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itsokbbygrl · 3 months

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An End, A Beginning

Summary: They're dead, they're all dead, and now you're stranded. You're the sole survivor after infection devastated your crew of fellow Fireflies out of Boston tasked with transporting a girl from Massachusetts to Colorado. When the hired smugglers responsible for getting her out of the QZ show up, you find yourself bargaining for your life. After learning one of them was bit somewhere between the edges of the QZ and the old City Hall where your crew was waiting to complete the transfer, and with only moments left to live, the infected smuggler convinces her partner to take you with them in her absence. After a long, hard-fought journey across the country, you're nearly at your ultimate destination and emotions are running high. How will a surprise confession affect the future of your group?

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader (literally zero physical description of reader, it's YOU)

Length: 1.4k words

Tags: DESCRIPTION OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, emotional constipation, father/daughter dynamics, found family dynamics, kissing, flowery language about a grumpy old man

a/n: hello I had severe brain rot after seeing this beautiful piece of fan art by @minacoleta and had to write about it. this was supposed to be a teeny little drabble but lmao here we are at 1.4k words and while writing it, I decided to perhaps PERHAPS!!!! don't hold me to it expand the story of reader as a third party to our favorite grumpy old man/sassy teenage girl duo. hashtag give ellie more adult supervision support. :) anyway without further ado! here is "An End, A Beginning." please comment/reblog to support your local authors ♡ thank you to my wonderful friends @5oh5 @morgaussy @tightjeansjavi and @javierpena-inatacvest for cheering me on. i luh u. credit to @firefly-graphics for creating the beautiful divider.

“It was me,” Joel blurted out. “I was the one who shot and missed.” Your feet cemented you to your spot and you could see Ellie’s breath hitch, her shoulders raised and fists clenched.

“Ellie, can you check that tent over there and see if there’s any leftover bandages or pain meds?” you ask her in a vain attempt to shield her from enduring anymore unnecessary trauma.

“But–” she starts and stops when she sees the minute shake of your head. She sighs and rolls her eyes, “Fine, I’ll just be over there, pretending I can’t hear the adults talking from 20 feet away” she points over her shoulder at the tattered remains of the first aid tent behind her and shuffles away.

You shake your head fondly. Teenagers.

You take a breath and turn around to face him and find him sitting on an old concrete barrier, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap, seemingly lost in thought. You make your way over to join him.

“There’s no story,” he begins, “Sarah died, and I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that.” He pauses for a moment, using the toe of his worn boot to kick at the broken bits of concrete at his feet. You remain silent, allowing him a breath to compose himself before he continues. “And I wasn’t scared either, I was ready,” he nods his head and furrows his brow as if convincing himself of this fact, “I couldn’t’ve been more ready.” He looks up then, meets your eyes, and you can see the earnestness there. It breaks your heart, understanding how hopeless he felt, the pain he must have been feeling, a pain you can imagine now that you’ve had him, had Ellie, in your life.

He gives a gentle shake of his head and starts to give you more. “But when I–” he stops, words catching in his throat, eyes misting over for a moment, “When I–” he tries again, words continuing to fail him. You reach over and lay a soothing hand on his thigh, encouraging him to drain this wound he’s let fester for the last 20 years, letting him know you aren’t afraid of this, his darkness. You’ll meet him there, find him with nothing more than the persistent thump of his heart to guide you, let your fingertips trace down the familiar topography of his arm, soft hair and bumpy scars texturizing the otherwise warm, soft skin, until they meet his own, intertwining, no longer alone.

His gesture of raising his fingers towards his skull in a mock recreation of a scene that was once all too real pulls you out of your reverie. “But when I went to pull the trigger, I–I flinched.” He gives half a chuckle and shakes his head, like he can’t believe it himself, like he might even feel lucky. It eases some of the tightness in your chest. “Still don’t know why,” he finishes. He takes a final moment to himself, reliving the memory, allowing himself to feel it. He comes back to the present and meets your eyes again. “Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this is–”

“I know why you’re telling us all this,” Ellie interjects from her position now, just behind your right shoulder. Clever girl, you think, her stealth reminding you of that scene from Jurassic Park, thinking she would love that film and grinning to yourself briefly at the bittersweet memory of something from before times, while simultaneously being both endeared by and frustrated with her tenacity to get what she wants. Joel gives her a glance before fixing his gaze back on the ground in front of him.

“Yeah, I reckon you do,” Joel replies. The three of you allow the moment to breathe, running your thumb idly back and forth across Joel’s thigh where you’ve laid it. A comfort to the both of you. Never one to let things be, Ellie breaks the silence first.

“So, time heals all wounds I guess,” she says flippantly, full of benighted teenage ego.

Joel looks up at her then, eyes serious and full of soft determination, making sure to hold her gaze as he tells her, “It wasn’t time that did it.”

Her eyes widen at his words, like she can’t quite believe them. You let the two of them have their moment. A father and daughter minting the truth of their relationship for the first time. You remove your hand from Joel’s thigh and subtly reach back, grabbing Ellie’s hand as it lays limp at her side, and give her a quick, gentle squeeze before releasing it, keeping slight in your movement, knowing all too well how fiercely independent she is and not wanting to embarrass her at the reminder that, despite her hardness, she’s still a child who needs the physical comfort of a caregiver.

She takes a deep, shaky breath before she speaks, “Well, I’m glad that that didn’t work out.” They’re both valiantly damming tears that threaten to flow, sniffing and nodding at each other.

Joel eventually responds, voice thick with feeling, “Yeah, me too.” He breaks their eye contact then, still nodding to himself for a moment before he reaches his hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching the remaining tears in his eyes away with his thumb and forefinger.

Never one to show her soft underbelly for long, Ellie prompts your little crew to continue on your journey. “We should probably get going,” she says to you both.

