#i found it funny on our way back i ended up saying a bunch of random poetic shit worthy of a cringe bard or smth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

Note

Reader being Jason or Dick's girlfriend, who doesn't know about their double life, casually blurting out that she was never a fan of Batman and Robin or that she prefers Superman and the whole family is offended. 😭

I was tired and failed to realises that this came out a bit like a crack fic in the end but I’m sure you won’t mind…hopefully.

Jason: honestly has too much fun shit talking Bruce to you, especially when you didn’t know the man that you were shit talking as well as he did.

He just found it funny hearing you say with your full chest in front of his family that you prefer the Man of Steel over the Dark Knight.

It sends his entire family in disarray and chaos and Jason was thriving off of it immensely. He does not help the situation at all and would wholeheartedly make things worse for the sake of having something to talk about later.

Dick was borderline catatonic as Duke and Steph were trying to bring him back to reality.

Alfred excused himself from the room.

Damian was sharpening his dinner knife. Menacingly.

Meanwhile Tim was pulling up a long winded power point presentation about how statistically Batman was better than Superman. (In every possibly way, you’re just hating.)

That’s literally the title of his presentation.

‘Did he have this prepared in his free time or?’ You’d ask Jason who shrugs.

‘Let the boy have hobbies peanut, it’s not like he’s got anything better going for him right now.’ He replies, thinking that he should start coming to family dinners more if this was the end result.

Bruce might’ve looked the calmest out of everyone but internally he was cursing out Clark for stealing his future in law. He knew preferences exists and didn’t hold it against you, but currently he was in a disagreement with Clark over a recent mission and it had become a thing where the entire family didn’t dare speak or utter Clark/Superman’s name during this sensitive period.

Once Dick comes back to the land of the living, he’s practically hanging off of you screaming, ‘WHY?!’

Jason has to get involved and remove his brother off of you before he potentially scared you away from future family dinners, even though he himself barely attends any, but the moment you entered his life he wanted you to be more involved with the people in his life that cares about; whether he’d like to admit it or not.

‘They don’t hate me do they?’ You asked Jason by the end of the night, genuinely worried that his family might not like you after tonight.

Jason, noticing this, grabs your hands and grips them tightly in his and gives you a reassuring smile. ‘Babe I’m sure as shit they like you, I mean I’ve never seen them react like that before and if they didn’t like you, they would let you know immediately.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Besides, weren’t not a vocal bunch when it comes to our emotions. So seeing them get all up in arms over you preferring Superman and trying to persuade you into thinking otherwise was a highlight for me.’

‘Really you think so?’ You leant into him, still not fully convinced and needing his comfort more than anything.

‘Oh yeah. I’m for certain chipmunk. I think I even heard Bruce curse Clark under his breath once or twice.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your head as he holds you close.

‘But why? It’s not like they work with Batman, right?’ Your curious words caused Jason to stiffen and his breath to hitch as he tried to find the words before blurting out the first thing that came to his head. ‘No, they’re just…really devoted fans of Batman and Robin. So you could say that preferring Superman over them is a personal insult to them.’ He said, hoping you’d buy the lie, he genuinely didn’t want to subject you to the whole vigilantism so early on in your relationship.

Thankfully you did take the bait as you muttered into his shoulder, ‘okay, I hope they know I meant no offence but it.’ Jason let’s our a laugh, holding you closer to him as he closes his eyes to savour your bodily warmth against him. ‘I’m sure they do sweetheart, they’re the smartest people I know and they wouldn’t let something silly this affect our relationship.’ He said softly. ‘Now let’s go home and cuddle up in bed together yeah?’

‘That sounds like a great idea.’ You replied.

Dick: pouty baby.

What do you mean you don’t like Batman and Robin?! What did Superman have that he didn’t?!

For as far as Dick was concerned he has the fatter ass between him and Clark. He’s done the research.

He’s leaning all of his weight into you and says under his breath. ‘Why does my love betray me so.’ Meanwhile you’re looking at his confused as to why he’s acting as if you’ve just destroyed his lively hood with a single sentence.

Duke and Steph were patting Dick on the shoulder, sharing their sympathies with the revelation made at the dinner table.

Alfred left the room…again. First Jason’s partner, now Dick’s? What a coincidence.

Jason immeditly calls you his favourite and talks about how you and his partner -who also prefers Superman- would get along great while shit talks Batman simultaneously, almost as though he has a personal gripe with him or something.

Damian is sharpening his dinner knife…again but even more menacingly.

And Tim was back on the PowerPoint presentation where he goes into excruciating depths as to why Batman was statistically better the Superman.

The family is once again dissolved into chaos and Bruce was sat at the head of the table, calm, cool and collected but internally cursing Clark out once again for stealing another potential future in law.

(Clark has sneezed approximately twice at this rate and was taking every test to make sure he wasn’t coming down with anything serious)

After all was said and done and you were getting ready for bed, you asked the question that had been on your mind the entire night; ‘Your family doesn’t hate me, do they?’

Dick chuckled as he held you against his chest. ‘No, they love you enough to almost start a war over the fact that you like Superman over Batman and they’re not exactly the most in tune with their emotions. So seeing them react the way that they did? Only proves that they do like you cutie.’ He says as he gives you a peck on the lips.

You pouted. ‘But why does it feel like I just attached their lively hoods? It’s not like they know Batman or Robin personally or work with them in any capacity.’

Dick froze, he -much like Jason- didn’t want to subject you with the whole vigilante thing just yet, he didn’t want to scare you off so soon into the relationship in fear of scaring you away forever. ‘Devoted fans act like that whenever you tell them that you don’t like the same person as them.’ Dick replied, rubbing his hand up and down your back. ‘It’s an issue that should be regulated and or addressed at least.’

You hummed in agreement. ‘Well besides that, I like yours family, they all look like great people to know that have your back when you’re in a tough situation.’ You say as you kissed the side of his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, feeling sleepy.

‘They really are.’ Dick replied softly. ‘They really are.’

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star-girl69 · 4 months

Text

Don’t Delete The Kisses

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader

—-

synopsis: after breaking someone’s heart as apart of your initiation into the aphrodite cabin, you don’t think love is meant for you after your cruelty. clarisse thinks you’re ridiculous.

a/n: my friend was talking about how like insane this song makes her and i was like oh so this is genius

Don’t Delete The Kisses - Wolf Alice

warnings: insecure and very sad y/n ☹️, so like yeah all of that stuff, very ooc clarisse but IDC, i hate everyone but you trope fr, more talking about our feelings which we know is very hard for clarisse, the usual mentions of death and weapons, all that demigod stuff, more clarisse wanting, clarisse is insane as always i love her my ladybug fr, swearing, mentions of food, crap ton of violence, broken noses, whole bunch of blood, teeth get knocked out, yeah, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“Well, did you do it?”

You wanted to sneak into the Aphrodite cabin silently, hoping your pink jacket would blend into the walls and hide you. But that was just wishful thinking. That was just something you whispered to yourself on the walk back to comfort your shaking body, wiping away the tears.

This is your initiation. They’re all sitting on their beds, waiting with eager eyes, greedy for a taste of someone else’s suffering, the comfort of knowing it’s not their own.

“Yes,” you say, pretending tears don’t rim your eyes.

You stand stall, shutting the cabin door behind you.

“I did it.”

Your sister Drew stands up and grabs your hand. You think she might comfort you. You think she might tell you Carter was in it all along, you didn’t really hurt him, it was all some elaborate prank.

Instead, she raises your hand up in the air and turns towards the rest of your siblings.

“Y/N!” she says, “Daughter of Aphrodite!”

Your siblings clap and cheer, smiling widely- one of the younger girls runs right up to you and hugs you, face in your stomach.

“You played him so good,” she giggles, pigtails swinging in the air. She is so naïve, so young, so unknowing. You wonder if you can give yourself amnesia if you slam your head into the column holding up the cabin.

You would do anything to forget this night. To forget the look on Carter’s face. He fell in love with you and you let your siblings guide you on what to do, what to say, you let them dress you up and and put pretty bows in your hair that he reached out to touch.

He thought he would end the night with a kiss, but instead he ended the night with your hand in his face, scoffing animatedly and asking “How could he ever think a daughter of Aphrodite could like him?”

You could feel his heart break, and you could feel your mother ghosting around the wind, you could feel the muscles in your face strain as your eyes filled with tears.

You wrap your arms around your younger sister and force yourself to chuckle.

“His face was so funny,” you say, but there was an unintended action to your initiation. Your heart broke too. You saw the look on his face- if that is how losing love feels then you never want to give yourself the chance to lose it.

Besides, it’s not like you could ever deserve love after this. The love your siblings crave but never quite get. True, encompassing, all-consuming love. After this night, after the hatred coiling up in your stomach like a snake, it’s just not meant for you.

—-

Everyone at Camp calls you princess.

It made you feel like a baby, weak, like you were nothing but a pretty face. But no matter how much you flinched at the nickname, grimaced when you found yourself answering to its call, no one stopped.

Your siblings all cooed and said it was so fitting, saying with curled lips that you were most definitely Aphrodite’s favorite. Your hair always fell in the most beautiful way, your makeup always stayed and looked beautiful, you know you can’t walk through camp without someone looking at you.

Especially after your charmspeak developed, you became a shell of yourself, scared constantly like you are just a walking knife, doomed to cut anyone you come near.

You’re not that different from your siblings- the only difference is you won’t ever lead someone on. You won’t ever make anyone thing they have a chance. Because you’ll never break someone’s heart again.

You’re still Aphrodite’s daughter, you still like to look pretty. So, you do your makeup and your hair, you revel in the feelings of eyes on you but you choose your words carefully.

But other than that, you despise love, your mother, everything about the Aphrodite Cabin.

But you suck it up, you let boys fix your posture, let them teach you to fight while they dream of kissing you, and you work silently and you wait to get out of this hellhole Camp.

You stay silent and you let them realize that you’re just simply not interested in a relationship. They’re sad, but their hearts aren’t broken.

Everybody calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently.

Clarisse La Rue is probably the bane of your existence. She’s drop dead gorgeous, you would kill to run your hands through her curls, and she is the most talented person you know in battle. You’re pretty good, after all this silent training and the tips and tricks shared in vain, but she is a force.

She’s the one guilty pleasure you let yourself have. If only because you know she’s too strong to get hurt. So you let yourself look, keep a secret crush tight in your chest- only bursting out when you can’t stand it, and you just have to stare at her and revel in that for a second.

The thing about Clarisse is that she likes you. Which would be fine, you just tried to stay away, but she kept coming back for more and more until it became impossible to ignore her. It’s like you two were just doomed to forever be in love with each other, and you have to live with that and eat it like crow.

It’s not like she outwardly flirts with you. She just says your nickname differently. She caresses the words and says it softer. She doesn’t stare at you like everyone else- she looks at you. It feels amazing, your one guilty pleasure is to revel in her love from far away, but you make it clear that you don’t want a relationship and you never will.

Clarisse seems intent either to ignore that or wait you out. You don’t let her get close enough. You won’t break someone else’s heart.

Everyone calls you princess. You only like it when Clarisse says it.

—-

“Hi, princess.”

You don’t look at him, focusing on tying your shoes instead. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, I thought I could help you.”

You finish tying your laces, taking your foot up off of the bench and onto the ground. You grab your sword, hair tied back, tank top and stretchy pants. He looks you up and down. You do the same.

“Uh… Van, right?”

“Funny name so you won’t forget it, huh?” he winks, and you very obviously grimace.

“Ha, yeah.” You set your sights on a dummy currently not being attacked by a sword or spear and take a step forward.

“I noticed,” he starts, arm in front of you, stopping you from moving. “That the only weapon you don’t know how to use is the spear.”

You finally look at him. He’s wearing cargo pants and the orange camp t-shirt. His hand is plain and blonde, cut short, and his cheeks seem to be permanently flushed. He’s a son of Ares, pretty good fighter, but nothing else to speak for. Clarisse, at least, is the absolute best at almost everything she does- and she puts in the work to show it.

Van looks like he trains the minimum amount and gets by on his natural abilities as a demigod.

“Okay?” you say, wanting nothing more than to get away from him and go back to training. “I don’t get what you’re saying. And don’t flirt with me, either- one of my siblings would be happy to make out with you in a shed somewhere.”

“I’ll teach you,” he says, slightly exasperated. You finally notice he is, in fact, holding a spear. “Huh?”

You squint at him.

You do have a reputation in this camp. Part of the reason you’re called princess is because you’re standoffish and cold- people mistake it as you thinking you’re better than them. Really, you’re one of the worst people at this camp. You’re saving them from being tainted by association.

But every once in a while, someone will get it in their heads that soulmates do exist, and they’re the right person for you- and you’re mean and you shut them down, but that’s way before they fall in love. It hurts them, but not as much as it hurts you, not as much as it would hurt them if you gave them any ounce of attention.

The only person who keeps coming back for more sticks her spear into the ground next to you, fingers drumming against the wood.

“Van, you look fucking stupid.”

“Clarisse,” Van hisses, glaring at her. She glares right back, unimpressed. “Can you just go? Fuck.”

She raises her eyebrows. His spear hits the dirt before you can even comprehend that Clarisse kicked it out of his hands, and you have to admit- Clarisse is quick. Clarisse is good at what she does.

She pours everything she’s got into training- and pursuing you. You think it might just be a joke at this point, or something she finds fun, been doing it too long that stopping feels wrong. You would be lying if you said it wouldn’t be weird for her to stop. For both of you to stop whatever this is. This silent wanting.

“First of all, you are mediocre with a spear. Second, if Y/N wanted spear lessons she would come to me, right?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, walking away.

“Clarisse,” you can hear Van groan. “She was going to say yes until you ruined it.”

“Bro, she was not going to say yes. You’re welcome for saving your ass from even more embarrassment, Gods.”

“You’re just mad she doesn’t like you after you’ve been pining for years.”

She laughs, loud and boisterously, but there’s an edge to her voice, one of doubt, something like she’s scared.

“Oh, you’re fucking funny,” she says, and you can hear her slapping his shoulder. You stretch, risking a glance over your shoulder- Van is walking off and she’s looking at you.

But when your eyes meet hers, she quickly looks away. And you notice. You notice, but you do nothing about it. The way it’s always meant to be.

—-

The strawberry fields is the most beautiful place at camp. It’s where you feel something for your mother, because while gardening and plants are Demeter’s thing- finding beauty in the way the strawberry sits in your hand, the way the sun turns the sky into purple and oranges, the way the bright green trees stand out against that- it’s all your mother.

You can appreciate beauty here.

You see beauty everywhere, and you see love everywhere, but not the kinds your mother is famous for.

You’ve been picking strawberries for what seems like hours now, but it’s bearable under the setting sun and when you think about how good it will feel to finally sink into your bed.

