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crystaldivination · 2 years ago

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𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔 𝗠𝗨𝗚

𝗔𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗹 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀

Hello there beautiful souls! With this cute little pick a card reading let’s us see what this month has in store for you and what you can do to make the best out of it, shall we?

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Check out my latest pick a card reading here

how to choose your pile. take a few deep breaths & look at each pile separately. Take your time to pick out a pile that sparks an interest or a memory in you. Come back later to it again if you can't decide.

The piles

from left -> right

Disclaimer: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

𝗣𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝟭

New opportunities and visions

You might meet someone of interest who might or might not become someone significant to you nevertheless they will be influential in your daily life in some way. This person would be someone who comes into your life in order to help you build structure or a routine. They will help you to reorganize your goals and look at them from a different point of view. They seem to be someone mature who can guide you along your way and who you can learn from and vice versa. This connection could develop into a great friendship or even into a romantic relationship depending on what you want to attract. Try to approach life in a different way. New change is ahead. Things won’t be the way you’re used to but it’ll be positive just like a fresh breeze of air. Be open to receive and get help from others. It’ll give you the strength and motivation to embark into a new process. You’ll slowly see this as the month passes by. Stay curious and have a lot of fun, pile 1!

𝗣𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝟮

Reflect

You’ll have more time for yourself this month, pile 2. This time can be used to go within and practice self help. Self care is very important now and needed so if you feel like the past months have been rough and didn’t do you well it’s the time to lean back and focus on your well-being . Find alignment with yourself again. Look back at what you have achieved until now and give yourself some credits. You deserve them. Meditate from time to time or journal if you like it. This will help you ground yourself and practice gratitude even for yourself. While doing so also really think about anything you want to improve or change and come up with a plan to carry these things out. A great time to rearranged priorities such as connections, relationships, work and life. Really think about what you want to do and set your intentions well. Deep cleansing in a lot of areas is indicated here. Gone with the old one and welcome new positive attitudes, pile 2!

𝗣𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝟯

Growth

You’ll be busy this month, pile 3, but in a good sense. You’ll be occupied by many projects which could help you build new stable connections and bring you growth as well as learning. You might get to work on the things you really like. It’s the time to get work done and enjoy the fruits from the hard work and all the achievements you might’ve gather from the past two years until now. It’ll be a great time with full of new experiences and excitements. It’s your time to shine and show off your skills so use it wisely and plentifully. Some of you might even get to be in some sort of high/er positions that’d come with making decisions and force you to have or take responsibilities but overall this will be something you’ll get a lot out from so enjoy the ride to your goals. I see a lot of positive energy filled with success and recognition. Lucky you! Go get it, pile 3!

𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. L𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 💓

#pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarotcommunity #tarot reading #intuitive readings #tarotblr #pick a pile

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sol-consort · 27 days ago

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hey wait come back - i want to hear more about shitty toxic drell bf… 👂 👂 👂

Toxic drell ex Pt.1

Part Two

Dark content: Toxic relationship, addiction, obsessive behaviour, stalking.

Smut.

The two of you dated for a year and a little while, not continuously, more on and off. It started sweet, a little awkward, but he had his charms. You haven't met a drell before. You were his first human likewise, plus his scales were shinier up-close.

How could you have ever known what it would lead into?

He was lonely before he met you.

Drell emotions are intense, so much more than that of a human; the pain manifests physically at times. A harsh word thrown in a fit of rage was not that different from getting slapped in the face. A simple kiss from their beloved lifts them up to unimaginable heights of elation.

The deeper he fell in love with you, the more he became wrapped around your little finger.

You could change the mood of his entire day if you spoke the right words. You could bring him to early release in bed if you whispered declarations of love into his ear.

Likewise, the more and more you tasted of him—of his delicious venom seeping into your body and altering the very chemistry of your brain—the deeper you craved him.

A veil draped over your head, altering your perception of the world, blurring the line between love and lust, painting each one of them rosy pink.

It's insatiable hunger which you felt each time you didn't have his fingers rubbing against your tongue. The ring and middle finger conjoined courtesy of drell anatomy, feeling like a mouthful as you sucked against them with desperation, unaware of the torture you were inflicting upon this drell to have him only watch, heart twisting around itself as his entire biology begs him to please make love to you.

He's fond of calling it that, make love. You wonder if the human terms for it seemed... crude in comparison. Or did your primal deprivation turn him on even more? Did he feel like a prey under your piercing gaze? Did he anguish each moment you prolonged the foreplay and only teased and pulled at him to satisfy your own ego.

Maybe it was cruel, you didn't mind much. It was hard to mind anything when you felt as light as a feather, when the chemical combination worked itself into your bloodstream and erased the very definition of doubt, shame, and pain from your mind.

You felt like a god.

In previous relationships, you didn't care much for giving oral; it just wasn't your thing. It was pathetic watching your ex boyfriends send you these boomer memes about washing the dishes in exchange for a blowjob, as if they weren't living and eating in the same apartment as yours.

While your preference didn't change much at the start of this new relationship, you slowly noticed a pattern that emerges in the aftermath of sleeping with a drell.

Every seemingly disgusting sexual act suddenly becomes the most enticing act in the world when you add the drell venom into the equation.

And now the mere thought of taking his cock down your throat is mouthwatering, in the literal sense. Saliva collects in your mouth as you imagine licking up and down his cock, vibrant green in colour, cooler to the touch, unbelievably sensitive as he crumbles with every stroke.

You imagine it's the closest thing to how the ichor of ancient gods must have tasted, flavourless in practice, but its potent affects on your body can't be ignored. The fluttering in your chest, the buzzing at the tip of your fingers, the drunk smile forming on your lips.

Indomitable, all-powerful, you've never felt so alive.

It's addicting. You can't help yourself but milk him dry for all he's worth, just to chase this thrill. Feeling his legs trembling below you, fingers anchoring into your hair, his raspy voice asking you to slow down while his hips uncontrollably buck into your mouth.

His very own body betraying him.

It's hard for a human like you to comprehend just what you're doing to him, what seeing his partner this hungry for him does to his brain, how his heart isn't his own anymore.

Humans are prone to exaggerations, to impulsive behaviour, to forsake the future consequences for the present satisfactions.

And humans are at their most depraved when intoxicated and overcome with lust. The shameful animalistic desires we try so hard to bury down, to act civilised and gentle when it comes to our partners, how easily a drell shatters that stained-glass image of us and brings out our deepest most primal instincts.

Ego-driven, tyrannical, possessive.

You can't blame him for getting hooked on feeling like a piece of meat in front of a starving predator, like the star at the centre of your world. Everything you do, every word said in a moment of passion, every act of worship, every oath of devotion you'd thrown his way in a moment of passion, only to easily forget it the next morning when you sober up.

He remembers all of that, not only the word but also a crystal clear picture of how you looked when you said it. Your blown wide pupils, your bruising grip on his thighs, your eyes looking at him like he's the only thing in the world.

Like he's the most important thing in the world.

There is a reason you rarely see human and drell couples, why it seems like these two species can't ever have a relationship that doesn't end in tragedy.

In the short term, they're capable of having a healthy living relationship.

But in the long term, they end up being borderline deadly to each other. Neither of you can help it. It's in your nature as much as it is in his. Unconsciously, you two end up burning one another out.

The constant switch between episodes of elation and despair would fry anyone's brain, let alone an egoistic human and a fragile drell.

Humans dish out white lies all the time, drell take every word to heart and memorise every line.

These moments of sobriety for the both of you become more scarce, it's harder to function in your day to day life without instability craving to melt into his lips at the end of the night, a feeling so strong, it makes everything else pale in comparison.

While his withdrawal manifested physically, feeling like he's lacking half of his body, a piece of his soul gone missing, and now he's left to mourn it. It feels wrong, being away from you for even a moment, longing for to hear his name from your smooth voice again, to have you whisper praises as he cock sinks inside you, whispering how much you love him through the moan and whimpers, driving him insane in the best way possible.

Humans have a purpose, at least, our brains think we do. Certain chemicals—like drell venom—just happened to activate the release of these reward hormones that genuinely make you feel as if you've really made it in life. This is what you were made for.

As for drell, their purpose, poetically enough, is centred around love and being loved. It's the evolutionary aftermath of whatever traits helped them survive a barren desert planet in their ancient days, translating into intense emotions, a photogenic memory, and deep-seated devotion.

So when the two of you find your purpose in each other, your overindulgence drowns out the world outside. You become two flames consuming one another.

You have to let go before it's too late, as beautiful this paradise is, you know it's a mirage at best.

That you're teethering closer to the edge every day, the higher he lifts you up, the more painful the inevitable crash down will become.

Maybe you dealt with different addictions before and didn't want to repeat the cycle, maybe you had a different passion you actually wanted to pursue, or maybe your conscience woke up from the dead and decided to place its foot down.

Whatever it was, this domino effect has been set in motion, and it can't be stopped.

You sit him down, explain your thought process. You ignore how inviting his lips look as you list the signs of withdrawal you've been experiencing. You ignore the urge to dent the scales on his neck as your teeth sink into the tantalising spot.

At one point—as you eventually reach the conclusion that you two aren't healthy for each other in the long term, and must separate or at least take time apart—you swear you hear his heart shattering into a million pieces.

There's no sharp breath, no warning, or anything before the tears come flooding in. He tries to control them, to close his eyes, to wipe at his face, only more and more keep pouring down as his lips tremble, fingers shaking.

He hides his face in shame. It physically hurts to speak, to look at you, even to breathe.

You tore his heart out of his chest, does it matter how gentle your fingers were as they crushed the fragile organ between them?

You give him space, because what else can you do?

What other option have you ever known besides running away.

It's been months since you've fully moved out. Officially, you're single, and supposedly, everything is swept under the rug now.

Supposedly.

But he doesn't make it easy.

Each time you come close to quitting him, a text notification lights up your phone, the insatiable craving rearing its head from the dark corners of your mind.

