#when you think about everything there is no way to choose WHAT to talk about lol
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Self Compassion is everything.
That's where it all starts. Peace of mind.
If we aren't taught self compassion or had it modelled around us then we tend to be very hard on ourselves. Our sense of identity, of worth and satisfaction with our self concept comes from how we think other people perceive us.
If we dont make an active effort to be kind to ourselves, to retrain our brains to be accepting and merciful in how we think about ourself and our choices, we tend to be our worst critic, sometimes being a huge asshole to ourself without realizing it.
It starts with recognizing when you are being tough on yourself, judging yourself for not knowing better etc. Then just pause and imagine the voice in your head, 'the sabatour' as Ru Paul says, imagine that voice as a friend.
If you were talking to your friend about this, would they say that to you? What would they say? Try to think of a way to reframe the thought with more kindness, understanding, and a growth mindset (at least i learned this and now I know better) instead of a self flagillation excersize that makes you feel awful.
We are all doing our best with what we know in the moment. Yeah, sometimes we think we could've done better, but try not to beat yourself up about anything.
Kindness starts on the inside.
What goes on in our mental habits. When we become more aware of our thinking and consciously choose kindness and compassion towards ourselves, its only natural for that kindness to spread to how in how we treat people in the outside world. No regrets, just lessons. Thats how we learn these things, the "cringe".
We don't know what we don't know until we know, and then we know... ya know?
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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 20
Or: a secret Admirer AU
PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18 || PART 19
Chrissy is willing to admit that when Steve doesnât call her after his date, she panics. If her mom wasnât such a light sleeper, she wouldâve snuck out to check up on him. But instead, she wallows, dozing on the couch, not even able to call Jeff to bitch because what if Steve chooses that moment to call?
So, she can admit, when he finally calls a few minutes after seven in the morning, sheâs a little short with him.
âFinally, Steven,â she hisses into the phone, keeping her voice quiet so as not to alert her mother to their conversation. âI thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere!â
âSorry, sorry!â he rushes out, sounding contrite. âWe sort of fell asleep.â
Chrissy gasps, a smile slowly spreading on her face as the implications set in. âYou guys slept together?â she demands gleefully.
âWe didnât have sex!â he shouts, and sheâs glad, for the first time, that his parents are so absent from his everyday life. âWe just fell asleep!â
Sheâs still smiling, twirling the phone cord round and round her fingers. âDoes that mean it went well?â she wheedles.
She doesnât think that Eddie would suddenly realize heâs straight and renege on the date, not really, but Steve had, and she canât get the terrified tone of his voice out of her head.
âWellââ he drawls, leaving her on tenterhooks for a few seconds more. âHe took me to see some shitty horror movie.â
âOh my god,â she whispers, full-on grinning now. âWhat a stereotypical move.â
âYeah, thatâs what I thought,â he replies so wryly that she can almost see the way his eyes must be rolling. âExcept he barely talked to me the whole time and didnât even try to hold my hand.â
âNo!â
âAnd then he took me into the woods like some sort of serial killer, and then tried to kiss me so abruptly that my lip split a little.â
âNo!â she shrieks with laughter before catching herself and slapping a palm over her own mouth as Steveâs own amused chuckle filters through the phone line. âAnd you still spent the night?â
âHe was nervous!â Steve defended. âAnd besides, the second kiss was much better.â
âYour boyâs a fast learner, huh?â
Steve hums, and she wishes he was here with her, so she could see the dopey grin that must be on his face as he says, âyeah,â with a dreamy sigh. âHe took me stargazing.â
Chrissy coos, canât help it, not when this whole thingâs been building for so long now. Not when thereâs been an edge of fear to everything Steveâs said for months. He deserves something nice for once.
âAnd youâre going out again?â
âOh, definitely,â he replies, and a knot of fear sheâs had tucked beneath her sternum loosens.
He sounds excited, happy, hopeful. If Eddie does anything to jeopardize this, Chrissy will be digging a very deep hole and tossing him into it. Sheâs got a shovel, and the muscle strength built up from years of cheerâsheâll manage just fine.
So, when Eddie walks up to her in the cafeteria in some sort of fucked up parallel to that first time and bends at the waist in a showy bow, hand outstretched as he asks, âa word, madam?â sheâs ready to kill him.
But, when she glances at Steve at her side, his ears are red, and heâs smiling up at Eddie from beneath his lashes. And when she looks back toward Eddie she catches the tail-end of a wink that has Steve sputtering.
Even Jason doesnât protest from the other side of the table where heâs quietly seething.
So, she takes his hand and follows him out of the cafeteria.
Eddie doesnât seem to know where heâs going, as he walks through the halls, peering into nooks and crannies until he finds a corner he deems suitably vacant enough. He flops down, legs outstretched in front of him, uncaring of the dirt caking the floor.
He pats the spot next to him, smiling up at her, so she slides down the wall and crouches beside him, unwilling to let her bare legs touch the floor.
Eddie leans away from the wall and wrestles his jacket off before placing it on the floor in front of Chrissy. Gratefully, she sits atop it, crossing her legs to keep them safe. She turns her body so sheâs facing Eddie dead on, and he follows her lead.
When he doesnât say anything, she breaks the silence with a quiet, âI hope you know that if you hurt my friend, Iâll kill you.â
âI have no doubt, Lady Cunningham,â Eddie replies, drawing an X across his heart with his finger. âBut, Iâm not here to talk about Steve.â
âThenâwhat?â
Heâs grimacing now, no longer meeting her eyes as he fiddles with his rings, one of his fingers bizarrely missing its usual adornment. âWeâre friends, right?â he asks hesitantly, like heâs choosing each word with deliberate care.
âOf course,â she replies, eyes trained on the little furrow between his brows. Heâs picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans, further fraying the edges. âWhy would you ask that?â
He sighs, slumping into himself in a way that makes him look small. âIâm glad Iâm here, okay?â he asks, not waiting for her to answer before he continues. âSteveâs great, and I wouldnât trade that for anything. But, you still lied to meâ"
"We never lied to you," she cuts in, and he waves his hand in assent.
"Yeah, yeah, but you all like, conspired behind my back, and that feelsâŠâ
âShitty,â she continues for him when he seems to lose his words.
âYeah! Shitty, it feels shitty that you were all talking about me behind my back all so you could keep this from me."
Chrissy sighs. Sheâd known theyâd have to talk about it eventuallyâclear all this stale air so they could move onâbut it doesnât make it any less uncomfortable. But, heâs right; no matter their intentions, theyâd all made a mess of things. Sheâd known that even as sheâd been in the thick of it.
So, she starts where these things should always start, and looks him dead in the eye as she says, âIâm sorry.â
He finally looks up, seeming almost surprised. âJust like that?â
âYes, Eddie, just like that,â she replies, maintaining eye contact even as her gut squirms. âWe were just trying to protect each other, but that doesnât mean it was the right choice.â
His eyes are wide, still shocked, and she wonders, something uncomfortably close to pity bubbling up within her, if heâs not used to receiving apologies at all.
âBoth of you?â he asks.
Chrissy averts her gaze, mouth twisting up. âYou know how Steve said Jason has been kind of stalkery?â she asks, watching Eddie nod out of the corner of her eye before she continues. âWell, it was worse before. He kept coming to my house and cornering me at school, and I just wanted to move on.â
It was more than that, though. She still remembers the way fear crept down her spine as cold sweat when sheâd opened her door to Jason smiling at her like theyâd never broken up, the way her throat had closed up when heâd scooted far too close to her side at the lunch table.
The way he kept cornering her in the hallway when no one was around to witness it.Â
âSo, when I found Steve trying to write that first letter, I struck a deal,â she continues. She feels bad about that, even now, even still. âHeâd be my boyfriend, and Iâd help him with the letters.â
She finally turns back to Eddie, braced for, what? Condemnation? But heâs squinting at her like sheâs a puzzle heâs trying to crack as he says, âyou totally would have helped him anyway,â with so much conviction that it warms her.Â
âOh, definitely.â
Heâs still looking at her, but heâs smiling at her, eyes warmer than sheâs ever seen them.Â
âAlright, I forgive you,â Eddie says, like itâs easy.
Itâs too easy.Â
âJust because we had reasons doesnât mean it was fair to you,â she replies, steel in her voice as she squares her shoulders and looks at him dead on. âIt doesnât mean you werenât hurt,â she finishes, reaching out to pat his knee.
He doesnât jerk away, just looks at her hand on his knee with a peculiar smile on his face. âYou know there was a time when you touching me like that wouldâve sent me into a tizzy,â he says, still looking down at her hand.
âAnd now?â
âNothing,â he replies, shrugging. âIt was never you, Chrissy Cunnigham.â
âYou either, Eddie Munson,â she replies, matching his smile as she smacks his hand once before withdrawing. âNow is that it, or was there something else you needed?â
He looks away, cheeks darkening to a blotchy red, sheâs almost worried heâll faint. âI, uh, well, the jacket?â
She thinks of Eddieâs jacket beneath her first, but thatâs not where heâs looking. His eyes are planted firmly on the sleeve of Steveâs letterman with a sort of longing thatâs almost funny in its intensity.
She doesnât ask any follow up questionsâif he wants the jacket, he can have the jacket. After all, itâs Steveâs no matter how attached to it sheâs become, and Steve had looked up at him with the sappiest look sheâs ever seen on his face.
Sheâd do more than give up his letterman to keep him happy.
Still, it feels strange when she pulls it off her back. A shiver runs through herâshe feels almost naked without its familiar weight.Â
Since that first day in the library, itâs been her shield against Jasonâs pushy advances, and her reminder that, no matter what happens, sheâd still have Steve.Â
But, Jasonâs backed off, and everywhere she turns, she sees her people: Steve, yes, but Jeff, and Eddie, and the Hellfire boysâeven Robin. Her lifeâs full to bursting in a way that itâs never been before.Â
Chrissy will miss it, but she doesnât need it anymore. Besides, she knows where Steve keeps his spare key, and sheâs not above stealing something else from his closet.Â
âJeffâs going to be sad,â she says, patting the bundled fabric in her arms like itâs a favored family pet, feeling strangely choked up. âHe really liked it.â
Eddie grimaces down at it and asks, âdo I need to get this thing dry cleaned?â
Chrissy throws her head back and laughs. âNo, but if you wouldâve waited a few more days, you might have.â
He makes a gagging noise, but when she holds it out for him, he readily takes it, even if he doesnât put it on. She wonders if itâs fear of homophobes or the thought of her and Jeffâs bodily fluids that stops him. Sheâs polite enough not to ask, even as Eddie says, âWait, is it you wearing it or him that Jeff likes?â
She opens her mouth to reply, ready to offer up a vague âboth,â but Eddie holds up his hand and cuts her off, talking quickly like heâs afraid of what she might say. âWait, donât tell me. I really, really donât need to know.â
Chrissy springs to her feet and picks Eddieâs own leather jacket up off the floor and sliding it on. Itâs even baggier than Steveâs was on her, clearly designed for layering. âIâm borrowing this,â she says, turning her back on him and making her way toward her next class just as the warning bell rings. âItâs cold today.â
âDonât do any weird sex things with it!â Eddie calls.
She laughs again, making a point to neither confirm nor deny her intentions no matter what he yells after her retreating back.
When Jeff slides into her passenger seat after school, he quirks a brow at her new look, and asks, âthat Eddieâs?â as he buckles his seatbelt.
âHe wanted Steveâs,â she says, reaching out to pat his knee consolingly.
âIâm going to miss that jacket,â Jeff sighs, looking genuinely forlorn for a second before he gets a particular gleam in his eye that Chrissyâs becoming increasingly familiar with. âYou knowââ
âEddie requested that we donât âdo any weird sex thingsâ with his jacket,â she cuts in, putting her car in reverse and slowly backing out of the spot.
Jeff groans like heâd been shot, and throws his head back into the headrest. She reaches out to dig her fingernails into his knee, just this side of too-hard so his groan shifts into a hiss.
âI know, baby,â she says, smiling sweetly at him as they pull away from the school. âBut, Iâll get your mind off it in no time.â
Jeff gulps, and doesnât utter another complaint for the rest of the night.
***
Robin watches Chrissy follow Eddie out of the cafeteria. Even after the door closes behind them, she keeps staring, wanting desperately to know what theyâre talking about. This might have all started because of her crush on Chrissy, but Robinâs nosy at heart, so even as the flames of her crush burn down to embers, she wants to know.
Steve had called her on Saturday, spilling all the details of what sounded like a truly horrible date as if it was some sort of fairy tale while Robin cackled in his ear. But heâd sounded buoyant with exhilaration, and all Robin had been able to think about was that heâs like her and heâs happy.
Maybe thereâs hope for her, too.
Robinâs broken out of her reverie by a shoulder bumping into hers. âShould we help him?â Vickie whispers, and it takes Robin a minute to snap her eyes away from her vibrant green eyes to follow her gaze over to Steve.
All the losers heâs still pretending to be friends are jeering at him, Tommy H. going so far as to slip into Chrissyâs vacant seat so he can jostle Steve around with a decidedly unfriendly look on his face while Steve picks halfheartedly at his lunch.
Robinâs out of her seat before she can even think about it, palms slapping noisily on the table as she calls. âHarrington!â Steve perks up, metaphorical tail wagging as he meets her eyes from across the room. âCome help me win a bet!â
Heâs up and out of his seat in a matter of seconds, leaving the remains of his lunch abandoned on his table as he trots over, slipping into the empty seat across from her while all the other band kids look at him like heâs got the plague.
âWhatâs the bet?â he asks, looking far more relaxed already than he had while surrounded by his supposed friends.