“Y/N!” someone calls. “Princess!” you roll your eyes but stand up, turning around and putting your hand over your face to protect from the setting sun.

“Yeah?!” you shout back, squinting. You realize you’re alone in the fields.

“We’re heading back!” a Demeter girl, Sasha, says.

Your eyes flick to your basket that will only take a few more minutes to fill up.

“I’ll go back later!”

“Okay!” she shouts back, running off after everyone else.

You crouch back down, taking a deep breath before you begin ruffling through the leaves of the strawberry plant to find the juicy berries. You sneak a few as you work, shuffling down the line of plants. It’s so calm here. There’s no one to hurt. There’s nothing to be scared of.

When you stand up, there’s four figures standing by the shed. You gasp, bringing your hand to your chest, but Clarisse takes off her helmet.

“Princess?” she asks. “What’cha doin’ out here all alone?”

“Collecting strawberries,” you snort, full basket hitting your knees as you walk towards her.

“I see that,” she huffs. You notice Van behind her, and another sister, Carrie, a brother named Matty. “But what are you doin’ out here alone?”

You shrug, coming to a stop in front of the little group of Ares kids.

“Everyone else left.”

“It’s almost dark.”

“Not yet, though,” you smile sarcastically.

Carrie and Matty continue walking after they realize nothing fun is going to happen. You’re not gonna entertain them, so why would they care? But Clarisse and Van stay. You stare at Clarisse for a moment longer before finally looking away.

“You don’t have a weapon,” Van notes. “Smart to be out here alone?”

“Oh, relax,” you sigh. “We’re still in the barrier.”

You tighten your grip on the bucket and turn left, walking towards the shed. Clarisse is hot on your heels.

“And how do you know that? What if it had spontaneously, like, failed and shut down, or something.”

“Then I think everyone would be running around and screaming, because monsters would be crawling through camp. I would know.”

You place the bucket next to all the other buckets collected today- you’ll keep the good ones here over night, away from the animals and bugs and someone will collect them in the morning.

You stand up, rolling your wrists, wiping the sweat from your brow. You take the small cutters for the thicker branches from your pocket and throw it into the bin with the others.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you can walk me back.”

“I jus’ think it’s stupid to be out here all alone,” she shrugs. You stare right past her, watching as the door slams shut. Was it windy?

Clarisse whips around, but sees it’s just the closed door. You frown, Clarisse steps forward.

“Sorry, Clarisse!” Van shouts from outside, and that’s when you hear the lock sliding into place. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s done.

“Van, what the hell?!” Clarisse shouts, trying the knob. The door stays firmly shut. She slams her shoulder into it, but this place was built strong to protect from the elements, from all the little animals hungry for strawberries. “Let us out right fucking now, I swear, Van!”

“I can’t!” he says back, sounding sort of pained. “I just couldn’t get her alone!”

“Me?!” you yell, feeling increasingly trapped and claustrophobic. You shove Clarisse out of the way and rattle the doorknob, but it really is locked. “I didn’t do shit to you! Let me the fuck out!”

“For Carter!”

You take a step back. Your face falls from anger and anxiety into pure and utter turmoil. Your chest squeezes like it does every time you think about him. You carry the pain and the regret so heavily you doubt you’ll ever get rid of it. You’ll always be like this, rotting in your head, watching your beauty fade away and everyone give up on you.

Will you finally be free then? If you scream and take a knife to your face, make yourself unrecognizable, will everyone finally leave you alone then? Can you be something other than this stupid camp’s stupid princess?

But it’s wishful thinking. You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, and you were born to be beautiful, and you were born to be alone.

“Van, I’ll fucking kill you. Let. Us. Out.”

“Sorry!” he shouts, and you hear his footsteps in the dirt, running away while Clarisse screams for him to come back here.

You take a deep breath but it all comes crashing down like a dam breaking. All of the anger, the regret, the fear, it all comes pouring out until you’re sobbing into your hands in the middle of the shed.

Clarisse stops trying to break through the door. It’s painfully tense for a moment, nothing besides the crickets and the sounds of your sobs. You end up sitting on half-empty bags of fertilizer and mulch in the corner- although it’s not really used much, sometimes the Demeter kids like to experiment- it’s the most comfortable thing in this shed.

You’re 17 now, and you broke Carter’s heart when he was 13 and you were 12. You wake up and you feel your guilt like you feel the sun on your face- it’s your morning routine to stare at yourself in the mirror and know that you are the blessed one who doesn’t deserve it. You beg to be free, but this is your punishment.

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, “How does he not know I’m sorry?”

You never said it to him, of course- your siblings had told you Aphrodite would curse you if you said you were sorry, and you were 12 and scared so you shut up and you stared at him from afar, your first love and your first heartbreak. Could he not see the way you hated yourself? The way you hated everyone?

Why couldn’t anyone see that you weren’t a princess? You were a demon, so wicked you were worthy of being Hades’ right hand minion.

Clarisse sits down heavily next to you. She doesn’t say anything. She waits until the sobs start to ebb like a wave, until the worst is over.

“I’m sorry,” you say, one final time. Maybe the wind will take pity on you and carry your words to him. You wish it would, but why? Why do you deserve it? Your nails dig into your palms, leaving blood red moons.

“Why are you sorry?” Clarisse breathes, seeming more genuinely curious then demeaning. “Who’s Carter?”

You miss the way her lip curls around the name.

“I can’t tell you,” you moan, because Clarisse is the only person who actually gives half a fuck about you, and it feels so nice to have her eyes on you- not in the way everyone else does. They admire you, despise you, she appreciates you. She stares at you from afar and you both know that you want more, but she’s content to stare and you’re content to let her.

She laughs. “Yes, you can. I wouldn’t even care if you killed someone named Carter. But seeing as you escaped punishment from Chiron, and you only got locked in a shed, it’s probably not that bad.”

When you look up at her you can feel the mascara streaming down your face. You’re sure you look like a raccoon, and you can see how unnerving it is for her to see you- always so calm and put together- reduced to tears by a single name.

“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite, Clarisse.”

“I know,” she says, although it sounds like a question.

You stare at her, not able to say it, trying to convey to her with your eyes. You can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she thinks about the Aphrodite cabin.

“Oh,” she says. A few tears fall down your face. “The initiation thing- you have to break someone’s heart, right?”

“Yes,” you say, bitterly, resisting the urge to throw something and have a tantrum. You press your hands into your eyes, breathing heavily. “That stupid, stupid initiation. I hate being her daughter. I hate being like this.”

The hug starts out awkward. Clarisse places her arm lightly around your shoulders, starts mumbling apathetically that it’ll be okay. It’s not that she doesn’t care or anything, you’re both just foreign to what it’s like to feel this way for someone.

And it feels good to have someone touching you, so before you can stop yourself you’re shoving your way in her arms. She stiffens, sits up straight as your tears stain her orange camp shirt. But after a moment she hugs you back just as fiercely, with just as much desperation. She doesn’t say anything, probably because she doesn’t know what to say, and you can’t even comprehend your embarrassing, secret, unrealistic guilty pleasure of a crush is hugging you right now.

You’re too focused on the way she shushes you softly, her arm against your waist, the other around your shoulder- thumb drawing circles on your skin.

You’re too focused on the way she feels against you to even care about how awkward this will be later.

Finally, when night has really fallen and the wind starts to howl, you let go of Clarisse.

“Sorry,” you mumble, body locking up, staring firmly at the ground. Your face is caked in runny makeup- you feel as disgusting as you’re sure you look.

“It’s okay,” she says, hesitating for a moment before she stops touching you. “I, uh, I don’t think you should hate yourself.”

You scoff. Both at the ridiculousness of her stuttering and what she’s saying. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“No, I’m being serious.” She seems a little firmer now, like she really believes what she’s saying. But she doesn’t know you. “You shouldn’t hate yourself. Like, what do you even mean, you “hate being like this?’ What’s this?”

“I’m a monster, Clarisse. Literally, a fucking monster. I’m a horrible person, and yet everyone walks around and calls be princess because, what? I’m pretty? You can still be Aphrodite’s favorite and a monster. Maybe I am her favorite for a reason. Because of what I did.”

“A monster? Really?”

She looks at you like you’re the stupidest girl in the world. And Gods, coming from someone like Clarisse does that hurt.

You stare her down like you’re not about to cry. You squint so the tears won’t come, digging your nails into your palms to distract from the feeling in your stomach.

“I asked him to meet me at night. He told me he thought he loved me, and I laughed in his fucking face and said how could he ever think that I would love him? Who does that? Who is so fucked in the head?”

You look at her face, slightly twinged with disgust, and it feels good. It feels good to drive someone else away. To save them from yourself.

“This is my punishment. My life. And I hate it, but I know it’s what’s meant for me. I’ll never be loved. No matter how beautiful I am. I won’t let myself, I won’t hurt someone else. I don’t deserve it.”

She grabs your hand. You look at her, and she’s still so disgusted, so why is she touching you? Why is her face morphing into concern? Why does she still look at you like you’re this precious thing? Why do you like it? Why do you crave her like air?

“You don’t deserve this,” she says.

Why isn’t she listening to you?

“I don’t, Clarisse. Just- jus’ stop, please.”

But it finally hits you why she’s so disgusted. It’s not what you did, it’s the way you think about yourself.

“You came to camp when you were 12, right, so that’s when you completed your initiation? So, you were 12. You were 12 and listening to your older siblings. You were 12 and you made a mistake, and you’ve spent years and years punishing yourself over it. Most of the people at camp are blind, Y/N, but I’m not. I see the way you treat yourself, and that- you just don’t deserve that.”

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling a little breathless. “Maybe I was 12. But it’s too late. Everyone at camp thinks I’m a bitchy fucking princess.”

She smiles. “Well, you are.”

You throw her hand off of you and pretend to glare at her, but you’re smiling.

“You are a princess, Y/N, let me help you see it.”

Clarisse is your secret crush. She was a comfort for lonely nights, someone to think about when you were eating alone at dinner. And it didn’t help that she would stare at you while you imagined her sitting across from you. Clarisse is your secret crush, locked up in your chest and waiting to burst out like a cuckoo clock.

Clarisse is your secret crush, unrealistic and wishful thinking- but the way she looks at you right now makes it real.

The door clicks open.

“Oh,” Sasha, the girl yelling at you earlier says. “Sorry- I forgot my… uh…”

You quickly stand up, pushing Clarisse away from you. Sasha moves to the side and let’s you through the door. Against your better judgement, you stop and look over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, princess.”

—-

The next day, after waking up and realizing what happened yesterday wasn’t a bad dream, Clarisse is really doing something this sweet for you, you’re ready to forget it all ever happened and sit alone as you usually do.

You stand at the edge of the pavilion, searching across the tables for an empty one-

“Y/N!” Clarisse yells. She looks at you expectantly, and you notice the empty seat next to her.

Oh. She wants you to sit with her.

As beautiful and sweet Clarisse is, you still can’t let her be anything more than your secret crush. But you can sit with her for one meal. You can pretend, and maybe that will hold you over when you eventually succeed in pushing her away.

Your head was clouded by her touch, her smell, her voice- you weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions about “seeing Clarisse tomorrow.”

You stop at the fire pit in the middle of the pavilion.

“Please, Mom,” you mutter, dumping almost all of your plate into the flames.

This is probably the first time you’ve really prayed to her since the day you broke Carter’s heart.

You set your tray down next to her, swinging your legs over the bench and under the table, settling yourself in. Her siblings don’t even look up, all busy eating identical bagel sandwiches- you squint, resisting the urge to laugh at the cheese, bacon, sausage, and eggs. Ares kids are always eating the most gluttonous foods, seeing as they train 24/7.

Clarisse glares at your plate.

“What?” you say, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

“That is not enough food.” And while your plate mostly is empty space, you’re really not that hungry this morning.

You shrug. “I was in a praying mood today.”

“Don’t care, go get more.”

You roll your eyes, but you’d be lying if you said her concern didn’t make your stomach twist in a good way.

“Okay, I’ll grab something on my way out.”

She hums, turning back to your sandwich. All of her siblings are intent on eating their big sandwiches, a few people at the end of the table talk in between bites- but the Ares kids take breakfast very seriously. They’re a bit more rowdy at lunch and dinner, but breakfast is always such a sordid affair, like someone died.

Someone else sits at the table. You look up from your plate, watching as Van digs into his sandwich, sporting a black eye, a bruised cheek, and a busted lip.

“Oh,” you mumble, cringing at his bloody, messy face.

You look over at Clarisse, notice her knuckles are split open. She feels you looking at her and turns to you, a bite of half-chewed sandwich in her mouth.

“Wha-” she starts, but catches Van out of the corner of her eye. She giggles, just a bit, and it makes your stomach twist. “Oh, Van, you are one of the funniest people I have ever met.”

Everyone at the table turns to him.

A few giggle at his busted up face, Clarisse smiles at him in that demeaning way she’s famous for.

“Move.”

“I’m not fuckin’ movin’, Clarisse. Go fuck yourself.”

One of her siblings laughs loudly. Matty, you recognize him. “Dude, you’re seriously going to get beat up- again.”

“You are,” Clarisse shrugs. “I’m serious, move.”

Van rolls his eyes and sets his sandwich down.

“Listen, Carter’s my friend, he never wanted to get revenge, but I wanted to get it for him. I know it’d make him feel better. I was tryin’ to convince him to go fuck up her bed or something when… well, yeah. I didn’t mean to trap you in there with her, Clarisse, okay? I know you’re fuckin’ obsessed with her, whatever, but she’s a serious bitch. And not even that hot.”

Matty puts his head in his hands.

The table is deathly silent. He looks around.

“Come on. All those Aphrodite kids are stuck-up bitches, but she’s just got a particular rudeness about her, huh? And, really, I don’t think I could fuck her even if the world was ending.”

“What the fuck,” someone across from you, Max, mumbles. A girl adjacent to you coos softly, and you realize that there’s tears falling down your face.

Clarisse puts her hand on your thigh.

“Van,” she says, her voice calm and even. She breathes in and out. “I am going to fucking kill you.”

Van looks over to Clarisse, and that’s when he finally notices you sitting next to her.

“I-” he starts, but doesn’t get to finish, not when you pick up your tray and throw it across the table- hitting him directly in the nose. “Holy fuck!” he shouts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gods, fuck-”

You stand up and make your way around the table, tears clouding your vision, and he quickly stands up as well. No one makes any move to hold you back or protect him.

“Bitch,” he hisses. “Huh? Come at me, princess.”

And you meet him, attacking like a feral cat, all scratching and kicking and hitting, a fury fueled fully by your anger and the beauty in letting it all go. He grunts and tries to hit you back, but they barely touch you.

