to school shopping with Wayne was one of the old man’s least frugal times of the year. First impressions, he’d always said, are everything, boy. Start the year fresh, and you wipe the slate clean. It’s a new year, so you’ll need a new pair of shoes, brand spankin’ new. 

Each August, Wayne would hand Eddie a twenty dollar bill. It was meant to go toward a new pair of school shoes. And this year, they would still go toward that. 

They just wouldn’t be Eddie’s.

In the middle of your lunch at the food court, Eddie pretended to go to the bathroom. He was gone a little longer than what would usually be considered normal for a restroom break, and he knew that you’d give him shit for taking a shit when he got back. But it would be worth it.

In actuality, he had the sales associate at the store hold the red shoes for him. He’d return to purchase them after dropping you off at home, and he rationalized this decision by saying he’d just give them to you in a few months as a Christmas present. He would have bought you one eventually anyway… what was the harm in spending the money a little early?

His face hurt from smiling. Funny, he’d been smiling so much more this year that he was surprised that the muscles in his face weren’t used to it by now. You did that to him- you, the girl who’d run around the playground in red mary janes. You, the girl who’d chased him down on Halloween. You, who’d somehow gotten him to think a little higher of himself and start believing he might be worth a damn. 

Looking up as he re-entered the food court after securing those red chucks in his name, his grin went from subtle to blinding when he laid eyes on you once again. 

You, the girl who wanted to keep wearing his jacket because it felt like him.

Part 5

Taglist: @emma77645, @rustboxstarr, @sheneedsrocknroll92

[heliads]

Hey, can I request something platonic with divergent. Something where reader was a dancer (I'm thinking ballet but it's up to you) before coming to dauntless so everyone underestimates her because they don't know how much strength it takes to dance. Feel free to ignore, I love your work.

'finding the moment' - divergent

masterlist

You’d think a faction that prides itself on taking any person and making them stronger than all others would know better than to underestimate somebody, but you’d be wrong. You’d think that the several years you’ve spent in Dauntless would be enough to wipe the glaring target clean from your back, but you’d be wrong again. You thought you knew what it took to stop the endless rumors about just how you got into this faction, but– well, by now it’s a pattern.

Everyone talks badly about the transfers. Everyone. All it takes to clear your name is one good fight in front of everyone or one great display of strength, and then even the most fervent of naysayers will shut up for good. That being said, apparently you’ve just got bad luck when it comes to finding that one moment, because no matter how many fights you win, it seems like the right crowd just isn’t watching.

You passed initiation with a far higher score than even you expected. You weren’t the top two, but definitely among the top five. It was more than a respectable showing, especially for a transfer. You picked a job you liked and showed your success with it. Dauntless is clearly changed for the better because you’re here, yet you still hear the whispers of rumors whenever you enter a crowded room. Everyone does something big to prove themselves. What’s your grand show going to be?

It’s starting to gnaw away at you, rust at a grand metal showcase. You have never failed your chosen faction. You’ve gone above and beyond at your job, but it seems like behind the scenes work isn’t the way to cut it when it comes to Dauntless popular approval. When two years have come and gone since you entered initiation and yet the tide still hasn’t turned in your favor, you decide to throw in the towel and go to the best source of advice regarding former transfers who managed to rally this bravehearted faction behind them, and that would be Four.

Although he’ll never admit it to anyone but a chosen few, Four isn’t exactly Dauntless born and bred, although you’d never guess it by looking at him. Four emanates cold, calculating judgment, always in control but quick to a punch when he needs to be. Yet behind him in a dusty and well-hidden past lies an upbringing not in Dauntless, but Abnegation of all the factions. Talk about a reversal of roles. Four wears Dauntless well, but he, too, had to go through the pain of being a transfer once, and if anyone can tell you how to hack it, it’s your friend.

Four knows what you want from the moment you find him. “I was wondering when you were going to start asking that sort of question,” he admits. A slight twitch of his lips is the only sign of a smile, swallowed up by his usual stony demeanor. No one can do a poker face like Four, although you’re secretly not sure if it’s due to supreme control over his emotions or perhaps just apathy at life surrounding him. A childhood in Abnegation would certainly do that to a guy.

You arch a brow. “So you were just keeping that information from me all this time? Way to be a good friend, Four.”

He coughs. It might be a laugh, but it can be hard to tell sometimes. “A true Dauntless would seek out information on their own. They wouldn’t need someone else to hold their hand and give them what they need all the time.”

You frown. “That sounds more like Erudite, really. You might be getting your factions confused.”

“I see why no one takes you seriously as a Dauntless,” Four deadpans. “Attitude.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Four, because you certainly don’t have an attitude. And neither does Eric. Or anyone else here.”

This time, you’re sure he grins. “You might have a point. Although Eric might not be the best example of Dauntless pride. He’s a transfer too, you know.”

Your jaw drops. “What? No way, he seems like he’s been here all his life. If you told me Eric Coulter just appeared one day out of the pit, I’d believe you.”

“It would make sense,” Four muses.

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. “Jokes aside, I’m serious. How is it that both you and Eric were able to get rid of the transfer gossip so quickly?”

“We weren’t,” Four reveals. “We both had a bunch of public, bad fights in the ring before anyone started taking us seriously. That, and the fact that we were both in the top two initiation results. We had to have a moment where we proved to everyone that we deserved to be here.”

You groan. “I keep hearing about this moment thing. That’s not real, right? I’ve won plenty of fights here, but that doesn’t impact my reputation in the slightest.”

“Probably because they think you’re pulling your punches,” Four says. “Look, I didn’t lead your initiation when you went through training, so I don’t know for sure, but rumor has it, people don’t think you’re willing to go all the way. That’s why they accepted me as one of their own, you know. I got into a fight with a rival initiate, hurt him so badly he never dared to look at me again. That’s how they know you’re a real Dauntless. You have to give up fear completely.”

You whistle under your breath. “Dark stuff, Four.”

“It’s Dauntless,” he says. “What else did you expect?”

Truth be told, not much else. You love your chosen faction, even when its acceptance can be slow going, but it’s always been gritty, violent. Real. It’s what drew you here in the first place. You’re used to people lying to your face. In Dauntless, everything is fact or fiction, no gray areas. At last, everything makes sense.