Each time you step over your urges and ignore the text, a call follows after.

The need to feel powerful again gnaws at you, slithers up your throat, and cuts off your air circulation until you acknowledge the lack.

And if you throw your phone across the wall, shattering the screen into a thousand pieces?

Then you might just coincidently bump into someone very familiar while running errands.

Because even if everything else fails, he knows a simple touch is all it would take for the remains of your self-will to crumble. All the walls of restraint you struggled to build and maintain cave in under their own weight the second your brain registers the very familiar chemicals seeping into your skin, in the form of his thumb brushing against your lips.

He isn't a stalker in the usual sense. He's not clingy anymore. If anything, he's extremely detached. At least it's what he appears to be.

Obsessive in a calculated way.

Only showing up when it's the most inconvenient, when you start adjusting to the sober life again.

When he thinks you're close to quitting him, does he come back into your life to shatter everything you've built.

As if he made it his life purpose to get his revenge on you.

He doesn't try to be persuasive. He doesn't pressure you, neither coaxes you nor attempts to mask his true intentions for even a second.

Simply because he doesn't need to.

All he needs is plausible deniability, so you can never make a proper case against him with those pesky C-sec officers.

You're the one who has low-impulse control, you're the one who pulls him by the collar to crash your lips into his, you're the one who drags him back home and throws him onto your bed.

While he used to be a most attentive and loving partner, that was before. Now, he merely lays there, letting you have your way.

A passive participation in what this so-called "love making"

A once love-struck expression now replaced with cold eyes and tightly shut lips, as if he's enduring pain just to inflict what he deemed as a rightful punishment onto you for breaking his heart.

As if part of him still loves you deep down, under all the facade and need to deliver you retribution.

It manifests physically, the burning pain of what remains of his love for you ripping his insides into shreds.

While he never thought of himself as a masochist before, as time went on, the more sweet this torture grew.

He doesn't grip your hips as you ride him like he used to.

He doesn't feverishly litter bites across your neck with desperation as your insides squeeze him.

He doesn't even finish half the time, bored eyes watching you make a mess after another atop him, greedily chasing after your ninth orgasmic high despite your trembling legs.

He does his best to play the role of the uninterested participant, to make you feel even more shitty in the aftermath, to make tomorrow's hangover extra excruciating.

To wash his hands off of your blood and place the full blame on you.

Maybe some wires between pain and pleasure did cross in his brain, after all. And who's fault is that but yours? That's what he tells himself, what he uses to justify these unexplained feelings, this sliver of denial he clings to so he may still hold himself to a higher moral ground than you could ever claim to.

Even as you have him on the floor, pliant and obedient between your spread knees. Your nails dig into his scales hard enough to dent as you push his mouth deeper against your aching core, the cold eyes looking up at you almost send shivers down your spine wasn't it for the heat of his mouth engulfing your most sensitive areas whole.

You're fully dependent on his monthly visits.

Unable to go forward and move on, unable to go backwards and mend things, stuck in place, pinned down by his scaly hands, that's exactly what he wants.

It's not fair.

It was never fair how fast humans move on, how fast you got over him in just two months, and already started going out.

While he was still nursing his broken heart, you were already in the arms of another in a club, already had someone else lining up, already forgot with your pathetic human memory while his brain was cursed to replay all the sweet memories of you during every waking moment of his day.

It was completely unfair.

You shouldn't forget; he won't let you.

If he's forced to remember, so will you. He will remind you time after time after time until your body can't forget him, until your brain chemistry is altered beyond repair.

This is your righteous punishment, human.

#I wrote and scrabbed 3 different versions of this concept because I didn't like my execution #and now I'm finally satisfied with this version #this was fun to write hehe #☆dark content #☆drell #☆x reader #alien x reader #drell x reader #smut #☆smut #x reader #mass effect x reader #mass effect

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sparkling-pink-lemonade · 10 months ago

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Opinion on CyNcest (NxCyn) 😇

I ship it one sided. Cyn being down bad for N. I think N could have crushed on her back if it weren't for having an extreme crush on V, which made Cyn jealous. That's why V was one of the first to be infected and shut down. (Perhaps even altering V's personality when bringing them back as disassembly drones, in hopes of making her less appealing to N, but failed.) Cyn would try to continuously wipe N and all his backups of his memories with V, but no matter how hard she tried, N's heart always remembered.

And now that he likes Uzi, she would do whatever she can to try and feel even a hint of that affection for herself. Either staying in Uzi's subconscious, pretending it's her that N is giving his love to, or outright possessing Uzi while pretending to be her.

Otherwise, back at the mansion if N didn't crush on V: I don't think Cyn and N are literally related, being factory made rather than using the code from two parent drones. But she definitely saw him as a big brother first, and then quickly began to romanticize that as her crush formed.

N liked being an older brother to her, but I don't think he'd be hung up on that for too long. He'd form a crush on Cyn, and have a crisis on if he's a horrible person for "taking advantage" of her admiration for him. Scared that liking her would fuck up the sibling relationship that she wants, and she'd hate him for making things weird.

But Cyn is hardly oblivious to his feelings and would soon be the first to confess to N, probably by pulling him in for a kiss. Then tell him he can be her boyfriend and her big brother. At most N would go: "I don't think I can be both. Aren't siblings not supposed to date each other?"

Cyn: "Well, I want both, so I don't see why we can't."

N: "Huh, I suppose you're right! Okay then, sure!"

Absolutely everyone around them finds it weird and gross, wanting them to pick either lovers or siblings, but not both. But no matter how everyone else whines and complains about it, they don't stop, too happy with what they have to care what others think of them.

#proship #comship #shipcest #psuedocest #murder drones #cyn murder drones #n murder drones #n x cyn #brother x sister #ask #headcanon #alternate universe

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katyspersonal · 9 months ago

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I see so many similarities between Messmer and Melina, idk if all of them are intentional but if they were. Could it be a hint of them being twins ? Or even different aspects of the same person like Marika&Radagon, Miq&Trina?

Yeah, I've been wondering about this too, actually! 🤔 They both have their left eye sealed, both have theme of fire, both are Demigod children of Marika that were removed from the contest for the throne, both were given a more specific purpose by Marika herself, both know some secrets no one else in the family does.. And just like you said, it is not an outlandish concept for a Demigod to have two alters! Melina is willing to help whatever worthy Tarnished to advance, whereas Messmer, from what we can conclude, mocks the very idea. The contradiction between their motivations is not dissimilar to how Marika and Radagon are in the conflict between each other! @swallowtail-ageha also suggested the idea that they could be two alters of the same person!

fdsjhfdshdgsdf OKAY OKAY SO

PERSONALLY I do not subscribe to this idea yet, as I believe that Messmer became banished (?), if not erased from the memory of the family, even before Malenia and Miquella were born! I shared more of my current thoughts on Messmer in this ( x ) post, but in short, for me it seems like Messmer knew more about Marika's secrets than any other Demigod.. He was doing her most secret biddings. So, Miquella searching for the secrets of his mother brings a question, how came he never got any hunch from the guy?

( x )

Melina states that she "knew previous owner of Torrent", which was Miquella! But I think that she was even closer than just this! Some time ago I wrote my own theory post ( x ) on what Malenia's Rot spawn exactly are and concluded that they represent relationships she's been forgetting according to the very interesting weapons choices! So, Finlay, her teacher, Godwyn and... well, Melina. Melina and the twins were close, and she was left with the purpose to one day help to burn the entrance for the 'worthy' one, which originally were supposed to be one of the Demigods! This makes me assume that Miquella would've known.

And another bit that makes me go 🤔 is that Melina states that she is "burnt and bodiless"; whereas the cases of separated 'body' and 'astral projection' is known not just in Demigods but even in simple people (like Sellen and Dung Eater), and there are cases of splitting body of the same person (two Godwyns), so far I haven't seen the soul split? When Melina burns herself, she burns that 'astral projection' as she no longer has her real body, it is a complete annihilation, true death without any compromise or backtrack.

Not only her sacrifice would have questionable value if her 'other self' was still alive somewhere, but also.. do you really annihilate your soul if that's only a part of your soul? How does the 'split' between Demigods work? I do not think that you can kill one alter without killing another, even as a 'superior' being! I am sure Marika would love to destroy Radagon, but since she despised him and he was the "lesser" one yet he existed, I feel like she... could not? Without destroying herself as well? These are her words, "Let us both be scattered"; so, when she corrupted herself by scattering the Elden Ring, Radagon could not have avoided the same fate! Since Miyazaki confirms that player's progress in the main game would have no bearing on the DLC story, I assume it means that letting Melina burn would not affect Messmer in any form; thus, they're not the same person!

______________________________

Again, this is just what I think so far, and I am open for the actual DLC to completely prove me wrong! I do not have any solid counter-evidence against the theory that Melina and Messmer could've been twins; for all we know, Messmer could've simply been very secretive. I am just settled on the idea that they're less likely to be the two sides of the same Demigod!

#elden ring #melina #messmer the impaler #elden ring headcanons #ask replies

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backjustforberena · 5 months ago

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do you have any headcanons about how show!rhaenys discovered corlys's infidelity? i find it hard to imagine a scenario where she wouldn't at least try to confront him. so, the fact that she never mentioned it to corlys makes me think that how she found out must have played a big role in her decision to stay silent

No. That's the short answer. I don't have any headcanons, because I can't ascertain when she might have found out, and that seems crucial to me. So I'm unable to venture much further into the territory than that.

Although, on a broader point, I do find it reconcilable with Rhaenys's character to know that they've never spoken of it or Rhaenys has never "confronted" him. I can see a scenario in which that could have happened, especially if she finds out after the end of the affair or at a time in which she is either already emotionally vulnerable or Corlys is absent.

To me, that fits, potentially, because whilst she is unafraid of conflict, she is also unwilling to incite it if the outcome is only more pain - she doesn't go around confronting every hurt or slight or betrayal over and over again in a pointless and angry cycle. She doesn't bring up topics if there is nothing to be gained by it or if enough time has passed to make it irrelevant to her current state.