You can see Clarisse out of the corner of your eye, watching closely, arms crossed over her chest. It takes you a second, but for some reason, you can see her face so clearly. She’s slightly worried. She watches the fight with an intensity, like she’s happy to let you fight him- but if he actually hurts you, then she’ll jump in. But more importantly, she’s proud.

Gods, does it make you feel good.

“Fucking- bitch!” he shouts. “Get off of me!”

He pushes you back, you steel yourself. When he sees you coming at him again, he punches you hard. You swear you see stars. You swear you almost met Hades, just for a second.

Blood runs down your face, gushing like a geyser- you groan, one of Clarisse’s siblings making you pinch your nose and tilt your head back. Matty puts his hand on your shoulder, and mutters something encouraging about keeping your head back.

It’s all a daze.

“Clarisse!” her sister Carrie shouts, trying to hold her back while Van scrambles away on the ground, yelling incoherently about his teeth. “Clarisse! Clarisse! You got him, you got him, c’mon.”

It all comes rushing over you. Adrenaline kept you sane just for moment, but all the pain comes rushing back, and you almost scream with how much it hurts. You double down, chest pressing to your stomach while Matty and someone else try desperately to pull you back upward.

“Oh, Gods, why does it hurt so bad?” you say, more blood gushing forward, even through your fingers. It’s running down your neck and chest, permanently ruining your shirt.

“Van has a good right hook,” Matty winces. “Ass at everything else, but.”

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. She’s in front of you in a moment, hands under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. You can feel your face is absolutely covered in blood. “Hey, it’s alright,” she says, so softly that you’re the only one who can hear. “Okay, I’ll take you to the infirmary, okay?”

Matty let’s go of you, Clarisse replaces him, arm wrapping around your waist, fingertips still keeping your chin up. You walk in silence until you reach the infirmary.

She chuckles a bit. “You’re good,” she says.

“At what?” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Getting punched?”

“No,” she says. “Just… you’re good.”

One of the healers rushes over before you can even think of an answer.

—-

After your nose was reset, your shirt was changed, and all the blood was cleaned- you sat in the empty infirmary. Van was in a private room with most of the healers who were having a fun time trying to fix his face and do something with the teeth Clarisse knocked out.

She finds you slipping your shoes on, face puffy, a bag of ambrosia in your hand.

“Princess,” she says. “I told them it was all me. So, you’re fine. I made up some shit about you getting caught in the crossfire.”

Your chest deflates a bit. You were sort of looking forward to the punishment. “You didn’t have to do that, Clarisse.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to. And I do whatever I want.”

You smile, and she sits down next to you on the creaky bed.

“What’d you get?”

“Oh,” she sighs, hands on her knees. “5 months no dessert. 3 months of teaching sword practice to the little kids, that’s gonna be like Tartarus come again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “It’s all my fault.”

“I could have easily let the two of you beat each other to death. But I didn’t. You were too busy winning that fight to care about what I was doing.”

“I didn’t win,” you scoff. “If you didn’t jump in, the way he punched me, he got me.”

“You didn’t know about Van and his right hook,” she shrugs. “It’s okay. I fucked up his face a bit, but you did so much better.”

You’ve been permanently on the edge of tears because of the pressure in your nose, so when they spill over, it’s no surprise.

“W-why are you crying?” Clarisse asks, turning slightly towards you, placing her hand on your arm.

“Still a monster,” you remark, sarcastic smile on your face. “I shouldn’t have done that to him. I… I was just mad. And look, here I am escaping with no punishment yet again.”

You go to stand up, feeling like your heart is a hole in your chest.

She puts her hand on your thigh to stop you.

“I think… just the fact that you feel so bad means you’re not a monster. I don’t feel shit for Van. I’m glad he got hurt. I would do it again. I hope I get to do it again.”

“You’re horrible, Clarisse,” you smile. She smiles back.

“The only person I feel bad for is… you. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt bad for. Everyone else in this camp is blind, Y/N. But I’m not. Not when it comes to you.”

And it’s like you’re seeing her for the first time. The way her curls always stick up in that one place, the way her eyes reflect the sunlight streaming through the window, the way the rough skin of her hands is nothing compared to the bones inside that hold you so softly. The way her lips look. The way she calls you princess. The way she sees you.

You’re both leaning forward, you’re both just teenage girls learning to love themselves, because you’ve always loved each other.

When her lips finally meet yours it all comes rushing back to you. You gasp and pull away after just a moment.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-”

Clarisse grabs your face and kisses you.

“You’re not deleting that. I don’t care what you think of yourself right now,” she whispers, lips against yours. “Because you’re wrong, and I’m going to show you.”

And against your better judgement, you let her show you. She shows you with her hands in your hair, her hands on your neck, on your face, her lips against yours. You let her teach you love with just one kiss, and you decide you have a newfound appreciation for your mother.

If love feels this good, this beautiful, then you’ve been missing out.

This goes against everything you’ve been preaching for years. But you’ve found a new religion in her, you promise to listen to her and to feel what she makes you feel- no matter how wrong you think it is. Clarisse shows you it’s not wrong.

She finally pulls away for air, searching your eyes, but you can’t breathe when she’s not kissing you. She seems to like what she finds, because she smiles.

“You’re beautiful, princess,” she mutters, and kisses you again. “You’re beautiful, and you’re so kind, and I’ll show you what I’ve seen for years.”

Everyone calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently. Clarisse says it like she’s caressing the word, pretending to caress you. Clarisse says it in the way you want her to say it, in the way that selfishly makes you feel so, so special. Clarisse says it like she knows you.

You were right. You’re not meant for love, it’s not meant for you. You’re meant for Clarisse.

—-

carter watching literally everyone fight over smth ridiculously stupid that happened when he was 12 and he got over 2 weeks after it happened: uh 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

—-

clarisse when she realizes y/n hates herself: WHAT????? HOW IS THIS???? HUH????? like she just doesn’t even understand she can’t comprehend it

y/n after hating herself for like 5 years and pretending she’s chill: 🤗

—-

van after he loses his teeth: 😞

clarisse when van loses his teeth: LETS GO FUCK THAT BITCH

—-

clarisse being y/n’s new religion btw 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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sc0tters · 4 months

Text

Long Time Coming | Jeremy Swayman

summary: you’ve been in love with each other for years, so surely you guys have picked up on it by now

request: yes/no

warnings: mild swearing?

word count: 2.21k

authors note: this is my first time writing for any of the bruins players and I have to say that this is really one of my favourites that I have written in a while. This is the softness we all deserved before I get to something a little more fiery tomorrow for valentines day!

It was a friendship that was never meant to work.

Jeremy was a popular hockey player and you were a journalism major who preferred spending her time in the library as opposed to the dorms. You swore that the hockey team on campus was bound to all be irritating but when you ended up in a class with Jeremy. Surprised to say that you were paired up with a hockey player for your pottery course was an understatement.

But three weeks in to your first semester and you found your random elective quickly becoming your favorite class. The goalie made you feel alive as he brought this spark to your life. His teammates started seeing less of him at parties and they were confused until they finally met you.

Jeremy spent weeks convincing you to finally come to his game. Of course the tale went that when you showed up it was his first shut out game of his college career. Even as the crowd chanted his name, all he wanted was to look for you. It was like clockwork when the boys saw Jeremy lock eyes with you.

That was the first time that the boys realized Jeremy was in love. The way he spun you around, gushing about how you were his lucky charm. It was also the night that seemed to be the turning point in your relationship with Jeremy. He was no longer your classmate, he was your friend and soon to be your best friend.

Years had gone by, Jeremy had made his way to the NHL and you had finally graduated. It was funny how you had grown attached to each other, like the moment you left college you were in Boston. Jeremy had you in the guest bedroom of his apartment which made life tougher than ever.

It was Valentine’s Day and you ended up in his dorm after he revealed that his girlfriend was cheating on him.

Jeremy swore you had never shown up as fast as you did there. The boy didn’t even time to fully open his door before you were in his arms “hey Jer.” You sighed as his body clung to yours “she left me.” Jeremy sobbed as tears streamed down his cheeks.

You rubbed his back desperate to ease his pain “you are better without her.” You mumbled kissing his shoulder as you raked your fingers through his hair “you know I’m not.” Jeremy had spoken to you of how he loved her like she was his world.

The boy huffed into your neck “I brought everything we need tonight.” Your words made him furrow his eyebrows as he pulled away from you “for what?” Jeremy saw the plastic bag in your hand that had a mixed bunch of goods.

You took the opportunity to walk into his room as you shut the door behind you “because we are going to eat our feelings away tonight.” You smiled pulling out two tubs of ice cream knowing that neither one of you were about to share.

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile as he ran his fingers over his jaw “I can’t ask you to stay with me on Valentine’s Day.” He shook his head as it made your lips curl upright “then it’s a good thing that I’m insisting.” You shot back as you held the pint out in his direction.

It was your kindness that Jeremy first fell in love with. The way you would think about giving someone the shirt off of your back if it could help them. Jeremy felt his heart grow full at the way you were always in the TD Garden with young fans helping them get his attention during warm ups and at the end of games.

He had grown so comfortable with you and maybe that was his fault. Everyone treated you like you were his girlfriend because you were his partner. You might not have been his romantically but in life you were clearly his.

That’s why it was so surprising to see you in your room getting ready for a date “you look nice.” Jeremy let his bag drop to the floor as he had come home from practice “thank you.” You smiled plumping your lips together as it coated your lipstick around your lips.

The hockey player had to admit that he was confused as he leaned against the wall “do you think that he will like it?” You asked as you did a little spin letting him see your outfit in full. It was a blue dress that looked perfect on your skin as the springtime came in “you look perfect.” Jeremy nodded as he felt his chest pang “he?” The boy repeated your words as he froze.

Watching you grab your phone from your table you rolled your eyes “remember when I told you I was going out with Taylor for lunch.” You motioned to the calendar that had the date and time that you were meant to see him “I didn’t know that Taylor was a dude!” Jeremy’s words brought a scoff to your lips as you crossed your arms.

He was quick to mentally curse himself as he saw you furrow your eyebrows “why does the gender of my date matter to you?” You cocked your head pressing your finger against his chest “because.” It seemed that in that moment all Jeremy wanted was to tell you that he loved you yet he had all but forgotten how to talk.

Your foot tapped against the wooden flooring as you awaited an answer “you want to give me an answer?” You watched him practically crawl back into himself as he sighed “have a nice night Jeremy.” He gasped at the feeling of your shoulder hitting his as you walked straight to the front door not giving him a chance to talk.

Jeremy was left wallowing in his emotions as he stared at the different pictures of you two that lived in his phone. The time he surprised you by making it to your graduation, the time you were there for his NHL debut. Even the picture of you two at one of his teammates weddings when Jeremy was caught staring at you.

That was the day when his current teammates realised that Jeremy was in love with you “you will not believe it!” You groaned as you slammed the door behind you “you’re home early.” The boy mumbled going quiet as he was met with a glare.

Jeremy frowned as he watched you collapse onto the couch next to him “think he wanted to go on a date with you before me.” You complained resting your head on his shoulder “I’m sorry you had a bad date.” The hockey player was quick to wrap his arm around you.

Like always you melted into his touch “no you’re not.” You mumbled feeing him kiss your head “just like that I was right.” Jeremy could have lied but you knew him far too well for the chance to go unnoticed.

You couldn’t help but laugh “you’re such an ass.” A giggle left your lips as Jeremy turned to look at you “sorry you let this outfit go to waste on him.” His hand ran along your cheek “you like my outfit.” You batted your eyelashes as you smiled.

Jeremy nodded enjoying the feeling of your soft skin against his thumb “like anything you wear.” He mumbled beginning to turn his head to yours. Like clockwork his eyes shut and just as yours did your phone began to ring “shoot.” You groaned seeing your mom’s contact appear on the screen.

It hit the boy like a cold shower as he watched you get up grabbing your phone “hey mom.” You tan your fingers through your hair as you sent Jeremy a sorry look “yeah I can talk.” You nodded along walking back into your room as you began catching her up on the events of your day.

As the evening turned into night and the hours went on, Jeremy didn’t see you again as he had gone to bed. Whilst the lights in the apartment were off both of your minds were active. Truthfully neither one of you remembered what it was like to have your minds this full.

Jeremy stared at the pictures on his phone of you two and he couldn’t help but curse your mom for calling. Especially after you called your mom this cool woman who was your best friend, that was a far cry from what he would have described as a cock block.

What he didn’t know was that you were pacing outside of his door. You hadn’t even noticed but halfway through your phone call with your mom you were bringing up how you wanted kiss your roommate. Because of course you had been in love with him since your college days too. Yet yours came from your time in class together.

You had been in the lecture hall for five minutes as you set yourself up in the middle of the rows. Whilst students came flooding into the cramped room, you were too focused on your phone to notice how Jeremy walked right to you “this seat taken?” The question was innocently asked with a voice barely above a whisper that you didn’t even care to look up as you instead opted to nod.

It gave Jeremy the chance to settle in next to you “I’m Jeremy.” Even as you two had been in classes together, he had never gotten the chance to see you, especially not like this “Y/n.” You took his hand that he held out for you to shake.

A smile formed on his lips as he couldn’t help but study your facial features that stood before him in all their glory as you woke up late with little to no time for make up that morning “I know.” Jeremy grinned seeing your lips curve upward “you know?” Your words were playful as you didn’t believe him.

The boy laughed as he nodded “think you’re real pretty y/n.” Your name sounded like honey as it rolled off of his tongue “think that’s enough flirting from you for one day Swayman.” You tucked your hair behind your ear avoiding how wide your smile had grown as you avoided his stare when your cheeks turned red.

The memories of that day made you smile as you never thought you would fall in love with him. But you couldn’t help but come back to your dorm to gush to your mom about how different your expectations of him were. Yet all of those thoughts were pushed to the back of your mind as the boys door opened letting you be met by his chest.

You almost fell back as Jeremy’s quick reaction time pulled you closer to him as he steadied your feet “what are you doing awake?” His voice was low as he watched you gulp “couldn’t sleep.” Your fingers ran over his bare chest as you looked up at him.

If eyes were the key to the soul then the two of you were currently open books “you?” Your lips pursed together as the tension between you both could have been cut by a knife “couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged as he reached behind your head tucking your hair behind your ear.

Jeremy loved how you smiled up at him “what’s on your mind?” He asked noting how your eyebrow arched like something was on your mind “you.” The word came from your lips like it word vomit.

But as his expression turned surprised it made you go quiet “me?” You nodded letting out a sigh “I try to ignore it but god I’m in love with you.” You ran your fingers through your hair as Jeremy just stared at you.

Maybe it was the shock of hearing you say that but he swore he was dreaming “and I don’t want to lose you but I can’t.” Your chest heaved “I can’t keep on going on these dates hoping it might get you to say something to me.” Tears formed in your waterline as you chewed at the inside of your cheek.