You’re still mulling over Four’s words the next day, trying to wrap your head around just how you can eliminate fear completely from your person. This proverbial moment of Dauntless infamy is far harder to come by than anyone seems to suggest, and it’s starting to drive you mad.

Tired of seeing you tired, your friends drag you out for a training session one night. In true Dauntless fashion, nothing lifts your spirits like a round or two in the ring. After another thrilling victory, one of your friends laughs disbelievingly as she pulls herself up.

“I don’t get it,” she says, brushing herself off. “You always move so easily. How do you keep your balance that well?”

You grin. “I used to dance before I came here. It was great for coordination.”

Your friend nods along, and starts to say something about how she could see that when she’s suddenly interrupted by a voice a few feet away. “You did dance? I can’t believe it.”

You frown, glancing towards the source of the trouble. It’s a young man about your age, he went through initiation a year or so after you did. “What did you say?”

The man scoffs again. “If I were you, I’d never admit to something like that. Dance. Might as well transfer to Amity. It’s probably a better fit for you anyway.”

He starts to turn around, but he stops dead in his tracks when you call after him. “You want to try that again? Don’t talk to me like that.”

He casts you a disbelieving glance. “I’ll say whatever I want.”

“Then you’d better transfer to Candor,” you tell him icily. “Or, better yet, how about you meet me in the ring?” When he hesitates, you laugh. “What, are you scared? I thought you were so much better than me just because I did dance.”

That does it, and the man crosses the floor to join you in the ring. Your raised voice has started to draw a crowd, but you couldn’t care less about the other people there. The only thing that matters is making sure you get this guy to the ground before he can draw another breath to put you down. He’s substantially taller than you, and his arms are well muscled, but he’s underestimated you, and nothing– nothing– makes you as furious as that.

See, there’s one thing nobody here realizes about dance, because none of them have done it, and that is the incredible strength it takes to pull off even the most basic of maneuvers. You have exquisite balance, fantastic timing, and your legs and core are stronger than many people here.

So, although it comes as no surprise to you when your opponent is toppled and swiftly pinned in a matter of minutes, the ripple of shock that surges through the training hall echoes all the way up to the high ceilings. You stand over the felled man, looking down on him coldly. “Don’t ever try to belittle me again,” you inform him. “Also, you might want to look into some dance lessons. Might help you stop being so weak.”

With that, you jump down from the ring. A crowd has formed, but they part to give you space wherever you walk. For once, though, the faces aren’t judgmental but awestruck. On every expression here, you see something new:  grudging, genuine respect.

It occurs to you at last, when you look back at all the people who’ve seen you win, that this was it, this was your moment. You’ve proven yourself. At last, you’re one of the Dauntless, and everyone knows it, too. This is victory, and it is yours.

divergent tag list: @blondsauduun, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alex-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[stellari-s]

twst 30 day challenge: day 28

favorite vignette?

i got a three-way tie here, i think. well, i like all the vignettes, to be honest. but if i were forced to narrow it down, then maybe...

what a load of garbage halloween ♦️

i think a big one is cater's halloween ssr vignette, mainly because of how it really kind of showcases a side he doesn't show to others. of course, other vignettes had shown hints of this side, but not as straightforwardly.

his interaction with lilia was generally pretty interesting. i believe what lilia was saying came from his heart and experiences, especially reading what is out so far in book 7, but cater sort of can't bring himself to trust?? lilia completely because of how, in his eyes, lilia's words seem ironic as he seems to have a close-knit found family. and he seems to push kalim away to some extent too. the pop music club is very silly; i want cater to accept his found family status! /lh

it's honestly a little tragic to read as it is more eye-opening, in a sense. i think he wants others to understand him, but he also can't bring himself to open up about himself either.

(also, when it comes to halloween vignettes, jade's was also fun to read, as it's fun getting to know the various halloween traditions across different regions and upbringing.)

my beloved suitor suit ♥️

putting aside the fact that this is basically a silly epilogue featuring all the freshmen being silly together and talking about love lives, how could i not put in ace's suitor suit ssr vignette?

reading about ace's previous romantic experience though... i gotta say, i kinda feel bad for his ex lmao but at the same time, i kind of always pegged him as sort of someone who wouldn't go out of his way to pursue someone romantically. he said so himself, and i can easily imagine it, that he would rather hang with his friends.

overall i don't think this game needs to have any romance anyway. i generally love seeing the characters' dynamics with each other in platonic, familial, or for whatever they are, and if they were to become romantic, i think i wouldn't be as interested 😅 maybe i'll lose interest as quickly as ace lost his interest in his ex...

can't make a fool of myself suitor suit 🌹

riddle was so, so cool in his suitor suit sr vignette! like, for one it's kind of nice seeing him doing something like pruning the roses, considering he's the heartslabyul housewarden and doesn't normally do that kind of thing while preparing for unbirthday parties. plus his interaction with malleus and how he gives riddle a rose brooch? i love it when twst puts characters that probably don't interact much (or are hard to imagine interacting) together.

but the way at the end when riddle and malleus sort of have two separate scenes that come together at the very end with the illustration where they both say "the king of heartslabyul" (or something to that nature)... that scene was so intense and i loved it, hehe. ☁️

[amrwantonblog]

Referring to Huntlow as ambiguous is really generous  The crew were not attempting to hide much of anything at all in the finale regarding the nature of that relationship.

A lot of folk go with the whole "oh they didn’t kiss, so it’s not canon". Ignoring that not every pair needs to kiss aside, there were sooo many unnecessary details handed out that doesn’t really even try to pretend to be platonic.

Example I: The Grom Photo

Could’ve had them doing something more whimsical with Gus and Vee. Instead, we get a blushing Hunter and amused Willow looking like they are off in their own little world.

Example II: Flapjack’s resting place

Flapjack: The literal symbolism of love that began this whole mess? The only people around for that closure are Willow and Hunter. Yes, the whole group does have matching tattoos as a way of showcasing how much that palisman meant to them but as far as direct closure is concerned, it’s no coincidence that Huntlow is alone.

And most telling? The star shower final scene.

Example III: The rest 

Addressing the obvious, Raeda and Lumity get small interactions right after Willow/Hunter which means the intent is to consider the newest pair in a similar vein as the latter 2 despite not being as explicit (I do think there’s a lot to say about that as it is very deliberate that the M/F pair is handled this way and will do so another time).