So, for example, she only brings up the paternity of Rhaenyra's sons when it becomes an immediate political problem and she can do something pragmatic or get something that she wants by engaging with those facts - ten years after it first becomes a reality with Jace's birth, and, again, with all of that, it seems that Rhaenys and Corlys have never spoken of it until the night of Laena's funeral.

She doesn't bring up Laenor's murder to Rhaenyra during Season 2 because the priority is to fight the war and to actually support Rhaenyra and be trusted by her because that is what is necessary. It would do them no good to clear the air when it could undo the relationship that both need for strength because all of Rhaenys's eggs (as it were) are in Rhaenyra's basket: Rhaenyra is Rhaenys's best hope and monarch.

Rhaenys, likewise, doesn't foster any consequences or rash acts as a response to Daemon and Rhaenyra's marriage. She takes Baela to ward and she keeps out of the drama, when she could have plotted and conspired or, at the very least, engendered a hatred for them in Baela as she raised her. None of that happens.

She disassociates from her own claim to the Iron Throne during Viserys's rule because, despite her prevailing feelings on the subject, she cannot change the past, undo the hurt, or rectify the fact that she was never crowned. She cannot rewrite anything and so stays in the present.

So there is a pattern there - to me. One of consistently putting some other goal before an emotional outburst. One of burying a hurt to save face or pride. One of being noble when to be otherwise would only make her base. One of putting the present before the past.

What would a confrontation with Corlys achieve? That's the question I'd ask, in order to make any headcanons. What would she be looking to get out of it, as opposed to what can be saved and controlled by her keeping the knowledge to herself? Can anything about the past be changed? Would it alter anything about the future, and if so, what? For good or ill?

Is it to stop the behaviour? What if it already has been stopped? Is it to shame Corlys? What if Rhaenys knows Corlys feels shame already? To prevent it from happening again? What if an outburst won't ensure that but some form of attentiveness would? Is it to find out everything - to what end?

Does the information she possesses feel bearable enough if left unresolved? Would the information she gains leave her worse off? I think one of the things Eve spoke to Steve about was knowing or not knowing how special this other woman was. Better to treat it as nothing, or her as nothing, perhaps, in order to minimize the importance or impact of her? Those could be possible schools of thought.

I also think that Rhaenys is a character who conceals her hurt to maintain her own power. Mystery as mastery. Confusing the act of being vulnerable with showing weakness. Giving voice to heartbreak and therefore giving power to Corlys. She could quite easily lose control of the situation and of herself, which is something I think she absolutely flinches away from. It could tear them apart - it could break what they have, she could hear and find out things she never would want to - heck, Corlys could leave her and, if nothing else, we know she doesn't like that.

But, by not confronting him, then the power and her own reaction is hers to determine. It's completely without him and anything he might say or do. It doesn't require his permission. She can make it what she wants. She has more awareness and more information and therefore more power. Even if she doesn't use it. She's got the loaded gun.

But those are unpolicied thoughts and potentially conflicting, depending on what the truth of it all was. The sad thing is that, with Rhaenys's death, we'll never really know. Unless something new comes about, or we get something in the BTS book that is coming, as far as Rhaenys's perspective goes, that's it. We have what we have to work with.

#house of the dragon #rhaenys targaryen

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nebulabasket · 4 months ago

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Remembering a World and History that Nobody Else Has Ever Known

CW: cult mention, death mention, apocalypse mention, religion mention, spirituality, bigotry.

I am a somtive/dreamtive "headmate" (party member; I don't like the term "headmate" for myself), and the lives I remember only seem to exist in this world through me and the dream that brought me here. I say "lives" because, in the world I remember as my own, I am a magical gaurdian beast reincarnated into a human body. I wish I could remember my name from my first life, but here I've come to refer to myself as anymic archaeosapient magical gaurdianbeastkin in lieu of a proper name, let alone one the people of this world would recognize. I was worshipped as a deity in my first life, but I don't really feel like a deity. I was only doing what I needed to do. More on this later, but even given this glorified history, I would be genuinely shocked if anyone in this world were to recognize any of what I remember.

In my first life, I was this powerful magical luminous golden gaurdian beast the size of a small mountain tasked with protecting the world I'm from. I fought this equally powerful, magical, and enormous red serpent-bull-man beast of chaos, death, and destruction. Ultimately, I sealed it away underground where I stayed to gaurd it and make sure it stayed sealed away. As such, I was worshipped as a deity. In this life, I formed a small glowing green rabbit companion in my mind and magically projected it into reality with magic as a sort of helper and messenger. A manifestation of peace and prosperity. After hundreds of years, I faded into a deep slumber, passing on from that life and leaving my rabbit companion to watch over the world in my wake. It was prophesied that I would be reborn into a human vessel far into the future when the red beast begins to break free and my powers would reawaken to seal him away once more.

Well, a few thousand years or so later, I was reincarnated into the human body I have in the inner/other world. Transmasc nonbinary xenogender neopronoun user, aroace, punk, non-religious, neurodivergent, disabled, indigenous, and, as I'd come to find out after never really feeling human anyway, otherkin (I do have much in common with the body in this world). I had never felt like anyone had ever taken me seriously, I didn't have a good relationship with my family, I didn't really have any friends because I sucked at making any, and I was (and honestly still am) generally exhausted and sick of everything. Then one day in my early 20's, some weird guy came up to me spouting about how I was the chosen one or some shit and dragged me to some cult meeting where both of us proceeded to be mocked and ridiculed and I was called a solid handful of slurs. But the guy convinced them to bring me to this alter thing and do some kind of ritual just to be sure. Well, I guess that awakened the past life version of me and I gradually started regaining my memories and powers and my eyes began to glow gold. Unfortunately, the cult wasn't too pleased with this outcome and didn't even know how my magic worked or how I was supposed to seal away the "demon". Well, I guess the green rabbit from my past life had found me and told the weird guy to lead me to the artifact at the alter so I could reawaken my power, and the green rabbit came to me as a guide of sorts and started speaking to me in riddles. There was also this guy that was supposed to be training me, but I don't think he knew what he was doing.

Anyway, I was supposed to solve the riddles to find some hidden extremely unaccessable temple ruins or something to complete some kind of ritual and battle the red beast again to seal him back away once more until the next time he would break free. One of the temples turned out to be underneath a high school, which was a pain in the ass. I went through all that trouble still dealing with all of my personal and health issues on top of that and almost died trying to seal away the red beast, and I was told I couldn't tell anyone or ask for outside help as to not cause mass hysteria, and the weird bigoted cult certainly wasn't any help. After all of that, I hardly even got a begrudging "thank you". Like, I don't want to be worshipped, but recognition and gratitude would at least be nice. I was just expected to just go on living my same shitty life like nothing ever happened, but now with magical powers and new trauma I could never tell anyone about. And don't you think the savior of the world being part of multiple minority groups and being disabled could have brought on at least a little positive change or at least a little hope? Honestly, it's not like anyone would have believed me, anyway. But then I woke up here in this body in this world where none of my achievements even happened or mean anything. I'm still rapidly losing my rights in a hostile environment in a world where I feel even more alone. I just hope someone else out there can relate, I guess.

~ 🌘 Crow 🌔

#plural system #plurality #plural stuff #multiplicity #somtive #dreamtive #introject #alterhuman #alterhumanity #otherkin #therian #therianthropy #nonhuman #archeosapience #anymic #exomemories #exotrauma #endo safe

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idealisticrealism · 10 months ago

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TCL 3x04 thoughts

Ngl this ep was pretty epic. Spoilers ahead.

The main things:

In-universe, it has now been a total of about five days since the events of ep 1 (Arman going missing, Thony meeting Jorge and Ramona)

But sigh this ep really was the Thony and Jorge show, wasn’t it? I’ll admit it upfront, I enjoyed watching their interactions change through the course of the ep, though god it was hard not to think about how absolutely incredible it would have been to watch Thony and Arman being the ones dealing with this situation together instead. But putting that aside, it was interesting to watch her and Jorge go from shouting at each other (and kind-of shooting at each other!) and ordering each other around, to Thony realising he was going to help her, to him playfully teasing her (the idea of burying her in the desert now nothing more than a joke to him despite the fact he’d been completely serious about it only days ago), to his concern about her potentially missing Luca’s interview, to his reaction to her comment about ‘losing a brother’, to her challenging him again and him calling her out and then her acknowledging the terrible things that she has also done, to him awkwardly comforting her as she absolutely breaks down about everything being her fault (which was hard to watch but kind of warranted lol), to fighting for their lives together, to him seeing that she has the guts to be ruthless when she needs to be, to him immediately obeying her orders when they find Fi, to him watching her with respect as she saves Fi's life, to him bringing her van back to her and them bonding over both their success and the realities of life with little kids, to her trusting him with the vial and its contents… like damn, that was a lot of progression for one episode! Reminds me of how much her relationship with Arman changed over the course of the pilot (but idk, with its own different vibe-- not really any of that electric chemistry and feeling of meeting someone you were always meant to meet and who is going to fundamentally alter your life, like Armony had, but more like finding a kindred spirit in an unexpected place? Idk). But anyway, the exchange “I’m not the man you think I am, Thony”/”Well maybe you could be” compared with her 1x03 exchange with Arman “You’re not the man I thought you were”/”What am I then? Say it. You think I'm a monster” was definitely interesting and says a lot about how much Thony has changed since then. Her view of Arman changed over time because of how he got lighter and she got darker, and so they kind of met in the middle– whereas now, with Jorge, she is already so accustomed to his and Arman’s dark, morally grey world that it doesn’t scare her like it used to, and plus Arman showed her that even the ‘bad men’ of that world can be good in many ways, or can at least change for the better. In this ep Thony saw the playful side of Jorge as well as the kind side, and though there was plenty of the dark side too, it was directed at people who even she thought deserved it, in a form of justice. Meanwhile his view of her changed from thinking she was just an erratic, reckless mess who didn’t listen to anyone, to understanding that she’s brave and determined and capable, and that her actions have been driven by both grief and an incredible level of family loyalty. Plus, she proved she could handle the harsh realities of his world and that she wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done, nor did she shy away from his own darkness. It must have been an absolute revelation for him to see her so calm and warm and at ease after her family was all reunited at home, and to realise that this is the real her, and that the near-feral creature he’d known over the past several days was purely a result of the incredible trauma and strain she was under. No doubt it’s during the events of this ep that his reported ‘fascination’ with her truly starts… and I guess we’ll see where it goes?