Jeremy finally opted to put you out of your misery when he smiled “you love me?” His voice was shaky as he squeezed your hips “you’re being mean Jer.” You nodded feeling like you were on the edge of your seat waiting to hear what he would say.

A laugh left his lips “think you can answer my question f’me pretty girl?” Jeremy taunted as he smirked “I’m in love with you.” Your voice was barely a whisper as he shut the gap between you both.

The air was palpable as your heart pounded “I love you too.” Your hair wrapped around his finger as he smiled “can I kiss you?” Jeremy let his lips hover over yours “please.” You nodded letting your eyes shut when he kissed you.

The kiss made you melt as his lips swiped across yours. Jeremy let his hands travel through your hair settling at the nape of your neck refusing to let you go. Only when you both needed air did you pull apart “wow.” Jeremy groaned running his thumb over your lower lip.

It made you laugh “yeah.” You nodded sending him a smile “think we should do that more often.” Your words had the boy pulling you into his room “why wait?” The hockey player asked picking you up as your legs wrapped around his waist as he picked you up.

Whilst the city might have been colder as the rain came in that night with a spring storm but what nobody would know was how hot the activities were in his room. You were left twisted in his sheets as your hearts intertwined and life began to show that the only way possible for you both was together.

#ambers love moments #amber writes fics #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman fics #jeremy swayman x reader #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #nhl oneshots #hockey oneshots

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gurugirl · 7 months

Text

The Ex | ex!harry

Summary: Harry's your ex-lover and you see him at a wedding after many years apart. You're both married but Harry proposes something that you have a hard time saying no to.

A/n: This will have a jucier, alternative ending but you'll only find it on Patreon! I consider this Tumblr version to be what happens in 'real life'. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3435

Warning: 18+ only, mentions of smut, emotional cheating, angst

You had no way of knowing he’d be there. But then again, he also had no clue that you would be there either.

You spotted one another right away. It was as if by magic something had drawn your eyes to his. He was already casting his gaze toward you, those soft green eyes taking you in as he held the hand of the woman to his right.

Your heart skipped a beat and looking at him again after all those years felt like there hadn’t been a day that aged him. He looked just as youthful and vibrant and handsome as ever. Dark curls placed carefully on top of his head in a flattering style, broad shoulders, a slender waist, and nicely fitted pants showing off what you remember being very sturdy and masculine thighs.

“Oh! Here are our seats!” Your husband, Les, spoke from your side and pulled at your hand, drawing your attention back to where it belonged.

You shook yourself of the direction your thoughts had been headed just before. What good did it do to remember how things were once upon a time? When you were young and in college, no kids or a career… things had been so different back then. And seeing your ex, the man you thought you’d marry, the one you thought would be by your side until you grew old and ugly…

“Are you okay, babe?” Les asked you with concern on his face.

“I’m fine… yeah! Just looking around and seeing a bunch of old faces. People I haven’t seen in years.”

You were at a friend’s wedding. Someone you, by some miracle, had stayed in touch with since high school. You had grown apart from Seria over the years but she still invited you to her wedding and you couldn’t imagine missing it even though you had to find an overnight sitter for your two kids and drive five hours to a different state to attend. Something told you it would be worth it.

You turned slowly to glance around the room again, your wine glass in hand and caught his eye again. The woman he was seated next to was as lovely as she was when you first met. You remembered her. She was in your senior graduating class. An acquaintance. Someone that Harry had grown close to but that you hadn’t gotten to know all that well. At first, her presence didn’t threaten you. But after you all graduated she and Harry became inseparable and he slowly began spending less time with you and more time with her. They had a lot in common, as you recall. They were both music majors, they’d write music together and play at bars in tiny scraped-together bands occasionally.

You found out on accident about how serious he was about her. No one thought you didn’t know.

You had visited a mutual friend’s apartment and stopped in for tea and a little chat. Sarah had a whiteboard hung up on her front door, facing the inside. People would write on it. Doodle pictures, scrawl their names in different colors, or just leave funny messages.

You didn’t take note of the whiteboard at first but when you sat down on Sarah’s couch you looked up at it and saw what had been written in black with red hearts all around.

harry + ginny = really good stuff

It took you a moment to let it all sink in after you saw that. You and Sarah made small talk but you couldn’t stop thinking about what was written on the whiteboard. And the hearts all around it told you it meant more than just something friendly. So you had to interrupt and ask, “Is that… my Harry?” You already knew the answer.

Sarah followed your gaze to the whiteboard and she let out a small gasp, “Oh! I forgot that was there. Are you okay about all this? I know it’s still fresh. You and Harry were together for years.”

“Am I okay about what? What’s fresh?” You began to feel yourself tremble and your heart was racing. You were suddenly having a hard time taking in any new information because it all came crashing down on you at that very moment. The reality of what was going on. You were the last to know about Harry and Ginny. He hadn’t even had the balls to break it off with you first.

You hardly remember leaving Sarah’s apartment after she told you that they’d been dating, and from what she said, rather openly. No one had bothered to talk to you about it. Everyone just assumed you knew.

Of course, you went directly to Harry’s apartment and found Ginny there already. They hadn’t been doing anything bad when you barged in. Ginny was on his couch with a notebook in hand and Harry was on the floor with a guitar in his arms.

He looked up at you from his spot on the floor and it’s like you blacked out. You can’t quite recall what was said but in the end, he wound up telling you the truth. That he’d fallen in love with Ginny and he was going to tell you soon but that he didn’t know how because he didn’t want to hurt you.

After that, you still saw Harry. He was part of your friend group and so it was inevitable that you’d run into him from time to time. After a couple of years, things were fine between you two and you’d met Les. You’d both moved on. Things had changed. And then you moved away with Les and you got pregnant, twice, and now six years later, here you were again looking at the man who once was your everything. He’d broken your heart but you were both so young and dumb back then that it was all but forgotten.

The past was the past, but you could still feel that small clench in your heart at how things had ended with Harry.

More drinks were drunk, snacks were served, and dancing commenced… the night was fun. Les was hilarious. He was an awful dancer but he insisted on taking you to the floor with him. You both laughed and swayed to the music in the crowded spot in the hall designated for dancing.

And as much fun as you were having you couldn’t stop thinking about or catching glimpses of Harry. It appeared he couldn’t get you off his mind either. It was rather flattering in a way. To have him looking at you from across the room. The subtle smiles and nods. You felt really good about keeping your distance, though. Even though at the very end of everything, you and Harry were on good terms and had been friendly, it had been so long. Too long. You felt there was no use in having a chat. Nothing good would come of it. You’d grown apart. Lives took separate paths. Old exes at a wedding had no good reason to catch up when you’d likely never see one another ever again. It was easier to stay away. Better for everyone.

Les ordered another round of whatever he’d been drinking and suddenly wasn’t feeling so hot. You both sat at your table with a couple of the other guests who were still there. Many were dropping like flies, as tends to happen at weddings. Luckily the hotel was connected to the reception hall so getting Les to your room was not that difficult.

You knew you should have stayed with him. Just called it a night and tucked in for your early morning back home to pick up your children. But against your better judgment, you decided on just one more drink.

The band was still playing, slower music than when you’d left. Most of the tables were empty as people mingled and danced slowly. You sat at the bar and searched the room for Harry. You figured he and Ginny had gone to their room, or back home depending on how far away they lived from the venue. It was nearly midnight. The band would wrap up in a half hour and that would be that.

You sighed and turned back to face the bar and sipped your last glass of wine of the night. You’d said your hellos to everyone you wanted to. Except Harry. Deep down you really did want to say hi to him but you knew better. There was something that was telling you to keep your distance and you were glad for it. Maybe it was subconscious or perhaps there were still feelings there after all this time. You knew the truth. But you weren’t ready to admit any of that to yourself.

“Hi, Sunshine.”

You felt a wave of heat and excitement thrum through your bones. It was him. He used to call you Sunshine. Sunny. Used to sing You Are My Sunshine to you every day.

You turned to see Harry taking the chair next to you at the bar, “Hi, Harry.”

You took him in. All of his handsome face. Those pink lips you used to nibble, the nose you used to smush yours into for wispy nose-tip kisses. His intense gaze was just as it had been all those years before. You wanted to reach your fingers out and stretch them over his jawline and feel the stubble on the pads of your fingers. He was so grown up. So unchanged and yet more mature. More handsome in some ways.

He drew his arm along the back of your chair and leaned in close as he spoke to you as if you two were a couple. As if nothing had ever come between you nearly 8 years prior, “You are more beautiful than I even remember, Sunny. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you at least once.”

You hadn’t expected him to let that be his leading comment. The first thing spoken to you in so long. But Harry didn’t follow conventions or rules. He never had. So it shouldn’t have surprised you that his first comment to you was how he thought about you every day. You wondered if that was true. Because there were days you thought about Harry still too. It wasn’t every single day. Some days he didn’t cross your mind at all. But of course, you did often think of him.

“I doubt that, Harry. You’re still big on flattery, I see,” you smiled shyly and peeled your eyes away from his to sip your wine.

When his thigh brushed into yours you could smell his cologne. It was different than what he wore in college. It was more grown up. Smelled expensive. Smelled more like something Harry should wear, “I wrote a song about you not too long ago. Ginny doesn’t know, but it brought back a lot of old memories.”

His voice was soft and deep and the timbre traveled from your ear down to your neck and your bare shoulder. You swallowed thickly and dared to turn to look at him again, knowing he was too close. Knowing what this would look like if anyone were to see you two.

“Where is Ginny?”

Harry’s small grin widened and his eyes sparkled as he looked down at your lips and shook his head, “In our room. She was tired. Just like I imagine Les is in yours.”

You blinked and looked away. You were flying too close to the sun, you knew it. This was dangerous territory and Harry was orchestrating something very wrong. Something you’d only regret. But you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Maybe curiosity had you sticking around. Maybe it was for old time’s sake. Or maybe it was just that you missed him and missed this and missed the way things had been.

You didn’t know how to respond but your body was on fire. Harry’s warm leg was pressed into yours and his large frame practically had you caged in. You loved it.

“Look at me, Sunshine,” he whispered as he softly touched your chin and nudged your face toward his, “There we go. Remember that time we loaded up my old Bronco and drove straight through to San Francisco? Thought we were gonna find an apartment and live like hippies in the big city and just write and paint and make music and that’s how we’d make all our money?”

You laughed and nodded, “I do. But instead, your Bronco broke down in Oakland at 3 am and we had to stay the night in the back of your car and get a tow back home.”

Harry laughed through his nose as he nodded his head, eyes still pinned to yours, “Wish it would have worked out between us. I miss all the fun we used to have. Me and you.”

You opened your mouth to respond but you were stuck. He was laying it on thick. He was never one to beat around the bush. He hadn’t changed. It was part of what drew people to him. His magnetism. His confidence.

“Don’t you miss it, Sunny?” He brushed his knuckle over your wrist and you inhaled sharply. Just the smallest touch had you spiraling. You would have to fight your way out of his trance if you intended on not allowing this to go any further.

You shook your head and looked down at your lap, “I don’t know, Harry.”

“We’d stay up all night making love until the sun came up. Miss classes. Skip out on parties we promised people we’d go to. Just in our own world all the time. It never got boring with you. For years we were like that. It’s never been like that with anyone else. All that passion we had, Sunny. My Sunshine girl. Never.”

You sighed and… yes. You did recall all that passion. And it was true. For nearly four years you and Harry were insatiable. It was like every day was your first date. Your first time. Like you were still getting to know one another after all those years. Sex had never been better. Harry was your best by far. You didn’t like to compare anyone to him but that’s only because it made you miss him. Made you miss the way you felt. Missed that lust and that passion and the vulnerability.

“I know you know what I mean,” Harry slid his hand down to your thigh discretely. No one in the room could see but you knew he was touching you in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. In a way that was only reserved for your husband. Felt that familiar, big palm spread over the expanse of your soft thigh, his thumb lightly grazing the bottom hem of your dress.

“Harry…” you breathed his name in warning.

“My Sunshine, girl,” he spoke the pet name back to you without an ounce of teasing. He was perfectly clear in what he wanted. And even though he hadn’t said it outright, there was no denying it.

“I’m married.” You reasoned weakly as you let your gaze rove his features and drop to his plush lips.

“So am I.” He squeezed your thigh and your limbs were on fire. You didn’t know how to escape the moment. You didn’t know if you wanted to. He was “the one who got away”. Even though everything hurt when it happened and he’d done you wrong, you’d long ago forgiven him and now it was just two old lovers feeling that same heat and desire they once felt. Some things from the past could be forgotten. But the way things felt between you, that constant spark, the wild lust every single day for all those years would never be forgotten.

You still dreamed about him. Would wake up hot and panting and roll over to see Les fast asleep with his face tucked into his pillow and you’d close your eyes and remember the time… Remember his voice and his hands and the way he made you feel. How free and exciting life was with Harry.

And it was all coming back to you in an insane, surreal, mind-bending rush. Everything about him was the same as it was before you graduated college. Before he fell for Ginny. Before you two grew apart and you got married and moved away. You could almost taste the skin on his hips near his laurel tattoos. Could smell the scent of his sex mixed with yours. Could hear the laughs and the moans and neighbors beating on the wall telling you to keep it down. Could feel the way you loved him once upon a time, the way he loved you so deeply it scared you. Loved you so much you never could imagine that he’d ever love another.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” you whispered with a grin.

He shook his head, “I’ve never been more clear-headed in my life.”

You licked your lips and closed your eyes. Every time you thought you’d wake up from the dream you felt him move against you, felt his fingers on your skin and you were continuously dropped down into your seat at the bar at your friend’s wedding with your ex at your side and his words snaking into your ears.

The only thought that kept you grounded was knowing that there was nowhere for him to take you that was private. Because that had already, obviously, crossed your mind. To have another taste. One last time just for old-time’s sake. But it seemed impossible. It seemed ridiculous to even entertain. And yet there you were.

“Remember that small room with the table and chair on the second floor of the library we used to go to? Had a lock,” Harry’s warm hand stayed on your thigh as he spoke.

You did remember that. You found a room in the 2nd-floor corridor that connected to a small hallway off the library. The hallway had four doors. They were all locked but one of them just so happened to unlock if you lifted the knob upward and jiggled it just right. The room was bare of furniture except a small wooden table pushed against the wall and a fabric swivel chair with wheels. Both of which you learned to make good use of. It wasn’t hard to find a use for random surfaces with Harry back then.

Nodding and squinting your eyes at the man you spoke, “Of course I do.”

“I want to get you alone in a room again,” he lowered his voice and leaned in so that his voice was close and the front of his shoulder was pressed into the back of yours, “Just one more time. Something just for you and me, Sunny. I miss you.”

You couldn’t believe the way he’d gotten you worked up in almost no time. The way you still reacted to him and the need crawling up your spine made you dizzy.