All that said:THE BODY LANGUAGE ISN’T SUBTLE AT ALL. Reminder that this season began with Hunter not being able to look at Willow without blushing just as a result of her slightly flexing. 

Now, at the end of the show, he’s comfortable enough with her  to attempt the classic arm around the shoulder routine. With how awkward that guy is there’s no way he’d attempt something like that unless their relationship has already progressed a decent amount to where he’s able to initate physical affection.

Even when Willow retaliates and it catches him slightly off guard, he still doesn’t blush, implying that physical affection between them is pretty normalized by now.

And as one final telling moment? Their last moment on screen has his hand around her waist mirroring Willow pulling him closer to her by the waist. Speaks for itself really.

[arisatominakos]

BALDUR'S GATE 3 OC LINEUP; this is a glorified tag dump post for my idiots thus far. may get updated in the future with other ocs & if so it will be reblogged to showcase those changes. under the cut will be basic character introductions & they will be in order.

Rylla: wizard spell sword, high elf, genderless( all pronouns ) bisexual, neutralish, 27yo everyone laugh at the youngest member of the party haha

Rylls is my main "Tav" which is the player character. full name: Idrylla Rhea Dhwani Crisanta. they are unmotivated, burntout, tired, & p much going thru the motions. she's the eldest out of like 7 and the first in like a generation or two of elves in her family to be magically inclined so his parents rlly pushed for parentification as a help w/ the kids since her family are fishing merchants, but got sent to study at a wizarding guild schoolesc thing in Baldur's Gate where the fam is from all around. pushed to be the top of their class and the like first apprentice to the head wizard he got framed for attempted murder by a jealous rival and got tossed in jail with a two day pardon to run home and grab a journal that would prove her innocence only to find out her fiance, now ex fiance, had been cheating on them and threw out all their stuff hearing rylla was in jail and was like OH LOL WHOOPS on the way to the dump is when this jackass got abducted by mind flayers like u cant have a more worse day than rylla bc the next day was allso when he had to pay his mortgage taxes so like all that and u still gotta pay bills anyways everyone in camp wants them carnally but rylla does not romance anyone, however he does have a connection with gale that is strictly platonic. rylla is a prodigy & a spell sword

Frye: warrior, mesophlieseses tiefling, he/him cismale home of sexual, somewhat lawful good. or at least he tries, 87yo

Frye Ravensworn is from Baldur's Gate, a oathbroken paladin former flaming fist. after an accident that cost the lives of several innocents he lost faith in the order & left, turning to a life of mercenary work. after feeling as if he wasn't making any difference he "retired" to establish a popular tavern known as The Devil's Fyre( pronounced fire unlike his name Fry-ee bc hehe get it he thinks hes hilarious ) anyways he's Rylla's best friend they have been pals for ages and she usually comes to him when they need to bitch about their life. he does enjoy being a bartender and listening to others rather than being constantly asked about stories of his own adventures. it's rylla that makes him feel as he did when he was younger, having a purpose reigniting that love for life & hope in people once more so when Rylla was taken by mind flayers he picked his sword back up and closed the tavern to set out to find rylla's stupid ass knowing the next time he sees them they could be a mind flayer but at least rylla would die by a friends hand. it's in act 2 we find Frye, at the last light inn helping the harpers & flaming fist protect the tieflings from the shadows. upon seeing rylla he scoops her up & squeezes him so tight one could swear their bones popped. Frye serves as a paladin option to recruit like how mi/thara is, but for like the ~good~ route basically. Frye romances W/yll !

Carnation: druid with a class i made up called underdark druid its got bits of spore shadow sprinkled in but she can grow n manipulate crystals ! bc they are the fauna of the underdark :), auvryrahel drow, she/her cisfemale, violencesexual, evil. fucking evil. dark urge( editors note: this will change no more bhaalspawn but born of a different more fucked up god mayhaps :) ) !, 134yo

a hot pink bitch named breakfast. our favorite cult leader. last name Vasiira. raised in the underdark with a small clan of underdark-druids deep under the earth while i forgot to add her mom to this screencap dump, Momma'Nation, Trielthrae was one of the many exiled loth-drow that formed this little village of which the clan of druids lived, wanting to change the stars of her peers & sick of loth's rule--- she beseeches the gods to grant her a child that would be blessed in their light, to become a holy savior & change the world for her, her village, for the drow, & for everyone. bhaal [ GOD goes here ] read that text & answered, requiring a unholy communion of which Trielthrae gladly gave leaving her with a miraculous pregnancy. enter our little anti-christ, our cute little princess. our beautiful Carnation who was beloved & welcomed by the village with open arms. she wants power, she wants fame, she wants clothes, she wants devotion. the village quickly & completely submitted to her whims wants & needs. bhaal lends her some of his grand power, as technically she is a bhaal spawn. its just complicated. SHES A DEMI-GOD BY BIRTHRIGHT I JUST GOTTA LATER GO FIGURE OUT WHAT GOD ANSWERED HER MOM man loth is pissed about this btw lol mind flayers took her from the shores of the dark lake, this is the first time she has been outside of the underdark & once she saw the night sky at camp she wept in it's beauty. she romances as/tarion, ascendant. he sees her as a equal as she denies bhaal, stealing his power for herself & manipulates the nether brain for her own gain becoming akin to a god. keeping old shit as reference but ew lame heres the new stuff: SHE IS MANIPULATING HIM. as a demi-god shes already capable of doing fucked up shit as is however she plans to kill &/or eat a god to gain its power to become fully divine & having a powerful vampire as a minion in addition to her cult is good, she also manipulates gale to bring her that funny crown & study how to harness it with the guide she supports his journey when its for her benefit not his. she will not end her conquest until she becomes a god wholly. auvryrahel is the name of the specific village / noble house that makes up carnation's cult.