Robin kicks him under the table as she replies, âthe bet was whether youâd come when youâre called.â
âOh, hardy har har,â he mocks, kicking her right back until she links both her feet around his ankle and yanks him so he damn near falls off his seat.
âPoor little puppy,â she coos, reaching across the table to pat his head while he bats her hand away.
Vickieâs laughing from beside her; it rings through Robinâs ears like church bells. She gets stuck, staring at the pink of her cheeks, the red of her hair, the mirth in her emerald green eyes, hand still outstretched toward Steveâs hair.
He kicks her again, and she snatches her hand back, grateful for the intervention until she catches sight of the knowing look Steveâs shooting her. In retaliation, she grabs one of her carrot sticks and tries to shove it down his throat.
âNot a word, Harrington, or weâre through,â she hisses, finally succeeding in shoving the carrot into his mouth.
âYou guys are so funny,â Vickie says, still laughing.
Steve smiles, carrot sticking out of his mouth like itâs a cigar until he bites into it with a snap, seeming oddly satisfied.
Chrissy and Eddie donât come back, and by the time lunch is over, the rest of the band kids have finally stopped sitting there like scared lemmings, waiting for King Steve Harrington to attack. Sheâs sure theyâll soon learn what Robin already knows: the king is dead, long live the king.
She loves him so much, itâs almost stupid.
âSo, Steve Harrington, huh?â Vickie asks, inexplicably walking out of the cafeteria with her even though Robin knows for a fact her class is on the opposite side of the school.
âI mean, yeah?â Robin replies, feeling her face heat from the inside out. âHeâs just like, not what I was thinking at all, and maybe the best friend Iâve ever had, which is crazyâitâs crazy, because itâs Steve Harrington, right?â Her hands, she realizes with horror, are miming an explosion above her head while her mouth makes a weird, crackling explosion sound. âWho wouldâve guessed?â
When she finally gets her mouth flapping under control, Vickieâs smiling at her, walking close enough that the sleeve of her sweater brushes against Robinâs bare arm.
âI donât know, I always thought he seemed nice.â
Robinâs nodding along like one of those bobble head hula girls that boys are always putting in their cars, even though Steve Harrington isnât nice. Heâs an unmitigated bitch with a sacrificial streak a mile wide, but heâs not nice.
âHeâs like a stray that I let into my house one time, and then my mom fed him, so now he keeps following me home,â her mouth says.
Vickieâs mouth laughs in return, so maybe itâs not all that bad.
Robinâs mind replays the angelic sound as she walks into her class, waving goodbye to Vickie as the other girl rushes away in a mad dash to make it on time to her next class.
God, Steveâs going to be such a bitch about this.
 ***
After Eddieâs talk with Chrissy, things shift.
Steve doesnât sit with the jocks at all anymore. He and Chrissy, still joined at the hip like they really are dating, shift back and forth between the band geeks and the hellfire tables at lunch on Tuesday, prompting hushed whispers to filter through the entire cafeteria.
For his part, all Gareth says is, âdoes this mean you twoâs weird feud over Chrissy is finally over?â
Jeff snorts chocolate milk out of his nose while Eddie laughs so hard he nearly falls off the bench entirely, only staying upright because Steve props him up.
âWhat?â Gareth demands, tearing into his chicken strips with a viciousness that betrays his ire.
âTheyâll tell you when youâre older,â Doug replies despite having no idea himself.
Eddie loves his friends so fucking much.
By Wednesday, a clearly fed up Robin frog-marches the pair of them to the Hellfire table and plops down beside them.
âMunson, I canât do this split custody thing anymore,â she says, making the red-head thatâd followed her over giggle. âTheyâre too much of a handful.â
âOr maybe even two handfuls,â Steve replies, across the table at her like heâs not playing the most overt game of footsie right below it.
âDonât be gross, dingus,â she scoffs, and Eddieâs mind goes galloping off with thoughts he shouldnât be having in a room full of teenagers just waiting to push someone a few more rungs down the ladder.
âAre you guys coming back to Hellfire?â Gareth asks, clearly unable to stand not knowing whatâs going on a second longer.
Steve looks at Eddie, brown eyes devastating beneath his lashes. âIâd like to.â
Eddie opens his mouth, ready to grovel at Steveâs feet to get him to come, to get him to keep looking at him like that, but then Robin cuts in with a sly, âyou know this means youâll have to come to Steveâs basketball games,â and he slams his mouth shut.
Steve grins, all seduction dropping off his face as he reaches across the table to give Robin a high five like theyâre already on the fucking court. She slaps his palm hard enough that the sound of skin on skin damn-near shatters the sound barrier.
âWe can sit together,â Jeff says, but heâs not even looking at Eddie, eyes trained on Chrissyâs blushing face. âItâll be fun.â
Eddie groans and lets gravity overtake him, dropping his head to the table so suddenly that it would have hurt if Steve hadnât put his palm over the spot just in time. Eddie turns his face so he can glare up at the other boy, but Steve looks so hopeful and excited that he has to look away again, burying his face into Steveâs palm.
âFine, Iâll go,â he drawls, lips brushing against Steveâs hand with each word.
âWhat the hell is happening?â Gareth demands.
Much to his dismay, no one replies.
Things slide back to normal after thatâChrissy and Steve showing up to band practice and hellfire and lunch like nothing had ever come between them. But, itâs better now because Steve knocks their feet together beneath tables, and lets his hands settle on knees and stares just a little too long at Eddieâs lips.
Itâs driving him crazy; he wants to reach out and touch, reach out and take.
But thatâs not something thatâs allowed. Boys are born in their own, invisible bubbles to keep them from touching other boys. Eddie doesnât know how he never noticed it before, but he wants to shatter it like glass, let it cut up his feet if it means he can brush his lips against Steveâs.
There are all these rules left unwritten, but flung at their feet like slurs: donât stand too close, donât look too long, donât dare to touch.
He wants to, though, thinks maybe in the confines of Garethâs garage and behind the closed doors of the drama room he could, and it would be safe.
But they live in Hawkins, Indiana, and heâd like to live long enough to get the hell out of here.
So he lets their feet tangle beneath tables and doesnât lean across them to have a taste, no matter how often Steve licks his lips.
Friday canât come soon enough.
***
Robinâs been twitchy for days by the time she pulls Steve into their bathroom stall. He follows her dutifully, only laughing a little as she pulls a towel out of her backpack and lays it down before sitting on the floor.
âYou plan this, Birdie?â he asks, settling across from her, the towel beneath them insulating him from the cold thatâs seeping up from the floor.
Robinâs face turns a blotchy red like a blood vessel burst and dispersed beneath her skin. âBoobies,â she blurts, staring at him with beseeching eyes before she slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
Steve nods, his attempt at sage wisdom undercut by the way he has to bite his lip to stop from laughing at her. âBoobies, yes,â he chokes out. âIâve, uh, heard of them.â
Thatâs all it takes for Robin to kick out at him. When her foot gets dangerously close to his crotch, Steve grabs her ankle and cradles her foot in his lap, rubbing the bone.
âDonât make fun of me!â she whines, still trying to kick him.
âOkay, okay!â he cries out, chuckling as he holds onto her leg for dear life. âSorry, justâwhatâs this about boobies?â
âStop saying boobies!â
Steve uses his free hand to lock up his mouth and toss the invisible key into the toilet, smiling as the blush on Robinâs cheeks creeps up her nose and onto her forehead until she resembles an especially square tomato.
âVickieââ
And Steve canât help it, he really, really canât. âHas nice boobies?â he cuts in, already grabbing at both her legs to stop her jackrabbiting feet from finally landing a blow to his balls.
âI hate you!â Robin shrieks, but even sheâs laughing now as she writhes atop the towel, scrunching it as she earth-worm-inches closer to him so she can slap at his ribs while heâs defenseless. âSteve Harrington, youâre the worst thing that ever happened to me!â
She tries to say it with conviction, but Steveâs hands have crept beneath her crew socks, and his fingers are tickling against the inside arch of her foot, so her words come out more as shaky exhalations of laughter. He wiggles his fingers as she squirms away, kicking out with such reckless abandon that one of her feet breaks free and kicks him far too high on his inner thigh for comfort.
âGet your boy cooties off me!â she demands, and he does, pulling his hands out of her socks as she backs away until sheâs leaning against the opposite side of the wall again, pouting at him. âYouâre the worst.â
âYeah, yeah,â he replies, feeling lighter than air. âNow tell me about Vickieâs girl cooties.â
Robin smiles bashfully, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. âVickie doesnât have cooties,â Robin replies, gaze distant. She looks wistful, enamored, hopeful. âShe walked me to class the other day, even though I know it made her late.â
âYeah?â Steve prompts, helpless to do anything but to smile back.
âYeah,â she replies. âAnd maybe itâll be like Chrissy again, you know? But you and EddieâŠâ Robin kicks out at him again, nudging her foot into his and then leaving it there, their soles pressed together. âMaybe thereâs more of us out there than I thought.â
âYeah,â Steve breathes, absolutely in love with brave, hopeful, honest Robin, here in this stall, in this moment. âMaybe there are.â
They smile at each other, two queer kids in the bathroom together, seeing themselves in each other, again, and again, and again. Steve hopes theyâll always be like this, here, on the bathroom floor, finding hope in each otherâs smiles. He has Chrissy, and Jeff, and Eddie now, too. But, Robin will always be the first person who looked at him and made him feel seen.
âWe should get married,â he says, not thinking about it before it comes out of his mouth and hangs in the air between them, making Robinâs eyes bug out of her skull. âJust think about it! Eddie and I canât get married, and neither can you and Vickieââ
âYouâve literally gone out with the guy once, and we donât even know if Vickie likes girls yetââ
ââbut we could totally just marry each other instead!â
The silence of the bathroom rings once Steveâs declaration is out there. Robin swallows, throat bobbing, eyes wide enough that Steve can see the little red veins near the back. Suddenly, Steve wonders if heâs stepped over some line he didnât even know was there.
Before he can spiral too far, Robin launches herself across the space between them, knees bracketing Steveâs hips as she leans over and bites his shoulder, hard.
âOw, Robin!â
âYouâre insane, Dingus, you know that?â she asks, moving away from his shoulder to plant a kind of wet kiss against his forehead. âIâm sixteen, and youâre proposing in the boyâs bathroom.â
She rubs her hand against his head, likely fucking his hair up beyond repair, but he doesnât even care because she kisses him again, this time on the top of his head.
âI meant like, later?â Steve says shyly.
Heâs always fallen hard and fast, knows that about himself. Itâs a fundamental law of the universe: gravity makes things fall down, the earthâs always spinning on an axis, and Steve Harrington puts his whole heart into people who donât always give it back.
But Robinâs on his lap, kissing his head, and leaking whatâs either snot or tears into his hair. âAlright,â she warbles, sounding embarrassingly soggy. âWhen I get a girlfriend, we can just be permanent beards for each other.â
Steve puts his arms around her and hugs her tight, mashing his face awkwardly into her neck as she laughs. âGrow old in separate bedrooms,â he replies.
âGotta keep our cooties separate,â she says, like sheâs not currently dripping on him on the floor of the boyâs grimy bathroom.
He just squeezes her tighter and gives her a little shake, like a dog with its favorite toy. âTell me about Vickie,â he demands, but it sounds a whole lot like I love you when it comes from his mouth.
âOkay,â she replies, and it sounds a lot like I love you, too.
#koko's steddie secret admirer au#steddie#my fic#me in a steddie fic: but what if robin and steve get married#also shoutout to gareth for now being the oblivious one
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going to a cafe with the jujutsu kaisen men a/n: (based on irl experience with a wide variety of subpar men) đ gojo's order being my order...aurkay!
gojo â def the type to walk in and push his sunglasses down to check out the place. his order def goes something like a venti caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut, and a little caramel swirl at the top. smiles and is friendly to all the baristas, he's never rude to workers. tells the barista is gojo, with an o. whoever's unfortunate enough to be stuck next to him is doomed to hear him wax poetic about how coffee beans are the soul of the earth, and its 'really deep, you wouldn't get it lol'. if you order a black coffee, he'll ask if everything is okay at home. can't leave the cafe without ordering a $8.00 sweet treat and then wondering why all his purchases are adding up
geto â walks in as if he's a regular and tells the barista that he'll have his 'regular'. the barista has never seen him before. probably orders a flat white, double shot of espresso, no foam. he always says he doesn't have to pretend to like foam because he's chill like that. he'll ask for the wifi password, but only so he can show off how good he is at working in a cafe, but his ass is on coolmathsgames. will nod and pretend to care about whatever you're saying but he's still thinking about coolmathsgames. will also drop random metaphors like 'life is just like coffee. you either take it strong or with sugar.' you tell him to save the bad metaphors for his cult.
nanami â doesn't wander or hesitate when he enters the cafe. checks his watch every five minute. orders a black coffe, medium, and adds one packet of sugar. he's pretty good at ordering what he wants efficiently, and it leaves even the barista worried. he's here to relax so don't ask him any unnecessary question because this man needs a break. actually enjoys eavesdropping on people's conversations, and ends up tilting his angle to snoop on gossip better. avoids small talk like its another curse. you can't really make him react too much in a cafe, unless you spill coffee on his freshly pressed suit. will be passive aggressive and suggest that the cafe chooses better music. likes a good, dependable pastry. apple danishes are a favourite.
sukuna â prefers tea, without debate. but still orders relatively normal things. likes a good latte with chocolate syrup. but the king of curses kinda has to look cool, so he powers his way through a black coffee, with no sugar or milk. you swear his eyes are tearing up as he pretends to like it. after every sip of coffee, he sighs really loudly and it gets a bit annoying. even after you ask what's wrong, he says its nothing and continues to sigh loudly. nanami may be the one who eavesdrops, but sukuna is the one who interferes. will turn around in his chair to give unsolicited advice, but he genuinely thinks he's being helpful by telling schoolgirls to buy cleavers to chop their friends' hands off. is mildly offended when they move tables and give him weird looks. passes loud comments on other people and tells couples when he thinks they will breakup. attempts to connect to the wifi three times before threatening to burn the router.