“Yup,” Joel agrees, getting back to business, shouldering his pack and standing from his position on the concrete block. Ellie, ever her father’s shadow, follows suit. You take one last second to absorb the remaining energy of the fizzling moment, taking a deep breath before standing and brushing your hands on your dirty, worn jeans. You sling your backpack over your shoulders and give a small jump to resituate its contents into a more comfortable position before catching up to your partner, watching him watch Ellie as she meanders a handful of steps ahead, the distance allowing you a moment of privacy.

“Joel,” you start quietly, not stopping your trek, keeping your eyes steadily focused ahead, “about…all of that,” you wave your hand absently in the air in front of you, trying to remain nonchalant, approaching the great bear of him carefully as though being too honest will cause him to spook, to flee back into his deep, dark cave to protect his freshly opened wound. But you remember your earlier thought, you aren’t afraid of his darkness, you will find him anywhere, so you push on. “I am, too. Glad. I’m so, so glad that didn’t work out.” Your next thought flits through your mind and you smile at its ridiculously honest nature, letting the soft laughter that’s building within you to trill forth from where it was caged behind your teeth. The sound pulls his attention towards you. Fuck it, you decide, if this is the end of the world, the least I can do is give him is truth.

“Thank god you flinched. For that girl, for me. We needed you here,” you shake your head fondly, turning your head to meet his eyes. “You had so much left to live for. I can’t imagine life without you now, you know that? And I’m terrified of what comes next, what happens after we find them. I can’t…I can’t leave her, Joel. I can’t leave you. You’re my family and I can’t–”

Your confession is cut off by the warm press of Joel’s plush, slightly chapped lips against your own. You close your eyes and breathe in through your nose, allowing your hand to find and rest on his firm bicep as you return his kisses in kind, giving as good as you’re getting, deciding if this is the only time you’ll experience him like this, soft and yielding, you’re going to savor it.

He pulls back after a moment, silently holding your gaze.

“Joel, I–” You begin. He shakes his head gently and you quiet.

“I know,” he gives you then. And it’s there in his eyes. He knows. And you know, too. It doesn’t need to be said, not now. You both know and that’s enough. You both face forward and continue your hike, increasing your strides to catch up to Ellie, now a good distance ahead.

Whatever comes next, you know now for sure, you’d both burn down the world to save this.

A/N: thank you so so so much for reading i love u. you can find more of my writing here, if you'd like, and as always comments and reblogs get you a kiss on the forehead and endless positive karma :)

#LJ writes #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #tlou episode 9 #the last of us fanfiction

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atopvisenyashill · 1 year

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annoying to already see people discoursing about this “meleys the traitor” scene.

greens will say, pretending to care about the smallfolk, that they have a right to be mad about the attack on Aegon’s coronation because of the collateral damage to the smallfolk, which, fair enough, however stupid I may feel that scene was, it did do some unnecessary damage to the smallfolk of king’s landing.

HOWEVER.

if the scene is uncritically people buying into otto’s propoganda, it’s not only stupid it’s also an annoying departure from the books and a continuation of got writers (first d&d now condal and hess) treating the smallfolk as if they’re stupid which they are not. Look at the actual text of F&B:

Eight hundred knights and squires and common men lost their lives that day as well. Another hundred perished not long after, when Prince Aemond and Ser Criston Cole took Rook’s Rest and put its garrison to death. Lord Staunton’s head was carried back to King’s Landing and mounted above the Old Gate…but it was the head of the dragon Meleys, drawn through the city on a cart, that awed the crowds of smallfolk into silence. Septon Eustace tells us that thousands left King’s Landing afterward, until the Dowager Queen Alicent ordered the city gates closed and barred.

Yes, in both the books and the show, the Greens managing to kill Meleys the Red Queen and Rhaenys the Queen That Never Was is a big victory for them and of course Otto is going to turn it into a propaganda moment. It's even understandable that some of the smallfolk would turn on Rhaenys (in the show only) after her (stupidly written) stunt at the coronation. But those last two lines are crucial because it shows us what the smallfolk are really thinking as the Dance kicks off - "If the Greens are willing to disrespect even the nobility after their death, if they are willing to parade around the head of one of their great, terrifying, beloved, and respected dragons, treat Meleys the Red Queen like she's nothing but game hunted for sport...seven hells what are these people going to do to the rest of us nobodies?"

And that is why, if the show takes the route of erasing how terrified the smallfolk are after the Battle of the Rook's Rest, it's a complete disservice to the smallfolk just to have them buy Otto's propaganda hook line and sinker. They are not stupid, and when they realize very early on in the Dance just how awful and violet this conflict is going to get, they attempt to leave for safety and it's only Alicent locking them into King's Landing like lambs to the slaughter that stops the exodus from King's Landing.

Cutting that scene takes away not just the perceptiveness of the smallfolk of King's Landing to make the Greens look better, it also takes away one of the crucial moments that leads to the Storming of the Dragon Pit; after realizing that dragons can be killed by regular humans and not just dragonriders because they are forced to look at Meleys' severed head, then locked into a city that gets progressively more dangerous, with dragons that are getting increasingly more aggravated because of the continued violence of the Dance, the smallfolk take the only course of action they feel they have left to them and that's to rise up and massacre the dragons in the pit in a vain and violent attempt to protect themselves from the endless slaughter that the Greens forced them to live through.

#anti greens #rhaenys velaryon #meleys the red queen #getting on my soap box #pro team black #anti team green #smallfolk rise up #is gonna be a tag bc the nobles in this series are always acting up and so many pretend they care but they Do Not. its cool tho bc germ wil #and before anyone comes at me yes i am aware rhaenyra's tax policies suck and also lead to problems. she unknowingly adds more kindling to #an already raging fire and it explodes in her face. but CRUCIALLY that fire is not started nor even exacerbated by her. she merely inherits #an already out of control kl while stuck in the middle of a war with the northern army still months away from backing her up.#hotd spoilers

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corrodedbisexual · 1 year

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I blame @kenmoos for the Free!AU fanart (which is fucking amazing by the way go check it out) and @notasimp4joey for morphing that into a swimmer!Steve/rockstar!Eddie, and when I say blame I mean I am kissing you guys on both cheeks for the inspo and hope you are having a great Valentine's day, or just a good fucking 14th day of February 2023 if you're not celebrating (like me). 😘😘

Summary:

Gold Olympic medalist Steve Harrington decides to retire at 25 years old and become a newbie swim coach.