Luella: cleric, but its complicated :), auvryrahel half-drow, she/her bisexual cisfemale, her morality is whatever carnation wants, ageless

undead half-drow handmaiden to Carnation Vasiira. she acts as a nanny, a nurse, a sister, a caregiver, a friend, a confidant, & a puppet. raised from death by Carnation's mother when her daughter was only but six years old via a powerful spell that grants this undead what's left of her fractured soul & a lifespan that allows her to live as long as Carnation wills her to, Luella is devoted completely to her charge. she lives, literally, only to serve her mistress--- having left the underdark in search of her beloved flower when Carnation goes missing after a rare nautiloid sighting near the dark lakes.

G'waine: kith'rak ranger, githyanki, she/they nonbinary lesbian, chaotic good but the good is like for the good of the githyanki not you. fuck you as far as she's concerned, 38yo

UTENA COMPLEX, PRINCE OF THE CRECHE. kith'rak g'waine, a captain of her creche boldly named draa'zvir--- dragon's breath. a warrior of fine make & groom, the pride n joy of her creche the youngest to make captain in it's long history. a skilled warrior, a even better strategist she is calm collected but never cold. a proper leader in the making to eventually take over creche draa'zvir or would have if not captured by mind flayers during the chase of the nautaloid alongside lae'zel, attempting to strike down mind flayers at they attacked other gith. because of this word returned of her capture to her creche & they moved to mourn her as if she were already dead. the fallen dragon prince & the tale of noble, but foolish, sacrifice to save her gith comrades and kill the ghaik invaders. has a bit of a resemblance to a frog & was teased as a child as 'the frog prince' until her merits outshined all her sought to demean her. also she killed them as is her right. romances lae'zel & has a hellva complicated time about the whole orpheus thing. voss knows g'waine, actually a lot of the creche u visit knows them too.

[fallenrocket]

Unhatched Observations: Shadow and Bone

It’s that time again—looking over some of my old posts about a story with Big Neurodivergent Energy and realizing how it resonated with me as an “unhatched” autistic ADHDer. We’re looking at Shadow and Bone today. This is an interesting case, because I wrote quite a bit about Shadow and Bone/the Grishaverse, but only my Favorite Characters post on Jesper really vibes on a neurodivergent level. It’s not that he’s the only ND character in the books or the series. Far from it! But until more recently, I wasn’t writing about characters like David or Wylan.

So I’m just looking at my unhatched observations about Jesper as an ADHD character. But even though I’m only revisiting one post today, I’m really struck by how much I write about my love for what are specifically ADHD traits. Even more interestingly, while I hit on the more “obvious” things like his energy and distractibility, I also talk in detail about his hyperfocus when he’s shooting, an ADHD trait that I’d never even heard of back when this post was written. Without knowing what any of this was, it still struck a deep chord with me.

Anyway, enough talk from Present-Day Me. Let’s roll the tape!

Favorite Characters: Jesper Fahey

The immediate air Jesper gives off is that of the charismatic troublemaker. He’s funny and personable, he enjoys provoking people, and he has enough of a gambling problem that he allows it to get in the way of the Crows’ illegitimate business dealings. […] Kaz and Inej are both more serious than he is and, at first blush, better at what they do. They’re the ones with their head in the game, while Jesper is the one Kaz admonishes to pay attention and not screw it up.

Which would be a perfectly entertaining character type all on its own. Every ragtag band of outsiders needs some good comic relief, and story-wise, it never hurts to have a wildcard who keeps things from going too smoothly. On both counts, Jesper fits the bill nicely. And if he was just those things, he’d probably still be my favorite character, because he’s just so much fun. But what I really appreciate about Jesper is that, in a particular respect, he’s also devastatingly hyper-competent. As he points out to Kaz, the chief “Jesper talent” is to “shoot things with style” (and to look good while doing it—oh, Jesper.) He has an ever-present pair of revolvers at his side, and when he lets loose with them, his precision and focus are just stunning. When Jesper’s sharpshooting skills are called upon, he transforms. Not that he loses his humor or panache, but this ability comes from somewhere deep within him, and whether he’s saving himself and his friends from literal death or simply causing an expertly timed distraction, he’s unmatched.

I love that. I love when largely comedic characters show a different side to themselves. […] It’s an important way to show why they shouldn’t be underestimated. There are a few displays of Jesper’s unparalleled marksmanship in the first two episodes of the season, but he gets a showcase scene in episode 3—one, by the way, that comes pretty quickly on the heels of a major “lovable screw-up” moment—that instantly shows just how much he’s capable of. It’s the scene in which my opinion of Jesper went from “okay, this guy is delightful” to “I just met my new platonic crush.”

[sunny-mercya]

Hey, Brother do you still believe in one another?

06. Love sick

Heiji Hattori x Male Reader | Platonic! Shinichi Kudo x Brother Reader

Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed

Masterlist | Previous / Next |

'Cause you know that, baby, I  

I'm your biggest fan

I'll follow you until you love me

Tokyos streets are covered in snow, decorated with christmas decorations and filled with people—doing their last minute Christmas shopping, as the holiday was only one week away. 

Through amidst the people, Daiki was observing you, his darling. Watching how you were walking through the shopping district, holding hands with a Child and stopping ever so often by a Window to look at the offers and goods. 

It was love at first sight, destined fate, when Daiki had seen you in the Disco. He had gone there all by himself, on that lonesome saturday, to blow off some pent-up anger and when you passed by him—Daiki had been in complete and utterly awe. 

Your breathtaking beauty, was beyond compare to any woman, putting them to shame. Such graceful, ravishing like feature, you were truly a angel—sent by God themself for the sole reason of being Daiki's destined Soulmate. 

Pretty so fucking pretty you were, with your (h/c) hair and those (e/c) eyes, a colour so hypnotic and the gentleness in them. Pretty boy. So pretty.

So Daiki had asked you for a dance and when you told him your name and said yes, he never had felt so helpless as on that day. One lucky man he was.

Afterwards, he hadn't gotten the change to get your number since your friend, this pesky girl, had dragged you away at some point—Daiki had tried to gather as much information about you as he could. Daiki had visited your school, a fancy private one, a few times already. Finding your locker and leaving little messages for you and one time. 

He had your home address, but didn't found the right time to give you a visit. Perhaps tonight.

Anyways, his thoughts were drifting way too far. He was losing sight of you.