Okay seriously though what was with them using the song ‘Listo pa’ pelear’ as the example of music Jorge likes???? Aka the exact song that was used in the opening scene of 2x01, which was a montage of Arman cleaning in the prison??? I have literally listened to this song so many times that I thought I was having a stroke when it started playing in this ep. Does the music tech for the show just really love this song, or are they trying to subtly highlight the connection between Jorge and Arman??? I’m so confused

Yessss Thony handling a gun has been on my list of hopes for this show forever, because it’s visual evidence of her further progression into the criminal world (my dream of Mob Boss Thony is inching ever closer), and I’m just sad that Arman didn’t get to see it because he would have been so damn proud

Love Nadia going from 'holy shit’ (terrified) upon meeting Ramona and realising she’s Sin Cara to ‘holy shit’ (exhilarated) when Ramona blows up the sportsbook and welcomes her into the family lol. I think Nadia has a new idol haha

(Now I’m imagining the next Sin Cara meeting, with Ramona inviting Nadia and Jorge bringing Thony, and them all being one happy little crime family lol)

Man, there is no way that Fi and Chris are walking away from that super messed up desert journey without some intense PTSD. Like seriously, Fi looking around the van at everyone (including Chris) panicking and suffocating? That was freaking haunting, as was the macabre trail of bits and pieces (and the body) left behind by other immigrants in the desert. This show really does not pull punches when it comes to immigration issues and I respect that so much. (Also, the idea of border vigilantes is so absolutely fucked omg)

Ok I’m sorry, but no fucking way would Thony allow there to be an unbarricaded door in Luca’s room that leads to the outside of the house. Just nope lol, not a chance, but clearly its necessary for next ep lol so ok

Other stuff:

Our Adan is in the credits again; because of the photos, I guess? Also Nadia’s pic of Arman on the bike is a S2 BTS shot of Adan, I still remember seeing it for the first time :(

Speaking of motorbikes, I’d wondered what happened to the brief glimpse we saw in an early trailer of someone riding the bike Arman got at Bosco’s camp– never would have thought it was Nadia and not Arman on it though! Damn the writers are just making her even more badass

Is it sad that I recognised the location where Nadia meets the bounty hunter as the same spot they used for filming exterior scenes at Hayak’s truck depot (and which I'm 100% sure is literally on the studio lot)?

“We got a problem with Thony” lol how many times is Jorge gonna hear this from Dante? She’s already so notorious she gets first-name use lol

Ramona’s gallery is called ‘Sombra’, or ‘Shadow’, which is a cool nod to the shadowy world she operates in

Lol at the guys that drove Thony into the desert just yeeting her stuff out of the car and hightailing it outta there like "nope we ain't getting in the middle of this, byeee!" Lol

Love JD being just completely all-in for this family, and Chris calling him his Step-dad <3. Also damn that actor’s voice is just so incredibly soothing, I could listen to it all day

Nadia and “Auntie Kate” (lol) have the same kind of snarky antagonistic vibe as Garrett and Arman. But lol about time they froze Kamdar’s accounts, Nadia should have never even had access to them in the first place given their estrangement and how he died. I feel for her though, going from rich to desperately scraping for money to rich again to having nothing again, poor woman must be so stressed haha. Though I guess she’s getting a nice little chunk of insurance money now , so all good again lol

“Where are you from?”/“Las Vegas” Wooo that’s right, Vegas is her home now!

Omg the happy family reunion, my heart!! Also Camila and Chris continue to be adorable, please let her come back writers! I mean Luca is already calling her ‘big sister’ so she’s clearly meant to be family haha

Okay, a new wish for this season: to hear Thony tell Jorge/Ramona/Nadia “It’s not about doing things the right way or the wrong way, but any way you can. Arman taught me that” at some point. Please writers I neeeeeed it

#The Cleaning Lady #TCL recaps #TCL spoilers #The Cleaning Lady spoilers #lbr I'm absolutely going to spend so much time daydreaming about a version of this ep that has Arman in it instead of Jorge....

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haretic · 2 months ago

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to: mom

i've been trying to think of what to say for hours. days now. two to be precise. you came in my room and yelled at me for stealing from you again, stealing hair ties, bobby pins, cigarettes. i tried to tell you, if it wasn't yours, it'd be someone elses, and i don't know whats in them. you didn't get it, you didn't understand why i smoked in the first place, didn't understand why i had to be so horrible all the time, why i've been so horrible since i was a kid.

i think if we had a better relationship you wouldn't mind the hair ties and bobby pins. i wouldn't be so stressed. i wouldn't smoke. it would all be alright. but you had already decided who i was long before i even understood what it meant to be a person, and i still don't know how to escape it.

i remember waking up, i was seven or eight, and from then until i was about 11, i would wake up periodically from panic attacks. it would take me hours to go back to sleep. i sat in my bed sobbing and hoping someone would hear me and come see if i was okay, which i spent most of my childhood doing. i was so scared. all you did was come in and scream at me to shut up and go to bed. i had disturbed you. you were mad at me, i couldn't control my emotions and it inconvenienced you. dad came and laid with me until i felt safe enough to sleep again. you never brought it up again. to you it was a vague annoyance, but to me it was everything. you had no idea i had been sexually assaulted my whole childhood, no idea how bad the bullying had gotten, no idea about being suicidal at 7.

thats a lie, you knew. you saw it in my behaviours, you saw it in what i searched on the ipad you monitored, you told me to stop looking those things up and stopped digging deeper. to you it was all just an inconvenience, to me it was my whole life. my formative years. i spent it all gauging how you would react to me displaying emotions, wishing i could be better for you, that you would put in any amount of effort to understand me, but you refused to every. time. you ignored every important sign, the self harm, drinking, smoking, staying out or up late, being constantly tired, constantly fighting at school, with you. you didn't care about the root cause of it all, you only cared about the symptoms. like a tree, you tried to cut my issues down by chopping out the branches instead of bringing and axe to the stump. you could've, at any time, but you were convinced i didn't need help, that i just needed to try harder, that i liked being the way i was. who would like that?

you had already made up your mind, and there was nothing i could do to change it. and it confused me. so i sat on the sidewalk at midnight on my way to a friends house and i smoked the cigarettes i had stolen from you. i had asked you to say goodbye to me before i left that night, you said you didn't want to, and you didn't understand why i had to go. i told you i just had to. you didn't want to understand that to me, it was more than just a spat over me stealing your cigarettes. you made it clear i would never be who you wanted me to be, and that i would always be the horrible person you've thought i was since before i could remember. i couldn't be in our house when you thought those things. i needed to get out before i drowned in it, and you had no idea. like a willing ignorance, you forgot every thing that you'd ever done that changed my brain chemistry, that altered the path my life would take in my childhood. you begged me to tell you why i acted like this, but you never listened to the answer, so i stopped trying.

it feels suffocating sometimes, knowing what you think of me, but still reaching out to you. i try so hard to get your attention, to get you to care about me, even remotely, but you always shut it down. i text you when i'm at school, when i'm anxious, or when i'm bored, just for some reassurance that you want to be my mom, that you care for me, but you don't. you shut me down, all the time. you shut me out, and then you ask me why we don't have a good relationship but i keep begging. it gets to a pathetic point. i just wanted you to be my mom, and to care about me, but for some reason you rejected me every chance you got. it was easily fixable.

you told me last night you didn't think we would last like this, but we've been lasting like this for nearly two decades now, i'm just tired of putting in the effort. i can't change your mind, and i'm done trying. i'm whatever you say i am. i don't deserve anything i have and i won't make it in my life. thats fine with me. you say i can't move out, that i'm too immature for that, when i act like this around you, but the thing is that its only around you. i act like this around you. you're my mother, and you've never mothered me, and i still want you to before i move out. i'll be too old to be mothered soon and i want you to try to care before its too late, but you just don't.

i wish i could go back in time and try it all over again. maybe i didn't try hard enough to change your mind about me. i was young, but i could've done more to get you to like me. i wish i had. i wish i had my mom, unconditionally. not overshadowed by all the evil you think i bring into the world. i wish you would love me before i'm gone.

#txt #me #blogging

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too-destiny-panda · 1 year ago

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Wyllvember Day 2: Wyll and Tav/The Devil

A/N:This time I switched Day 3 and Day 2 of @sagscrib 's prompt list to better fit the Wyllweek one by @commander-yinello. Hopefully you guys enjoy and thank you for the feedback on the first one, it warmed my heart that I haven't lost my touch as much as I thought:)

This would have been much, much longer than it already is, but I figured there would be another time for me to elaborate on this relationship. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

WC:820

Ah, how quickly one’s fate can change. Be it through physical or mental changes, it truly puts into perspective how flitting one’s sense of self is in the grand scheme of things. Our minds and bodies ever aging, ever changing. A small cut from a stray cat and your appearance is altered, no matter how small or unperceivable that change may be. The only exception to this is the celestial, fey and fiendish beings, perhaps, and even then, they may pick and choose how to manifest themselves to the mortal eye. And if a mortal soul does indeed at some point decide to drastically change their physiology, be it a druid using their wild shape or a bard deciding that their hair needs a different hue, they do so mostly willingly, and the majority of the time, the change is temporary. Not all are so lucky.