Eddie Munson, frontman of the well-known rockband Corroded Coffin, is also 25 when he realizes it's getting too embarrassing to be an adult who never learned to swim.

Technically, they are strangers. But not really. Not with the way they have secretly followed each other's careers over the years.

AO3 link

Steve's POV

To the great surprise and devastation of his coaching team, his parents and the general public who follow swimming, gold Olympic medalist Steve Harrington decides to retire at 25 years old. Officially, it's due to a shoulder injury; in reality, he's completely exhausted and sick of all the pressures and bullshit of pro sports, of waking up every day at 5am to train, of never getting to eat what he likes, of not remembering when was the last time he actually enjoyed swimming. Sick of feeling like if he lets himself relax for even a moment, his performance will slip and he'll disappoint everyone. Might as well just get the disappointment part over with, on his own terms. No more expectations, no more worrying about that every single minute he's in the water.

After pondering his further career options for a while, and turning down several prestigious pro coaching positions (after which, his father just stops calling), Steve settles for a job as a coach for newbies at a swim school. The school principal, Nancy Wheeler, makes him an offer without even pointing out that he's massively overqualified for the job. Later, as they talk over lunch, she explains that she knows what it's like, needing to make a drastic change in your life. Steve doesn't pry further, but he did catch a glance of a cute young woman's photo in Nancy's wallet as she paid for her coffee, and he thinks he understands.

Steve absolutely adores his job. For the first time in forever, he's excited to wake up in the mornings again. Most newbies are kids, and he loves that he can teach them the joys of swimming without being the asshole who drills a child to swim 50 laps at 6 in the morning and scold them for so much as making an unnecessary splash, like his coach used to (god forbid pro swimmers have any fun during training). He also loves helping the occasional adult students who don't believe in themselves at first, like maybe if you don't learn swimming as a kid you never will, and seeing the excitement and glee on their faces when they can finally complete a lap on their own, without a kickboard keeping them afloat.

***

Steve's getting ready for a private lesson, putting away all the buoys and kickboards the kids he was teaching left floating around the pool despite him yelling after them to tidy up after themselves; in vain, because they no longer pay attention to him, babbling excitedly about some game they're going to play together as they head for the doors. He's not really mad at them, never could be. It's great that their group has become such tight friends over the past few months. Plus, it's actually kind of fun to swim around the pool, chasing the floating objects and throwing them towards the edge; no pressure, no timing, no roaring crowds.

He wonders about his new student, another adult - Edmund Mason, apparently, is the name; must be some truly loaded guy, paid to have the whole pool to himself for all his lessons. Steve's just gotten out of the pool when he hears the locker room door open, and speak of the devil, the guy comes in. Black swim shorts, multiple tattoos on his broad chest and muscular arms, long curly hair up in a messy bun, a kind of deer-in-the-headlights look in his huge brown eyes - oh. Oh.

That was definitely not the real name he signed up under, and it makes sense why he'd book the whole pool. That, or Steve is having a very vivid hallucination, because no way did Eddie frigging Munson, of all people, sign up for Steve's swim classes.

Steve was never really a Corroded Coffin groupie; couldn't afford to, with his lifestyle, between the training and trying to attend evening classes at college. He's never been to a concert, but he's followed their music from the start, buying all the albums and singles on both cassette and vinyl and then CDs as they started coming in, and never missing a magazine with an article about them.

Because in addition to loving CC music, Steve used to have a massive, massively embarrassing crush on their frontman. The guy who not only wrote mindblowing tunes and lyrics, whose slightly growly voice sent shivers down Steve's spine, but who was also so unfairly hot. And cute, in a way you wouldn't expect of a rockstar. Steve's seen him giggle and give the dorkiest answers during interviews, goof around with his band onstage between songs, get down on one knee in front of screaming fangirls reaching for him and kiss their hands and call them "my ladies". There were rumors that he was queer, which he never bothered to deny, merely smirking at the interviewer and replying with his signature phrase, "I don't kiss and tell, sweetheart."

Eddie seemed to live his life completely uncaring about image and expectations and all that bullshit; Steve admired that and was, admittedly, always a bit jealous. Eddie was the real deal. And never in a million years did Steve expect to meet the real deal. And even if he did, he never expected Eddie Munson to look so fucking… nervous?

After a moment of just silently staring at each other, Steve silently scolds himself. The guy is just like any other adult who's come to his class. Maybe worried about getting in the water, maybe embarrassed that he has to take a class that's essentially, for the most part, designed for children. He really doesn't need Steve gawking at him like an idiot. So Steve lets his face slip into the most reassuring and welcoming smile he can muster, and he grabs a towel to dry his hair with one hand, steps forward to offer his other hand to shake.

"Hi. I'm Steve".

Eddie's POV

Eddie Munson, frontman of the well-known rockband Corroded Coffin, is 25 when he realizes it's getting too embarrassing to be an adult, living in LA of all places, who never learned to swim. Because of course he never did; a perpetually horny queer teen from small town Indiana, going into a locker room full of hot naked guys? A wet dream, in theory. In reality, a fucking nightmare. So it's not like it's his fault that now he cannot even approach a pool during parties, because people keep pushing each other into it as a joke and he might actually fucking drown from that.

At least these days he's loaded with cash enough now to amend this unfortunate predicament while sparing himself the embarrassment of prying eyes. Making up his mind, Eddie finds a swim school closest to home and enrolls for private lessons under a fake ID he sometimes uses for anonymity. He really doesn't need a crowd of fans waiting for him outside the lockers every day.

***

In hindsight, Eddie really, really should have asked for the coach's name in advance. He's heard the rumors, of course, that Steve Harrington had retired to become a regular swim coach at some school in LA. But he'd never imagined that fate would be so cruel as he exits the locker room (with private cabins, thank fuck) into the pool area, and sees the guy getting out of the water.