toji â the barista asks if he wants a pastry with his drink and he asks 'do i look like the type of man to eat a muffin?' but if they're free, he'll take two. sits with his back to the wall like he's in a mob movie. god help anyone who sits too close to him, he really just doesn't trust anyone in his personal space. doesn't even acknowledge the existence of others until he's had at least three sips of his coffee. you could tell him his house is on fire, and heâd just mutter that he can't do anything about it now. types the wifi password on his phone with one finger like a caveman. tells parents to 'control their spawn' but entertains kids with coin tricks when no-one is looking. sometimes struggles to fit the lid on his go-to cup, and refuses to asks for help. wrestles with it for five minutes, getting increasingly annoyed before rushing out the door.
choso (this one is dedicated to pookie @creamflix) â frowns at the menu like it's written in an ancient language, like wtf is affogato. if someone behinds him coughs, he scolds them and says he's going as fast as he cans. spends 10 minutes deciding and then panics at the last second, tells the barista to give him whatever. if the barista asks any follow up questions (like milk preferences) he genuinely short circuits, "what kinds of milk are there?" he's genuinely baffled that there are options beyond 'cow.' he'll point at a pastry and ask what's in it. the barista explains and he replies with 'okay i trust you.' always ends up picking a wobbly table by accident and spends 15 minutes trying to fix it with folded napkins. if someone asks to share his table, he'll look like they just asked for his kidneys. if someone asks for his opinion on his pastry, its always a dumbass cryptic answer like 'its interesting.' uses his phone on full brightness and everyone can see him look up 'how to pronounce cafe au lait.' cleans up after himself because he's nice like that. if the staff get his order wrong, he never says anything even if it tastes like dirt.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#choso x reader#choso kamo#choso kamo x reader#sukuna#sukuna x reader#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#works#jjk headcanons#jjk fluff#HEHE these are so funny
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'A Fresh Start đČ*à©â©â§âËđ[part i]
After choosing to break the cycle, Jinx [now Powder] tries to find her place in the countryside away from everything she once knew, drawn to someone who seems to embody everything she's wanted but never deserved. [part ii] playlist!!!
The cottage was quiet, almost too quiet. She had chosen this place for that very reason after all. It was far from everything she used to know. Far from people who might recognize her, far from her past, and most importantly, far from the chaos she had attracted her whole life.
And yet, the quiet unsettled her.
Her days were simple now. Fixing up the cottage, teaching herself how to cook, tending to the purple and orange flowers she had no idea how to take care of. Simple things.
She only went into town when absolutely necessary, and even then, she kept her head down and her interactions short. People didnât pry, but she saw the curiosity in their eyes. They looked at her like she was out of place, as if she wasnât where she was supposed to be.
Except for you. You were different. Powder had noticed that right away.
The first time she saw you, she thought she was just seeing things.
You were at the edge of the farmerâs market, the sun shining down on you, your head tilted back, shoulders shaking as you laughed, your body so... unguarded. As if you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for something bad to happen. And for a moment, Powder forgot how to breathe. It wasnât just the sound of your laughter or the warmth in your eyes when you spoke to someone who passed by. You had this way of moving like you belonged there, like you were part of the town in a way she couldnât imagine ever being.
Sheâd only meant to grab a few supplies, slip in and out before anyone could try to talk to her. But then there you were, and she couldnât look away.
She didnât approach you. Told herself it was because she didnât want to stand out, didn't want to risk anyone noticing her more than they already had. But deep down, she knew the truth. You made her feel small. The type of small you feel when you're around someone you look up to. A person who represents everything you want to be, someone you want to keep in your life forever. She couldn't just walk up to you so casually, not when you reminded her of everything she wasn't.
And yet she couldn't keep her distance. Because even though you left her feeling small, you also made her want to be something more. You made her hopeful. A feeling that had been so rare to come by nowadays. That maybe, just maybe one day sheâd be as content as you were in this small warm town.
She wanted to know what it was like to feel so at ease, to be... satisfied. Not perfect, not terrible, but enough. And when she saw you, she saw how.
She started seeing you more often after that. Helping at the market, skipping down the dirt paths, stopping to pet the stray cats that wandered by, you took your time with everything you did, like there was no rush, like you had all the time in the world. It wasnât long before she found herself looking for you whenever she came into town.
You were always smiling, always patient with everyone you spoke to. She couldnât help but wonder if this is what being at peace looked like.
She couldnât stop thinking about it. About you. About the way you seemed to fit so perfectly. It made her heart ache, this longing for something she wasnât even sure she could have.
Sometimes, sheâd catch herself lingering for too long, staring as you handed out fresh flowers to some kids or waved goodbye to one of the older shopkeepers. Sheâd duck her head, hoping you hadnât noticed, but part of her wished you would.
Late at night when her little cottage was quiet and cold, sheâd let her mind wander. Sheâd imagine herself laughing like you did, walking through the town with that same easy confidence. Sheâd picture you waving to her. Not out of politeness, but because you knew her. Because she was someone worth knowing, someone you wanted around.
It was a stupid thought. She knew that much. Someone like you, so open and kind didnât belong anywhere near someone like her. But the thought still lingered, no matter how much she tried to push it away.
But for now, she stayed at a distance, quietly admiring you from afar. Wondering if one day sheâd have the courage to find her own place in this town, preferably next to you.
Today, you were at the bakery, carrying a piece of warm bread to the counter. Powder stood just outside the window, watching as you handed a loaf to the shop owner with that signature smile that never seemed forced. Your hair caught the sunset through the glass, and her heart did this stupid little flip that she hated and loved at the same time.
You were everything. Bright, grounded, kind in a way that felt genuine. It was the way people lit up around you, how even the grumpiest of the townsfolk seemed to soften in your presence. Powder found herself wanting to be one of them.
But not today. Today was coming to an end. So as she watched you place your bread in your basket, she took one last glance at your face before turning on her heel, heading home.
At night, when the world was still, she tried to ignore how much of her thoughts were filled with you. She told herself it didnât matter, that this small admiration was harmless.
But as the days passed, it grew harder to ignore. Harder to convince herself that watching from afar was enough.
. . .
You were standing near the fountain in the town square, chatting with a small group of neighbors. The market stalls around you were loud, filled with laughter and conversation. Powder stood by one of the lamp posts, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her worn jacket, and her eyes glued to you.
You were smiling, of course, your face lit up with that same warmth that made her heart skip a beat. It was such a simple scene, one she had seen countless of times before. And yet, today, it felt different.
Her eyes darted to the little group you were standing with, chatting like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way you tilted your head, listening to some old guy ramble about whatever. So patient, so... nice. Powderâs chest clenched, hard.
She shouldnât be here. This wasnât her place. It was yours, with your calm smiles and easy conversations. Meanwhile, her hands were shaking just thinking about standing that close. People like her didnât fit in with people like you. She was jagged edges and scrambled thoughts, and you were everything smooth and steady.
But still, her feet wouldnât move. Not backward, not forward. Just... stuck, staring at the way you chuckled when one of the neighbors cracked some lame joke. She hated how much she wanted to be part of it, part of you.
The thought made her stomach flip in the worst way. She didnât deserve that kind of peace, not after everything sheâd done. Not after all the ways sheâd ruined things.
But then you laughed again, and it hit her like a punch to the face. That sound, that easy, genuine laughter, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could want something good for herself. Even if she didnât deserve it. She wanted it more than anything.
She let out a shaky breath, every part of her screaming to go home and hide. She almost did. But then she looked up, and there you were, smiling, like the world wasnât a mess. Like things could be easy if you let them.
Her feet began to move before she could stop them.
The crowd didnât even notice her no whispers, no stares, just the usual hum of the town square. She kept walking, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
And suddenly, she was right there. Close enough to smell your perfume, closer than she had ever been.
You turned your head towards her, mid-laugh.
She shouldâve ran. She shouldâve stayed away, kept pretending this wasnât something she wanted.
But she didnât.
Her voice was quiet, shaky, but it was hers.
âHey.â
You blinked, surprised but not unkind, and Powder swore she saw your smile widen ever so slightly.
It wasnât much. But it was the first step.
. . .
I LOVE SELF-DEPRICATING JINX!!!!! i literally cannot stop writing her like this goly... anyways i loved this idea sm (and am so proud of myself for it like wow im just so smart and amazing) SO I RLLY WANNA WRITE A PART 2 FROM READERS POV WHERE THEY TALK MORE Ù©(^á^ )Ù ÂŽ-
also lowkey obsessed with the idea of obsessive stalker jinx but like this is supposed to be fluff so maybe ill write something like that another time...
thanks 4 reading as always!!! XOXOXOXOXO
#purple... *sob sob* and orange... *sob sob* flowers... *sob sob sob*#fav part abt posting will 4eva be making the banners#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#arcane season 2#arcane x reader#jinx#arcane#x reader
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your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm
post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort đ title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier
-
Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?
It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddieâs hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. Itâs further than Abby ever let him get.
Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.
Buck would like to think heâs handled this well so far. Heâs been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddieâs stuff next week. Heâs done everything right.
It hasnât made any of this feel less wrong.
They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.
Maybe because thereâs nothing to say. Buckâs heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; heâs not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.
Eddieâs arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddieâs shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.
When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buckâs arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buckâs neck â always the same spot â and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buckâs throat he seeks out Buckâs gaze.
âHey,â he murmurs. âDonât look at me like that.â
âLike what?â Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.
âLike Iâm Abby,â Eddie sighs. âOr Ali. Or Tommy. Iâm not leaving you, Buck.â
Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddieâs hand tightens on his neck.
âIâm leaving,â he allows. âBut Iâm not leaving you.â
âI donât know what Iâm gonna do without you,â Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddieâs jacket.
âAnd you think I do?â Eddie asks with a half-laugh. âWho am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?â
Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddieâs words anyway.
âEveryone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you werenât there.â
Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buckâs neck seemingly absentmindedly. âNo they wonât. And Iâll be on Facetime so much itâll be like I never left.â
Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. âI know you have to go,â he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddieâs gaze. âBut please donât go forever.â
Eddieâs expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he wonât get a, âTake care of yourself, Buck,â and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.
Eddie doesnât touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buckâs breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.
âI wonât. I promise,â Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buckâs neck to the back of Buckâs head and Buck canât help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.
Itâs not a thought heâs ever entertained before but heâs thinking it now and it feelsâŠlike it makes sense. Like an inevitability.
And what a time to have a realisation like that.
Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddieâs jacket with trembling hands.
âYou should go,â he says because Eddie wonât.
Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know itâs okay. That he can go and Buck wonât cause a scene.
âIâll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.â
Buck nods. âGive Chris a hug for me.â
âI will.â
Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, âTell him I love him.â
Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. âHe knows already. But I will.â
Buck nods again and then thereâs nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he canât watch until heâs out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.
He doesnât need to watch himself get left behind again.
~
Heâs just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesnât check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.
âKeep me company while I wait for my flight?â
He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. âKeep me company on the drive home?â
âAlways,â Eddie says like theyâre driving home from work after a long shift.
Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddieâs place and Eddieâs house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.
âSo thereâs the guy at the gate-â Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.
Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate whoâs insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.
When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit thatâll get him to the Diaz house fastest.
Heâs going home after all.
~
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Pointing out little moments and details of the last yr scene.
wilmon endgame âą episode 6
the camera work is so on point - it follows wille around moving frenetically, as to emphasize the hurry and the tension.
simon gets in panic mode for a sec. he was never over wilhelm but definitely thought their relationship was.
at first he looks ... scared - not of wille but of what he feels for him at this point. he's still in love but they got to the finish line, they broke up with no idea of when or if they will talk to each other again, there's no reason for wille to chase after him if not to change something.
it makes his thoughts spiral, but somewhere in his little heart he has a lot of hope too and that's why he steps out of the car to hear what he has to say.
these words really mean everything and i'm glad they're told directly to simon. it's such a sigh of relief for wilhelm to get this off his chest and mean it for real: he's doing something for his own sake finally - to be free, to be happy, to be in control of his own life for once.
he never got to choose anything - somebody else has always done it for him - but he no longer has to be afraid anymore.
simon is just as relieved and the proudest: he proved over and over again to care so deeply. to see wilhelm constantly hurting inevitably hurt him too.
he knew wille was brave - he actually told him once - and he was so right. it takes a lot of courage to do what wille just did.
shut up he's adorable :') playing with his fingers and trying not to break into a smile. he wants to look calm and collected but his heart is jumping out of happiness.
this comes after the are you sure you're over me? - breaking up was all it took for wille to think that simon must not love him anymore: to earn love and for everything to be perfect in order to deserve love is what his family and royal life always taught him - but simon's what the hell do you think? proves him so wrong.
the tears in his eyes i cannot - this is the face of a man who's bursting out of love, he adores simon this much.
they crush into the hug like they've been dying to do it. what a moment it must be for them to close the distance.
in this hug they find what they both were needing the most.
they hold on to each other. emotions are so overwhelming and it's written all over their faces - it feels too good to be real.
it's almost scary to let go now and i love how they tighten the hug at the same time, clinging to make it last longer.
and they're at the same height so simon has to be on his tippy toes ahsjkh.
oh the beauty in simon feeling every emotion to the fullest and letting them all out. he doesn't hold himself back and it is truly heartwarming to watch.
this hug is healing - he's giving joy to be back in wille's arms, proud of wille for putting himself first, relief because the fear of losing him was too much to handle.