When Mizora enacted her punishment for the breaching of her contract (because it is her contract, no matter how technical one gets), she dragged Wyll Ravengard through the burning river Styx, through the hottest hellfire, and turned him into a devil. Gone was his warm brown eye, replaced by a pool of blood red in a black expanse. His neck was forced to begin to adjust to the curved horns now framing his head like a twisted halo as ridges grew into, and on, his skin, his tongue dividing, ears elongating and nails growing into claws. Where once stood the human Blade of Frontiers, the beloved folk hero, was now unrecognizable to many of his admirers as they cowered at the sight of a devil, crying for their hero to save them from himself.

Such trauma is impossible to overlook. A change so drastic, so shocking, and yet it happened in just a few moments. His entire body changed into one so foreign he almost wanted to believe it to be a bad dream were it not for the weight on his head and the occasional glances from camp members as well as the stares of anyone they met. It is no wonder that the Blade avoided mirrors, for a long while, despite the assurances from their leader and a few others that he was still the handsome Wyll they all knew. It was still too overwhelming, and despite being assured in his choice, having no regrets, it was not something he liked or wanted to think about.

Which is how he found himself alone, with a goblet for company as cheers and laughter, and some singing, rang through the air at the party behind him. He couldn’t bring himself to join them, to walk into that space and bear witness to how conversations turn hushed, and laughter quietens at the sight of him. As the Tieflings, despite knowing it’s just him, feel instinctual fear, drilled into them from Avernus as they regard a devil. So, he doesn’t, choosing instead to spend a night meant for revery in the pits of self-reflection.

When Tav had joined him, he felt both a sense of relief and guilt. Relief that he was sought out, that someone cared, and guilt that his choices were pulling them from a celebration of their victory. As he listed all the reasons why he shouldn’t be seen, they listened patiently, offering soft counterpoints and comforting words where they were needed. He truly believed this night was as good as it could get when they asked if they could kiss him. Their words and facial features feigned confidence as their eyes betrayed fear and anticipation, the corner of their lips twitching in anxiety where they formed a small smile. And he meant to refuse, he should have refused, but he just couldn’t. Not when they looked at him with such sincerity and bashfulness that was beginning to turn into embarrassment and regret as his silence extended for longer than he meant it to. And so, he conceded, deciding that this couldn’t be considered selfishness on his par if they offered, as he leaned in to bestow one single kiss upon their mouth. And oh, what a good decision that was.

Their lips were soft and pillowy. Tav’s kiss was tender, uncertain, as if they didn’t really know what they were doing, but he attributed it to nerves and rustiness. When their fingertips carefully brushed the underside of his jaw, he forced himself to pull away, to put some kind of distance between the two of them, before he wouldn’t have been able to stop. Their giddy smile, heated cheeks and starry eyes made him almost regret that choice, but as they parted ways, both leaving the other some space for their thoughts, he knew there would be a better fitted time for them.

And as he laid down for the night, his dreams already drifting towards the person of his developing affection, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of dancer they were.

#blue writes #blue's ocs #bg3 wyll #wyllweek #wyllvember #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav

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fatummortem · 10 months ago

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Meet the Mun

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

Erm.. Let's see... Just skip to a muse lol.

Rosie, a friend suggested her some twenty years ago for this elite comic book RP guild. She's the only one I kept from that time. I never heard of her before that & when I read her I remember saying 'she's such an angsty little shit. I love her.'. Her background is like casebook 'what happens if you have a poor support system' in a way.

Ryouta (daken/fang canonly), well he's that guilty pleasure villain everyone enjoys reading about for me I suppose. In another way I get curious about nurture vs nature. Which is something intertwined with his chara i think. (it's a dark past) What inspired me to write him, well he had a slow progression away from his villainess nature you could say. And I am a sucker for growth. It was his appearance's in All New Wolverine that made me go 'oh i'm going to write him'.

Somnus somehow turns stabby villains into teddy bears and i thought it was hilarious.

Bobby, well I wanted a silly gay polyamorous muse & I had been itching to write him for awhile but at the same time wanted to write with a Bobby more so held off. Gave in about a year back i think?

Malicia, well she's pretty AU of one of my favourite comic charas growing up. And well I'm a tad nervous writing her main verse so I just did something with a twist for fun.

TJ I've written a few times over the years. Normally when a friend has me going 'Hell yeah!'. One time I believe a friend was making a Blink (the bestie). This time around I started talking to a few friends about her & then got to talking with Armin about her relationship with her dad. A similar thing happened with Billy. I ended up bringing him back after talking with a friend who writes his twin Tommy. As for originally, I sadly do not recall.

Cloud, well as I said i'm a sucker for growth & his story is full of it. I also enjoy picking apart ways people display or write PTSD & show how it can be displayed in society or be a danger creatively. I also have PTSD, which can range on my reactions to things depending on my environment. So in a way it's one of the ways I learn about myself. Though his mental state has more of a twist to it as he has the lifestream & Jenova influences. Which can come across as confusing as it can seem similar to different forms of DID.

I also have a disability involving memory and memory issues brought on from trauma. So it kinda pulled me in more, I normally don't write muses that are popular to write or I lose the want to write them quickly. Which is not the case with Cloud, he's my rule or norm breaker. (might be why I'm not writing Tifa or Zack tho I'll be honest)

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

Erm *nibbles pen* flat out don't like? Random bits of rage filling arguments. Thought that's mostly when Anons do it. Mainly for the fact it doesn't go anywhere. I prefer my angst long lasting & with the ability to have a back & forth.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

There's a lot of things. Slow burns. Small bits of seriousness that leads to progression of a relationship (friendship or ship). Crack seriousness (threads where you have to squint to see the crack), Smut (picky with that), Angsty pain, healthy ships, snarky *jazz hands* ships, Silly friend/fam moments. etc...

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

^_^; So I have the habit, of writing detailed notes & accumulate data (websites, youtube videos, games/comics what have you). I normally write detailed dossiers but lately they turn into 10+ page essays so I've been slapping on wiki pages. Clouds is mostly how his mental state is, how it works & alters along with a lot of lore on locations and Materia to help myself & it's mostly jumbled quick notes with no flow. yeah i just went 'i'll put this over here for later'.

But I basically bury myself within a segment of lore to work it through my head a few times. Then I try to see if I can make it fit into how I feel I'd like to write the muse. Comics can be a bit tricky because there's no mainline writer or books get canceled, one writer makes what another put in place meaningless.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

Both! it really depends on my mood, if i'm into the music if my muse wants to jam so on so forth...

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

Both! It depends. For close connections or like someone that might be someone mine knows I can ask peeps questions to get an idea of a same flow or idea going. Other times I'll wing it entirely while some i'll just give a brief info dump and ask if someone down for it. Then there's plotting while the thread is being written just to throw out ideas or okay things. There's also the excitement of eating popcorn just because I'm wondering if it'll turn tortuously cute or like a thriller in the next few goes depending on what's going on. xD

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

I love ships ^_^ especially when ya talk hcs or just build upon things slowly. I have a weakness for slow burns ^_^;

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

I'm Glow, lovely to meetcha. ^_^

ᴀɢᴇ?

My siblings went to see ET in the movie theatre when I was born.

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

June 18th.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

The shade black, any shade of purple tho normally lavander, any shade of blue, a few shades of red.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

It actually alters over time so it's hard to tell. Currently have 'let it snow' stuck in my head if that counts.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Uh, went with a friend to see Elementals awhile back

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Murder Drones or Hazbin Hotel? Kiddo is heavily into them right now & I try to get into her fandoms

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

the Alexa at work has the habit of throwing on death metal when I'm there so idek.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Mmmmm, Gumbo but not that northern watered down gumbo the Cajun one where you wheeze and shove bread in your mouth after a few spoonful's. ohhhh homemade Cheesecake with pralines crushed into the bottom layer & drizzled over the top. Mongolian grill with crab & steam mixed heavily with veggies & my own sauce cocktail. Red beans & rice but not the cheap ass sausage, ya need the good stuff or it tastes wrong. Slow cooked in a way where the-- ya shouldn't ask a cook about food.

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Rainy Summers

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

I doo~ Does it count if most of them aren't around anymore? I have a few here abouts too.

Tagged by: @lastflowerpetal

Tagging: I never know who's been tagged already, so if you wish to just tag me in it so I can take a gander. ^_^

#!!!!#thankies ^_^#mun stuff #dash games #mun meme

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pastramimommy · 1 year ago

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Pre-long distance convo 7/30/23 5:30 pm

I've been reflecting/spiraling about our conversation in KC and the general future of our relationship for the last week, and have sought out advice from friends, family, and strangers in our situation.

My comments about using our time wisely and efficiently, are just outright uncalled for and I just need to leave it be at this point. You know that this is one of the biggest ways to show me love and I really don't need to remind you. I've never really given you the opportunity to show me this in action so I will try to go with the flow more, trusting that you are doing everything in your power to stay on top of your plans and scheduling.

Upon reflecting on that specific situation at the bars, I still believe I have the right to express my feelings about what I called you out for, I just need to present it to you more effectively. I should have waited till we were not in front of your sister/friends and I should have said it more calmly and with less fiery language. Like I said earlier, I wasn't mad about those situations, I just said everything on my mind exactly as the thoughts were forming, which is not ideal, but I still want you to hear that you could do something differently. And the intention is not to make you feel inadequate, but like how we approach sex, there is always room for improvement. I know I cannot say something to you about every little thing that bothers me, and picking which battles are worthwhile is something that I will have to practice. If there is a way that you think we could better address these situations please tell me.