“There’s no place to go here, Harry. No free room. We can’t anyway… you know we can’t,” you looked at his face and held your breath. You couldn’t do this. It was wrong.

“We can find something. A hidden spot where no one will ever know.”

You looked away from his fierce gaze and down at your glass. You swallowed thickly and shook your head as you reluctantly pulled yourself from his side and stepped off the stool, “Harry. We can’t. I have kids. My husband is… I love him. I don’t love you anymore. I could never forgive myself.”

He clenched his jaw as he nodded, “No one would know.” He looked at you with pleading eyes. You could tell he knew this wasn’t going to happen.

“I would know,” you dropped some cash on the bar and looked back at Harry as you squeezed his shoulder, “But it does feel good to know that you regret replacing me with someone else even after all this time.”

As you walked away you took a deep breath and smiled to yourself. You could have said yes. Could have found yourself in some room or bathroom stall with him getting exactly what you knew he could deliver. But you didn’t regret saying no. You didn’t regret walking away from him. It felt good to have the upper hand. Something you had no idea that you’d had all along. The man who you thought you’d lost really turned out to be the man who’d lost you.

Find the other version with the alternative ending here on my Patreon!

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Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @tswiftsangel @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

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tomssexdoll · 1 month

Note

Tom being reader’s neighbor smut like he goes through her window into her room while she is listening to music and he scares her a little cause she didn’t paid attention (don’t ask me why i just find it funny) and she gets a little mad and starts yapping about what would happen if her parents found out cause they are strict and don’t really like him and he shuts her up with kiss and stuff and it ends with smut tyyyy if you will do it you’re my favourite writer i love your fics🫶🏻❤️

awww tysm for saying that ur actually so sweet ilysm <3

Shut up and kiss me

PAIRINGS: Tom 2007 x Female reader CONTENT: FLUFF + SMUT SYPNOSIS: Y/N and Tom are neighbours, he has had a crush on her for years and finally decides to talk to her, but in a strange way. He climbs into her window and surprises her, startling her a little. A/N: hi WARNINGS: teasing and clothing action, kissing, dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary)

I was listening to my music, organising my room a little bit. It had been messy for weeks due to me being super lazy and studying a bunch.

I turned around and screamed, my neighbour suddenly standing right behind me, I ripped my headphones off "what the fuck? Tom what are you doing here?" I grunted.

He smirked, "I was bored so I just wanted to come say hi", "you couldn't even ask?" I rubbed my temples in frustration. "Nope! What are you doing?" he chuckled, roaming around my room.

"I was just organizing my room, until you came in" I rolled my eyes, sitting on my bed. "Do you not know how much trouble I could get in? My parents already don't like you" his eyes widened, "don't like me? WHY?" he whined, sitting next to me.

"Because you drink and smoke, they see you do it all the time" he scoffed "whatever.." "anyways..I could literally be grounded for a month with them seeing you in here! My parents are so strict, my dad would kill you with his bare hands if he saw a guy, let alone YOU were in my bedroom" I yelled, "you're so lucky they aren't home!" I kept on ranting on about it, noticing how Tom just stared at me and smirked.

I felt his hands wrap around my neck and him smashing his lips into mine, my eyes widened, trying to process what just happened. He pulled away and chuckled, "oops, might have broken you" once I was out of my state of shock my eyes softened, pulling him in for another kiss, deepening it.

His hand snaked down to my waist, pulling me closer and caressing me softly. "So beautiful, yet so stubborn.." he smirked, whispering on my lips.

I reached my hand down, palming his cock softly. He let out a low groan, "fuck..don't tease baby.." he gripped my waist tighter, grinding himself onto my hand and slipping his tongue into my mouth.

I smirked and climbed on his lap, continuing to kiss him, our tongues fighting for dominance. His hands slowly moved down to my ass, cupping the cheeks tightly, grinding me softly on his cock.

"Cmon..let me fuck you pretty girl.." he whispered in my ear, pushing me back onto the bed. I bit my lip, he slowly climbed in bedween my legs, his erection pressing against my leg as he pressed his lips against my neck, sucking softly.

I grabbed his belt, pulling it off and dragging his pants down, his light grey boxers stained with pre cum. I smirked and pulled his cock out, taking my pyjama pants and panties off in one go.

"Holy fuck.." he groaned, pulling my hips closer, his tip resting against my entrance. "You sure you're ok with this baby? I nodded, smiling.

He smirked and slowly pushed his length into me, "fuckkk.." he groaned, throwing his head back. He stretched me out, his cock fitting my pussy perfectly.

He started to create a pace, softly slamming his hips into mine, cock dissapearing in me repeatedly. I moaned softly as his tip hit my g spot, "oh tom!" I groaned, holding onto his dreads and tugging them softly.

The pleasure came in fierce waves, crashing into me at ungodly speeds. The way he held me, the way he looked at me, the way he fucked me made me so much more attracted to him. I'd always liked Tom, he was tall, rebelious, had dreadlocks and his style was amazing.

I'd always catch him staring at me as I walked by his house, even if it was through the window.

He continued to pound his cock into me, ramming into me so hard tears started to stream down my cheeks, whimpers blurting out every time he hit my sweet spot.

"Cum for me schatz.." he mumbled, leaning down and kissing my lips, his sweet tongue forcing itself in my mouth, slobbering all over each other.

I felt tension build up in my tummy, nothing I've ever felt before. I whined and held onto him, the tension building up quickly and my heat burning.

"Mmmpfuck!" I cried out, my legs twitching as my orgasmed crashed down, cumming all over his length. "Ohh shit!" he also cried out, shooting his load in me, still thrusting as his cum was fucked deep into me.

"Oh fuck..that was amazing.." he sighed, collapsing on me and panting, both of us trying to catch our breaths. After relaxing for a bit he pulled out, our juices spilling out of my cunt.

He smirked and got a tissue, cleaning me up and kissing my forehead, laying back with me.

"I've liked you for years, ever since you moved in and I first saw you I was literally starstruck, you are so kind and beautiful, please consider being my girlfriend anytime" he chuckled, I smiled "of course" as I got up to get dressed I heard a car pull up in the driveway.

My eyes widened, "fuck my parents are home!" Tom shot up and put his clothes on, "quick give me your number!" he chucked his phone at me, my shaky fingers typed at the keyboard, saving his number.

He winked at me one last time and jumped out of the window, running back to his house, his pants nearly falling down. I laughed and snapped a picture, sending it to him.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomkaulitzloverr @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @estxkios @ge-billsgf @charliesgoodboy @syylss @ballhair

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daydreamingyuta · 1 year

Text

Journal│Haechan

Looking through your old memory box, Haechan discovers one of your old journals that exposes your true feelings for him.

Genre: romance, fluff

Paring: Best friend!Haechan x Reader

Word Count: 1k

A/N: happy Haechan day!!

“Oh! Do you know what I just remembered?” Haechan asks you, sitting up on your couch.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember, when we were like six or something, and we thought it would be a good idea to put a bunch of hairspray in our hair and make it stick straight up? I would do anything to see the picture of us that your mom took.”

“You know what? I think I have that picture.” You say as you get up and walk over to your closet. You keep a memory box inside, filled with old photos, items from your childhood, and your old journals.

You pull the box down and set in on your bed while you and Haechan look through everything in the box trying to find the photo. It didn’t take long though and once you found it you both couldn’t stop laughing.

“This is worse that I remember, our hair looks horrible.”

“I know, for some reason in my memory our hair was sticking up straight and looked super cool.”

“No, same but we just look like a mess. That’s actually kinda crazy how we can remember stuff happening one way but it didn’t actually happen that way at all.”

“Right! That’s why I’m so glad I started writing in my journals so young.”

“Ohh right, your little diary’s that you never let me read.” Haechan says as he picks one of many out of the box.

It had been forever since you had looked through any of your old journals. You sat down next to Haechan as he flipped through. You quickly realized that it was from when you were around fifteen.

You see a couple of random collages of you and your old friends. You take a moment to look at them, all of these people besides Haechan had left your life. Not on bad terms or anything, time just has a way of making a best friend turn into a complete stranger.

Haechan flipped to another random page, it was all about your sixteenth birthday. You instinctively turned away and busied yourself with something else at the thought of your sixteenth birthday. As much as you would have liked to forget it, the memory of your worst birthday ever was still strong in your mind.

This was around the time that you had the biggest crush on Haechan, and he brought his new girlfriend to your birthday dinner. You can still remember exactly how you felt, excusing yourself to the bathroom where you cried for a quick five minutes, to not raise suspicion as to why you were in the bathroom for so long. Haechan didn’t exactly ignore you the whole night or anything, but that was how it felt. Now thinking about it, you kind of acted childish about the whole thing, but when you are sixteen, seeing your crush with someone else felt like the end of the world.

So while you were trying to distract yourself from thinking about the memory, you weren’t thinking about the fact that Haechan was reading all about your crush on him. That he had no clue about.

As soon as you realize this, you hear Haechan gasp. “You used to like me y/n?!?”

You eyes widen in both horror and embarrassment, “No.” was all you could say.

“What do you mean ‘no’ I just read about how jealous you were of me having a girlfriend when we were sixteen.” He says laughing.

Of course he would find this funny, but you are still mortified. You promised yourself to never tell him about your crush, in fear of ruining your friendship. And, in truth, you’ve never been able to fully get over him. Throughout the years you both have been through other relationships and during those times you learned to let your feelings go, but they always came back.

“Haechan, this isn’t funny.” You say as you take your journal away from him.

He senses that you are genuinely not ok with him finding this information out so he stops laughing. “y/n, I didn’t mean to laugh, I just had no clue that you used to like me back then. You didn’t exactly make it clear.”

“Of course I didn’t, I mean, how would you have reacted?”

“How would I have reacted? Well, back then, I would have done anything to hear that you liked me back.”

You head jerked up at his sentence. “Really, you used to like me back then?”

“Why do you sound so sad when you said that?”

He pauses for a moment, as if working something out in his head, then he gets closer to you. He places his hand on your chin gently and holds your head up so that you are looking at him. “Do you still have a little crush on me y/n” he whispers with a smile.

Your cheeks heat up and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach, because, throughout the years of being his best friend, he has never gotten this close to you or talked to you in this way.

“..I..”

“I know you aren’t the type to reveal your feelings, so just nod your head yes or no if being this close to you is ok.”

Your mind feels all fuzzy and you could hardly think straight, but you give him a slight nod yes.

“Y/n, that was barely anything, I’m going to need a more clear answe-”

“Yes, Haechan.” you reply in a whisper.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in closer. In reality the kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. Probably because you both have been waiting for it to happen for an eternity.

After you both pull apart from each other and try to steady your breathing, you both stare at each other. For some reason, when you see him, he looks so different. Maybe it was because his face was slightly flushed and his cheeks rosy, or maybe it’s because he’s looking at you like a kid on Christmas who just got the present they’ve been dying for. Either way, whatever crush you had on him before this kiss, was suddenly intensified, and you could tell that he was feeling the exact same way.

“Y/n, I don’t know what you are thinking right now but, if you don’t let me take you out on a date and kiss you a million more times-”

You cut him off with another kiss, not wanting to hear a scenario in which you don’t let him do exactly that.

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #fluff #k-pop #haechan #imagine #drabble #happy haechan day #happy birthday haechan!!

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pxmun · 5 months

Text

Early in the morning as the railway staff began their duties by looking over the routes and trains they would be pulling for that day.

Unbeknownst to the railway staff though, an imposter was amongst them. Boomer had managed to successfully steal a uniform and infiltrate the staff only area. While the workers were busy with their coffee and morning chatter, Boomer was working to scout out a target for his and Wendell's plan. He read down the list until he came upon the schedule for Percy; an engine without one of the kids with a magic whistle to protect him and an engine that was scheduled to pull a train of Troublesome Trucks, perfect. With a found target, Boomer stealth fully creeped out of the staff room and headed towards the yard.

There Boomer spotted the train of Troublesome Trucks Percy had to take in the next hour. He casually strolled up to the trucks and began to talk to them.

"So, you lot are Sodor's infamous troublesome trucks." Boomer said.

"So what if we are?" Asked one.

"What's it to you"? Replied another.

"Nothing much, just that I think that the trucks on the Mainland were right about you lot." Boomer responded.

"What did they say? What did they say"? The Troublesome Trucks asked in unison.

Boomer tossed away the candy stick in his mouth before answering. It was clear he was there to stir up trouble.

"They said that the troublesome trucks of Sodor we're nothing but a bunch of softies, saying that out of all the time you lot have been here, you've only ever managed to derail only a few engines." Boomer lied.

"How dare they"! One truck roared.

"Softies? Softies! We'll show those mainland trucks who are the real softies"! Roared a Troublesome Truck.

Boomer slipped away as the trucks talked amongst themselves about how to prove they were troublesome.

By then Percy arrived. He could hear the trucks talking to each other, but couldn't hear what they were saying as he backed up to be coupled to the train.

"Boy you trucks are sure chatty today, what has gotten all of you rowdy "? Percy asked.

The trucks immediately hushed up. They looked back at each other than began to giggle quietly to themselves, they had come up with a devious idea.

"Uh, the rails, they..." One addressed Percy.

" They make a funny squeaking sound if you ride on them while olive oil is spilled over them." A truck made up.

"Oh, that would be funny. Now, come along, we can't be late with our goods." Percy said, unaware of the trucks plan.

Percy was on his way to Fenland Junction and began to approach the double hills. Percy kept his attention on the trucks as he knew they had a tendency to try and hold an engine back while climbing the hills and for pushing them when going down hill.

They made it to the top of the hill with no issue, but Percy and his crew knew they weren't out of the woods just yet as they began the decline.

"Those trucks are up to something." Percy's firewoman said, but the driver hadn't paid any mind as they were focused on preparing Percy's brakes to prevent the small green engine from rolling down the hill uncontrollably. However, as the driver was about to pull the brakes, the trucks enacted their plan.

"Now! On! On! On"! A truck cried out.

The Troublesome Trucks gave Percy a powerful bump, causing his driver to fall out before they could apply the brakes, causing Percy to thunder down the hill.

"Help"! Percy cried out as the cargo inside the trucks began to shift to one side.

"Tilt, tilt, tilt"! The trucks sang.

Percy could feel himself leaning over, the train and him were going to derail! His firewoman tried her best to prevent the tip over, but there wasn't much she could do.

Just as Percy was coming off the rails, something reached out and wrapped around Percy. The force tugged at the small engine, pulling him back onto the track. The mysterious force did not let go as it aided in helping Percy come to a safe hault.

Percy could hear his rescuer panting as the ordeal came to an end.

"Huff...Huff. By Noah's Arc that was close"! Said a figure.

Percy looked over and gasped in surprise. Cleo's stories echoing in his smokebox.