Daiki didn't knew who that Child with you was, but the brat seemed important to you. Once your both married, he would find ways to give you as many children as you want—you would make a good Dad and oh the imagine of you being a househusband was tempting his mind agonising.

~~~

Conan turned his head back again, he had doing it quite often ever since he had accompanied you to your shopping spree. The feeling of being observed had following him, leaving a bitter taste. It wasn't this certain feeling he got, with the Man in Black around—this was more of something unhinged.

Gripping your hand tighter, Conan begun to pull a bit more into the mass of people and towards the other side of the road. Wanting to get you away from the perverse gaze of a stranger who was following you. He was far but at same time near.

«Slow down Conan, we aren't in a rush,» you told him, halting your walking to slow his movements.

«Sorry sorry, but uh there is this one shop I wanted to show you!» Conan told you sheepishly and thank god he remembers there being a new shop 

«We can go there later, there some shops first I need to go though.»

Truly delicate you were and so lovely caring when it comes to Children. Daiki got shivers down his spine, imagines and thoughts flashing through his mind—of you being a goodie submissive husband, doing housework and tending to his needs. 

Daiki should approach you, causally. Perhaps he could ask you out for a Coffee. Or maybe he could even tag along with you two, getting to know more about the Child—who seemed a tad bit too aware and warily about his surroundings.

When you had stopped at a shop window, looking at whatever there was being showcased, Daiki took this chance to walk up to you. 

«Nice to meet you here,» Daiki tapped your shoulder, when you turned around he gave you his signature boyish smile. For a moment or so you had squinted your eyes at him.

«Ah! You're Daiki from the Disco! Sorry, I didn't recognise you a minute. Are you doing some shopping too?» 

«Yes, still need some presents. And who might that little boy be?» Daiki crouched down to Conan, still smiling. Both giving each other a long  scrutinised hard stare. Conan, to maintain his act, hide a bit behind you.

«That's Conan, my sort of distant Cousin. Usually he isn't that shy tho,» you chuckled, ruffling Conans hair. 

Daiki noted, mentally taking notes of this new found information. He only knew the basic about your, quite famous, family—so any other infos are sacred for him. The more he knows about you, the more he could make you his. 

«Since we're both here, how about we three go and something, my treat.» 

Conan had to do something, anything. This Daiki guy, his whole presence, attitude and overall vibe—just screamed out danger. Daiki was like the predator and you were his prey.

So when you were in the middle of your reply, Conan took your hand and pulling at your arm. Mustering up all his mental strength, to act like fussy child now. 

«Ne ne [Name]! I'm tired! Carry me carry me, pretty please! I wanna be carried! And I'm hungry and I really need to pee!» Conan was about to start wailing, as his last resort to get your full and undivided attention, though lucky he didn't had to.

You picked Conan up, balance the few bags you had in your other hand more at your arm. You found it concerning alarming as you had never seen Conan act so fussy before at all. Sure, when he got tired he would be a bit snappy but this was something completely different now. You tried to shush him gently, swaying your body a bit side to side to calm him down as Conan was still repeating his requests. Honestly, Conan was feeling more than just embarrassed, but what wouldn't he all do for you to get you safely away from any sort of danger.

You gave Daiki an apologetic smile,

«I'm sorry, I would've liked to but perhaps another time would be better.» you told him, giving a quick goodbye and walking, practically rushing to the next store—where you knew had a restroom. 

You had submerged into the crowd so quickly, that Daiki couldn't utter a goodbye or had the chance to ask for your number. Your whole attention had went to your Cousin—to this annoying brat. And Daiki saw how Conan had showed him the tongue afterwards, childishly. And the audacity to even give him a mockingly triumphantly grin. 

Daiki clenched his fists, jaw tensing. He already hated this cousin of yours, just as he hated your brother—this wannabe high schooler detective. He wanted them to be gone, to kill them. But he couldn't, not now at least.

~~~

Once you deemed Conan had calmed down enough, you had asked him if he wanted to go back home and when he simply shook his head telling you no, you continued the shopping. Not without checking every so often on Conan.

Conan sighed out in relief under his breath. This time he was able to bring you away, but how it would go next time—when he couldn't be around or with you, Conan wasn't sure. Also he couldn't always do the; overly fussy child act.

When you and Conan had returned to the shop, Conan didn't saw Daiki anywhere nearby nor did he feel his unsettling presence anymore. A good sign. 

«Ne [Nickname] can I sleep at your house tonight? Please?» asked Conan. 

It was something Conan would do occasionally now, staying over at your, but also his, house. Ever since his Mother had told a quick lie to Ran—after she had confronted Conan about her suspicions of his true identity, and afterwards to you, about him being a distant relative to them. Ran had still her suspicions, but you had believed it instantly, beaming even because you were certain that Conan was actually part of your family, because he looked a bit like a younger version of Shinichi.

«Of course you can, but call Ran before and tell her, I don't want her to get worried,»

Conan knew that this wouldn't be the last time he would see Daiki lurking around you.

I will kill your friends and family

to remind you of my love

[oddinary4bts]

Hi Ella!

This is a continuation of my review of Sinful Lust ch 4!!! ✨

I feel so clueless, I feel like I have no idea where this story could go – like does one of them cheat? Do OC and Yoongi end up breaking up? Are Yoongi and Jungkook’s friendship ruined forever? I have no idea – but I’m far too invested in this now 😂 Also, I don’t think I won’t like the direction you’ve decided to take it in, it’s your story, your characters, your decisions, I’m just along for the beautiful, slightly chaotic and emotional ride that is your very brilliant writing and storytelling ✨ A part of me also feels like, I don’t care how it ends, I don’t even need or want a happy ending for this. I’m just so excited to read it and interested to uncover the story, their emotions, your thoughts and feelings. 

I am so sorry for making a freaking long review, again 🫥 I really hope you don’t mind me ranting and just spewing my thoughts. 

This chapter was also really good, also sad, and I think it’s so brilliant of you to showcase their different povs, because we’ll really feel for each character and their struggles/feelings. It will make the unavoidable car-crash hit so much fucking harder, I’m sure of it. There’s also a lot of like morals in this, and I think it’s fucking hard (and you’re doing such a great job of handling and describing this ✨💯). 