the single tear drop and the pure disbelief in his expression. he caresses wille's cheek and keeps looking at him like he's the most precious thing.
doing the triangle method - again. old habits never die huh.
wille letting simon choose to whether kiss him or not.
it's our simon we're talking about, the one that risked it all and initiated their very first kiss bc he liked wille that much already, so could he possibly not do that now? he obviously does and can't help but smile into it.
they can't get enough of kissing and wandering hands. it's like their only way to make this become more and more real.
fair to say they're kinda obsessed with each other's hair!
love love looove the transition from them kissing in secret in the dark of the night to them kissing freely out in the open in the daylight - the most beautiful metaphor.
completely different plot points but the feelings involved are so familiar - reunion kisses are very much their brand: there's longing, passion, need to savor the moment to make it last.
and this time it can really last forever.
something super special about simon not replying with i love you too but sticking to i love you - it is not just reciprocal.
this shot haunts me. it's from the documentary and idk why it wasn't used in the final cut, i'll make space for it here anyway!
wille can't stop smiling and simon never takes his eyes off of him - he's emotionally overwhelmed by the way he bites his lip and his chin trembles. my heart.
no ray of sunshine between them could ever distract me from wilhelm diving into this kiss with his eyes open.
simon is definitely being pulled closer by the waist here and i take it very personally.
i was already full on sobbing when this part of the scene came up - sara and felice calling them out bc they are too caught up in their own bubble.
they still take one more moment to just look at each other so fondly tho and try to get a grip on what has just happened.
i get you wille! simon is the loml too.
this shot is sooo!!! hillerska in the rear view mirror as they drive away - time for the last bittersweet goodbye.
all of them are wearing white, they're driving off in a white car, most carefree than ever - sounds a lot like freedom and fresh start.
some things never change - they're the most comfortable and happy when they can be just them, just like this.
god knows where they're headed but it doesn't really matter as long as they're together.
wilmon endgame babyyyy.
they've been through so much but come so far eventually. it's the end of young royals but the beginning of a new chapter in wilmon story - the best one - and it's only theirs to write from now on.
it's still going to be tough, storms are still about to come their way and ruin plans, life is a mess but at least they have each other. they're holding hands in a we are in this together kind of promise and it's so reassuring to know.
it was a hell of a ride but love and hope wins - and there's truly no one who deserves it more than them.
time to appreciate the comparison between wille the perfect crown prince and messy hair with undone shirt wille!
he looks at the audience for the very last time with the most content smile and we can tell he really is - ready. to leave us behind, to face the future, to experience life in the way we've seen him fight for before.
wilmon breaking the fourth wall together at the end would've been insane, but it feels so right to focus on wille actually: it's always been just him, it all started with our eyes on him and his journey, the choice to abdicate is for his own sake and not for simon - he said it himself - so for him to be alone in the closing shot makes the most sense to me.
wilhelm finally getting his own little family of people who loves and values him, simon sharing life with the person who's made him feel seen and cared for - this is honestly the best finale we couldâve ever asked for.
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Love in Verses (XXX)
Chapter 30: âYou liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objectsâ
Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some shopping for our lovebirds that turns into Andrew fighting for his lifeâŠ
I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!
****
Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)
Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if itâs not explicit nsfw description, so minors here
Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?
Word Count: 3322
Masterlist for the series â Hozierâs masterlist â Main masterlist
Here are my black clothes
I think now it is better to love no one than to love you. Here are my black clothes, the tired nightgowns and robes fraying in many places. Why should they hand useless as though I were going naked? You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects. You will want to touch them with your mouth, run your fingers through the thin tender underthings and I will not need them in my new life.
Louise GlĂŒck, The First Five Book of Poems
The tailor was posh but undoubtedly talented. Then again, it was a tailor, posh was to be expected.
It was the old type of tailor, the one you saw in movies, the type that hid a secret passage to the secret service. Wooden walls covered with wooden shelves and clothes, wooden tiles on the floor, large corduroy armchairs. You walked in feeling like you didnât belong there, like you should never have come in the first place.
Frank spotted you instantly when you walked in. You hadnât seen each other in a few weeks, there were times when you missed him. There were times when you didnât think of him at all⊠what a strange feeling⊠he was always in your thoughts for yearsâŠ
You wished Andrew was there with you. You wondered if his classes were going well this morning, you wanted to make him a coffee and chat instead of workingâŠ
âY/N!â Frank beamed at you, crossing the room to give you a hug. âIâve missed you! Weâve spent too long apart!â
âMissed you too. You look well! Are you ready to choose your suit?â
âIâm so nervous,â he admitted with an uncomfortable laugh.
âItâll be just fine.â
You said hello to Frankâs friends and family members gathered in the shop. Only a few people, including the three best men.
The tailor came in a few minutes later, started taking care of his clients. You remained quiet while the group was splitting its attention between Frankâs suit and his best menâ clothes.
The plan was simple. You had to give him terrible advice. You had to ruin the suit, make him look ridiculous. Something that Sam would hate.
That was the only way to weaken the wedding with todayâs activity.
You waited patiently, watched Frank try suits on. Every piece of garment shattered your heart.
You should have been the one discovering the suit on your wedding day. You should have been the one he talked about now, asking if you would like that colour on him, hoping you would find him handsome.
He was. He was handsome. So fucking much. You wanted to shout, to claw your eyes out of their sockets with the pain of it. He was so handsome, and you should have never been here. Instead of seeing him try on all these suits, you should have been the bride hiding her dress from him. But you werenât. You were just the friend he was turning his attention to now, asking for an advice.
And you couldnât do it. Couldnât ruin this for him. You were too kind-hearted for that, or perhaps, you were simply too much in pain.
You struggled to put a smile on your face.
âI think navy blue is better than green on you.â
âYou think?â he asked, looking at the two shades.
âIt matches your eyes better. Makes them pop.â
He smiled, bright and excited.
Had he ever smiled like this thinking of your wedding? Of marrying you?
âThank you, Y/N. Youâre always right with those things.â
âBecause I pay attention.â
Your answer held more meaning than it seemed, but he didnât notice. He never did. Not when it was you.
And you wanted revenge now. You wanted him to regret you. You wanted him to see that you were enough, that you were always enough, that Sam wasnât better than you⊠even if you didnât really believe it. Frank had chosen Sam. Andrew had been in love with her, and now that he was starting to move on, it was to be with a woman who wasnât you.
You excused yourself, looked for the bathroom. The moment you turned the lock on your door, the tears were let free.
You looked so sad when you came back.
It was almost noon when you stepped in the office, Andrew had been waiting for you to eat his lunch. He didnât have classes for the rest of the day, and neither did you. He was relieved about it, you clearly needed some help.
âHow did it go?â he asked as you closed the door behind you.
You didnât answer at first, instead you took the time to take off your coat, let yourself fall in your office chair and throw your head back towards the ceiling. You let out a dramatic moan, Andrew chuckled at the sound.
âThat bad, huh? Did you make him choose something terrible to wear?â
You didnât answer.
âLet me guess⊠you saw him in there, it broke your heart, but you didnât lie and helped him look stunning for his wedding day.â
âHow do you know? Thatâs exactly what happened.â
âI know you. Youâre too kind to do something so mean and selfish. Hiding a few bottles of champagne is one thing, making your ex look like a fool on the most important day of his life is another.â
âIâm so pathetic. I feel so⊠patheticâŠâ
âYouâre not. Youâre just heartbroken.â
âSame bloody thing.â
âWhat can I do?â
You looked at him then, tears in your eyes and looking so sad⊠so damn sadâŠ
But then you looked angry instead, wrath burning through your gaze and Andrew shuddered at the sight.
You looked gorgeous like this, despite your eyes reddened with tears. Fierce was a good look on you, it had always beenâŠ
âIâm going to make him regret me so fucking much heâll beg to get me back.â
He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your determination.
âAnd how do we do that?â
âBy making me look so fucking good heâll have nightmares about leaving me.â
Andrewâs heart skipped a beat. His words came out in a whisper you didnât hear.
âYouâre always gorgeous, Y/NâŠâ
âWeâre going to this party theyâre throwing two weeks before the wedding. So⊠inâŠâ
âTwo weeks.â
âYeah⊠in two weeks. God, I canât believe itâs the end of April already. Exams will be back in no time.â
âDonât mention thatâŠâ Andrew winced. âBesides, weâll have to go through the conference firstâŠâ
âDid you have an answer for that by the way?â
Andrew smiled.
âMain speaker on the second day. Forty-minutes presentation.â
âThatâs awesome, Andy! Congrats!â
âIâm going to hate every second of it.â
âYouâll be brilliant.â
âWeâll need to rehearse your presentation too.â
âYes, thank you for helping me.â
âDonât mention it. Weâre a team.â
You exchanged a tender smile, one that reached gratefulness for more than professional support.
âAnyway, Iâm going to go shopping after work,â you declared. âIâll buy the most gorgeous dress for that party. And Frank will be at my fucking feet.â
Andrew chuckled at that.
âAlright, good plan.â
âActually⊠can I be insufferable and ask for your help?â
âPardon me? My help? I donât know anything about dressesâŠâ
âYouâre a man. You know what men like. Actually, you know what? We could go now. Be back before two and work this afternoon.â
âNow?â
âNow.â
âOkayâŠâ
Andrew gathered his things in a hurry, let you babble away while you exited the office. He didnât mention the way your voice was shaking from time to time, how your eyes still glistened with withheld tears.
He didnât mention any of it. He merely drove you to the shop you liked.
Andrew didnât know what to do while you browsed through expensive dresses, selected a few, asked for his opinion. He didnât really have any. He had no idea what he was supposed to do to make you smile again, to make you happy, to make you feel as beautiful as you truly wereâŠ
You walked in a fitting room with five different dresses to try on. There werenât many people in the shop at this hour, only an old woman with her grand-daughter were looking for a dress for the young woman. The elder lady started chatting casually with Andrew while they both waited in front of the cabins.
âYour girlfriend is looking for a dress for a special occasion?â she asked, and Andrew fiercely blushed.
âOh⊠no, sheâs not⊠weâre not⊠Sheâs not my girlfriend.â
She gave him a look, one that annoyed him a lot.
âRight⊠I seeâŠâ
Andrew ignored her, her grand-daughter showing her a dress the perfect excuse not to answer.
And then he heard you calling his name in a quiet voiceâŠ
His heart didnât just skip a few beats, it stopped altogether. Butterflies didnât cut it, these were fireworks in his stomach.
You were standing there in an emerald dress that fell across your calves, a low cut on your cleavage that made his wildest fantasies about you seem mild.
âWhat do you think? I like this one.â
You turned around to show him the back, or rather, the absence of clothing on the backless dress.
Andrew couldnât breathe. Couldnât thinkâŠ
You were so⊠soâŠ
âHow do I look?â
You were so⊠soâŠ
ââŠBreathtaking.â
You blinked up at him. And he tried to hide his reaction, but he couldnât. He must have looked stunned, a deer in headlights, and he couldnât help it. You were soâŠ
ââŠPerfect.â
You raised a surprised eyebrow, a shy smile forming on your lips.
He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted to touch the skin of your back the dress revealed. He wanted to run his fingers along your cleavage. He wanted to tear that gorgeous dress off youâŠ
He cleared his throat, averted his eyes so he would stop staring at you.
âYeah⊠thatâs⊠a good one.â
âI have another I like, hang on.â
He nodded, unable to look at you. He could feel warmth spreading through his body, but he would never survive the humiliation of getting a boner in the middle of a shop because you were trying dresses onâŠ
âNot your girlfriend, huh?â
Andrew turned to the stranger, the old woman giving him a knowing smile.
âYouâd better make her your girlfriend, before itâs too late.â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âNo, of course not.â
She heaved a sigh, looking at the closed curtain of the fitting room where her grand-daughter had disappeared.
âMy husband looked at me like that, you know? The way you look at her. And I can only hope my grand-child will find someone who will look at her like that, too.â
âLike what?â
âLike she is the most beautiful thing on this earth.â
She stared right into his eyes.
âThe way you must be looked at when you are loved.â
Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fiercely blushing.
Christ, he was a desperate case. And if a stranger could notice his feelings for you, surely everyone had⊠what would you say if you noticed? Would you push him away? Would you break his heart?
You walked out of your cabin again, wearing a black dress this time. And Andrew tried to hide it better this time, but you looked divine. It fitted your curves perfectly, it made your body look like sinâŠ
âWhat about this one?â you asked, turning around, and Andrew hated himself for being unable to stop himself from staring at your arse.
âYeah⊠thatâs a good one too,â he nodded, clearing his throat.
âWhich one do you prefer?â
âI⊠I donât knowâŠâ
âCome on! I like both. I donât know which one to pick. Whatâs your favourite?â
He struggled to control his breathing, to slow down his heart.
âI⊠erm⊠I really liked the green one.â
âThe green one?â
âYeah, it⊠youâre gorgeous in this dress too though.â
He heard you clearing your throat too.
âRight⊠the green dress it is, then.â
âYeah⊠okay⊠grand⊠erm, like⊠goodâŠâ
âThanks, Andy.â
âDonât mention it.â
Christ, please, donât mention itâŠ
âIâll get changed real quick.â
He hummed as he nodded, still unable to look at you.
By his side, the elderly lady chuckled, and Andrew wanted to dissolve into nothing, a puddle on the ground, to simply be atomised into thin airâŠ
You bought the dress, Andrew drove you back to Trinity in relative silence. He was too busy picturing you in these dresses again, too busy trying not to picture you in these dresses again.
When you walked back to your office though, it was obvious that you were still sad. That search for a semblance of power over a situation you couldnât control was gone again. He let out a long exhale through his nose as he looked at you sitting behind your desk. He crossed the room, avoiding the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and gave you a soft smile.