"Wendell"?!

#ttte #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #sodor #oc #ttte oc #ttte percy #percy the green engine #percy the small engine

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 1 year

Note

Hey there BMT

Happy new year

So...after today's Tae Wlive...I was left feeling a bit confused

Okay to be honest...ever since the solo chapter two era began...I deleted my twitter account and it has been one of the best decisions I made...but in my journey as an Army...Tae has always rubbed me the wrong way and I couldn't really pinpoint what exactly it was about him because when you first come into this fandom it is ot7 kumbaya all the time....so I can't help but realize Tae doesn't like being left out on being in the spotlight...he is someone who seems to know what goes on in the fandom like how most of his solo stans are shippers of him and the maknae...and how said shippers are one of the biggest reasons this fandom is going to shit and how they portray he's supposed soulmate..so...it's how he always comes online when one of the other members is on the spotlight for some reason and he feels the need to name drop the maknae..like today...he comes on for two minutes,comes back and mentions how he is with the maknae and friends but he decided to do the live cause he was bored...plus I found it a bit weird how he didn't mention Jihope being in Paris....considering he likes fashion...something so big and new and exciting for his bandmates,his family,friends...but instead go on and just rally up his psycho cult by adding innuendos with strawberries and "pineapples?"....and I'm just wondering JK couldn't even pop in his head for a second to say hi but then I sit down and remember he likes to lie?troll?be funny? So many narratives to explain away his behaviour....anyways...what was the purpose of all this....you are one of the bangtan fans who is so level headed and I wanted to know if I'm just tripping..

Have an amazing day/night

Alright, I think it's time for a real talk here. I'm not going to mince my words because I don't care what anyone says. I'm no Army, you all know where I stand, so let's fucking go.

This fandom is made of butthurt, two-faced, kumbaya, fruity bangtan-lover people who are rarely able to show some spine because they're too afraid of losing their clout on twitter and their followers on tumblr. They're so programmned to believe that a bunch of seven men are the epitome of perfection, unable to do something even worthy of mentioning any type of criticism because they all live in this fairytale-like world. They are super human, incapable of actions and emotions that govern the daily lives of us, the inferior human race. Well guess what? Believing it doesn't make it real.

We can like nasty people and we can dislike them for the same damn reasons. We can dislike nice people and we can love those good people all the same. And guess what? BTS are people. Tae is one of them. Rm is one of them. Jimin. Yoongi and so on. And we can like BTS, while at the same time, not like some of the things they say or do. It's not the end of the world, the sky won't fall on us. Just as we have complex emotions and reactions towards the people in our own lives and towards our own self. I know I'm seen as some Tae/RM anti. Unfortunately for those people, I can never give them the satisfaction because I don't have a ''hate Tae today and talk shit about him'' on my to-do list every day. And they can say I'm biased and I only care about two people in BTS and I see them as perfect and I get frustrated when someone else talks shit about them. Yeah dude, I do care only about two of them. There ya go. The Earth is still spinning. And you know what? I can dislike stuff about them too.

I don't like Jimin treating the fandom as if they're all kids and even going as far as to cover a damn photo on a hotel wall. It's stupid and it won't help and he's part of the problem. I once thought that Jungkook is going to do something more artistic in the future because I saw the potential after My Time, but for now, all he did was confirm how damn basic he is from an artistic pov. I think he made a wrong decision making that song for the World Cup in Qatar and it shows that money comes first. I don't like RM because he's pretentious as fuck. I don't like Hobi because he's too damn loud and as a fan, I couldn't give a flying fuck about his presence at FW or what brand deals he gets. I think Jin is severely out of touch and money does that to you.I think Tae is insecure for no fucking damn reason, but he is. I think Yoongi can be so damn insensitive sometimes and he doesn't know when to shut up. And, for the sake of inclusivity and fairness, I'll add myself too in this dislike fest (not that I'm some world superstar and I have no fans, but you know what I mean).I am a selfish bitch that tends to ghost people. I have ex-friends that probably hate me and I don't blame them.

What does all this mean? That my opinions are facts? That the aspects I've mentioned reflect someone's entire being? That when I look at Hobi, all I see is an obnoxius loud guy? No. Of course not. He's not just that because none of us are only one thing. Layers, people. As simple as that. And if I or anyone else ends up thinking that Tae is insecure and doesn't like being left out, then so be it. Just as I mentioned all that stuff that I personally don't like, there are many more reasons that still make me enjoy them. They're not horrible people worthy of being burned at the stake. But one bad word and this fandom acts like that's exactly what one means when they are not a fan of a BTS member. Then they jump to call people antis, bitches, cunt whores and every other insult. Because that's certainly nicer that any sort of criticism made towards BTS, but it's an acceptable and desired form of bullying. If this was twitter or perhaps my inbox after this text is posted, some will jump and say that Tae would burn me to keep himself and JK warm. Oh no, I'm about to cry and do my penance and apply 30 lashes on my naked body.

Everything is so absurd and every day when I go on twitter and come here, I'm taking the bad pill on purpose so I can enter this alternative reality. And I accept that, I made my bed. But I'm also not going to be some sheep that parrots whatever this fandom deems acceptable.

So yes, anon. I don't blame you for thinking this. Yes, it does seem to look like a pattern. Why? I don't fucking know. Why doesn't it seem genuine? Because there's a history of lying for no damn reason. No one in their right mind should be upset that he's hanging out with his bandmate (be it in person or playing online games). That's not the problem here. It's just that it has become such a habit of only him doing this one-side whatever the fuck he is trying to do, that I had a bunch of people in my inbox from one-two weeks ago saying that this exact thing will happen at the right moment. And it did. I say we should place some bets next time. It will be more fun.

Why does he suffer from a bad case of mimetic desire? Is it needed? Not from an outsider pov, but I have no idea what insecurities Tae has. Except from that time he told Jungkook during their ITS talk that he uses weverse to get some love from fans because he was indeed insecure at that time. So, that tells you something. Which means, it's not completely out of the realm of all possibilities that some of the stuff he does can be on purpose. I'm glad I'm not a Tae stan or some ot7 army cause I would feel kinda shitty seeing Tae's attitude towards his fans. He laughts at them on Weverse while they believe they're laughing together. Look at how the others are using a live stream to connect with the fans they so much love, while he uses that because he's bored for 5 minutes. What is he? A teenage girl that gets bored after the guys come over? Is this high school? I didn't know he's some 16 year old cause at least his behavior would make more sense. But his fans thinks this is cool behavior, except he's a rebel without any cause that makes threats when the Paradise heir gets dragged in a scandal and other times he's keeping his mouth shut. Anyway......

And if we're dropping names (which doesn't happen just with JK, it's only that he's the main character lately) and if JK was there too, why couldn't he just give a shout and call him to say hi to his beloved fans? No one would think it's weird. We have footage of all the group hanging out together for years everywhere. Either tell him to shut up cause he's about to be live and doesn't want anyone to know, or actually do something? Cause this is what I don't get? Making situations be odd when it's not necessary. Now, it's not confirmed that JK is actually there, it could be just a theory and people having bad hearing and apparently Jungkook can sing like shit sometimes. We don't know.

And I don't want to hear anyone saying he doesn't know his stans and his shippers. First of all, they all do and second of all, he's on damn twitter and there's evidence of that. No, he doesn't have to call out his fans, but why rile them up? But then again, all of them are like that, so there's no escape.

Tae doesn't need to go live and talk about Paris Fashion Week and what his bandmates did. He's not the news so he can cover all the events that are happening. But the timing...like clockwork, every single time. Sometimes it's during and sometimes immediately after. Now he waited a day. Good for him, he's being considerate. If anyone would have to patience to look at the bts archive for the last half of year, I bet the pattern is more easily recognizable.

The point to all this and I'm going to end this post cause it got way too long, celebrities (that includes BTS) are people like everyone else. They put themselves in the public eye which means that everyone else watching them is bound to draw conclusions. Some are favorable and others are not. And saying that Tae seems to want some spotlight and he's not very nice sometimes is not a smear campaign. Whoever believes that, get a life. You have no idea what that means. But this fandom distorts all sense of reality and the actual meaning of words.

People can like Tae for exactly the same reasons I don't. I wish he would be an actual bad boy. That would make him at least interesting. I like shitty people. I like nice people who do shitty things. I like people who are considered persona non grata. So what? So if his fans like Tae for who he is, then absolutely fine. But then I can also say that I don't. That's the basics of all of this.

And one last thought. I can't truly take someone seriously or argue with them in some weird act of defending men. I value myself a bit more than that. So whoever wants to be an Army on a high horse and call me names, you can take them and shove them.

Happy New Year, Anon!

#bmt asks

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executables-sims · 7 months

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Get to know you: Sims Style

Thank you so much for the tag, @goatskickin! :D I am ill rn, so please excuse the rambling. x) Long post ahead!

What’s your favorite Sims death? Maybe fright? I've only ever had it happen once via ghost, the anim is pretty funny. :)

Alpha CC or Maxis Match? My Simblr probably says otherwise, but I don’t have a preference! I’ve had nearly every possible CC style under the sun throughout my years of playing, and I constantly think about reviving my 'semi-realism' folder (living vicariously through you, other simmers!). I didn't play with CC until early 2006 though, so MM is a little bit more nostalgic. :)

Do you cheat your sims weight? Hell no! I'm still in awe of Nysha's townie body diversity mod finally letting townies be fat. :D I wish the game had a better way of managing bodyshapes so I could add more variety that way.

Do you move objects? Of course!

Favorite Mod? Of all time? Impossible! My continued interest in gameplay is always because of new mods. :)

I did gain a new outlook thanks to a mod recently, though! My wild romance sim Blaze Biermann ended up 'mood swinging' to fortune before he went to uni, and instead of reverting, it got stuck.

He had a few flings still (pleasure secondary), but after he returned home and met his daughter (for the first time since her birth), he started cringing whenever I directed him to romance his dates. It felt like he had grown as a person, and I loved it!

TL;DR: Randomly change your sims' original aspiration/s to give them interesting character arcs! First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack? I mean, not my decision, but our first TS1 EP was Hot Date. I'm pretty sure I got TS2 EPs/SPs in order of release (miss those days of unwrapping a new one every birthday/christmas!).

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing? We're LIVE, baby! 🎥

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? I don't usually get very attached to my first-generation sims, but maybe Evonne Milos, from the gameplay/story hood I accidentally destroyed in four days? Never actually played her, but I had a lot of ideas for a corrupt 'sexpot' politician. x)

Have you made a simself? Lots! 99% of the fun I had playing TS2 as a kid was me and my best friend making ourselves and our respective crushes of the week, and we'd always live in one of those Veronaville lots that was two houses connected by a balcony. I can't even tell you the amount of times she got me pregnant against my wishes whilst I went to the bathroom, lmao.

Which is your favorite EA hair color? For colour consistency, probably brown? But there are a lot of brunettes in Brunwick (must be the name!), so I enjoy the recessives popping up in gameplay. :)

Favorite EA hair? Does an EA download count? Jeanette is lovely.

Favorite life stage? Ohhh dude, that's so difficult to answer. They all bring different challenges and dynamics to the household! I feel like I've started to appreciate the child lifestage more since Brunwick has grown large enough to have multiple friendship groups. It's fun watching them goof around with each other and be actual kids, instead of sitting indoors skilling. I really need to build a park! :)

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Are you a CC creator? Yes, I really love how this game has led me to so many creative hobbies! Would like to tackle BHAVs one day. :)

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad? Yeah! I consider us all friends over our shared enjoyment of the game really, but as a chronic lurker I'm not the best at cultivating connections. x) Does anyone wanna make a secret club? xD

Do you have any sims merch? No, but I do have a bunch of rad sims memories. 👉😎👉

Do you have a YouTube for sims? Nope, but I watched plenty of sim music videos back in the day! Found a lot of songs that way. :) Some formative memories here: One / Two

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing? I sadly don't have screenshots of my oldest saves thanks to a combo of no external HD and no screenshot program, but here's one example:

But gameplay-wise, a lot! My early years were probably based around creating stories more than actively playing, but when I did I would just emulate perfect families, attempt legacies, and restart BG hoods over and over. x)

Now I'm all about wants-based gameplay; witnessing and interpreting a story, as opposed to creating one from scratch. But I will add drama if I find my interest waning! x)

Who’s your favorite CC creator? Again, super-duper impossible to answer because everyone's CC makes the game fun, but my most recent CC shopping spree was Honeywell and HugeLunatic! :) 🛒

How long have you had Simblr? Technically 2011, officially 2013, but if we're being pedantic, I finally made a dedicated Simblr (this) in 2016. x)

How do you edit your pictures? These days, just sharpen and shrink! CC previews aren't too complicated either- a blurred out screenshot for the BG and a shadow.

What expansion/gamepack is your favorite? Ooh… maybe Nightlife, by a smidgen? I feel like it gave us a lot of new features and items, and the subhood was nice (as a non-builder at the time!).

Tagging: @daman19942 @aondaneedles @eulaliasims @profesionalpartyguest @tvickiesims @and everyone else, I love reading these! :D

#Tag meme

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midorishinji · 4 months

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Hanahaki

Yellow tulips are a symbol of unrequited love. "You made flowers grow in my lungs and although they are beautiful, I can't breathe"

Itahina ｜Oneshot｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

It was a late autumn morning, a Friday, when I felt something in my throat. I coughed and spat out a yellow tulip petal. I spent the entire weekend worrying, avoiding opening my mouth, and I slept all Sunday after drinking a whole bottle of cough syrup. I told my father that it was just the beginning of a cold, and he didn't question it all that much; to be honest, I don't think he really pays attention to me, and he doesn't even notice that anything could be wrong. I was always just this quiet, nervous little thing that swallows back words, and now I swallow flowers too.

Every time I saw him at school, I would have a terrible coughing fit... Which was quite inconvenient, considering that Itachi Uchiha was the brother of a childhood friend and president of the literature club, of which I was a member. I managed to get through the first week in fits and starts, wearing a mask the entire time, to avoid transmitting my “cold”. At the end of the day, I would need to go to the bathroom and take off the mask, to remove the petals that suffocated me even once they were out of my throat.

That's how Ino found me, that Thursday, staring at a bunch of yellow petals and even whole tulips spread out on the sink. We looked at each other for a few seconds, until I couldn't take it anymore and cried the bitterest tears of my brief existence. She tried to comfort me and hugged me with all the strength in the world and, for a moment, it seemed like everything was going to be okay.

(...)

— At the beginning of the 19th century, tuberculosis became the fashionable disease. Pale skin, glistening eyes and rosy cheeks and lips, symptoms of a constant fever, became ideals of beauty, the supreme symbol of perishing with grace.