Lissa’s theory time 😂

With the flashback of how they met, I have a feeling that Yoongi and OC were never gonna last… Maybe it was her and Jungkook that was supposed to be from the beginning?? So maybe, just maybe, that’s what’s gonna happen? 😂 To be honest, right now I feel like OC and Jungkook have a lot more chemistry than Yoongi and OC (though the declining in that is probably partly Jungkook’s fault, although I have a feeling that it was breaking slightly before that too??). 🔍 I’m playing detective now 🤣

I’m probably just being delulu, because I’ve got no fucking clue 😂 But I love this story and I love you, Ella 💜 Amazing job as always ✨

I also just realized that I didn’t sign up for the taglist, so I’ve done that now 🤭

SHOWER IN MY LOVE FOR YOU ELLA! Honestly, I wish I knew you in person, I’d give you a hug and tell you how brilliant you are 🤗💜

LISSA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH WHY ARE SO NICE I CAN’T😭😭😭 I’d hug you so so tight too🥹🫂🫂

I gotta admit I’m a little reassured that you say you won’t not like the direction the story is taking! As you said it’s a story full of morals and confusion and all and the characters all have such deep emotions so it’s really hard to tell (at least from this chapter) where the story is headed. I’m just always afraid that I’ll end up disappointing someone haha but you reassure me🫶🏼

Never apologize for writing a long review!! I ADORE your reviews so so much, they make it so worth it to write and share my stories with you guys✨✨

I’ll reply to your theories under the cut now!!

Mkay so about the flashback, yeahhhh maybe Jungkook should have approached her, right? But then again she saw him, and she did say no to give him her number so would it have worked?

And yeah, Jungkook and OC definitely have chemistry, and it’s been showed since the first chapter. But is the chemistry bc they share this love that Jungkook feels or is it just platonic??

As for the breaking before Jungkook was in the picture… was it??🫣 or is Jungkook the cataclysm to the breaking?

[henrysglock]

Ramble 7: Willel consistently crushes my heart to bits

platonic soulmates willel as a concept is going to make me throw up because i'm just so insane about how much they love each other.

It's about...how much they deserve the kind of love they receive from each other, how much they care and show that care without having to explicitly say it.

how even in the aftermath of the painting El's safety and comfort is still Will's main focus, the way she looks so relieved to see him and ran to him with so much more love in her expression than she did for Mike.

how Will has her back at school and encourages her even though things are hard, the way they stick together even though it would be easier for Will to start fresh if he ignored El's existence entirely. He didn't seem like he was being targeted by anyone, it would have been safer for him to just pretend she didn't exist, but he didn't. he stuck by her, even as Angela and Stacy systematically turned Lenora High against her.

The way Will is her biggest genuine consistent cheerleader (Mike doesn't count. That monologue was bullshit). The way he helps her pick up the pieces when things go wrong, offers to help her fix the things dearest to her. The way he has her back around Mike, taking her side over his when Mike is being a douche rather than just falling in line with him.

so much of this might seem like bare minimum stuff, but it's not. Not only consistently going the extra mile for someone you barely know who took all of your best friend/crush's attention, but going so far as to treat her like a sister and put her needs first? Supporting a victim of bullying when you've been bullied your entire life and would probably just like to be left alone more than anything? Doing all this with no expectation for anything in return? Crazy maturity and love and kindness from a 14 year old boy, maturity and kindness and love that he deserves to be able to give, and that El deserves to receive.

And for El? this is the most unconditional love and support she's gotten from anyone other than Max. Dustin was absent, Lucas was in Mike's corner, and Mike was being a douche. Besides Max, Will is the only one to be in her corner, to protect her and love her with no reservations or expectations. Besides Max, he's the only Party member to treat her like a normal girl and not like a superhero. Besides Max, he's the only one who really and truly knows and loves the girl underneath the superhero persona.

El deserves this. She needs love like this, someone who doesn't see her as a monster no matter what happens, who sees her as more than just her powers, who loves her so deeply even after knowing who she is underneath, even in the absence of her powers.

It's incredible for Will too. It doesn't just showcase that he's a wonderful person. It also gives him the power to protect someone else the way he's been protected. It eases the feelings of being treated like he's breakable. He gets to stand up and protect someone and take his autonomy back. He isn't helpless and powerless anymore, not when he can protect and support and help his sister. He needs this as much as El does.

I'm so normal about them. I'm so normal about them getting to have a healthy, loving dynamic after years of being hurt and being forced to be strong or being treated like some useless, helpless, fragile thing.

I'm definitely not losing my mind about them. Not at all.

[capybaraonabicycle]

Heyaaa, for the wip ask game, I'd love to know about 5, 15, 16, 23, 27! <3 Hope you're having a good dayyy

I am having the best day 🥰🥰 no, seriously, I saw another butterfly that was all black and had little white/pink ornaments at the tip of the wings. I wanted to take a picture for you but it was gone in an instant, unfortunately. And I've just had great food and I got to write a little today, so I am feeling amazing :)

Let's see (I'm gonna do the cat fic bc that is all I am thinking about atm) :

5. What are the main themes?

Trust, Friendship, Manipulation, Identity, Love, Secrets

(In that order of importance, I think. Feel free to ask about any of them and I can tell you more on why I put them here :) )

15. What do you like about this wip

There's a cat! And my favourite characters!! Admittedly, I have quite many of those in dw but I love writing for the fam and River. Always a joy! I also get to focus a lot more on Yaz x Ryan than I originally planned and that is such a treat. They're so good for each other and the mutual support is making me very happy. Also, River gets to be a sneaky little devil and while that is also kinda giving me a headache, I am living for it :)

Plus, writing 'River forces the Doctor to confront her feelings for Yaz' is my favourite thing ever because

she totally would

I kinda want to do it myself (I like how thasmin was executed for most of it but it remains frustrating. I just wanted more for Yaz. I love her. She deserves a happy ever after with the Doctor (and River))

16. What do you find frustrating about this wip

The length! This was supposed to be a silly little one-shot, where did the plot come from?!