âYouâre alright, Y/N?â
You shook your head.
âIâm sorry⊠I just⊠I canât get over it.â
âItâs okay. Youâre upset, thatâs all.â
âSeeing him like this⊠wearing these suits⊠he should have been wearing them for meâŠâ
âI know. I know, Y/N.â
âI want my life back.â
âBut you have one. You have one now. You donât need him in it.â
âI feel like I need him. I feel like I⊠like I just messed everything up.â
âYou didnât. You didnât mess anything up. None of this is your fault.â
âIf he chose her, then I must be lacking somethingâŠâ
âYouâre not. Trust me, youâre not lacking anything. Itâs his loss if he canât see whatâs right in front of him.â
You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden harshness of his tone.
âYou donât need him, Y/N⊠you⊠you could have better than him. You⊠heâs not⊠Heâs not even paying attention to you.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âHe doesnât really care. I think heâs a little too selfish for that.â
He shook his head.
âI see you with him, you know? Youâre not yourself. Youâre not⊠babbling away about cinema, or literature, or art or this recipe youâve just tried or⊠itâs like you just shut down. And you listen, and then you make a tiny summary of all the things you wanted to say⊠but youâre so fucking smart. Youâre so fucking interesting. Youâre⊠you shouldnât be with someone who doesnât care about what you have to say. And he fucking broke your heart! Why do you still want him? WhyâŠ?â
Why do you still want him, instead of me?
But he didnât say it. He stopped, and closed his fists tightly.
Andrew was growing annoyed, angry even. And of course you noticed, he reckoned he was doing a pretty bad job at hiding his true feelings.
âY/N⊠Frank⊠Iâm not saying heâs a bad person, butâŠâ
âBut?â
âBut he doesnât deserve you.â
You raised an eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.
âReally? Why not? Itâs not like Iâm anything special, anyway.â
Andrew frowned hard.
âAre you listening to yourself?!â he asked with something aghast in his voice, a genuine incomprehension that surprised you. âYouâre⊠youâre amazing. You deserve so much better than him! You deserve to be treated with respect, to have someone who actually pays attention to you, who cares about you, who listens to you when youâre talking about your passions, whoâs not going to disregard what youâre saying simply because they disagreeâŠâ
But you interrupted him with a scoff.
âPerfection doesnât exist, Andy. Iâve learned as much in life. I donât have a choice but to settle for less than that.â
âThereâs a difference between accepting someoneâs faults and flaws and setting the bar so low itâs actually buried undergroundâŠâ
âYouâre one to talk! Youâre still in love with Samantha despite how she hurt you, despite the fact that she doesnât give two shites about your poetry or your work, about the fact that she wonât make a single fucking effort for youâŠâ
âWho says Iâm still in love with her?â
You raised a surprised eyebrow, and you were genuinely taken aback this time, Andrew could tell.
âYouâre not?â you asked, your tone quieter, Andrew guessed that it was a side-effect of your surprise.
âNo, Iâm not. Iâve learnt my lesson. I want to move on. I⊠Iâm moving on.â
âWow⊠thatâs⊠good⊠Thatâs really grand, Andy. Is it⊠because of that woman you mentioned?â
Andrewâs heart sped up, he could feel himself panicking, he closed and opened his fists multiple times in an attempt to slow down his breathing.
âI⊠I mean⊠kind ofâŠâ
âKind of?â
âIâŠâ
He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.
âI want to be with her. I⊠I just⊠I havenât told her yet.â
âWhy not? You should ask her on a date.â
But he shook his head.
âShe wonât say yes. I know her, she wonât go on a date with me, not for now. Besides⊠Itâs too soon⊠for me too, I mean. I need to put Sam behind me for good, before I can try to be with her.â
You stared at him with a blank expression⊠or rather, not blank. The opposite. Like you felt something but tried to show the opposite reaction. The result was unreadable to him.
âIâm glad youâre moving on.â
But your tone was flat, and you didnât seem happy at all.
âThanks,â Andrew answered anyway.
You heaved a tired sigh.
âPlease, donât judge me with Frank. I⊠you donât understand.â
Andrew sighed too, let the air out through gritted teeth.
âNo, youâre right. I donât understand. I mean⊠I do. I do understand the process of grieving for a life that wasnât fully yours to begin with, but you thought would belong to you. But thatâs the thing, Y/N. You need to start grieving now. You canât remain stuck there forever. You⊠You deserve to be happy. You deserve better than that. Donât do that to yourself. Especially not for someone like him. We deserve better than this, Y/N.â
You stared at him now, tears in your eyes, a sight he wished he could banish forever. He would take all of your pain away if he could, he would suffer it in your stead.
âItâs not that easy, Andy,â you shook your head, taking a step back.
âIt could be. It could be, Y/NâŠâ
âIâve loved him for so longâŠâ
Andrew slowly nodded.
âYou could love again, with a little bit of time. He⊠he doesnât care about you, Y/N. He doesnât⊠listen when you talk. He acts like he does, but he doesnât. Heâs not interested in what makes you happyâŠâ
âNeither is Sam with you.â
âI know. I know, and I donât want that anymore.â
âBut I want Frank.â
Your voice was shaking, it didnât sound either earnest nor convincing. Still, hearing the words broke Andrewâs heart.
After everything⊠how could you still want Frank⊠why couldnât you want him instead?
Could you⊠could you ever want him?
Andrew closed his fists tightly, until he could feel the sharp pain of his nails digging crescent marks into his palm. Perhaps you would never want him. Maybe it wasnât just about Frank, maybe it was about him⊠maybe he was simply⊠not your type, not attractive to you, not good enough.
He let out a long, painful exhale through his nose.
âWould that make you happy?â he genuinely asked, voice quiet, deeper than usual, but softer than before as well. âIs that what will make you happy?â
You stared at him for a moment, then clenched your jaw. When you answered, he couldnât read in your eyes whether or not you were telling the truth. Maybe you were lying⊠against all odds, he hoped you were lying.
âYes.â
One word, breathed out, it was enough to break his heart.
Slowly, Andrew nodded.
âAlright, weâll do it then. Weâll go to that stupid party. Weâll make him jealous. Weâll make him see what heâs losing by choosing Sam over you. If itâs what it takes for you to be happy⊠As long as it makes you happy.â
âThank you.â
He stared at you as you walked back to your desk, sat before your computer, looked at the screen.
He turned around, blinking tears away, stood in front of the window behind his desk.
As long as it would make you happyâŠ
#hozier#andrew hozier byrne#the hoziest#hozier x reader#hozier x y/n#hozier x you#hozier x fem!reader#hozier fanfiction#hozier fic#hozier series#hozier au#hozier professor au#professor au#series#fanfiction#fanfic#writing
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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 4
(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])
(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])
agatha once again protecting billy with her whole body.
"I didn't think it was real! I thought it was me, that it's my fault that I can't keep a job, that everything I touch turns to shit! That I couldn't save her!"
The poison drips through (yes I love Succession). Generational curse, generational trauma. The pain of who knows how many centuries of parents and grandparents and great-grandparents times a thousand. It's like a boulder that you're carrying around on your shoulders, and you can't see it and you can't put a name to it, how could you? How can you possibly know why your mother drank herself stupid, why your grandmother abused her children? You were born yesterday and drank all that poison without knowing what it was, you let it take it over and you walk around spreading it to the world.
And amidst all the pain, alice only ever chose to blame and hurt herself and she was always gentle to others. her biggest regret is not having been able to save her mom! you know why alice never turned into a villain like agatha? because her mom loved her. as simple and as that. lorna was so ill-equipped to save alice, she didn't know what she was up against, she was in a world of pain herself. and she went above and beyond to show her child how infinitely precious and loved she was.
oh wow, I usually say I'm crying as a figure of speech, but I am crying for real thinking about this.
lilia who has lived so long and experienced her big share of suffering, knowing all too well what alice is going through. there's so much compassion in her voice
jen stubbornly refusing to care about anything but her own pain, which is actually a very human way to respond to trauma? it's like she's at a crossroads and it's up to her to choose whether she goes back to being the force of good she used to be, or whether she goes down agatha's same path. I say it's up to her because it ultimately is, but she was so lucky finding this coven and community at such a crucial moment. agatha didn't have any of it.
no! don't apologize, you beautiful, generous soul! the sense of guilt and inferiority complex is real
agatha's face when billy is attacked
she starts running toward him even before alice
but when she gets there she freezes and lets alice go check on him
when she sees he's fine, she sighs and collapses against the door, clutching her chest.
lilia is really starting to get attached to everyone, and throughout her life love and loss have always been inherently linked. she already knows she's going to lose them.
okay jen refusing to leave the circle is still funny, I'll give her that
through all this rio has been watching and studying agatha, she always does. she knows that her diabolically smart wife loves to be in charge and come up with plans. she's being encouraging!
look at how small alice is! she's been helping and consoling billy just a moment ago, despite being miserable herself.
first of all, that's hilarious, so jot that down. second of all, you know agatha is so relieved she has to put on a show instead of doing something icky like, idk, sitting in a circle and talking about their feelings. and look at rio at the drums, she's already put all the clues together as well
oooh, she's doing the thing! she's detectiving! agatha harkness ladies and gentlemen, her hobbies are women, murder and puzzles.
and who gives her the solution? who has had millennia to study and commiserate human love and grief? she says it and she looks at agatha so pointedly.
The song that's so irrevocably linked to Nicky's memory, the song that she's been desecrating and using as a means to kill. A mother took it and poured all her love into it and made it pure again. Agatha has to live with that now, and you know that's going to take root inside her and affect her no matter what
this whole performance is patti going I might be singing backup again but watch me be a total diva about it
I LOVE YOU PATTI LUPONE
you'd think that alice should sing lead vocals here, seeing as it's her trial and her mom's song and all. WELL THINK AGAIN
the massive ego agatha has, honestly. you gotta respect that.
the feeling when you are the only normal person in a group of total hooligans. did I already say how gorgeous sasheer looks in that outfit? no I didn't. you are an apparition, sasheer.
but I want the song to have its own separate entry so hold on tight, brb
go to episode 4 part 5
#agatha all along#agatha harkness#agatha deep dive#alice wu gulliver#jennifer kale#lilia calderu#character study
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I have never written anything in a long time and English is not my first language, but this idea has been in my head for a long time, so...
Warnings/tags : BAd English, fem!reader, obsessed!Simon Riley, possessive!Simon Riley, I have been waiting for years!Simon Riley, Age gap( more than 10 years-simon is older-Simon acts like age doesn't matter.), smat (Only Simon loses his mind thinking about his wife + the things he want to do with her.), Arranged marriage, fluff, A general explanation of the idea at the beginning of the post. Tell me if I forgot anything!
~
An AU where the government uses tests to choose a partner for you, based on DNA, blood type, etc., to find a good match for superior genes. And these tests continue until your early twenties (not like they're in a lab, it's in real life and the tests are taken at school, like exams) and finally by the age of 22 or 23, the person you should "marry" is determined for you.
And during this time, you shouldn't have a relationship with anyone, and you can't break this pre-arranged marriage in any way.
There are people who, for whatever reason, such as their weak genes, never get a partner chosen for them, and even if someone is suitable, they never send their files for two people to get to know each other.
They are not ridiculed or humiliated, They are just not accepted.
And here we have Simon Riley. A boy who is the victim of his parents' forced marriage. He has a bad situation at school and an even worse situation at home. Since childhood, he has always tried to distract himself from all his problems and try to hold on until he realizes what the future holds for him. Simon, who has never felt like he belongs anywhere or to anyone. Even blood relations have not made him to have a good relationship with his brother, now he understands that there is only one person for him and he is only for one person. In his eyes, she is an angel , not just an angel who is going to save him, but an angel who is going to be by his side forever. As he grow up this childish excitement turns into a obsession.
All the people who work on the projects always encourage him and say that he has very strong genes, a very strong and resilient body, he is patient and careful and has a very high leadership intelligence. They says that he is very cooperative in the tests and does his best.
But it never happens. No one in a fancy suit ring his doorbell to give him the good news. To give him the introduction to the person he's always been waiting for. He never hear "Congratulations, Mr. Riley."
Not even after years.
This was strange, he was always complimented, he was always told that he would find someone great, he always hoped that he could be with someone who would love him.
He visited the centers many times. He tried to follow up and even asked to do all the tests again. Surely he wasn't supposed to be alone, right? There must have been a mistake in the results. His file might have been lost.
They never answered him. He was told to wait, some people wait years to get the files.
He waited.
He was a patient man.
Even now, in the garrison corridors, with multiple scars on the body, and a mask on his face, as he was heading to his room after a hard mission, He was waiting.
He packed up his things to go back to his dark, empty apartment for six months. Six months. Half a year. It seems like a long time. But not long enough.
His teammates don't talk to him about it. like this big, strong man who's amazing at everything failed his tests. The big dog who destroys everything on the battlefield, isn't strong enough to beat the tests, the smart leader who always outsmarts the enemy, not smart enough to pass the tests. it was ok for them.
Not for the others though. For other It's a shame. It's a waste.
Unfortunately, he doesn't care about what others think, otherwise he wouldn't have made it this far.
When he gets home, he takes a quick shower and comes out, hungry but tired, so he puts on his pants and lies down on his bed. Just as his eyes are getting ready to fall asleep, the doorbell rings.
It used to be joyful, but now it's just annoying.
He grumbled, open the door.
Tight suits were never his thing, they made him look too big. Too scary for others. But not on this guy.
"Mr. Riley, right?"
He raised an eyebrow, "That's me."
"Well, congratulations! According to the research our team has done, after a long review of the files, we were able to find the best match for you!"
With a cheerful face and a smile from ear to ear, he looked at him and held out the file towards him.