For a moment, Eddie seriously considers just turning around and quietly leaving and never coming back. But in that moment, the guy lifts his head, and well, Eddie's completely and utterly fucked. No way can he just act normal around Steve fucking Harrington.

It's not that Steve's famous; Eddie's been around a fair share of famous people. It's just that this is the dude whose magazine pics he stared at for longer than he'd ever admit, even back when Eddie was 16 and Steve was still in the junior league. His best friend at the time, Chrissy, used to buy them for him, because it was possible for a girl to buy magazines about swimmer boys and not get as much as a raised eyebrow. (It was a very mutual arrangement, since Eddie used to get her magazines that were acceptable for guys to buy.)

Those magazines were very much part of the reason for Eddie coming to terms with the fact that he did not want to kiss girls. And to be totally honest, that swimwear ad Steve did two years later, all dripping wet, running his hand through his gorgeous hair and grinning at the camera, was no longer just for looking at.

Eddie's had a fair share of experiences after his music career unexpectedly took off, both with girls (which he wasn't particularly into, but he was 20 and touch starved as fuck, sue him) and later, as he gained confidence and learned to navigate the scene, guys (and he was really, really into that). But seeing the man he's had multiple wet dreams about, all hard muscles, dripping wet and gorgeous just like in that swimwear ad, nearly turns him back into an 18-year-old blushing virgin.

Steve's already noticed him, but maybe he should run anyway. But in the end, he doesn't, because Steve suddenly smiles and walks towards him, and Eddie's dragged forward by his feet like a moth to the flame, unable to resist; and Jesus H Christ, now he's standing in front of a shirtless and wet Steve Harrington - so much fucking chest hair, he must have shaved it all the time back when he was pro - who's casually introducing himself. Like he's a totally normal stranger. Like Eddie doesn't have his name burned into his brain along with the exact shape of his abs and pecs and everything that fit into that tiny swimsuit he used to perform in by some kind of miracle.

The one functional braincell he's got left makes him grasp Steve's hand and shake it.

"Hey," he manages to somehow match Steve's casual tone. "Eddie. Nice meeting you."

__________________

I don't know if there will be a continuation. No promises. I WANNA TRY, but I am good with one-shots, terrible with multichapter WIPs bc inspiration strikes me once every few weeks and runs away the next day.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #fanfic #steddie fic #misha-bawlins fanfic

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donnerpartyofone · 1 year

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Thinking this morning about how we communicate with each other, or don't. Yes, I know I'm oversharing. Yes, I know I should just go to therapy instead. I promise to get a new therapist as soon as I have a job again.

You often hear from people who have survived a major personal catastrophe that there really is no such thing as "closure". Knowing what happened is better than having to wonder about it forever, say in the case of a missing person, but it doesn't necessarily bring resolution, understanding, or a cure for pain. Similarly, closure doesn't necessarily happen the way it does in the movies, where someone airs a grievance in such a concise and sincere way that they feel divested of their emotional burden forever after. Two people telling each other how they "really feel" doesn't guarantee catharsis or empathy. Sometimes you get closure on some frustrating experience years later in an unpredictable moment, where you're in the middle of washing the dishes or scraping gum off your shoe, and you're suddenly hit with an epiphany about the meaning of that loose thread. Sometimes it never happens at all, even with years of therapy and all the proactivity and good intention in the world.

I used to have this friend who said that time doesn't heal, but it does make pain easier to manage. That sounded plausible to me, but then I learned that that person specifically enjoyed holding grudges, like vendetta was an important part of his personality and something he was vain about. Once he got to know you, he'd stage some competition between you that only happened in his imagination, and he'd find ways to test your loyalty for the rest of your relationship. He'd ask for things that were irrational, unnecessary, and/or inconvenient, and if you capitulated, he'd keep asking for more from you until you were forced to refuse, at which point he'd get to imagine that you were cruel to him and you owed him something. When we finally, inevitably parted ways, I told him exactly what I thought: that for one thing, he could solve all of his own problems by cultivating more independence, and for another, although he was constantly seeking favors and acknowledgement from others, he was never grateful for what he received, no matter how far out of their way a person went for him. Naturally he went insane, and I won't bother with the details except to say that I still have nightmares about running into him. I didn't get "closure" by keeping my cool and telling him the truth. Like I'm sure I'd have more mental problems if I lost my shit and just lashed out to be hurtful, OR if I freaked out and never said what I needed to say to him. I'm sure I'm better off for having done what I did. But I didn't get a feeling of completion or whatever from saying what I had to say, and my brain is still treating this person as if he were a present threat. (Which could be because he went on a lengthy campaign of trying to turn my friends against me after I washed my hands of him and so I never know what he might be up to, but possibly that's beside the point)

So even though closure does not behave rationally or predictably, it's probably better to tell people how you feel about them one way or the other, because it *could* make things easier later--or just because, as I have discovered, making sure that someone never really knows how you feel about them is one of the worst things you can do to somebody. Like it's a great way to control someone, causing them stick around and gamify their behavior toward you by making them feel like any minute now, if they say or do the right thing, you'll finally tell them whatever the subtext is that always seems to simmer beneath all of your interactions. There is an idea that relationships take time to develop, that sometimes they have to undergo various trials and tribulations before the glorious truth comes out to justify all the suffering and confusion that went before. This works great in fictional romances that thrive on tension, but in real life, tension is unhealthy, and even beside that point, most people can barely prevent themselves from doing and saying what they really want to do, as soon as humanly possible. In real life, if somebody constantly indicates a desire that they never act on, then they just don't want whatever it is that badly, and they may have ulterior motives for behaving like they want it. This is why you really have to stick your fingers in your ears and watch what people do, it's not just some tired aphorism that actions speak louder than words; people literally tell you everything about themselves by what they do, or don't do.