From my conversations with my mom and from podcasts I've been listening to, I realized that most of the stress about our relationship I've imposed on myself from thinking to far into the future too much. All of my fears stem from the thought of losing my autonomy to make certain decisions in my life because it will be dictated by your career, and if things were not to work out, the entire trajectory of my life will have been altered but nothing in your life will be changed at all. I am not telling you this to make you feel stressed or bad for me, I just want you to understand where I am coming from. None of these are reflection of how you make me feel, they are a reflection of how the situation makes me feel. I know your fear is that I will resent you for all the sacrifices that I have to make, but genuinely I am happy to move because I want to be with you. I cannot resent you if you allow me to make decisions with you and respect my non-negotiables when your situation allows. Like the conversation about living together, I hear your side and I will work with you, but please show me that commitment and sacrifice when you can. While these things will still be real and valid for me to think about, I now know it just isn't healthy for me to dwell on them. I cannot worry about what will happen in 3 years when I have things that I can be doing to benefit us today.

In terms of effort and needs being met, I have also come to terms with the fact that our requirements are going to change over the years (and maybe even months) because we will be in different situations every year (long distance vs living near each other vs living together; M1/M2 vs M3/M4 vs residency). I understand that the current situation requires you to lean on me a little more and I accept that and am excited to do so. I really do have to be okay with you coping with your stress however you do so and genuinely putting myself on the back burner. This will be an era of our relationship that will be 60/40 but that is normal in relationships. All that I ask is that you can be the 60 in times when I need you ex) when I move to KC and starting a new job, starting school, etc) Part of the work I need to do is discern which stressors I can bring to you vs others. I don't want to feel like I can't share my stressors with you because you are too busy for them, so finding that balance will be my challenge. One of the pieces of advice I got was to not sweat the small things, which is so simple but makes sense, we have such little time together so it is not worth wasting it talking about silly qualms.

I know my greatest challenge will be making sure that I respect my boundaries. Me knowing the difference between me being 60/40 for a season of our lives vs me being 75/25 consistently and telling myself that it's okay bc "he's just busy" is something that I am genuinely nervous about. This is my fear about "trying your best" because even though I know that it is truly the most that you can give, it is subjective and gives you the space to theoretically do whatever you want as long as you say it's your best. Not saying this is what you will do by any means, but it does make it easier for me to let things slide if that makes sense. As long as at every life dinner, you can look at me and genuinely tell me that you tried your best every month, I will be satisfied. This is painful to say, but both of us have to be okay with walking away if we know that we are consistently not giving/receiving what we deserve.

My expectations and requests are as follows:

-Text me when you wake up and when you go to sleep (esp when you go out). Don't feel pressured to text me back during the day, esp if we are having a conversation with multiple text streams. I'd rather have you wait a little longer to respond so you can give me a quality response.

-Express that you love me in some way through text since that will be the primary form of communication

-No requirement on facetime frequency is needed. I'd rather just request to FT as needed and schedule it. I will call you at random points in the day if I have a moment, but I totally understand if you can't answer. You can do the same if you want.

-For scheduling/making plans, I'll try to present the plan to you with the possible dates and a deadline for you to let me know if required by the situation. I will not nag you until the deadline is reached.

#thoughts #personal

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badmusejail · 1 year ago

Text

"Maybe one day I'll..."

Gaster didn't feel the need to finish the statement, instead letting out a long exhale, staring off at the trees, even if he didn't really take in the sight.

"It's nice of you to offer such assistance. Try not to overwork yourself, though."

Only mildly hypocritical.

His mind was never quiet; his SOUL perpetually taking in countless sights and sounds from countless realities, but nonetheless, having the serenity around his physical manifestation was nice.

Maybe he could even doze off for a while...

"The CORE?" he clarified, blinking and bringing his attention back to the situation at hand. He straightened with a bit of pride; the only reason his ego didn't take over entirely was the fact that his brilliance had lead directly to his downfall remained a sore point.

"Well. It is as you said; we had very limited resources so I was forced to think about what we did have.

"So I turned my attention to SOULs; the relationship between our SOUL and how we manifest magic and bullets, and how our SOUL essentially acts as a battery or power for our everyday life; whether that be simple acts such as breaking down food during digestion or expressly using magic to manipulate or interact with the world."

Gaster, now fully absorbed into his ramble, withdrew his arms from his sleeves and began to gesture, gaze mostly fixated on the sky.

"The perpetual recycling of this energy is a fundamental constant of our world--we consume magic, break it down into our SOUL, and naturally shed it throughout our life.

"The CORE then came as a mere extension of this idea--the means of giving life to magic without the need of a SOUL, an artificial battery, essentially.

"The final implementation doesn't quite adhere to that idea, but does play into the natural cycle of energy -- essentially, magic comes in a basic, most fundamental piece, which combines and builds with other particles to create the complicated and vast variety of effects that monsters can do. But after the energy is spent, the magic remains in this altered, combined form--for example, a great majority of the snow in Snowdin is magic taking the form of snow and ice--and a great deal of energy remains in keeping these constructs together."

Now, Gaster partially closed his hands, as if each one was holding a relatively large, spherical object, and pushed them closer together.

"So the CORE comes into play by taking these constructs and pulling them back apart, releasing them back into the natural state and harnessing the energy within."

Gaster made a vague 'firework' motion with his hands.

...Before folding them back onto his lap, only mildly embarrassed by his tangent.

River eyed Gaster as they continued floating along, away from where there were more prying eyes and over to the nice copse of trees they had been thinking of. Sometimes, the solitude was nice.

And their current companion looked like he desperately needed the quiet. This, too, River understood.

They decided to roll with the chosen topic, letting it move on from their own Sight. "I have a nice houseboat here on the surface, but I have not abandoned my one in Waterfall either. Occasionally monsters who have stayed below will still need to get where they need to be, and now my boat also offers travel up and down the mountain. I keep rather busy these days, when I am not taking a day off."

As they were today. They didn't do so as often when they were trapped but there were so many new and interesting things to see up here.

So many new people. Places. Things to do and see and hear and read.

It was quite lovely.

It reminded them to thank the young human who had introduced them to the concept of 'Spotify'.

"Whatever gave you the idea?" they inquired, returning their thoughts to the CORE. "It is brilliant. I do not have the knowledge for such technical innovations," indeed, they'd been called whatever a 'boomer' was by a gaggle of human children before when they'd needed someone to explain how their cell phone worked again, "but I can recognize brilliance when I see it. Especially with the limited resources we were working with. I understand special materials are required for these things."

Yes, they'd had one of the phones designed by Alphys when Underground. No, they didn't know how to use that one properly either.

#theriverperson #|| private | private rp.#|| gaster | chorus of nothing.#|| gaster | verse | refused.#undertale cw

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aureliadebae603 · 2 years ago

Text

Research inspiration and examples

To further develop inspiration for my pamphlet, I decided to look at some previous students work on Behance.

This is one of the first students I noticed on Behance and recognised from our first class presentation. What I found capturing this pamphlet was the simplicity of colours used and the dramatic, unique display typeface that is used as the focal part of the poster. I find that this typeface is effective as each letter incorporates a different types style, embracing characteristics of each of the typography designer's styles into her own work. I want to do something similar in the sense of encapturing the characteristics of each of the type designers that will be showcased in the pamphlet. I also like the legibility and readably of the body font used as well as the clarity and simplicity of the designer's photos.

For this student's work, I felt that this was reduced a lot compared to the first brochure I looked at. They maintained a simple colour pallet, only featuring 3 main colours (lime green, deep purple and white). I found that the white and green definitely stood out against the background. This design is simple and well-structured but just doesn't feel as adventurous or exciting as the first pamphlet that I looked at. It has made me want to ensure that I am a little playful and bring some interesting elements into my design so I ensure that I encapture my audience's attention and engage them with the information I am to provide.

In this student's work, I like the simple white, black and red colour pallet they have chosen to work with. I think that this is effective in their work as it helps to draw the reader's attention towards certain elements. As a designer, this is an important factor when creating as you want to be able to control where the viewer's eyes will move, and how they will read it. I read through the description they included on Behance and they mentioned that they incorporated these 3D bubbles into their work. I think this idea worked effectively as it provides a sense of space and depth within the brochure, connecting it to the event and the world itself. I thought that this aspect was different and stood out to me from the other work I have looked at which are all 2d and flat. I would consider doing something along these lines, but my experience with 3D hasn't been that successful in the past. Instead, I will this as inspiration to elevate my design and create something unique from my peers.

In this pamphlet, I immediately noticed the background design is based on letter pressing print keys. This process is a form of relief printing, it signifies the relationship between the type, ink and paper. I thought that this was a very interesting element to include within their design. It highlights the importance of type and is connected to the event through the significance and the type of designers as well. One thing I would have to improve on for this pamphlet could be the quality of the designer's images. I wasn't sure if they were blurry to tie into that poster's background idea or if that is just how they decided to modify the images.

This last student's work I found so fun and playful. They have stuck to a minimal colour pallet, not including their display typeface. What I enjoy the most about the display typeface is the feeling of a 3D balloon or clay-like-styled type, making the event seem fun, colourful and engaging for the audience. I also like how they altered the orientation of each of the designer's descriptions, keeping it unique and playful. However, with this, I'm not sure how it would have impacted the legibility and readability of the information as the reader would have had to turn and readjust the brochure to be able to read different designer's descriptions. I do enjoy how clean and concise everything is laid out and would want to do something similar for my own work.

References:

#grad603 #studentinspiration #typography #design #graphic design #pamphlet

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immasock · 2 years ago

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Hello! If you could a

platonic relationship with the demon brothers (mc's like 12-15) where mc when they are anger they speak in Arabic (you can change the language btw) and the brothers dont really understand them

I am always a sucker for bilingual MC-

However I don’t know Arabic but I do know German so we’ll go with that

Also I tried a different style so I hope it’s not too bad

I will do the younger brothers later

Angry Bilingual Teen!MC + Platonic! Older Brothers

The brothers knew that the human was bilingual. Lucifer had read it on their form when he was picking them out for the program. But the paper also said that they spoke English as well, so they figured it wouldn’t really be an issue. And it wasn’t, for the most part. The human spoke a little bit of German here and there but they usually stuck with English. They only really pulled it out when they were genuinely angry with someone

Lucifer:

Lucifer was in his study, going over MCs grades and class work, when he came across their most recent Magical Potions test grade. And boy was it unacceptable. He thought MC had been studying. They had told him they were studying. But clearly they were not. So he saw no other option than to call them down to his office

“Do you know why I have called you down here MC?”