But Simon's reaction was unlike anyone else. There was no joy on his face, no indifference to the news. It was anger. and it wasn't the anger that some people showed because of being caught up in this system, it wasn't the anger that came from stubbornness.
It was pure rage. It felt like he was about to tear out his throat.
He just wanted to deliver the news and at least get a smile in return. He would have been much happier if he had seen tears of joy. Usually he would have stopped so that the others could tell him how happy they were and how much they had been waiting for this moment.
But not now. He just wanted to run for his life.
Maybe he's not having a good day? Maybe he woke him up? Maybe he's a man who goes to bed very early and it's late at night?
"Um, I know it's a little late..."
"A little late?" His fist lost control. Simon could break everyone's jaws as much as he wanted at work, but not now, Not here, not his. he just brought the man closer to his face, "A little late?"
His voice trembled with anger. If no one saw this man, they would think he was scared from the way he sounded. "Do you know how fucking long you've kept me waiting for this?"
His face sank, whether from pain or confusion, it didn't matter. He released his jaw and stared at him with his sharp gaze. After a few seconds, he glanced at the files and the man unconsciously handed them to him. "Thank you." There was no sense of gratitude in his voice.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and closed the door. He threw the files on the counter as he walked to his room. He couldn't believe it, and most of all, he didn't have the courage to face this. The last time he had followed up, five years ago, they had told him it was too late, that after all these years the files would be reorganized and the old ones would be moved, he wondered, did they throw away the old information? When he asked, they looked at him like he was stupid. "I don't know if they'll get rid of it completely, but it's no longer used."
Even after that, he waited, but he lost hope. He knew it would never come. He convinced himself it would never come.
Simon Riley couldn't sleep that night, and he couldn't sleep the nights after that. Even looking through the files didn't help him sleep. When he finally got to them, after much struggling, he came across a photo of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He let out a breath he had been holding and stared at the image. After a few minutes, he looked down at her information. Name... her last name... age... age?
OH, she was so young. Much younger than him. Much, much younger for him.
A beautiful young woman, with a bright future and a great position, and here's an old dog like him. he's not an old dog, he's old for her, very old. he's just a dog, you know, a dog that can tear everything to pieces. In the battlefield, not in normal life. In the battlefield, he's a good leader. he is a good dog.
he can be a good dog for her.
he pushes away anyone who comes near her, protects her when she's scared, in return he gets lots of kisses and hugs, lots of attention and sweet words, he wags his tail, shows his belly to her to rub it. damn it, she can rub anything she wants, touch anything she wants .Anywhere he hasn't let anyone even see.
Anything she wants.
Yeah, he's panting like a dog when he sees her picture, it's clear that he'll let her do whatever she wants with him.
The more he looks at her beautiful face, the more his guilt about her being younger than him fades.
Just because they have more than a ten-year age gap doesn't mean he can't be a good man for her.
He wants to be a good man for her. He promises to take a bath with her after a hard day, massage her whole body to relieve her Tension, and when When he dried her, he'll gently place her on the edge of the bed and massage her beautiful legs. If she lets him, he'll kiss them.
from top to bottom, from bottom to top. He will LICK her clean.
She can crush his face, under her feet... or between her thighs. She'll press them so hard that he feels like his skull is breaking, she'll sit on his face so long that he can't breathe, so long that his chest hurts.
She's not going to cry because of some people are asshole's at work, he's giving her something to cry about. From joy, happiness, and a good feeling.
He wants to wake up with her in the morning, the first thing he sees is her beautiful face. He wants to wake up a few hours earlier so he can stare at her in her sleep.
He wants to wake her up with his kisses.
He wants to wake up with her kisses.
He wants to kiss her everywhere, he wants to do a lot of things for her and she kisses him in return, he wants to do nothing and she kisses him, he wants to kiss her for no reason, kiss her because he loves her.
he wants to cook for her. His cooking is terrible but he tries his best, he makes her heart-shaped cupcakes, even if she doesn't like it because of the taste, she still smiles at him and says sweet things . She can Teach him how to cook, so she doesn't have to do that anymore. Just sit there and look pretty for him. What if she can't cook? It's okay, we'll learn together. What if she hates cooking? I said it's okay, just sit and watch how your husband cooks for you.
Husband, please call him husband, it sounds so sweet when it comes out of her mouth. He wants to be called husband everywhere. Especially when she goes out. Everyone should know that a beautiful angel like her has a wild dog like him. You shouldn't go near her, he's only friendly with his owner. He even gives her a collar, you can take him wherever you want.
And instead, he wants to call you his wife. Everyone needs to know that he belongs to someone. Someone is waiting for this scary beast at home, not just anyone, an angel, a real angel.
He wants to say that my wife won't let me, my wife doesn't like it, my wife said no, my wife is waiting for me at home, my wife bought it for me, my wife chose iy, my wife loves it very much, my wife must agree. Everyone knows him by your name. You own him.
At the end of the day,That man is hers. At the end of the night That woman is his. He wants to go to sleep with her, wrap his arms around her and bury her head in his chest. Maybe she let him sleep between her beautiful tits. Does that mean she'll let him kiss them? Oh, he's hopeful, so hopeful.
He lowers his kisses, kisses her belly and goes lower and lower. FUCK, does she wear nice panties for him? The ones with the bras? If he didn't, it wouldn't be a problem, everything on her body is beautiful. Does she let him take them off? He asks permission for everything, I told you, he was a good dog. Did I say he licks her? Oh, he licks her, like it's the last ice cream on earth on the hottest day of the year. He moans, he knows she likes it, her pussy gets wetter when she hears his pleasure, her grip on his hair tightens...
When she comes, he rests his head on her thighs, looks at her as her breathing becomes stable, waits for her to look at him, pats his head and tells him well done. Damn it, she won't regret it, he promises.
He always asks her how she wants it this time. "Whatever you like, angel." Is she tired of the same place? Does she need a little variety? Baby, he, bends her over every surface.
He'll go on for several rounds, but he'll get tired, old dog, remember? If she still feel like it, how about she put her beautiful thighs on him and ride him? Oh, I'm sure he'll enjoy the jiggling of her tits.
tired? It's okay, Princess, he presses his feet into the mattress and do all the work.
After they're both satisfied. If she feels like it, theu can go Take a bath together, right? If she's really tired, she can sleep and he'll clean her up without disturbing her sleep, and then join her in bed.
He is very happy, he waited so long to see her and put the ring on her finger. He will have a big wedding party for her, with lots of guests. But he has to wait, he doesn't know what she likes yet, he shouldn't rush.
There is time, there is a lot of time. It took a long time, but it was worth it.
His little angel will soon be by his side.
---------------------
I genuinely think This Simon Riley taking his angel like an animal for the first time.đ€
Simon, who is completely defenseless against his wife, I love him.
As I said, English is not my first language. And in my language the pronouns (he, she, it and... all of them ) are the same, so forgive me if I made a mistake.đ«
I know bad writing takes away the joy of reading, but please forgive me.đ„ČđđŒ
If anyone writes something with this idea, please tag me! I would love to read this idea written by someone whose English is better than me!đ
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#cod ghost#ghost x reader#ghost cod#simon ghost smut#simon ghost fluff#simon ghost riley x reader
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Embracing the Soft Girl Era: Your Guide to Redefining Strength and Femininity
Hey, girlies! đž Letâs talk about something thatâs been making waves and tugging at our heartsâthe Soft Girl Era. Itâs more than just a trend; itâs a lifestyle that invites us to slow down, embrace our emotions, and lean into the beauty of being unapologetically feminine. Letâs dive into how you can channel this energy and glow like the soft, radiant queen you are!
What is the Soft Girl Era?
Imagine a life where you lead with kindness, wrap yourself in coziness, and romanticize even the smallest moments. Thatâs the Soft Girl vibe! Itâs not about being weak or passive, itâs about choosing grace, nurturing yourself, and showing that softness is a form of power.
Itâs a shift from the âgrind till you dropâ mentality to one that prioritizes joy, emotional expression, and connection. Letâs leave the hustle for another dayâthis is your time to slow down and savor life.
How to Glow in Your Soft Girl Era:
1. Romanticize Your Life
Why wait for special occasions to enjoy beauty? Pour your morning coffee into your prettiest mug, wear those satin pajamas just because, and light that candle while you journal. Treat every day like the dreamy Pinterest board youâve been curating.
Tip: Keep a gratitude diary and jot down even the simplest joysâlike the way the sun streams through your window or the smell of fresh flowers.
2. Curate Your Style
Soft Girl fashion is all about flowy fabrics, dreamy pastels, and delicate details. Think vintage-inspired cardigans, dainty gold jewelry, and your go-to glossy lip balm. Wear what makes you feel elegant and at easeâitâs about your comfort and glow!
Pro Move: Thrift stores are your best friend for finding one-of-a-kind, soft-girl-inspired pieces!
3. Nurture Your Heart and Mind
Emotional wellness is the crown jewel of the Soft Girl Era. Journaling, meditating, or even a good cry session are all part of the process. Let yourself feel everything without judgmentâitâs not weakness, itâs bravery.
Affirmation: âI am soft, yet unbreakable. My emotions are my superpower.â
4. Surround Yourself with Beauty
Your environment shapes your mood, babe! Create a space that feels like a hug. Add fresh flowers, fairy lights, and calming scents like lavender or vanilla to your room.
DIY Idea: Make a mood board of your favorite quotes, photos, and colors to remind yourself of your soft girl intentions.
5. Choose Connection Over Perfection
Softness thrives in community. Open your heart to meaningful connectionsâcall your bestie, text that friend youâve been thinking about, or simply smile at a stranger. Let go of the need to seem perfect and focus on being real.
Thought: Vulnerability is magnetic. People feel closer to you when you show your authentic self.
Why Softness is the New Strength:
The world teaches us to be tough, but softness? Thatâs revolutionary. Itâs saying, âI deserve to rest. I deserve to feel.â Itâs creating space for yourself and others to grow in a way thatâs nurturing and kind.
In this era of endless noise, choosing calm and beauty is your superpower. Youâre not avoiding life; youâre living it with intention and love.
So, girlies, slip into your coziest sweater, sip your tea, and step into your Soft Girl Era with confidence. Youâre creating a life filled with warmth, care, and eleganceâand trust us, the world needs more of you.
#it girl#it girl journey#self care#self love#self improvement#self help#becoming that girl#morning routine#clean girl#girlblog#girlhood#wellness girl#girlblogging
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Yes I really want to know the horrors of the shit bucket. Iâm quite surprised that he isnât obsessed with cleanliness. He always struck me as the type but then again⊠I guess Iâm wrong.
Oh god, here we go then.
SPOILERS FOR THE HOUSE OF HOPE
(CW for...The Shit Bucket Guy, obviously)
So, if we ever decide to go steal the Orphic Hammer, we can go visit The House of Hope, there, we obviously find Raphael's collection of artifacts, his eternal debtors, and one of them is⊠This guy.
You should know that all eternal debtors are condemned to a certain task/action. It's difficult to know if this has anything to do with their contract with Raphael, if it is a distortion of an already existing trait of their personality (for example, the Perfect Eternal Debtor, the Theologist Eternal Debtor or even the Voyeur Eternal Debtor) or if it's a way to completely dehumanize them (Loyal Eternal DebtorâŠMy beloved :( ). It seems to be a mix of everything, that wouldn't be surprising if Raphael did what seemed most entertaining to him.
But let's focus on the Shit Bucket Guy, since he's the one that interested us today.
As our affectionate nickname for him indicates, we find him in front of a chamber pot with a visible green odorous cloud above it, which confirms us that it has been used (when you interact with the pot, here what the game says : "An overpowering stench singes your nostrils. Nothing good happened here."). The debtor doesn't appreciate us getting closer to it, and if we ask him if he is its guardian, this is what he answers:
His "name" in the game is "Unclean Eternal Debtor" and if you're taking a look at his face... Yeah, I guess he's not just guarding the pot. When we observe the animation of the character, he walks around the pot, makes a hand gesture to smell it, and that's it.
It has become a running joke in the fandom, particularly for us, little mouses. Those who have been to the House of Hope know about the Shit Bucket Guy... But nobody talks about him.
(Yeah I couldn't help it.)
It's not really surprising, the presence of the chamber pot, and not just any one, RAPHAEL'S, raises other questions. One might wonder if it's not a little OOC coming from someone like him.
Let's take advantage of this question to dig... A little deeper.
Here's, imo of course, why it's somehow relevant to show Raphael's chamber pot and what this tells us about him.
Shall we?
1. Don't be fooled by appearances, he POOPS like us!
Raphael. Raphael. Raphael who embodies sophistication, intellect and danger... Alluring and at the same time fearsome, a fascinating mix. Goddamnit, he's a suave motherfucker, and he fucking knows it.
In video games, it's part of the suspension of disbelief to not talk/show toilet, unless you're in a life simulation game like sims. It's not just taboo since it's one of the most private aspects of our life, but it's also... Not relevant to the intrigue most of the time.
Showing us something that intimate about him disintegrate his mysterious aura. We learnt that Raphaels shits. Yeah, absolutely astonishing. Reminding us that he's exactly at the same level as us. Like the title said, despite his charming manners, his eloquence, his theatrical gestures... He's still human, hells, part human.
2. In the Devil's house.
The first time we meet Raphael, he wastes no time in bringing us to his home, on his own terms. We only see one room, and this is what we see:
Luxurious place, lavish displays of food, ordered furniture... Promising, right? This is how Raphael wants to give as a first impression. I think this scene is perfect as a metaphor. Remember what Gale said? He's taking us to dinner! Like a date, he wants to impress us, seduce us.
But when we're back to this place during our improvised visit, what do we see?