The plot itself is another thing : It is complicated to make it work in general and specifically, I wanted to have some alien baddies involved. And like most of what they should have been able to do could have been achieved by either the cybermen - but the fam doesn't know about them until right before Ryan and Graham leave (nevermind that I am busy breaking canon anyway) - or the timelords - which would have been missing a tiny detail and also I did not know who to pick there as - well Gallifrey's gone right?. And then I looked for alternatives but couldn't find any so in the end I made up some species - which I don't feel entirely comfortable with and it isn't like the most inventive idea anyway and doesn't feel necessary you know? Well I kinda fixed that issue but created new ones and just - why does there have to be plot? I'm not a plot writer. I write pretty little pictures of characters interacting. Not adventure stories. Anyway. Good to challenge yourself and stuff.

23. How would you describe your writing style

Kinda messy ngl. I don't have my computer, so I have been writing on my phone. And just. Don't do that?

But well, there are not many descriptions so far - might need to add those - but loads of dialogue and internal monologue. Like, whoever enjoys listening to Yaz having a queer breakdown for pages and pages will have fun with the fic :)

Also quite a few timejumps and 'this is what happened before/after summarised in 2 sentences' passages, especially in the beginning. Complete with Yaz's comments on them. Like, really, this fic is for Yaz fans. (I hope. Unless I wrote her badly, but I really hope I didn't.)

27. Look for three images which best showcase the overall aesthetic for your WIP

[ID: Top image: grey and blue warehouse-like hall with steam and machinery. Dimly lit and rundown. Middle image: brown tabby cat with yellow eyes lying on a pillow (maybe?). Bottom image: still from Halloween apocalypse, Yaz and the Doctor falling onto a mattress. end ID ]

I know the last one's not really an aesthetic - not quite sure the second one is either but cats and cozy, you get it - but just imagine I am the safety net that's throwing them there. And then you get an accurate idea if what 50% of the fic is like (= me putting them into a bed together and them being very platonic about it even though the feelings aren't)

[kithtaehyung]

Okay window is probably my new favorite (I’ve already reread a couple times). Yoongi being so determined to show her how much he’s hers is just chef’s kiss tbh, like where do I get one? Lol. Brat reader is my new fave, even if I think she barely scratched the surface of that Pandora’s box. And I can’t wait to see more because that will be fun. (And this may be me realizing that I also enjoy being a brat whoops) Let’s not even talk about how this is Grammys Yoongi because that look is SO killer. Though I am still reeling about Yoongi at the Lakers game. Sports Yoongi is also something I can barely handle lol.

You really had me screaming at their interruptions. Though the 2nd interruption scene may be my new favorite snippet of 3tan. The tension and release and them finally thinking they’re alone. Which omg Tae’s reveal remains hilarious. And Dom, I love her we all need a bestie like her and like the way she read them to FILTH. Sometimes all it takes is someone else laying out. Since we don’t know where exactly this sits in canon I think it highlights that we saw in flutter and forfeit even more. But damn if that type of behavior isn’t relatable unfortunately. Their communication has gotten so much better and that’s so important, personally I think it’s the key to all relationships (platonic or not). If or when brother finds out, it’ll be very very interesting.

Anyways before I ramble even more, bravo on a fantastic new piece. Get some rest and as always, I am ready to read more whenever you’re ready. Hope you have a fabulous weekend! Sending all my love 🤍 - 🌷

AHHH flower! window's your new fave? that's impressive i love that. writing this one was a ton of fun and the few more days i got to work on it made a huuuuge difference in quality, for sure. yoongi on a mission? we know to watch tf out when he's got something to prove. which makes me excited for other things he's setting his mind to i mean what-

i fcking love brat reader<3 what a fcking bEAST like seriously!! ugh deserving of all the praise it's so damn exciting to think about what they could do with no limitations and full comfort.

HELL YEAH BABY you act up :)) it's fun for everyone when it happens ahahaaaaa. but yeah. i was thinking the situation over and figured.. why not make it even more devastating lol grammys yoongi rolling up his sleeves it is! and the second interruption was the scene i was itching for y'all to read the most! when it happened i slapped my hand over my mouth so fast and just laaaaughed. lmfaooo

dom and tae in this one?? fck. i love them both. as far as reader's behavior, it's definitely showcasing that they aren't perfect and still have things to work on. but that's all of us, you know? none of us are perfect, so my characters don't get that pass to be the ideal person. we're all gonna fail at times, and so will they. it's about the learning process and how they handle things, which i think was handled very nicely by the both of them when they finally spoke.

thank you for the wonderful commentary! i loved this review and you had so much insight. sending all my love back<33

[lobotomy-jpeg]

"I will stand in the dark for you"

[writing-with-olive]

How to write essays fast

I've been writing a lot of papers, so that's what's on my mind.

So this mostly applies to your standard 5-paragraph paper, though it's fairly straightforward to adapt it to longer (or sometimes shorter) assignments.

One of the main things to note is that essays are VERY formulaic, so knowing the formula and being able to write down your ideas in a way that fit into the formula is probably the number one way to get stuff done fast. Because of that, most of what I’m covering is breaking down the formulas so they’re more accessable.

Also this got very long. If there’s anything you want me to expand on just let me know in the comments or send me an ask/DM and I’ll make another post that goes more in-depth about it.

Structure (I hate this step, so I’ve figured out how to do it very fast becuase it’s still important)

The first thing to consider is prewriting and structure. To start, there are two major paper structures I usually consider. The first goes

Introduction

Main point #1

Main point #2

Main point #3

Conclusion

This is good if you have a lot to say on the topic, or if it's something closer to a summary essay where there's not really an opposing side. In something where there are distinct sides, (or if you have less to say to support your own side), you may want something that looks like

Introduction

Main point #1

Main point #2

Why the other side is wrong

Conclusion

The "why the other side is wrong" side is involves thinking through the MOST credible arguments the other side might make, and methodically breaking them down to show how they don't work. The stronger the argument you choose, the more effective this is.

Since I personally hate prewriting with a passion, I usually do this step very fast and end up with an outline that looks like

Intro [insert thesis statement]

P1: [three word summary]

P2: [three word summary]

P3: [three word summary]

Conclusion

(thesis statement, introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion tips are all below the cut)

Usually, this is enough so when I look at my outline, I can see what I'm trying to focus on for each paragraph - and do so without straying from my main point.

For the prewriting, the main things to do are identify with basic structure of the two will serve your purposes better, and write a thesis statement that solidly supports your argument.

Thesis Statement

There are so many guides about creating thesis statements that are powerful, but I'm just going to quickly go over how to be fast about it.