When I was young and hopelessly dumb, I collected a whole slew of bad experiences with people who knew how to capitalize on ambiguous behavior. I had a "friend" who spent years hovering on the edge of being my boyfriend; we spent enormous amounts of time together, went on big adventures, routinely spoke on the phone from dusk till dawn, and then once in a blue moon on some particularly dramatic evening he'd kiss me or something, and I'd think, "This is it! All that will-they-won't-they shit is over and it was all worth it, we're finally getting together," and then he'd instantly take off on me and begin, conduct, and conclude an entire formal relationship with somebody else before he talked to me again, when we'd be back at square one. Eventually I moved to the other side of the country, and I expected kind of an emotional goodbye, but I was out of sight and out of mind for him as soon as I made the announcement. When I had to move back unexpectedly, I called him up, and he just picked right up talking about himself like he always does; he didn't even ask me how I was, or why I was back. Also, he had destroyed a beloved hat that I stupidly left with him, that he was supposed to give back whenever our reunion eventually took place. After the call, I wrote him a letter outlining how I could tell he didn't really care about me, and declaring that we weren't friends anymore. A long time later, I got this voicemail from him, dripping with sincerity, saying how badly he needed to talk to me, and swearing that if I didn't call back then he would call me at Christmas. I decided to wait and see if he would actually call. He never did. (But nice job forcing me to think about you on Christmas, dude)

During college, I became entangled with this much older guy who embroiled me in his disastrous personal life for years by convincing me that whatever was going on between us was a Very Big Deal even though he never quite acted on it and always had a serious competing interest in play. I was already struggling with my escalating mental health problems, and this compounding issue made it much harder for me to graduate. If I were older, or at least not a virgin until I met him, it would have meant more to me that he was already in a committed relationship when we met, that he maintained for several more years while he made me a supporting character in his personal drama. I would not have taken the bait when he said grossly inappropriate things to me about how "the girlfriend" (not "my girlfriend", pointedly) was on her way out and "We should be married." And, I would not have had an experience that became sadly familiar, where he said "I love you" and made various promises about the future, then immediately ghosted me, and moved into a new apartment with a brand new serious girlfriend who was so grody and ill-advised that it actually helped me stop giving a shit about him. I just stopped talking to him on a dime one day, forever. No rational person would have required an explanation, but also I knew very well what would happen if I tried to confront him. I had seen enough over the years to know that he'd do anything to keep ahold of an attention-provider, and that there was no point in ever trying to get him to admit that he had treated me poorly. He was extremely intelligent and wouldn't lose a debate, besides which I understood by then that what he really craved, more than anything else in the world, was interpersonal drama. The only way for me to win was by checking out. As predicted, he did wild, even hilarious things to try to put me back in my place, and I just ignored all of it. He still made an attempt on me once in a while even 15+ years after the fact. The last time was earlier this year, when he sent an anonymous message to this here blog, which I guess he found out about some way. I learned through the grapevine that he had just divorced his first and only (too-young) wife after a matter of months, so he was probably hitting up everyone he could think of for attention. I ignored that message, and then a few months later, he suddenly died. I found out from strangers talking about it on Twitter. It fucked me up more than I would ever have liked to admit. I just can't get around what a presence he was in my life while my adult personality was still forming. I did some little ritualistic things to try to get "closure". I wouldn't say they were totally cathartic, but it was probably better than nothing.

Most of myy 20s were eaten up by a whole entire boyfriend I had, who was deliberately ambiguous about he felt about me. The first time he told me he loved me, he made it really scary. We were supposed to go to the beach together, and as soon as we began the hour and a half-long train ride, he went and sat on the opposite end of the car and refused to look at or speak to me. When we got off the train and I eventually got him to face me, he wouldn't acknowledge that he was doing anything weird. This was worrisome in and of itself, but it was also frightening because he had already established a pattern of getting really angry about something that he wouldn't discuss, and maintaining an air of mounting threat for weeks at a time before I was allowed to try to atone for whatever I had supposedly done wrong. He gave a condensed version of this performance for several hours that day at the beach, until the feeling of impending doom was so bad I just started crying; then he admitted, for the first time, that he was in love with me. For most people, this is good news, and not something that you leverage to make someone cry in public. He just put all this Beauty & the Beast melodrama on it because of his feeling that romantic relationships should be perilous and competitive. For the rest of the time we dated, if I was having a hard time in my life, then I was dragging him down and "not good enough for him", and he would immediately sabotage the relationship. If I was doing well, then he was "not good enough for me" and would immediately sabotage the relationship. Once I was on the verge of a nervous collapse, then he was finally tender with me, and would frame everything we had been through together as just part of the epic journey of love through which he would eventually be healed as long as I stayed loyal and behaved myself--which of course was hard to do consistently, when he refused to explain whatever his problem de jour was or what would fix it. Yes meant no, love meant hate, all boundaries lost their meaning. He just kept me on this treadmill by making me feel like it was my mission to prove to him, at the end of a long heroic battle, that love was real and he could be transformed by it. It took me a long time to understand that the relationship wasn't evolving, would never evolve. It was already everything it was meant to be, from beginning to end: painful and confusing.

Of course, the caveat to all this is that when you notice the feeling that someone is manipulating you by being unclear about their feelings, you have to do your best to make sure it is really happening--that you aren't just ignoring something obvious, or assuming the presence of something for which there is no evidence. You have to make sure that it isn't a simple case of you imagining that someone should feel a certain way about you, and you being frustrated when that isn't reflected by reality. The first person I mention in this post gave me a big red flag right at the beginning of our friendship when he picked a nuclear fight with me over his perception that I should have left my existing boyfriend for him. He had decided that my enthusiasm for him as a friend had to mean that we were going to fuck, and that it wasn't important that I was already in a very serious relationship, and that I had just rented an apartment for my boyfriend and me to live together after he left his home country to be with me. I never touched my friend outside of a friendly handshake, I never spent a night at his place or vice versa, and I never said anything to indicate that my proper romantic relationship was a lower priority for me, or something that was going away any time soon. But, my friend had a narrative going in his mind that the strength of our friendship suggested the development of something more, and he held it against me when that didn't happen, accusing me of "leading him on" despite the fact that, from my perspective, I had said and done only what I meant to, only what corresponded with reality. There wasn't anything that I still needed to express, and I never implied that something else was still in the mail. It wasn't my fault that my friend believed I was keeping something from him, on the "evidence" that he wasn't getting what he thought he deserved. (Of course I was so young and inexperienced that I believed men's feelings were always a woman's responsibility, so I apologized for my alleged crimes, and signed up for many more years of being held personally responsible for his individual problems...but that's another story)