Rotten food. Blood. Skeletons. Mess. Remind me of my room before I have to rush to clean everything because a friend comes over.
By choosing to enter Raphael's home, into his privacy, the game takes us on a tour of his home: we discover what is hidden behind Raphael's character. It is of course expected that we discover his secrets and/or aspects of his personality that he would not wish to reveal, at least not before we make a deal with him.
Haarlep, his incubus, also participates in this demystification. Through them, we can learn about Raphael's sexuality (I'll be quick on this since @bitethedevil did some really good analysis posts about it):
Raphael is only attracted to himself (hence Haarlep's appearance)
He is a bottom pillow prince
And he doesn't last in bed (a valuable information that can be used to anger Raphael later)
Once again, this is another very intimate aspect that is revealed to us. I'm sorry to say it, but Haarlep basically plays the same role as the chamber pot to accentuate the intimacy of the place and also to ridicule Raphael, thus revealing to us what he really is.
3. Raphael hates his father.
Our favorite cambion is having daddy issues, and the chamber pot seems like a nice response to the statue his dad gave him. It's a "blink and you'll miss it" kind of detail, but it's funny to point it out. Show don't tell as it's finest.
4. How bad it is to sell your soul to Raphael.
This one is easy... The Shit Bucket Guy is an example of Raphael's cruelty : "This is what could happen to you if you make a contract with Raphael."
Sure, it's funny because the whole thing is ridiculous: "Guardian of his chamber pot? Seriously?", but it's hard to really laugh at it if you take into account the other eternal debtors. The whole place is designed to make you uncomfortable, because it's not treated as a joke. They had a life, had to ask Raphael for help, and are now reduced to doing something degrading until the end of time. They don't even have a name anymore. They could be your Tav/Durge or your companions...
Suddenly, the temptation to make a contract with Raphael is less appealing after seeing all this, isn't it?
Conclusion : Now the question that burns our lips : What could this guy have done to him to be reduced to this? And why?
My first instinct when I met this character was to think, "oh boy, you must have really pissed off Raphael..." let's be honest, it's the kind of torture you could imagine to your worst enemy or at least a very annoying one.
It could be that, or maybe, mayyybe...
Remember Mephistopheles' statue?
What if Raphael was SO annoyed by this gift that he woke up one day thinking "fuck my dad, fuck his gift" and decided to literally shit on him by putting a chamber pot in front of this statue to express his thanks. And just like any narcissist/paranoid guy, he named a "guard" to be sure no one would spy on him through this (it sounds delirious, but again, we learn that Haarlep was send to distract Raphael, so why not?)
Sure, maybe Shit Bucket Guy annoyed Raphael in the past, but wouldn't that be kinda fucked up that this guy didn't do anything that would justify this treatment? He's just a dude, and Raphael is just a pissed-off daddy's boy (and a very mature one).
Or maybe, Raphael just thinks it's funny. And who are we to discuss a devil's sense of humor?
In any case, sorry Shit Bucket Guy, but it wasn't your lucky day.
PS: Hush, I can hear you wondering "do you think Raphael is scat???" and on this subject I would say: I don't think so, his narcissism is there after all, but he also seems really into humiliation. So maybe it's for the best we don't really know the answer to this question.
After all, only Haarlep can judge him (so the bar is already on the floor).
#I can't believe I wrote this#sweet summer child anon i hope you're satisfied#it was fun to write#bg3!analysis#raphael the cambion#bg3#house of hope
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About Sonic and the others forgetting the events of Sonic '06 + The Twitter Takeovers are semi-canons
Okay, here we go... I saw some people mention this answer about Sonic forgetting Elise and being upset about it, and thankful that the Takeovers are "not canon", so I'll share my point of view on that and talk about why the Takeovers are semi-canon! (oh boy a long post-) ~~~~
To start: "But Sonic forgetting Elise is absurd! He was the one who put out the flame with Elise, they both should have known about each other." No. They shouldn't have. From the moment the flame went out, everything was reset and started at the point where Sonic was going through the festival. There was no invasion by Eggman at that moment, Elise was not kidnapped, there were no Events of 2006 EVEN though the game is canon. THIS has ALWAYS been a fact since the game's release. And it keeps gaining strength with new media (Sonic x Shadow Generations and mentions that Sonic make in external media).
And I dare even more, not even Silver should know about the events. But if he knows, it's only him and Mephiles, who was ERASED from existence and ended up in WhiteSpace, the Limbo of Sonic's Universe. (As for Silver, he constantly travels through time, he could be the only one who remembers, but I doubt it a little) But the point here is: The representation of the flame going out at the end of 06 is that everything was rewritten in a new way. Things didn't happen that way and that's it.
"But it's absurd. Sonic would never forget Elise, they liked each other!"
I know that in some way there are fans of Sonelise, but I don't think it's right to support their romance so much when it was rushed and totally done in a hurry to make us get some kind of "emotional attachment" to Elise. Elise was the one who showed the most interest in Sonic, even kissing him (geez...), while Sonic, even choosing Elise in the "Trial Of Love", sometimes the game still throws you to Amy's option in a strange glitch. Which doesn't make much sense since theoretically he "would be in love with Elise."
Elise had the potential to be an excellent character and I still believe in that! She was introduced in an obscure game (just like Silver) and we can't deny that fact. She always couldn't cry because she had sealed the Iblis Trigger in herself, she lost her father and had no mother and yet she was the governess of the kingdom of Soleanna. Have you ever thought how much she could have stood out by working on this issue of pressure that she suffers in a deeper way? Instead of Sonic's entire campaign revolving around a somewhat embarrassing romance, have you ever thought how incredible it would be if it focused on how far the line of our responsibilities goes and the fear of failing everyone? Elise could potentially even be an incredible parallel for Blaze being what she is, even if indirectly! There's the other idea of ââSonic and Elise being a parallel of sisterhood like Shadow is with Maria, and that's much more captivating than a romance, and I'm sure we'd get much more attached to her knowing that!
Sonic 2006 and plot holes...
Sonic's campaign is the weakest;
Elise is a character who has potential for much more than what we were given;
the time travel issue has many holes like the Blue Chaos Emerald being with Elise the whole time;
Blaze is in the game and we don't even have an explanation for it;
We're very vague about Silver and his future; So, the fact that Sonic and the others "forget" the events is something canonical since the end of the game and has always remained that way.
Now, about the Twitter Takeovers:
The Takeovers are silly and focused on humor, but that doesn't mean there aren't writers behind them!
(Social Media Manager for Sonic's official Twitter account.) This same script is thought by the entire team, since the company's characters are acting! There is a lot of work behind it, which must be recognized! In other words, the information becomes "canonical", since it covers and gives us answers about things that we don't have in the games yet. It's an expansion of the characters, the universe and the story that hasn't been told or fully explored yet, and that's fantastic! The questions are selected based on what they can probably tell us. Whether it's just about Sonic's fur or Shadow's taste for coffee, or even about the Super Transformations and the relationships between the characters. They are Semi-Canons. They are information that adds to our knowledge as fans, but they are not necessarily real, like Sonic breaking the fourth wall. As a fandom, we have to know how to separate some things! That's what makes the Sonic universe unique. Everything can be considered more clues to add to the franchise, but we need to know how to understand the reasons and whys behind it!
Conclusion
I still hope that if Sonic '06 gets a remake, they'll do a good redemption of it, because it deserves it! And who knows, maybe we'll see more of it in the future?
If you want to comment, feel free, this is an open field for that discussion. Just keep it respectful and friendly! I'd love to read and participate too!
Thank you very much for reading! Sorry for the bad English... Stay determined! đ€
#my random things#long post#sonic#sonic fandom#sonic 2006#sonelise#princess elise the third#sth#sth fandom#sonic twitter takeover#sonic the hedgehog#I enjoyed writing about it!#sonic 2006 is canon remember#sonic lego dimensions mentioned#is so funny sonic in lego#sonic discussion#sonic franchise#character analysis
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I am going to treat this as being in good faith even though I know you have copy pasted this same response on multiple posts.
It's fair enough to see this post and roll your eyes about it. I am being a sarcastic lil bitch about implications that really aren't meant to be there! Liam absolutely didn't mean to do this as an "Orym doesn't trust them" or "Orym doesn't respect their boundaries" thing, and I know that. And I know no one in game is gonna read it that way, either. I didn't tag this Orym specifically because I was picking at a small thing irritably and I fully acknowledge that.
But! There are 3 things I want to say to this on a more serious note.
First, I think we must acknowledge that the implications of listening in on one's friends over listening in on one's enemies are quite different. People have different reactions to different applications of Observant because the social stakes and boundaries are situational. It means something much different to punch an enemy combatant in the face than it does to do the same to your best friend, you know? And Orym is not omnipotent; he does not just automatically know everything that happens, despite how we all joke that he can see god with his high perception. When he chooses to listen in should matter, as should the implications. That's actually my main issue with this whole thing, but I'll get to that in a moment.
Second, I would just like to say while I'm sure you believe it's true I and others critical of Orym don't talk about any of Orym's actual flaws, the fact of the matter is there are many fans who do most of our character discussion privately with our friends instead of tumblr or god, even worse, twitter. And my Orym feelings aren't identical to every other person who is critical of him. As I said in the initial tags for this, I don't think this was the worst thing in the world, it just bugged me! That was just an emotional response, and those often pass. There are lots of moments in stories where my initial reaction is a strong negative emotion, because I am feeling the feelings of the moment, but then I love the full picture it creates. Imogen and Laudna's "did we break up" phase is a great example of that, especially Laudna's ongoing insistence that she was a dead end. It hurt to watch! It made me sad! But it really enriched the narrative! My actual, continuing issues with this Orym moment have nothing to do with Imodna, or the meanings of this moment in particular. It's just another expression of something I've been grousing about among friends for ages. I actually WISH it was Orym being fucked up, that it was something that would come up again later, something he might get push back on. I wish the implication that he feels the need to monitor Imogen and Laudna, that he isn't thinking about how they might feel about it, was a flaw that would be explored with the other characters. Instead it was just kinda there and I imagine no one else will ever have a reaction to it one way or another.
And that leads to the final thing: my biggest issue with Orym listening in is that it DOESN'T matter. It feels like at some point, Liam stopped having Orym engage with other characters and the narrative as actively. It's started to feel very repetitive, and I am deeply frustrated with it. I know he is a reserved, PTSD-laden soldier who uses his hard line morality and sense of duty to hold himself together, who refuses to tell his friends how he feels because he doesn't want to be a burden. I know this! And I think it makes for an interesting character and I want to love Orym as much as I used to. But this is an interactive game, an ongoing narrative, and after a certain point, choosing to have your scenes be solo and keeping your character from changing any of their stances starts to feel like refusing to give other people room to react and challenge your character, and refusing to engage with how others' narratives have changed. What Imogen expressed about not running in this episode isn't a revelation. She has, at this point, been saying some variation of it for about half the campaign. And he has told her he is proud, before. It was nice, then! But listening in to their conversation here and feeling proud in isolation didn't add anything new to the narrative. It could have, if it was a conversation, if he had talked to Imogen directly. But instead it feels so empty to me. Disconnected. It even sort of re-framed the moment as if it was about Imogen Finally Choosing To Not Run, instead of being about Laudna trying to reaffirm a future that keeps slipping from their grasp, one she only just started to believe in again on the precipice of Imogen possibly sacrificing herself for the world. It makes it seem like Orym has barely moved on from the solstice, like he hasn't registered how Imogen's narrative has developed since then.
There are so many things I would love to see from Orym that require acknowledging that things have changed. I wanted him to talk to Dorian instead of chasing after Dorian's dad to say he should be proud of Dorian, especially since Dorian had already had his big cathartic conversation. I wanted him to ask why Dorian has come to hate the gods so much, to ask him why it wasn't just the Spider Queen he was mad at. I wanted him to talk to Fearne about the fact that people outside the party have treated her with the same anti-Ruidusborn suspicion as Imogen, particularly in light of their conversation about taking Imogen out pre-solstice. I wanted him to actually internalize that he was wrong about there being nothing beautiful in Exandria before the gods, and to talk to Ashton about it in a way that starts with him actively listening to Ashton instead of just repeating the same arguments, even if he came out the other side still disagreeing. I wanted him to realize that there hasn't been any danger of Imogen running and that the core of her struggle now is with the fact that she's being asked to sacrifice herself. I wanted him to talk to someone about his guilt over killing Zathuda. I wanted him to acknowledge the hardness he put on when he tossed the locket on Bor'dor's corpse and declared this was war and what that hardness did to him. I wanted him to work on his flaws and talk to people! But instead, he listened and reacted in isolation. The fact that his reaction to Fearne asking him if he was ok as late as episode 95 was just "then why ask? You know the answer" instead of opening up is narratively a problem for me. The few times he has opened up a little have been wonderful but he's still holding most of it to the chest. So many emotional Orym scenes are people talking to him about his emotions and him not responding. We're in too deep, man! "If not now, when?" doesn't just apply to kissing Dorian, you know? He is running out of time to open up.
So. Do I still think listening in on that moment was sucky of him, even beyond the hyperbole? Sure. I think generally purposefully eavesdropping on something like that is sucky. It's a small kind of sucky, though. A blip. Because this is a story, the big sucky thing is that it didn't mean anything for any other character and felt just narratively disconnected. And I find that so frustrating because there are so many potentially meaty, interesting things possible in Orym's story, and I desperately want that richer narrative for him and for Dorian and for all of them.
You might not agree and that's fine. To paraphrase Orym's own words, every one of us forms our own interpretations with the lenses or prisms we see life through. Of course I'm gonna get more het up when this ongoing, general Orym frustration touches on something Imogen or Laudna related - they're my favorites! Of course that influences how I see things. I know they aren't everyone's favorites, so something like this moment won't be a domino-kick on tangentially related, piling frustrations for everyone. But it is for me. I'm not really trying to convince anyone I'm right, here, just to explain why I feel this way about it.