With each word, it felt like an even bigger stab wound to my poor heart. I swallowed flowers like I swallowed words, like I swallowed my feelings, and listened to Itachi's explanation of Romanticism while we were both last in the literature club. — I just think I'm not a hundred percent recovered from my cold yet, that's all. Nowadays, babies are vaccinated against tuberculosis at birth, I think.

I had to drop the mask and pretend I was “cured” after a few indiscreet looks from my sister. For a moment, I almost thought I would have to tell her, but I couldn't imagine doing that. Saying things wasn't my strongest point.

Itachi laughed, the same low, hoarse laugh that I loved to hear, and that made my heart beat fast as if I ran a marathon. — You're funny, Hinata.

— Funny how? — I was afraid to ask, because I was afraid of knowing. Sometimes people find us funny in an adorable way, like a kid acting up. Sometimes just funny in a pathetic way.

He shook his head, looking far away, and for a second I wondered what Itachi Uchiha thought... When it came to him, it was always so difficult to know, that I felt as if we were completely different species. Indecipherable. — I don't know. I just think you are, but not in a bad way, no, definitely not.

(...)

I spent the night awake, with a lump in my throat, which I only managed to expel when it was past three in the morning: there were three whole tulips, yellow as gold, and so beautiful that for a second I almost got carried away and forgot that these precious flowers were a physical manifestation of doom. I sat on the bathroom floor for a long time, staring at them, breathless, trying to get my breathing back to normal.

I kept the three flowers between the pages of a heavy book, as I had been doing with all the others I spat out. Perhaps Charlotte Brontë had a good reason to see beauty in the illness that took her sisters’ lives and that would inevitably take hers too, because it’s the last resort. When nothing else can be done, what remains for us is to learn to love our circumstances, to see some charm in them: that was why I kept my tormentors close.

My phone vibrated with a message, awakening me from my Byronic daydreams, and to my cruel reality, and I resented even more my own cowardice for writing “I love you” in response and deleting it right away, before even sending it, as I read his message again and again.

"I dreamed of you today"

(...)

Yellow tulips are a symbol of unrequited love. I knew that. Ino tried to convince me that it could be worse, because there are flowers with more harmful meanings: orange lilies are hate; higanbana are abandonment, and two lovers who part ways to never meet again. I knew that too, and knowing it didn't make it any better. She also insisted that for those suffering from hanahaki , the type and color of the flowers matter little to the prognosis of the disease, it’s all a popular superstition.

— Here, I got a gift for you, from my family’s flower shop. — she said, as soon as we arrived at school; it was a white flower, like the snow that fell in that first winter blizzard around us — It's called Edelweiss. It means courage, you know? They’re the national flower of Austria, firstly because they were a symbol of resistance to the Nazis during World War II, and secondly because they only grow at very high altitudes, such as in the Alps; there's a legend there that says that if someone brings you one of these, it's proof of true love. No one risks looking for it if it isn’t.

She explained everything to me enthusiastically, while placing the small flower behind my ear, between some strands of hair. I opened my locker to leave my shoes and found inside it a white orchid with delicate fringe-like petals, lonely like me. I felt a certain compassion for that poor creature with dry petals, as if it had withered before it even bloomed, because we really were one and the same. I stared at it for long seconds, playing with the fragile petals as delicately as I could, until Ino woke me up from my trance: — A gift?

— I don't know. I'll put it in a glass of water, maybe that will help. — I said, holding the slender stem between my cold fingers, almost flying through the school corridors.

(...)

— Hanahaki is a disease of cowards.

Sasuke's voice echoed through the room, angry and serious. He wasn’t speaking to me specifically, he was just taking out his frustration on all of us, because he didn't know anything, he couldn’t. And, even if he knew, deep down I couldn't disagree with him: I am a coward from head to toe, to the last hair strand, to the marrow of the bone, and if I weren't like that, I would suffer much less. I wouldn't be fatally ill, either: the truth sets us free, but only when we are able to spit it out like the poison it is.

— Sasuke... — Itachi tried to calm him down, as he always did, and the two exchanged a long look, of complicity, containing a very private understanding. For a moment I wished I could disappear from there, imagining that everyone knew about my peculiar misery and they simply felt sorry for me. I loved Itachi Uchiha and everything that was him, flaws and admirable qualities, in the same contradictory way that I could sometimes hate him like I did now, as I hated his gentle and appeasing ways for making me like him even more and making him even better , so close to the divine as humanly possible. Maybe that's why black lilies were so ambiguous and meant, at the same time, love and curse: both exist as two sides of the same coin, inseparable. I couldn't love if it didn't hurt until it tore myself apart.

I left the room, along with everyone else, and spent a few long minutes walking without direction through the hallways, almost as if I was training for when I would inevitably become a ghost, very soon. The cure for hanahaki is reciprocated love, that's what tormented me from the beginning. I coughed up five whole tulips at once, which I kept in my pocket, and I felt my legs weaken, trembling; the rays of the setting sun that passed through the windows blinded my sensitive eyes until they watered.

I ended up going back to the club room after the end of the activity hours, in a feverish delirium. I didn't want to go home, I didn't want to spend the rest of the day blending in with the beige walls and trying to go unnoticed by my father. I just wanted to not feel this anguish inside my chest for even a second, to free myself from it. Ino would kill me if she saw me plucking the petals from her precious Edelweiss, I know: it was her proof of love for me going to waste, thanks to my restless and pale fingers, always as nervous as I was.

There was still someone in the club room. With his face leaning over the table, I realized it was Itachi, and he was coughing too. — I'm sorry, Hinata... Sasuke’s right when he says that I'm a coward. — he apologized, with a gentle smile, which tore my insides with pain. In between his fingers, white petals of a fringed orchid, Sagiso , could be seen, the same one I had found in my locker: “I will be thinking of you even in my dreams”.

#naruto #naruto fanfic #naruto shippuden #hinata hyuga #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #ino yamanaka #naruto uzumaki #fanfiction #writing #itahina #itachi uchiha

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doomedlvr · 3 months

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You guys I need to show you this cause I can’t suffer alone. Obviously it’s fake, but you cannot tell me you don’t feel like you didn’t feel get hit in the face with a baseball bat by 2012 reading this post

[I [23f] created a 1:1 scale puppet version of my boyfriend [22m] and showed it to him during foreplay as a joke. Now he hasn’t texted me in 12 hours and I’m starting to get worried. How do I get him to text me back?

The title pretty much says it all, but here are some more details: my boyfriend of six months and I have had a pretty cut and dry relationship up to this point. I’ve always been what some people would call “quirky,” so pranks are sort of my bread and butter. He, John, has expressed that he really likes this part of me and I’m just happy to be with someone who can handle all of my zest, lol! Sometimes I worry that he doesn’t actually think I’m as funny as he says, but he always reassures me that this is not the case. One of the ways we really like to express our humor to each other is in the bedroom, for example I love to do impressions of mostly Disney characters (such as the “paperwork” lady from Monsters Inc, haha). He sometimes does them too, but he’s not that good at voices.

So here’s where I think I may have taken it too far: I recently bought a sewing machine to try and make cosplay costumes and stuff, but something dawned on me as I was messing around with it. This was the plan:

We oftentimes sexytimes with a habitual back rub massage sort of thing, and we switch off. And then we progress into french kissing and then full blown you know what. One very important fact to tell you is that John does in fact wear glasses, so I will usually make a point to take them off and put them on the table for safety. During this particular romp in the hay, I got a really funny idea about how to take his glasses off next time and I couldn’t stop laughing. He asked me what I was laughing at because he has some insecurity about his appearance, but I assured him that it was nothing like that. We had our fun and John went home, but all I could think about was this plan.

So the next day I went to the fabric store and bought a bunch of skin colored felt and wire framing and cotton and got to work creating a muppet-style version of my boyfriend to put his glasses on next time we started getting dirty style. Honestly, the thing was looking pretty good and I even found some clothes at Goodwill that were his style. I dressed the puppet in the clothes, hid them under my collection of squishmallows that’s in my room, and invited him over.

To spare you all the explicit details, we did start kissing and taking clothes off and stuff, but my hands were shaking as I reached up to grab his glasses. Instead of putting it on my nightstand I made a point to say something like “I’m just gonna put these riiiiight here” as I stretched over to the squishmallow that was covering the puppet boyfriend’s head and put the glasses right over his felt eyes. He got confused I think and looked back to where I put the glasses and sat up, as a felt version of his face (very easily identifiable by the way, John has red hair and a mustache, so the glasses on top left little question of who this could be). He was silent for a second then said “is that supposed to be me?” as I was laughing. I said something like “do you like it?” as I took it out of the squishmallow pile and revealed the entirety of muppet John.

“Oh did you make that?” he asked, and I stood it up off the bed and asked him to stand next to it. “See? It’s just like you basically!” I said, but he still wasn’t laughing that much. I think he saw that the muppet ended up being just a little bit taller than him (he’s 5’7 and probably insecure about that, the muppet ended up accidentally being a little taller than him, around 6’1 based on seeing them side by side).

I noticed his disappointment and did a tried and true disney impression to make him feel better. In my best Goofy impression I said “Well, looks like we should call him Big, John, Hyuck!” John just took the glasses off of Big John and let him fall to the floor, and put the glasses on the nightstand and sat on the bed for a while but we eventually went to Sin city but it was a lot more quiet than usual. He left after that, even though we were planning on having a sleepover, he said he wasn’t feeling good. I texted him goodnight and went to bed.

So here’s the ish: this morning I haven’t gotten any good morning text, or any texts at all from him, even though he always sends me a good morning text. I’m worried that Big John was a step too far and that normal john didn’t think the joke was as funny as I did. I feel like he’s just putting me in an uncomfortable position by not telling me how this made him really feel, even though I thought it was pretty funny… Is this salvageable or am I effed?

tl;dr : Created a life-sized puppet of my boyfriend to put his glasses on. But, I think it made him insecure, and now he wont text me.]

Link to original post: https://www.reddit.com/r/TwoHotTakes/s/MgEPhDqnr0

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

What if the reader and Stanley bonded over the buckets? Like decorating them and customizing them!

"This is great, Stanley! What could be better than hanging out in the broom closet and decorating our buckets?”

“..actually going on with the story?!!! Or literally anything else?! I can’t even recognize the metallic shininess of your bucket anymore, [y/n]. What was the matter with my two stickers? Were they boring? Too bland? Well..I apologize for not having an infinite amount at my disposal.”

Looking up, you just scoffed at Narrator, sensing his bitterness as you clutched your decorated bucket with pride. “I wasn’t talking to you. Besides it’s not like we can take off your dumb stickers, so we’re stuck with them regardless. Be lucky I didn’t decide to paint over them.”

All you got in response was a loud gasp of horror, as though you’ve just written him a review worse than Cookie9′s. “WHY...I’D...NEVER....!!!”

The poor guy was probably hunched over his desk, clutching his pearls.

An amused smile graced your lips as you envisioned that. ‘Yeah, that’s pretty funny..’

Then you felt a nudge on your shoulder and looked to see Stanley present his bucket to you, lightly smiling. It had some stamps and small paintings on all sides. Excluding the Property of Stanley sticker, these new additions made it unique only to him.

For countless resets, he’s been lugging this bucket around, finding both comfort and numbness in it as he carried it throughout the office. And it’s been his only companion until you somehow entered the parable with your own bucket, assuming it was just an ordinary work day until you found him.

He showed you his favorite places in the building, such as the broom closet where you proposed the idea of decorating your respective buckets just to take a break from the story.

Although Narrator tried speaking for Stanley’s bucket by saying “that’s a horrible idea, I am perfectly content with these stickers”, your coworker thought the opposite and happily joined you in the closet. You had to go search the building a bit for more paints, and Stanley stayed despite Narrator’s insistence that he kept going.

Yeah, you could hear his complaints, too, but luckily you were the only one who could respond to him verbally.

The three of you knew the reality of your world, so...why did he wanna get back to a story that wasn’t gonna end anyway?

None of it made sense, but doing this little “art project” brought both you and Stanley a sense of...peace. It was therapeutic in a way, and neither of you heard any protests from the buckets.

Narrator severely underestimated your attachment to them.

“I think he’s just jealous,” you muttered to Stanley, who grinned and silently chuckled in response, earning yet another chuff from a certain British man.

“Oh good, good..just go on and giggle like a bunch of schoolgirls at a sleepover. See if I care! I’ll be waiting outside whenever you’re both finished....”

As his voice faded out, you sighed in relief. ‘Thank god. It’s just us and the buckets now.’

When he did eventually reset the game, you and Stanley simply reunited in the same spot with your respective buckets, beaming with pride while he groaned.

They were still decorated beautifully.

#clanask #anonymous #the stanley parable x reader #stanley parable x reader #stanley x reader #platonic

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autismtana · 1 year

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santana lopez has adhd (part 1)

^the adhd/lesbian flags^

(*disclaimer: i have adhd myself and work in education/educational psychology, which is the basis of this post in which i get wayyyyy too analytical about a fictional character; however, i'm not a psychiatrist or doctor and am not qualified to diagnose real people with adhd or anything else ... seriously, our only representation is cis white boys whose adhd is an explanation for them being the class clown and treated as a joke so please don't get salty at me for claiming a fictional character that isn't a cis white boy as part of the adhd gang)

(credit to @dojasrivera on twitter for making the og adhd!santana thread; i unfortunately wasn't able to see it as i only found out about it after their original twitter account got suspended but there may be some overlap between their thread and this post)

this ended up being really long and tumblr cut me off so there is going to be a part 2

impulsiveness - let's get this one out of the way first since this is obviously really central to santana's character; she has a tendency to just kind of say whatever she thinks in the moment without thinking about the consequence and it often gets her into trouble. she also just does random shit like try to get into a physical altercation with lauren zizes who is in the wrestling team, and later move into kurt and rachel's apartment completely out of the blue and go through their stuff for some bizarre reason (which is funny in a tv context but also like ... santana wtf don't go through their stuff).

difficulty initiating and maintaining friendships - santana has maybe 2 secure close friendships throughout the series (brittany and mercedes) and even then there are some complications; brittany because they're in love with each other, and even mercedes competed with santana over puck (ew) but that was resolved by the end of the episode. all of santana's other female friendships (except tina but they're not really all that close and even they have a one-sided feud in season 4 where surprisingly santana is the unbothered one) appear to be sources of stress and anxiety for her because they revolve around competing (see her storyline with rachel from 5x09-5x13). it's also established that santana is close friends with quinn throughout the series (even if they have a tendency to compete with each other) but santana says in 5x10 that quinn doesn't live too far away from her and yet she never makes the effort to see her, even though they ended their senior year relatively amicably. she's way more forgiving of other people than she's given credit for, but she just craves acceptance and friendship from this bunch of misfits so much and is really insecure about whether or not she has it.