The first thing to know is that a thesis statement is usually a complex sentence: it's your entire essay distilled down to a single line. The general formula I follow goes something like this:

"In their [media type] [name of specific piece], [creator's full name] explored/demonstrated/other verb [theme you're going to be arguing about] demonstrated/using/as evidenced/as shown by [example 1], [example 2], and [optional example 3]."

For example, a thesis statement that follows this format might go

“In his short film Job at Place, David Davidson explored the manifestations of human stupidity through the absurdity of the main character’s home, school, and office.”

Or, if you're writing a historical piece, it might look something like this:

"In [place/time period], [thing you're arguing was happening]: they had to/the conditions were such that/other thing to set up a list [example 1], [example 2], and [example 3]."

For example, a thesis statement that follows this format might go

“During the Tusken Invasion of 32nd century Tatooine, it was the lives of the children that were most affected, from their social development and connections with others to more personal struggles they didn’t yet have the tools to overcome.”

The examples you give are going to correlate to your paragraphs - example 1 is for body paragraph 1, and so on. 

Introduction

I like to think of the introduction as a funnel that gets more and more specific.

First, write a broad statement that touches on whatever theme you’re referencing. 

Job at Place is about human stupidity, so something like “while great minds have flourished throughout the ages, so have the not-so-great.”

Tatooine is about war, and about child development, so something like “children’s development has always been impacted by the state of the world around them.” or “war has many effects, many of which impact those not directly involved with the conflict.”

The idea is that it’s a broad statement that can almost be looked at like a universal truth.

Next, you’re going to go deeper - two sentences that narrow down the time and place you’re talking about specifically, and how that time and place fit into your universal statement. 

The fourth sentence gets even more specific - introducing how the thesis sentence fits into your first three sentences.

Then the last line is your thesis statements. 

Body Paragraphs

Your three main body paragraphs all follow the same formula. (I’ll get to the “why the other side is wrong” paragraph in a minute)

The first sentence you’re going to want is a topic sentence. For this, you’re going to want to look at the example you gave in your thesis statement that corresponds to this paragraph, and see how it relates to your central claim. 

If we’re going with the Job at Place example from above, for the second paragraph, you might open with a line like:

“A striking characteristic of Davidson’s short film was the abnormality of the main character’s school, used to showcase exactly what happens when poor decisions get taken too far.”

Everything within the paragraph will then back up the claim you’re making in the topic sentence (which in turn is backing up your thesis). 

For each paragraph, you’re probably going to want about three pieces of evidence, either in the form of direct quotes (plucking words directly from the source) or paraphrased quotes (summarizing what happened in your own words). The quote should be used to directly support your argument.

After each piece of evidence, you’re going to want about... twoish lines of analysis (this number can change as you need it to, but two lines is something solid to fall back to). 

While analysis can take all kinds of forms, one pattern you can use if you’re stuck is

evidence sentence 

what it means

how that meaning ties back into your main point

Following this pattern, a piece of analysis of Job at Place might look like:

“One of the first images of the private school is that it’s a tall spire with creaking stairs and loose floorboards. Despite this, the principal has eight personal cars parked outside on full display. While the first glimpse of the school might indicate that there is little money to care for the structural integrity, the notion is directly negated by the principal’s actions. By using these two images, Davidson demonstrates what can happen to the youth when those in power let greed carry them away.”

After you write your analysis, include some kind of transition phrase, and go onto the next piece of evidence.

The last line of your paragraph is going to transition into the next paragraph while also summing up the main point of what you talked about in the current one. (This line can also get moved down and tacked onto the beginning of the next paragraph, before the topic sentence, but I have found it tends to look less cohesive that way).

You might choose something like:

“While the school was a disaster in its own right, it wasn’t the only example of human folly.”

If you’re writing a “this is why the other side is wrong” you’re going to want to think about the MOST compelling arguments the other side could make. Take the top one (or two), and figure out ways to crack them apart using evidence from your source material.

In this case, your topic sentence might start off with something like

“While opponents might say [insert compelling counterargument], their reasoning breaks down when one takes into account the evidence.”

At this point, you’re going to follow the same formula as above. The main thing to keep in mind is that for the duration of this paragraph, your point is that the other side’s claim of X is wrong.

Conclusion!

If you know what you’re doing, this is actually the easiest part.

(wait, what??????)

The thing is, you NEVER want to introduce new ideas into your conclusion. Instead, you’re summarizing your main points.

The formula I follow per sentence is:

Thesis statement but reworded (you can change the sentence structure too)

Topic sentence for paragraph 2 or 3, but reworded (I’ll explain why you shouldn’t do the sentence for P1 in just a sec)

Topic sentence for paragraph 1 or 3 but reworded

Topic sentence for paragraph 1 or 2 but reworded

Wow sentence or question (i’ll get to this too)

The idea for the middle three sentences is you don’t want them to read as repetitive, so you’re going to mix up the order so it doesn’t match the order of the rest of the essay. This will help to keep it fresh.

The wow sentence is basically the last impression you get to make. I find it’s usually a good idea to go just a tad dramatic (it sounds dumb, but it has never failed me). If I can’t think of anything, a declarative statement on whatever major theme was being discussed throughout the essay usually does the trick.

Examples:

All of this shows that in the absence of friendships and platonic love, humanity will falter.

Fiction may seem far fetched now, but if the world falls into those same mistakes, it’s only a matter of time until it becomes a reality.

Art has existed for as long as humans have populated the earth; it’s not going away any time soon.

A lesson everyone must understand is the most powerful weapon isn’t anything physical or tangeable: it’s the ideas that exist in the minds of those who care.

(I told you they were going to be dramatic) A way I look at it is if you can’t imagine dropping the mic on the last line, it needs to be stronger (yes I found that plagiarized with not even a whisper of credit on Pinterest, but it works).

If you wrote a SOLID essay, consider ending with a question aimed at the reader (this will push your essay in the direction of either the positive or negative extreme: a strong essay will become stronger, a weak essay will become weaker). Questions can be a call to action or rhetorical as a means to drive home your final point. Becuase they’re more nuanced to the content of the essay, I don’t really have great examples to give you though (sorry).

Hopefully this is useful to at least some of you - good luck!

++++

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