Sure would be fucked up if Imogen and Laudna, until only recently, had every single one of their private moments observed against their will, and then their friend decided to observe possibly their last private moment against their will, huh? :)
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This is the last time I talk about Elain (hopefully!). I honestly donât understand where youâre getting the idea that she is sweet. Elain is polite, like âmy neighbour is nice to meâ sort of way. That doesnât warrant how everyone puts her on a pedestal.
Her actions are mostly glossed over as self-preservation, but that doesnât seem right to describe her behaviour either. At least, not in a sympathetic way. I'm sure thereâs going to be an overload of trauma to justify this, because how can SJMâs heroines have mere mediocre problems when they can be abused or have lost a loved one?
I digress. Ever since Nestaâs grooming came to light, the same is assumed about Elainâthat sheâs groomed to be âniceâ. Thatâs not entirely true. Their mother and grandmother focus on Nesta because getting the eldest married well will bring more prospects for the other two. In their motherâs words, Elain neednât worry because she is a born beauty, and so she is not trained in courtliness or politics. And, Feyre has enough liberty to lock herself in their fatherâs office. As a middle child, Elain chooses the âniceâ mask because itâs what gets her attention in a family full of stubborn headsâher mother, her grandmother, her sisters.
During their poverty years, even if she could do chores, itâs hard to believe Nesta let her given how much she coddles Elain. And, Feyre treats her like a fragile doll. Elain essentially enjoys the best of both worlds like her father without contributing much to the family. She benefits heavily from her sistersâ animosity against each otherâsheâs the kind one while the other is the bitch. Sheâs also quick to secure a marriage alliance right after they regain their wealth. This isnât to say it wasnât out of love, but the plot is set in somewhat medieval times, where the order in which the sisters marry is crucialâElain already wed before the eldest leaves a mark on Nestaâs reputation, making it difficult for her to find suitors.
Elain goes her entire life without being blamed or hated by her family, or even the IC. To have gone through all those struggles, having done literally nothing, and still cherished by everyone? Kindness doesnât buy you that kind of a pass. Itâs not her fault that everyone puts her first, but itâs the result of the image she actively cultivates to achieve her means.
This is why the paintbrushes donât hold much value either. She doesnât make Feyreâs life easier or take away some of the burdens, but gives her presents and everything is okay between them? This comes off like love-bombing to meâmaking Feyre feel special so that Elain isnât the villain. Which worked, as Nesta is the one called ungrateful. When youâre struggling and someone offers you a bit of joy and relief, it is impactful, and Elainâs gesture could have been that if she had contributed to the family. But now, it comes off as manipulation.
And hereâs my issue with her betrayal in Silver Flames. No one gives two fucks about what she thinks is best for Nesta. The IC wonât sit around and wait till sheâs convinced. If she decides to lock herself in her room and cry again, only Feyre might care a little. Until then, sheâs never included in any major decisions and sheâs too perceptive to not notice this. She doesnât even have to side with Nesta, but to pack her things to send her away?
She even goes on to throw in a âyou donât have to be miserableâ when Nesta is being imprisoned with a man. Imagine Elain trapped with Lucien to get her out of her funk. Feyre violated Lucienâs mind when he asked for a few minutes alone with her. They were chaperoned by the entire family for one simple tea. Clearly, Elain is not so stupid as to not know what sheâs implying. She lets Nesta suffer not out of self-preservation but because she, like Feyre, believes Nesta is hopeless.
Later, she manipulates Nesta into scrying and insults her in front of everyone who hates her. She blames her âinvisibilityââshe crafted for herselfâon others. It isnât about her owning her life, because she could have done the scrying right away without that conversation with Nesta. And itâs not about protecting herself from the IC. Her outburst felt more like her resentment, that she couldnât handle losing her shield.
There are many who want Elain to stand up to the IC, but the thing is, she has no reason to. When none of her actions are held against her, what would she fight for? The ICâs behaviour is borderline psychotic with Nesta to prove she wouldnât be welcomed into the family unless she becomes reputable enough to be Feyreâs sister and Cassianâs mate. In Elainâs case, she is already forgiven and accepted.
Though it still falls under the broad term, her self-preservation carries heavy undertones of selfishness and manipulation. It is not even a survival response triggered under pressure. Most of her life, Elain never has to make big choices. She always gets what she wants without lifting a finger. No responsibility at home, more attention from family, the only one to receive her fatherâs love, her engagement to Graysen, going to Graysen for help, being left alone during the battles, having her own gardens in Velaris, learning to cook, leading a simple life, to be away from Lucien, pursuing Azriel. When exactly is she ever denied in the first place to preserve her happiness?
Also, Elain is definitely not a helpless doe. She is an opportunist. Her âkindnessâ is a mask to escape scrutiny from others when she neglects her responsibilities. It serves her too since âElain is Elainâ.
And thatâs fine because these flaws add layers to her character and thereâs room for growth. But when the narrative ignores them and paints her as an angel because it supports the glorified hero, that is wrong. We see it happen with Feyre, Rhysand, and the Inner Circle. Elain is underdeveloped, yet she shows prominent traits at major plot points and still is considered âsweetâ. At this rate, sheâs just going to be another bland cutout who can never do anything wrong and is universally loved (like Feyre).
On the other hand, all this masking, the cunning, and the pettiness are great agents for her obvious future bonding with Rhysand who is quite similar. But her true nature has to be acknowledged first, which is clearly not happening in the narrative or the fandom.
There are obvious issues to be resolved in Elainâs characterâshedding these traits and loving others without exploitationâbut the focus will be on what SJM deems worthy for her plot. Elain went from being content to staying in the background, tending to her gardens, and creating beauty to wanting to step out of her sistersâ shadows. Though she never gave that vibe, it will be shoved down our throats because these leads need to be badasses. At this point, she has more chances of turning into another Feyre with her âcoming out of the shellâ journey because thatâs the only way women can grow in this series. I donât like Elain the way I donât like Feyre, Rhysand, or Cassian. She is, and will likely never be, held accountable for anything she does. Nesta has self-awareness, her flaws are portrayed as such, and she makes amends for her mistakes because that allows Feyre to be right again. But what reason does Elain have to be better when she hasnât done anything wrong until now?
#i needed to get this out of my system#elain critical#acotar critical#sjm critical#adding critical tags to keep the stans away#feyre critical#rhysand critical#cassian critical
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remember when i said i was beginning to relate more and more to michael? well,
i think itâs easy to underestimate his character and not really understand who he is, but once you start acting like him, it gives you a new perspective in the whole of solitaire. michael is a very angry individual, i think we all know that. however, he is not portrayed like how angry characters usually are. his anger stays inside, like a lion waiting to attack. michael lives hiding a part of himself, somewhere so deep in his mind that whenever it is able to come out it becomes his worst nightmare ever. unlike most angry characters, the anger doesnât affect the rest, it affects him.
i think this is so important to talk about, because yes, solitaire is toriâs book, but michael brings very important details to the story. i know most of the fandom likes to talk about him as a silly little guy, and thatâs valid, because he also is that. my mind just wonât be at peace until we all realize a bit more how important he is.
anger will bring him down. thatâs not something we can argue about, itâs the truth. and yes, it sounds silly, anger, really? thatâs the thing thatâs gonna bring him down? well, not exactly. anger is the first symptom of losing yourself. you start keeping all the anger to yourself, not really knowing what to do with it or why itâs becoming bigger and bigger. as this continues, you start hating, loathing every single moment of your life that doesnât go as planned. before you even know it, youâre isolating yourself, afraid of any chance of the anger getting stronger.
if i were to show this with a scene of the book i would choose the one were michael finally explodes at tori. because at that moment, he has been trying so hard to be her friend, and attempt after attempt, sheâs just been making things difficult. i say this from an objective perspective, because we know tori wasnât in the right headspace, but that doesnât mean michaelâs wasnât bad mentally as well. itâs what i said before, you start loathing everything that doesnât go your way. and in this case, his friendship with tori wasnât going his way. itâs a very hard topic to explain because i have been in both ends, mostly in michaelâs, and it is extremely difficult to deal with. we know michael doesnât have friends and probably didnât have before either, which means he has been carrying this issue his whole life. itâs obvious he was going to explode. he keeps trying and trying and nothing goes his way. he canât make friends to save his life, oh and look, he also failed the competition of what he is supposed to be great at, perfect!
i guess i just wanted to talk about this because as i said, feeling like this is not great. it sucks. itâs horrible to experience but so normalized as well. people like tori get talked about behind their backs. everyone has a bit of bitterness in their voice when they talk about them, spitting how being mentally ill doesnât excuse you for being a bad person. people like michael get pitied. the people who keep a smile and donât stop trying even when theyâre dying inside. everyone feels bad for them, but no one cares enough to make a difference.
#guys iâm losing it#sorry for being depressing#and whatever this means#osemanverse#solitaire#michael holden#tori spring#sprolden#.đ§
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Writing Request: Kenkey Songfic đ§Ą
Now @tmntxthings requested that I sonically bathe in No One Noticed by The Marias and write about whatever I came up with, but she also told me to listen to it earlier this week and said it reminded her of Kendra so I was totally swayed! đ€
Totally takes place in the AENEM universe đ€ sorry not sorry đ
From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your choosing!
Ꮀᶊ˹á¶ËĄá”ᶊá”á”Êł: ᎔ á”á” âżá”ᔠᶊ⿠á”âżÊžÊ·á”Êž á”˹˹á”á¶á¶Šá”á”á”á” á”Êł á”âżá”á”ÊłËąá”á” á”Êž á”Ê°á” á¶á”á”á”á”á”ᶊá”ᶊá”âż á”Êł ᶊá”Ëą á¶á”âżá”á”Ëąá”á”âżá”Ëą.
A little forlorn all ages below the cut:
Kendra laid on her mattress with her cheek smashed into her month old sheets. There was debris of crumbs that sometimes ghosted of her skin, but she had slept in far worse. it was better than scratchy prison blankets, but that wasn't what was making her skin crawl.
She was staring at her text chat with Mikey.
His last message was dated six days ago.
Her responses had never been super prompt, but she had gotten back to him within a few minutes that day.
It was innocuous.
He asked if she would watch a video.
She asked him why he hadn't sent the link.
Then nothing.
She left her screen on as she rolled over.
Her stupid stained ceiling stared back at her.
What was his problem?
For months he had been nothing but interested.
He was obsessed with anything.
Or maybe she just told herself that.
Maybe she had lost her mind.
Was she really laying her missing him of all people?
Why?
There was no reason.
He had just crashed into her life and looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
Her cheeks were hot because her pillow was substantial.
Blood was pooling.
She rolled the other way from her phone so they would cool.
The shift rolled within folds of her sheets and revealed those dead skin particles.
What was shed and schlep off.
The pieces that easily fell away with time.
Isn't that what they had done?
He'd gotten his fill.
He'd held her and that was it.
Those bits of his interest wilted and were shed like anything else.
It wasn't like she'd been excited to see him.
She hadn't gone out of her way.
It had been a plan.
Pretend to chase him.
Get close enough to gain access to her home.
It was never about him.
It was about his connection.
Like that scent of wooden paintbrushes and a hint of vanilla that always clung to him.
She fought her pillow by punching it straight off the bed.
She had lost it.
Thinking about this.
Thinking about him.
The way he held her.
The way he both paid attention and didn't.
He knew arm's length like no one else.
Only him.
That truth collapsed her chest and she had to sit up.
Her room was dark as it had been for hours.
Her eyes had adjusted just enough that she saw the shapes.
The end of her bed.
The rack for her clean clothes.
A pile for the dirty.
Her shitty router in one corner.
Empty.
That was the feeling.
Emptiness and a hollow that she hadn't know before.
She pushed against his ribs to try to keep them together.
It had never been a problem before.
She had spent her life like this.
All the years that shaped her memory.
She went at this life alone.
She wasn't going to let some orange idiot slip between the cracks of that.
Not when he could leave without a trace.
Her eyes widened.
In all her time trying to make enough of a connection that she could get what she wanted from him, she never realized how far he had kept himself from her.
He barely talked about his family.
She didn't know where he lived.
She had his number and nothing else.
In an instant, everything she wished that wasn't true came to fruition.
He'd made her aware of her loneliness and then left her to stew in it.
It had been so easy for him.
She couldn't be here anymore.
Not when he knew where it was.
She could get away.
She could start again.
it wouldn't be the first time.
It was with her last shreds of control that she found her old purple stain jacket and put it on, one arm at a time.
It fit.
She looked right at her door, not back, and moved to grab the knob.
It opened to moonlight and the shape of a man similarly reaching out.
It took her tired eyes time to adjust.
To Mikey and his casts.
One on his leg and one on his arm.
The bandages around his head.
They way he broke out into a smile.
"You heading out?" He asked almost timid.
He never was.
"It's been... It's been awhile..." He huffed with some effort.
Injured.
"My phone kind of..." He gestured over himself with the wrapped arm in a sling and winced for it.
He noticed.
"I've been trying to see you, but I was only cleared for tomorrow, well, today, and it's midnight so... today!"
She surged forward with only the intention to take.
Into his one good arm.
To hold.
To console.
She guessed she was sort of over waiting.
That was why she had been about to leave and he squeezed her in place because he knew.
#me#fanfiction#my fanfiction#writing request#requests open#rottmnt#first time#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rally until the tally#kenkey#rottmnt Michelangelo#rise Michelangelo#Michelangelo hamato#rottmnt mikey#rise mikey#rise kendra#rottmnt kendra#AENEMfic
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