I just mean, before you blame somebody for being ambiguous, do an accounting of what they've actually said and done to see if it really doesn't add up, or if the mystery factor is only being inserted by you and your projections. When the aforementioned friendship imploded, I thought to myself: That went on for far too long, but now I am free of it. Now I don't have any lingering relationships that I am dubious of, or that I feel burdened by, and I never have to have another one ever again. I know too much now. I have learned to care about my own feelings. I am an adult! But, little did I know, something else in my life was already fixing to implode. I'd made friends with this woman who was unlike anyone else I'd ever met, and we formed a fast and passionate bond. We spent thousands of hours talking, and shared absolutely everything. When I woke up at 3am, she'd be online, and we'd speak long past dawn. When she had panic attacks, I was the person she reached out to, to talk her down. She was always exuberantly grateful. It seemed that there was nothing we hid from each other. I told her My Darkest Secret, something I had never even found the courage to tell my therapist, because I thought she was the only person I'd ever met who would understand it. There was a freeflowing channel of support and admiration between us. One of the only red flags I can think of is that she had a tendency to pedestalize me, and didn't like it when I was overly frank about my flaws, but I didn't take that very seriously. Maybe I should have, because one day after a couple of years of this, she suddenly disappeared from my life. She blocked me everywhere I used to reach her, and didn't respond to any outside attempts I made to find out if I needed to apologize for something. The last time I saw her blog, there was a string of posts that I could have easily read as complaints about me and our friendship, if I had a paranoid mindset. I realized too late that I should have done so. Not that I would have known what to do. It was totally out of the blue, to me anyway, and she refused to give me so much as a "fuck off", so there was really no action for me to take. It just wasn't my responsibility, and manifestly, the relationship didn't deserve to be salvaged.

I'm thinking about all this today because I had a dream last night that she was driving me somewhere, acting like everything was totally normal, and I was flattening myself against the passenger door trying to make myself invisible. It's pretty hilarious when I picture it now, but in the dream I was thinking, "I'm glad she's not attacking me or whatever, but I absolutely cannot trust this person and I don't know what I'm doing here!" Generally speaking, I take rejection pretty well (at least when it's clear and direct--including through total non-involvement!), because I just wouldn't want to be around anyone who doesn't want me. What's important is a relationship, not an individual, and if you and someone else don't have much to say to each other, and you have no chemistry, there's just no point. Plus, it's just unpleasant to be where you aren't wanted, like who needs to feel that way? If you are longing after someone who shows no interest in you, then you are longing for something that is in your mind, not something real that you can conspire to get. But man, when someone deliberately instates a situation in which you could reasonably think that things are Very Serious, and they don't fulfill on what would normally happen in a Very Serious Situation, that's like...that's a really fucked up thing to do to someone. I'm not sorry I lost my friendship with that woman, since obviously it wasn't in a healthy state and I don't need that shit, but even if it didn't break my heart into a thousand pieces, I can still be mad that this person for plunging into an intense connection with me, keeping it going at a high boil for a really long time, and then suddenly deciding she didn't like me without giving the whole thing the dignity of a decent burial. Or even, like, a petty brush-off. Or anything at all. At this point I definitely wouldn't WANT to know what she was thinking, there's no way it would be good for me or even comprehensible to me if she's capable of being so cowardly and/or sadistic, but the whole experience did have the benefit of highlighting how poorly it speaks of someone's character when they purposefully give you a false or ambiguous sense of what they think of you. If you're trailing after somebody who you THINK loves you, but action doesn't follow, don't wait around. You're already getting exactly what you're ever going to get from that source, and it is literally true that having no one is better than thinking you have someone who doesn't try to make you feel good. It's almost the new year, this is a great time to start shedding people. Do it now! You'll be glad you did.

#i met my husband after i started imagining what it would be like to date someone who just obviously likes me and it isn't a mystery #not saying i 'manifested' him or whatever #but making that imaginable did precede making it a reality

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twisted-art-wounders · 2 years

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YGO AU Leviathan Rising

Levi and Dartz decide it’s time to shake things up and get rid of unnecessary baggage.

Chapter 21 Turning Point

The duel continued on; using the captured souls of his friends as shield Dartz managed to get ahead of both Yami Yugi and Kaiba. With “Mirror Knight Calling” destroyed their indestructible shields wouldn't return so any attack could destroy them permanently. Yami Yugi refused to attack them directly even with mirror knight Yugi telling him to do so. This frustrated Kaiba to no end with every turn they where coming closer and closer to defeat and Yami Yugi was holding them back.

Normally Leviathan would be enjoying watching them squirm, this would ensure their victory but no Leviathan was furious. Watching Yugi be put in danger was bad enough but seeing Yugi refuse to attack on top of him still speaking to the Pharaoh was making his blood boil. How could Yugi still hold such a strong connection to him? He wiped his mind and soul! He shouldn't remember him at all!

Something had to be done.

Suddenly the roar of a motor cycle filled the echoing charmer as all eyes fell towards the source of the noise. Raphael burst into the chamber in his motorcycle landing just outside of the circle, everyone in the room was shocked by his appearance especially Yami Yugi. He was sure Raphael had perished in the wreckage of Paradeous's HQ when it collapsed.

“Raphael!” Yami Yugi shouted as the blonde man got off his bike and looked at the scene before him, He saw Leviathan's up on his throne but he approached the circle to address Dartz directly.

“Master Dartz, Leviathan you have to stop! This battle is pointless! We where wrong,” Raphael looked up towards Leviathan and continued.

“I understand that people do have darkness in their hearts, but they have the ability to over come it!”