“No?”

“It’s about your recent score in Magical Potions. A 46% MC. I thought you studied”

“I did! For a while. But then it got late and I got tired and it was really boring! What else was I supposed to do?”

Lucifer sighed “I’m sorry but you leave me no choice. I am taking away your phone and you are to spend all of your free time outside of classes studying until you bring your grade up”

They couldn’t believe what they were hearing. How could he do this?

“Du bist ein schrecklicher alter Mann! Ich hasse dich!”

Lucifer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Literally. He had no idea what he was hearing. But from what he just said and their tone, he could only assume it wasn’t good

“Just go to your room MC. We can discuss this later”

Mammon:

Mammon was being his usual self and pulling MC along to whatever activity he was doing that day. Today it happened to be a casino. He thought that they could be his little good luck charm however MC was not into it. They really wanted to go home but mammon insisted that they had to stick around for just one more round of poker

“Cmon MC! Just one more, I promise! I’m about to hit the jackpot on this one!! I can feel it!”

“Du trottel. Du bist stur wie ein Esel. Und du siehst auch so aus”

“…….”

He didn’t know what they were saying but he had been spoken to in that tone more than enough times to know that whatever they said, wasn’t good

“Can we please go home?”

“….Yeah. Sure. Let’s go”

Leviathan:

It was yet another day of school which meant yet another day that Levi stayed holed up in his room. Except that today he was needed at RAD. There was a student body meeting that Levi, being a part of the student council, was apart of. Levi knew this and he was determined to stay in his room today so that he didn’t have to go in front of the entire student body. But Lucifer had other plans. Said other plans being to make MC get him out of the house and to RAD. Of course.

“Hey fish boy. Get up. We gotta get ready for school”

“I think I’ll just stay here today. I can do all my classes online”

“Yeah not happening. You know you guys have that thing today. So get your ass up and get dressed”

“But i don’t want to! I can’t go up in front of all those people!! A shut in otaku just isn’t build for it”

MC let out a long sigh

“Hör zu, Fischjunge, du wirst aus der Badewanne aufstehen und dich anziehen. Und dann marschierst du dorthin und aus dieser Tür, bis du zu dieser Schule kommst. Versteht ihr mich?”

Now Levi wasn’t quite sure what MC had just said to him but he sure as hell didn’t want to find out. They sounded pissed and he didn’t want to face them like that. So he got up and started to grab his clothes. MC nodded and left to let him get dressed

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me headcanons #obey me mc #obey me teen mc #obey me bilingual mc

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real-jane · 3 years ago

Text

bug and bear

[steve rogers x fem!reader]

summary: you’re set to marry a man you’re not sure you even like, but the person going to all the appointments with you is your life-long best friend.

words: 3.5k

a/n: I got inspired for this watching Toscana on Netflix! the whole idea of helping someone with their wedding while you pine for them… one of my fav tropes. this is my first time writing for steve 👀. enjoy!!

—

He’s attended every appointment with you–choosing flowers, cake tastings, all four caterers (since your mother wasn’t convinced that your idea of a food truck would properly serve a hundred guests, it was thanks to Steve’s meticulous notes that she finally came around… hundreds of dollars saved, too)--and never once complained.

Your friendship started with playing hide-and-go-seek around your neighborhood the first day your family moved in next door. Steve has been game for whatever you asked since. Friends in a way which makes ‘best’ feel insufficient, and far more fierce about vouching for you than your own brothers ever were. Steve’s a part of you.

The alterations place tried to chase him away for your dress fitting, but you needed his opinion! ‘It’s bad luck’–who cares? Your girlfriends had gushed over your dress when you first tried it, to a degree that you couldn’t remember if it suited you until you were standing there in the damn thing six months later, staring at yourself in the mirror. Steve didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. He just leaned forward, arms braced on his knees, and smiled.

His gentle demeanor has grounded you the entire wedding planning process, so when your mother signs you up for a ballroom dance class… he’s affable. He’s unbothered. Of course he’ll go, of course he’ll wait, of course he’ll be your partner when the attendees are unevenly matched, of course he’s good at it, too.

But he isn’t your fiancé, and that’s why you’re fucked.

Said groom begs out of appointments with such frequency that sometimes you forget to even tell him about one. Did you mention the dance class? Or are you prescient, able to intuit his answer without needing to bring it up? Why would your own fiancé ever willingly join you for something that wasn’t his idea?

Why did Brock ask you to marry him? That question keeps you up at night, as he snores from the other side of your too-large bed.

You’ve been with Brock since college. You don’t remember what it feels like to get butterflies, just from the way he looks at you. His attention is certainly not as piercing as Steve’s softest gaze, because that man has never had an unsteady blink when you rely on his eye contact for reassurance. He probably wouldn’t blink, ever again, if that was what you needed. Brock doesn’t seem to mind how often you’re around the blond; time and again, he’s said how faithful you are, how loyal. He didn’t agree to Steve being in your wedding party, however, and it’s probably for the best because if Steve stood behind you while you told Brock you’d love him forever, it would feel like a betrayal of a relationship which never was.

Loyalty to Brock feels an awful lot like mutiny when you’re swaying in circles with the man who keeps his promises. Steve’s hand is warm at the small of your back. When you take an unsure step, he squeezes your joined hands. ‘You can stand on my feet,’ he whispers when the instructor steps out of the room to take a call. If Brock were here, he’d be dragging you along with no discernable rhythm or form.

It’s not that you don’t get along with Brock; you root for the same sports teams, you like the same music, you both like to cook and he’s taken you on some of the best trips you could ever imagine. Sex is infrequent but fine. He’s just not… that nice to you. He says he loves you like he’s forecasting the weather. He wouldn’t let you put the soles of your new dance shoes on his dress shoes so you’d stop tripping. So.

You let yourself slip into the daydream.

Stepping up onto Steve’s shoes, pressing your chest to his. Leaning your cheek against his chin. Closing your eyes. He’s humming, just a soft little tune. You’ve laid against his chest sobbing, before; touch is not an unfamiliar shared experience. Just not around Brock. Not because Brock would care. You’re not even sure your fiancé would notice. But–

“You don’t like him.”

It comes out of your lips too fast, on a quick exhale like your mouth knows something your brain hasn’t realized. Steve doesn’t say anything. He rubs a circle over your spine. You try to pull back, to look up at him, but he holds fast. The instructor returns to the room and you hastily step down, catching your heel. Thanks to his steady grip on your hand, you manage to avoid falling, but the woman running the class gives you a disgruntled snort.

Class is dismissed without Steve looking you in the eye once. He’s still at your elbow, but he’s quiet. He doesn’t turn the radio on in the car. He stares at the road. You can't bring yourself to break the silence, but all you want Steve to do is tell you whether you’ve made the right assumption. The street lights come on and the sky darkens, and you’re glad you can’t see the blank expression on his face anymore.

Two blocks from the apartment you share with Brock, he pulls over, shuts the car off, and rubs his chin. You fidget with your ring. He can’t help but clock your movement, and he grasps your wrist, interlacing your fingers like he usually does when you’re driving long-distance. Steve brings your hand closer, studying the bespoke diamond.

“You’re not a diamond girl,” he murmurs. Finally, finally… he looks at you.

Two decades of friendship zip through your brain on a reel. Every time he’s given you that look, stripped of any teasing or inside jokes, distilled into one composite realization that Steve Rogers has always looked at you like that. Like you’re sunshine, or something rare and precious. But not a diamond, because he’s right. You hate that ring.

He leans back in his seat, letting your arm drape across the console so he can keep a tight hold on your hand, and he doesn’t look away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you peep, when he sighs for the thousandth time.

“You were too excited, bug–how could I? The promising quarterback asked you out! I wasn’t sure your feet were ever gonna touch earth again.”

“Steve–I’ve been seeing him for almost a decade!” Heat rises in your cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me the second you met him?”

He frowns. “Don’t think I haven’t been counting the days,” he says, and your heart lurches.

“You should’ve said something.”

“Would you have listened?” Steve bites his lip for a second like he doesn’t want to let you know the whole truth. He thinks better of it, squeezing your hand. “I don’t have to live with him, buggy, so what does it matter? If you’re happy, I’m golden, you know that.”

You sink into the passenger seat. The inside of his car blurs into a landscape of watery glowing lights.

“It’s just–” he stops. You turn your head away from him so he can’t see a droplet zing down your cheek. He plays with your engagement ring, twisting it. It doesn’t fit you but Brock never bothered to try to get it resized, so you figured you’d wait and get it sized with your wedding band. “This feels like the end,” Steve says.

“Tell me not to do it, then.”

He balks at the challenge just long enough that it hurts. “I’ll support whatever choice you make,” he says, knifing you between the ribs with his nobility.

This isn’t your best friend, who drove three hours to help you move into the dorms freshman year and gave you all his unsolicited opinions about placement of your unironic Shrek poster. This isn’t Steve, who tells you if your spaghetti sauce needs more garlic, or your plants need less water, or your car needs an oil change. Whoever this is, he’s not the Steve you… you love. He’s hiding behind good intentions, and it is painful enough trying to riddle through your own muddled feelings about your impending wedding without him coming up short for reason, too. So, you push open the passenger door, and rip your hand out of his hold.

“Bug–” You slam the door on his pleading call, striding down the sidewalk in your flip-flops, with your dance shoes dangling off two fingers and your phone clenched in your fist so tight you’d surely shatter the screen (if it weren’t for the heavy-duty cover Steve bought for you). His door opens and shuts behind you, and he’s running after you. You’re at the corner when he catches up, snagging your elbow. “Listen to me–” he breathes.

“What kind of girl am I?” you demand, forcing him to follow you over the crosswalk. Your tears are furious, and your feet ache.