rejection sensitive dysphoria - this could literally describe like 90% of her interactions with people (mostly people that aren't brittany). the entire pezberry feud is essentially santana experiencing rsd around her friendship (or lack thereof) with rachel and then doubling down on rachel's expectations of her to save face. another example is in 2x20 when kurt wins prom queen and santana's immediate first thought is "everyone hates me". this post from themostrandomfandom suggests that santana has an anxious attachment type. even in some of her interactions with brittany, she's anxious about their relationship and needs reassurance ("you didn't say you love me back" in 2x18, "are we dating or what" in 3x04).

disorganisation - santana's bedroom (see 2x15 and 4x04) and locker (see the scene in 3x22 with her mom) are both literal disaster zones, and according to brittany, her car would qualify her to be on "whoreders" (honestly same)

difficulty with time management (chronic lateness) - "i like to make an entrance" aka she lost track of time and knew she was going to be late so she planned it (credit: @smolbrittana on instagram)

emotional reactivity and difficulty with emotional regulation - santana has very visceral reactions to all emotions, positive and negative (see this post by themostrandomfandom) (see this post by drshebloggo); she's very easily affected by external stimuli (e.g. the scene in 1x03 when she gets her tanning privileges revoked). she feels her emotions really intensely and it takes her a long time to calm down. she has rage (and of course i'm obligated to include this awesome compilation by literallylebanese). in the hurt locker scene (2x15), santana articulates really well that she has so many big feelings that she doesn't know what to do with so the only thing she can do about them is lash out at other people. it's also worth noting that santana is extremely defensive and reactive in her social interactions with others; she's very rarely the one to "shoot first" (for lack of a better term) and a lot of her lashing out against her peers (i.e. getting revenge on finn/quinn in 2x12, her interactions with rory in 3x04/3x06, most of her interactions with rachel in 5x09-5x12, her monologue to kurt in 6x03) are in response to perceived wrongdoing/criticism/rejection (i'm not justifying these but context and motivation matters). she also has really visceral reactions to positive emotions; her whole face just instantly lights up when brittany smiles at her or touches her or someone compliments her.

poor financial management skills - homegirl literally blew half of her college fund on post-breakup retail therapy (maribel lopez seriously i love you but why would you just hand this child a cheque if you knew she was getting a scholarship)

impulsiveness around romantic relationships - u-haul lesbian jokes aside, santana moves very fast with dani, calling dani her girlfriend within like 5 seconds of meeting her, it's unclear when she and dani officially break up (my headcanon is that things went somewhat sour after dani voted to kick santana and rachel out of pamela lansbury, especially based on what we know about santana and her feelings of anxiety around real and/or perceived rejection, but i guess we'll never know). it's possible that dani may have been a hyperfixation.

poor adult interactions/distrust in authority - homegirl has this in spades; her abuela literally threatens to beat her up with a chair and tried to sell her once, and sue mistreats all the cheerleaders on a regular basis. even will schuester who she says she likes kicks her out of glee club, refuses to defend her and pushes for her to get suspended after the finn incident (as does shelby corcoran), and shames her for reporting his subpar teaching, so that's educational trauma on top of that and she has a tendency to challenge them, mr schuester especially.

compulsive fidgeting - often has a nail file or one of brittany's funky pens, also often fidgets with her hands when she's nervous - mostly around her britt-britt (see also)

extroverted introvert - santana is simultaneously brash and outspoken while also being bashful and socially awkward (see her interactions in 5x02 with dani)

(part 2)

#santana lopez #glee headcanons #glee #brittana #adhd #glee meta #neurodiversity #adhd santana

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creativeafterdark · 8 months

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Chapter 11 and 12

I'm really dropping the ball on these huh? Things are just crazy right now.

Chapter 11:

I don't have much to say about chapter 11. It was cool seeing the names of a bunch of folks that have come up in my reading on the Tang Dynasty. And I loved the idea of Grand Marshal Zhu essentially telling Taizong to gtfo.

Chapter 12:

I have a little more to say about this chapter!

I'm very relieved that the situation with Li Quan and his wife was handled quickly and without issue. The two were, in the grand scheme, innocent folks and giving them more grief would have been a pain, very bad karma for the Emperor.

(Learning about Taizong, I really hope that his sister Yuying wasn't supposed to be Princess Pingyang, because I've grown to really like that lady and this would be a slap in the face at how powerful she is as she helped her father to START the Tang Dynasty. I say that because I'm still looking into it but I have not found a Yuying in the list of his known siblings. And Pingyang is the ONLY full sister he has, as far as I am aware)

I'm also glad Taizong keep his promises in the underworld and gave back to the Xiang couple. Giving him credit, smart idea making a temple for them and honoring them that way. This temple ends up bringing Xuanzang into the fray and Taizong is super happy to have someone related to his officials in the temple.

And then comes Guanyin. With the cassock and staff, she gives Xuanzang the sacred mission and he makes his preparations for the journey. (I find it HILARIOUS that he says it'll be 3 years, at most 7).

The talk between Taizong and Xuanzang at the very end was, oddly enough, my favorite bit. It was a simple wish of good luck but I felt like it was literally an older brother telling his younger brother to remember his home. Funny as I've heard their relationship is very much NOT like this in real life but I did learn (and please feel free to correct me if I am mistaken) that Xuanzang had an older brother in real life. Perhaps it was a callback to it?

With this chapter, we begin the journey! Which means I need to get my butt moving on finishing the designs of our Pilgrims (minus Wukong).

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

All that said, I kinda think I'm going to be slow with updates, as folks probably noticed. Work is giving me insane hours, and I'm still dealing with burn out. I have a few things to try to get me back into the groove, so we'll see how this goes. I very much want to read the full text. That's the best I got for now.

Gotta prepare to start reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms and some Cthulhu mythos stories.

Later, pilgrims.

#journey to the west #journeythroughjourneytothewest #jttw book club

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feverinfeveroutfic · 8 months

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blood & wine | chapter one of six

a little spooky companion piece to blood and chocolate to make up for kinktober 🩸

ao3 link

I hadn’t seen Alex in a while. He had gone across the country to visit his grandparents for about a month and a half, but I swore that it lasted for far longer than that. I knew for certain that I was going to have to make something special for him once he came over again but I had to think about it for a time. To make the boy something special all for him like that of a prince in time for the new year as well as Halloween, and all the while, have him under my wing as well. The sole problem came from the fact that I had no idea as to what to make him. I had a clue for Halloween and our little party come the day itself, but the new year escaped me.

It was one of those late September mornings when that the rains were ready to come about, and I remembered Alex’s birthday came at the very end of the month as well. I had a bunch of ideas and nowhere to share them, either: Lou and his girlfriend were out of town for the final two weeks of September, and I had no idea what they had planned for Halloween, either.

While at the grocery store, I found a cookbook perched there on a shelf in the book section. Something, anything for inspiration. I thought about making a carrot cake or a spice cake for his welcome-back-home party, but I had a hunch that they would have to be saved for later on, when the days did not coincide with holidays. Nevertheless, I promised to keep it for later on, when I saw him again.

His last words to me before he left still haunted me, and they persisted all throughout my mind like the phantoms on the back of the Diablo winds. It was around the middle of the morning when he lay on the couch with his head rested on my lap as if we were a couple of boys in a summertime field, and in fact, I suggested that to him before he left for New York for the latter half of summer.

“Your couch is so comfortable,” he told me, and he lay his head on my lap. He rested his hands on his belly: it was so funny and cute how he never gained all that much weight, after all that I had given him to eat; he had just a little potbelly that barely hung over his belt and his hips filled out his jeans the slightest bit more than usual. I loved holding him around the waist and resting my hands on his belly and his chest, and I especially loved cradling him like this as well, as if he needed a little assistance in easing the big feeling within him after such a hearty round of eating.

Alex gazed up at me upside down with a hazy look to his eyes, as if he was ready to fall asleep right there in my lap.

“So when do you go back east?” I had asked him.

“Tonight at five,” he replied. “My bubbie’s gonna pick me up at baggage claim.”

“Your who?”

“My bubbie. Grandma. She’s going to treat me so well in the coming days. All the apple pie and brisket and kishka and kugel… she told me a couple of nights ago that she has a babka waiting for me, but she won’t tell me what it is, though. I’ll be back home here the second day of the Jewish New Year. She wants me to have her babka before I come back home.”

“I feel like babka is the ultimate ‘I love you’ cake,” I confessed.

“I guess you could say it is,” he told me. “It’s belly-warming, it’s sweet but not sweet how pastries tend to be, and depending if it’s chocolate or cheese, it’s so delicious and lovely.”

The way he said “belly-warming” piqued my interest right then.

“I like to eat and yet I find it so overwhelming at times,” he continued. “I mean, I gained sixteen pounds since I started eating more around here. I’m getting fuller and rounder now. I just worry about getting too big.”

“You won’t get too big,” I had promised him with a stroke of his forehead. “You could gain another fifteen pounds and you would look really sexy.”

“I dunno, Eric,” he said. “I just… don’t really know.”

“What’s your worry?” I kindly asked him. “Really, tell me.”

“I just… fear being alone,” he had confessed to me in a soft voice.

When I recalled it all, I knew that those were not his final words to me before he left for the Northeast, but those ones stayed with me in particular. I thought about giving his belly a kiss before he left but it slipped my mind once he gave me a kiss goodbye, and I knew I had to give it to him once I saw him again.

I stood there before the shelf with the cookbook tucked underneath my arm, and I could not stop thinking about him. So much I wanted to do, and so much I needed to make for him. My worry was that I had not enough time, or oven space for that matter, to make what I wanted to make him. There was a part of me that wanted to make him a cake every week after the New Year to Halloween and to Thanksgiving.

I had a hunch that Elle was in for the day, and she could help me with things. She worked over in produce and she always knew what to do whenever it came to the world of Jewish food, the humble yet delicious food that never failed to warm up Alex’s belly and heart.

I walked on over there to see if she was in for the day, and sure enough, I recognized her dark hair and the shiny golden Star of David on her neck over by the papayas and the mangoes. I clutched the cookbook to my body as I made my way over to her, and her face lit up at the sight of me.

“Hey, you,” she greeted me with a smile and a placing of a mango on the display before her.

“Hey! I was hoping you would be here. I need your advice and maybe your opinion, too.”

“Oh, you know I’m more than happy to,” she assured me with a little smile. “I won’t be able to go on break for another hour or so but you can run it by me, though.” She eyed the cookbook tucked under my arm.

“What do you recommend for the Jewish New Year?” I asked her.

“Oh, Rosh Hashanah? That’s the time of year when the Jews have their sweets, their apples with honey, their apple pie, their kugel, anything and everything that’s sweet along with like kreplach or matzo balls.”

“I like sweet,” I muttered.

“Except…” she began again as she put the empty crate off to the side and moved onto the next one for some more mangoes to put on display.

“Hm?”

“This year, about two weeks after Rosh Hashanah is Yom Kippur and the week of Sukkot, or their Holy Week. On Yom Kippur, they fast all day. It’s a day of prayer, even for the non-traditional ones like him.”

“And then a few weeks after Sukkot is—”

“Halloween!” Elle declared. “Anything goes for Halloween. You got that big cookbook under your arm—you could make him some cookies, like black and whites.”

“I also remembered that his birthday is coming up, too,” I added. “On the twenty-ninth.”

“He’s gonna have quite the full tummy right in time for the round of fasting,” she declared in a low voice as she assembled some mangoes on the top shelf right before her. “Lots of apples and honey, plus matzo and birthday cake. He’s gonna be really good to go by the time Halloween rolls around for the cookies.”

“I’m also thinking of baking a cake or something for Halloween,” I declared right there. “Not sure what to bake, though, besides the black and white cookies.”

Elle’s face lit up, and then she snapped her fingers at me.

“Blondies,” she told me. “You can make them kosher, too.”

“Blondies?”

“Blonde brownies. They’re made with vanilla and white chocolate, and perfect for a little spooky get-together next month. Kosher, you’ll have to omit the eggs and the flour, and use peanut butter and put them in the fridge instead.”

“I assume they’re about the same level as brownies, too,” I pointed out, and then I started thinking about all that I wanted to make for him.

“You bet,” she continued. “If anything, in my opinion, once you get hooked on blondies, you’ll want them over and over again.” Something about that sent a chill down my spine.

“I should also tell you that he’s afraid of being alone,” I added.

“He’s afraid of being alone, really?” She knitted her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, he said it to me before he left about a month ago,” I told her. “I wanted to mention that because…”

“This is all really special?” she finished for me.

“All so special,” I filled in; it wasn’t what I was about to say but I went with it, though. “He’s been in the Northeast for about a month and a half so I want to give him a proper welcome back home.”

“Aren’t you a sweetie,” she cooed at me, and I saw she held a mango in either hand. “I should give you these mangoes for free just for that.”

“He and I can have a treat to ourselves once he comes on over,” I quipped to her. “Are they good at all?”

“Oh, yeah, nice and firm—” Elle set them on the shelf right next to her so she could fetch a plastic bag for me. So much to make within the coming days, and I only had so much time until Alex arrived home. But then again, I wondered if I could keep up with it all, and with his appetite no less. I expected his grandparents to have taken good care of him in the last month and a half or so; I could start with the apples and the honey for the New Year, and maybe more matzo ball soup as well.

“You think this is all going to be good enough for him?” I asked her as she returned to me with the mangoes in the bag.

“He’ll have a nice, full belly every night until Thanksgiving,” she assured me. “He’ll be nice and round by Christmas.”

“As plump and round as a Christmas goose?” I couldn’t resist the smile on my face.

“Oh, you bet,” she said as she smiled back at me. I thanked her and then I turned towards the apples on the display right behind me. Five ripe Fuji apples, perfect to pair with lush wild honey from the next aisle over. I knew how to whip up an apple pie as well, but I also thought about kugel. Alex had mentioned it, as did Elle. I set the apples down and flipped the cookbook open to the index, and indeed, there was a recipe for kugel in there.

It was only going to take me an hour to prep the whole thing. An hour to make my apartment smell of cinnamon and baking pasta. An hour to have him under my wing, and more so once he walked in through my front door.

The perfect storm, and I could feel the clock ticking away once I picked up a basket and began walking around for what I needed. The blondies would have to wait until Halloween, as would the black and white cookies and the chocolate babka. Some kugel, apples and honey, apple pie, and then of course, birthday cake. A nice decadent devil’s food cake for his birthday. The thought of him indulging like that gave me a slight firm feeling in between my thighs.

“I’m a fucking force of nature,” I muttered to myself as I picked out some eighteen eggs. I got paid well, and thus, I could spend well.

When I walked home, I had the sun at my back and the wind through my hair. A few days after the equinox and the shadows began to grow longer as the day progressed. I couldn’t explain it but there was something within me, a taste of evil, the side of me that wanted to see Alex as full and satisfied as I could make him.

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