Dartz only glared at Raphael the same glare that was full of complete disdain for his presence.

“Raphael I'm surprised to hear you say this.” Dartz said

“Master Dartz, the Nameless Pharaoh helped free me form the darkness in my heart. If I can be free anyone can! We just need to help each other... So please set them free.” Raphael looked up to Leviathan with his last statement, a plea in his eyes.

Levi looked down at Raphael his eyes held pure indifference and a cold stare, but form the corner of his lips came a smile a wicked smile as he placed a hand under his chin and let it rest on it.

“Raphael, do you really think you are free form the darkness?” Levi asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“While it's true humans can erase the sorrow, despair, and hatred in their hearts it's only temporary. Deep down all those feelings still fester within you just waiting for a moment to break free again. You can't escape your true nature, No human can! You can try to over come the darkness but no matter what it will always return and boom! Your heart is swallowed by it once again~” Levi chuckled and sat back in his throne.

Dartz chuckled along with the great beast “Well said my lord. People are too weak and fickle to keep fighting the darkness within their hearts, it's an endless cycle.”

“You're wrong! Their bond showed me that I can have the strength to overcome the darkness! I wont let the darkness over take my soul again!” Raphael shouted while gesturing to Yugi's friends.

Levi grinned watching Raphael try in vain to convince him of his change but he knew that change wouldn't last. Raphael while was wise also quite easy to manipulate as Dartz already managed to do for so many years.

“You're only saying that because you think people have the same amount of darkness in their hearts. But everyone is different; some are blessed with talent or skill, loved by everyone around them, while others are unattractive or hated form birth. Where is the justice for them? The inequality is the true darkness and humanity cannot over it! That is the true nature of this world.” Leviathan's words echoed through out the chamber.

Dartz glared at each and everyone of them but his mismatched eyes fell back to Raphael.

“This is why I'm rebuilding this world, I will create perfect humans who can over come the darkness in their hearts. Never again will humanity fall into this endless ouroboros of despair and misery! I was hoping you'd see the truth Raphael...”

Raphael couldn't believe Dartz words, was he really this far gone into his mission? Was he like this too? He did follow Dartz for so long, he believed everything he said for so long but now it all sounded so...insane.

“Dartz... You really are insane. You can't be serious?” Raphael questioned the teal haired man only to hear Levi start to laugh.

“Dartz. I think it's time you told him the truth.” Levi looked at Dartz wiping away a tear.

“Truth? What truth?” Raphael turned his head towards Leviathan's throne, Levi's tail waged back and forth excitedly, he held onto the thrones arm rest and looked down at Raphael.

“About everything! Why do you think Dartz choose you three to be his musketeers? Do you really think it was a coincidence?” Levi chuckled watching Dartz grin widely looking over to the stone tablets that held both Valon and Alister.

“Oh alright I think you deserve to know that much. Raphael. You Valon and Alister all have souls strong enough to accept the darkness in you're hearts, Remember what I told you about destiny? Well what you don't know is I gave you your destinies.” Dartz turned back at see Raphael's face freeze in shock.

“What are you talking about?” He asked but could feel his body was growing stiff knowing deep down he wasn't going to like the answer.

“The darkness in Alister's heart came form Kaiba Corporation's weapons that killed his brother. But was it really Gozaburo Kaiba who killed his brother on the battlefield? And who burnt down Valon's orphanage?”

Each of Dartz's statements sent chills down everyone's spines as the horrid realization hit them all but it hit Raphael the hardest.

“Raphael, why did you're cruise ship sail over an erupting undersea volcano? Why you where the only one to survive?” Dartz chuckled as he watched the very last piece of string holding Raphael's heart together finally snapped.

“No, it can't be true!” Raphael yelled.

“Your destinies where fixed form the start all I did was move it forward. I needed pawns that would rival the resurrecting legendary dragons and their chosen duelists. Powerful pawns who worshipped me from the bottom of their hearts!” Dartz watched as Raphael was spiralling deeper and deeper as everything he once knew was tossed into total chaos.

“I say you did a great job Raph! I knew you where special~” Levi grinned as he felt the darkness start to return to Raphael's heart once more

“Dartz! How could you toy with people like this!” Yami Yugi yelled.

“Quite easily. Pawns are just so versatile you know? ” Dartz chuckled.

“My Parents...my brother and sister...” Raphael started to shake in anger.

“A necessary sacrifice for Doma's mission. In the grand scream of things their lives where worthless.”

His final words where the final straw, Raphael let out a yell of pure rage before raising his arm up to activate his duel disk. In a blinding light Guardian Eatos's form rose out from the device, The green seal appeared on the mans forehead again. Yami Yugi gasped as he watched helplessly as Raphael was falling into his darkness once more.

“Dartz! I'm going to make you pay for this!” He yelled as his monster also gained the seal upon her own forehead, with her sword posed and ready to attack. Around his feet the seal of Orichalcos appeared again and grew into a full circle, the burning hated in his heart fuelling it's return.

Dartz grinned as he watched it happen stating “Once the Seal of Orichalcos activities, it's never gone. This just proves the darkness has over taken your heart again Raphael. Now you'll be sacrificed to awaken our God.”

Guardian Eatos was destroyed as bolts of lightening and energy blasted around everyone, Raphael looked own at his hands before looking up and screaming in pain as the seal finally encircled around him and ripped the soul form his body. His body then fell backwards and hit the hard floor, his eyes where white and lifeless.

“Raphael!” Yami Yugi shouted as the others outside of the circle came to the fallen man's side hoping in vain to get him to wake up but it was hopeless he was gone. Leviathan watched form this throne as the whole scene had played out; his cold stare as he watched another soul become embedded into the stone tablets, yet another sacrifice to feed his hunger.

//Too bad Raphael. I guess you'll have to settle for being part of my meal. // Levi looked down to Dartz who simply smiled at him.

With Raphael gone there was no one else to interfere with their duel as so Dartz played the final card he needed to unleash the true power of the Seal of Orichalcos; Orichalcos Tritos. A third seal now landed and with it gave Dartz a whole new layer of power making all spell and trap cards used against his monsters negated.