“Hey–”

“Steven!” You rip your arm free, dodging around an annoyed older couple who you nearly barrel into. “You exploded my life,” you say, swiping your hand under your nose. “You think I can marry a man I know you hate?”

“I don’t, honey, I don’t.” He pulls you to a bench and forces you to sit with his hands on your shoulders. He kneels in front of you.

“Oh my god! Do you know how many people spit on the sidewalk?”

He rolls his eyes and cups your cheeks. “You’re hysterical. I’m–shit, bug. I envy him.” Steve wipes away the fresh tears, and he chuckles at the stunned look on your face. “You’re my world. My buggy. How could I interfere in your happiness? Even if it hurts me not to. You’re allowed to make choices without my influence, and you should. Hmm? You went three hours away for college without asking if it was gonna rip my heart out of my chest.”

You can’t help the hiccough of a laugh. “There she is. It wasn’t very nice of you, you know.”

“You don’t own me,” you manage, despite the smile which threatens your cheeks.

“I’m acutely aware of that, thank you.” He brushes your cheekbone. “I’m… trying. To make peace with the idea that You and Me aren’t always gonna be attached at the hip.”

“You did follow me to the city, you stalker.”

“You begged me for months!”

“You caved!”

“I did,” he says. His cheeks flush. Steve’s eyes can’t decide which of yours to study, but his stare is intense. “I don’t know what I’m doin’, here. But all I know is, if it was my name in curly script that you hand-wrote on a hundred invitations, you couldn’t keep me away from one second of planning our day.”

“I can’t even get rid of you now,” you say with a sad smile. You pull one of his hands from your face and press it between yours.

“So.” He shrugs. “Where is he? Huh? I feel like I’m the proxy for a dead man.”

You sigh. Your thoughts coming straight off Steve’s lips. “He says I’m better at ‘all this’ than he is. He ‘trusts me.’”

“He’s–fuck.”

“You’re cursing a lot, bear.”

His face lights up at the affectionate title. “I’m sorry I haven’t been truthful.”

“Lay it on me. Please.”

Steve promptly sits beside you, shoulder pressed to yours. You loop your arm with his and wait.

“I… yeah. I hate him,” he admits. “Brings out the ugliest parts of me. I never got jealous when you dated in school, but he made you draw a line, and I assumed (incorrectly or not) that it meant one day you’d have to stop talking to me. Which–when I called you from the bar? Remember that?”

You smile. “The day after Sam’s birthday? When you were shouting over the aggressive ABBA sing-along?”

“Yeah. I called Bucky, and I told him I needed him to take me out and get me wasted, and not ask me any questions.”

“He succeeded. You were barely intelligible–”

“Brock talked to me.”

The way your eyes widen has him nodding right away. “Yeah. He told me to play my little game, because you were never gonna leave him.”

“When the fuck did he say that?”

“After you told me he didn’t feel comfortable with me being your Man of Honor. I approached him on Sam’s birthday while you were doing the cake prep. Told him I hoped there were no hard feelings, that I was happy for you guys… he laughed in my face. He’s got a real ugly side when he drinks, bug.”

You swallow hard. “Jesus. I sent our invitations out before the party.”

“Yep. Which is why I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. The panic you would’ve had after two margaritas…”

“I would’ve gotten sick.”

He rubs your arm. “You were already so stressed out–”

“I had a panic attack at the post office. Mom had to pry the box out of my hands in front of a very concerned postal worker.”

“What–you did?”

“That’s why I cried when you handed me a drink,” you snort. Your head falls onto his shoulder. “Can I ask you a question? No frills.”

“Shoot.”

“Would you feel differently if I was engaged to someone you liked?”

“Hmm.” He glances down at you, but his face is shadowed with the street lamp behind him so you can’t fully tell what he’s thinking. But he points at your ring and holds out his hand. You slip your fingers into his without question. You know every groove in those fingers, by touch. He lifts your ring towards the amber glow.

“No. I wouldn’t. I’d still lose you in every way that matters.” Your blood thrums in your ears as he works the massive diamond from your finger with ease. “If he knew you at all,” he murmurs, “there would be a garnet on this finger. 14k gold, small band. Initials engraved in the band–E.M.R.”

“Bear,” you breathe. The corner of his mouth turns up. He wiggles the end of his pinky into your ring, and then leans forward so he can kiss the imprint of the stone on your skin.

“But then–I’d be pretty pissed if he proposed with my grandmother’s ring,” he says softly. “You ever thought about it, buggy?” When he looks at you next, he’s so close to your face that you shiver. It doesn’t take much to press your forehead to his.

“At first, no… especially with our moms always talking about it,” you say. He laughs. “But you asked Peggy to prom senior year and I thought the earth was gonna fall out from under me.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Once I went off to school, I dreamed about you showing up at my dorm in the middle of the night to tell me you needed me. Breaks were worse, especially Summer when I could set my watch by your morning text, asking me what we were gonna do that day. But you grew up quick, and way less awkwardly than I did, and there was no way you’d ever, ever like me. So, when I met Brock, and he was the first guy besides you to ever think I was worth spending time around, it sorta felt like my only chance. I think… I think I knew you didn’t like him when I brought him home that first time. I convinced myself that you wouldn’t let me move to the city with Brock if you didn’t like him. I still can’t believe you moved here, too. Or that you’re here, right now–”

He kisses your temple, and your throat closes off for a second. “I have loved you since you hopped outta that moving truck when we were ten. I wanted to ask you to Prom, by the way, but you told me you were gonna go with Carol and Maria.”

Your eyes flutter open and you glare at him, mouth agape. “We’re idiots.”

He laughs. “Yeah, bug. A pair of dumbasses.”

“God.” Your fingers trace his jaw like it’s new territory. “I–I don’t think I like Brock, either.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “He’s not–whatever. He’s not you, Steve, and that makes him deficient in every way.”

He sits back from you, carding a hand through his hair, almost like he doesn't believe you. “What are you going to do?”

“Ask me.”

“What–”

You cup his cheek. “Not to marry him.”

It takes him two seconds to get with the program. Steve holds the engagement ring which is wrong for you between two fingers. He slides off the bench and kneels on the sidewalk once again, making you cringe, but at least you can see his eyes again—nearly green from the lamplight. He rubs your knee with his free hand.

“Don’t put this back on. It’s not right for you to be with somebody who doesn’t jump at the chance to watch you learn to waltz.” When he smiles, your whole future settles into view. “But if you want to spend every day feeling like someone breathes because you do, then… I know a guy. And I know a ring, with my name on it. And if you’re game… could be your name too.”

The lights bathe the entire street in some kind of magical glow, and this is exactly how you dreamed of Steve Rogers when you were a smitten teen. Well… not with his knees on concrete, with another man’s promise in his hand, but with that sweet smile… offering you a world which was always yours. You just didn’t know it until he offered.

“My mom is gonna be pissed,” you breathe. “She just picked out her dress.”

Steve’s face breaks into a triumphant grin and he swoops his arms around you, twirling you around and around until you’re dizzy with laughter. When he sets you on your feet again, he hugs you so tight that you can feel his heart thumping.

“She will get over not hosting a hundred person party. Your mom loves me, bug,” he murmurs.

“It’s easy to love you. Wait—“

He hovers over you, so tempted to kiss you, but he holds off when you touch his lips.

“Once I give it back. Then I’ll kiss you.”

“And?” His ears perk up, and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m yours.”

“Better get you home, then.”

“You are home, bear. Since we were ten.”

“If you don’t stop that, I might cry.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Come on.” You nod towards the prior block, where he is parked. He tucks Brock’s ring into the toes of your dance shoes, and practically skips back to his car. He pulls open the door for you, and jogs around to the driver’s seat. You’re hardly buckled before he’s peeling out.

–

Brock isn’t home.

Leaving is easy when you look around a place where you lived with a person, who never liked your taste much. Staring at art he chose, and the colors he likes, and the fireplace he refused to use so he’d never have to clean it… it’s strange that you would ever have thought this was a life you could settle into comfortably. It’s not Steve’s place, which is filled with antiques from going upstate in the Summer with you, and funny paintings found at flea markets, and the constellation motif he let you paint on the ceiling of the bathroom when you both had one too many tequila shots. Nothing about Brock’s apartment draws you in, or makes you want to stay.

You set the ring on the counter, spotless from his meticulous cleaning routine, with a short note vague enough to leave Steve out of it, and clear enough to let him know that you’re calling off the wedding.

Then, you take your wedding dress out of the spare room closet where you buried it behind golf clubs Brock never used. Turns it out was bad luck for your impending nuptials for Steve to see you in it.

When you descend the front stairs of your building, Steve is leaning against his car, nervously tapping his foot.

“How’d it go?”

“He wasn’t there. I have no idea where he is. Haven’t heard from him all day,” you realize. “Couldn’t think of anything else to take.”

He clocks the garment bag over your shoulder and holds out a hand for it. “Ooh, you grabbed the gown,” he says appreciatively, hanging the hook over the ceiling handle behind the driver’s seat.

“You never said you liked it on me.” You wink when he turns on you with panic. He scoffs.

“The things it made me think of were not gentlemanly to say at the time,” he chuckles, sitting in the driver’s seat again. Once you’re seated, he leans over and kisses your cheek. “You didn’t wanna grab clothes, or anything?”

“…Steven, I have two drawers of clothing at your place, and most of the time I’m over, I steal your shirts.”

That makes him grin. “What’s mine is yours, bug.”

“Your… lips?”

“Especially those.”

You’ve dreamed of kissing him since puberty. An embarrassing amount. Your first kiss was abysmal on principle, because it wasn’t with Steve. This kiss is twenty years of loving each other at arm’s length, demolished. He’s gentle, and the angle is difficult across the center console, but boy if it doesn’t feel like he was put on this earth to kiss you.

Part 2

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Kate’s masterlist - Marvel Masterlist

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