Things truly seemed hopeless; but somehow Kaiba managed to use Fang of Critias merging it with Yami Yugi's Mirror Force turning it into Mirror Force Dragon. It's effect was able to wipe the field of all Dartz's monsters including the Mirror Knights. Yami Yugi watched with sorrow as Yugi and other knights vanished. Before being destroyed Kyutora took the battle damage for Dartz but as it did it started to glow before changing into a whole new monster, Orichalcos Shunoros.

Yami Yugi and Kaiba where both surprised with this new monsters arrival it looked like things where about to go form bad to worse for them, while this happened no one noticed Leviathan stand up and walk towards the ground heading to the triple layer seal.

“This is the end Pharaoh, Seto You wont be able to stand up against my new monster! ” Dartz chuckled as his new monster was summoned to the field. Just as he was about to explain his new monsters abilities Dartz stopped and turned around to see the three seals opened up behind him allow Levi to enter.

“You're right Dartz, this is the end...for you.” Levi's eyes where burning with rage but the his voice seemed clam and very cool.

“What? Master please I can finish them both! You'll have their souls I promise!”

“Oh I'm going to take their souls myself. You are done dueling for me Dartz.” Levi kept his cold speech pattern but the rage in his aura was growing more powerful.

“Master I don't understand...I did everything in your name! I've done all of this for you!” Dartz gestured around them at all the captured souls.

Levi grinned and started to chuckle and shake his head “Oh boy...you really don't get it do you? I'm just doing what you've been doing this whole time with your own minions Dartz. You said so yourself about pawns. I needed a powerful pawn to get me what I wanted. And you did! So thank you for that but now I'm discarding you.”

“Discarding me?! I'm the only reason you've gotten this far in the first place! I made you!” Dartz yelled stepping back. “You told me I would rule the new world! I'd make new humans! I would be King once again!”

“I never told you anything. You've been acting on your own will Dartz, everything that you've done is a result of your own darkness... Did it ever occur to you that you too where being tested by the Orichalcos? You made the same mistake all you humans do, you put yourself up so high up on your own pedestal that when you fall, your going to fall hard.” Leviathan's aura grew more and more malevolent as Dartz felt a cold sweat run down his face, his skin was crawling in fear for the first time in thousands of years.

“Did you honestly think I'd EVER let a pathetic, murderous, manipulative, parasite of a human rule the new world!? You're unworthy Dartz! You've always been unworthy of my power!” Leviathan voice was low and monstrous, Dartz had fallen to his knees and looked up in seer terror as Leviathan reached out a clawed hand towards him.

“No-no Master please! Just give me another chance! I can help you!” Dartz was desperately clinging to the god's robes begging on his knees as tears threatened in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh you will help me Dartz you're going to make a fine meal...Now vanish.”

Everyone was shocked to hear Leviathan's speech to Dartz, Yami Yugi and Kaiba could both feel the the murderous indent in the god's voice and could only watch as the god snapped his fingers forcing the first seal to slowly converge upon Dartz. Everyone watched in horror as the teal haired man let out a cry of pain as he too fell victim to same fate that everyone before him had, his soul was torn away form his body and pulled out of the seal appearing on one of the empty tablets behind them.

Dartz now trapped among his many victims but unlike the others there was no body left behind once the process was over, only his chaos duel disk remained. perhaps it was because Dartz was already ancient himself and had no true physical body to speak of anymore. Now it was only Yami Yugi Kaiba and Leviathan who remained enclosed in the seal.

#levi #leviathan #yami yugi #seto kaiba #dartz #leviathan rising #au #yugioh #waking the dragons #fan fic

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electricbluebutterflies · 11 months

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A softly exhaled, “I don’t think I can ever get enough of you.” for jessica and leto!

Early-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

She’s hypnotic, really.

He knows there are probably maneuverings beyond his comprehension, knows he ought to question every moment of this entanglement, knows he shouldn’t want or trust her, but… it’s hard to make appropriate choices with that woman, and whatever she’s doing to him is working. Perhaps this just makes him a willing victim, but-

There are worse fates, he decides, and he will accept this one wherever it leads.

Trying to figure her out is a delightfully unnecessary project, if nothing else a reliable distraction. Controllable and entirely self-directed, and in this he tests the limits of What She Might Be Up To, indefinite as that may be. There’s something darkly fascinating about her slight discomfort, like she can’t predict whatever happens next and she wasn’t prepared for this challenge, like-

There is no harmful intent – let this give him mercy, if he is judging the entire situation wrong. At worst a refusal to accept how she presents herself, a refusal to believe she is actually so cold and emotionally dead and-

At least she acts like a person with his hands on her. At least they’ve gotten that far.

On paper, this is the deepest kind of damage control – give him something acceptable to lie with to keep him out of trouble, as if he couldn’t be trusted to make appropriate choices otherwise. And it has worked all too well, no one else since her, not so much as a thought, not-

Whatever she’s done to him, he thinks, he doesn’t mind. Not when he gets such beauty in return.

She’s stunning, in a way he suspects will not come to fullness for another decade or so; give them that, he prays, give them time, give them-

“You could look at me.”

This too is progress, not demanding but not desperate to please either. Vain and proud had been a common snap judgment when she came here a year and a half ago; she is neither of those in their private spaces now, this knife-sharp young woman who can only hide her vulnerability under so many layers and-

Oh, where to look, he thinks. Down to her base layer, she’s at least shed her armor; her body language is unusually open, like she might genuinely want this, want him, want-

Leto has accepted how much of his life is going to involve unanswered questions, but there will probably always be a worry with her, an uncertainty of what is real and what is just accepted obligation. She’s gotten more stubborn in the past few months, a development he suspects he’s not supposed to enjoy as much as he does, but she seems perfectly alright with desire right now and he still can’t-

“You’re overwhelming,” he murmurs after a few moments, not quite touching her, not sure what to do next. Where this evening ends, yes, but not how they get there, not-

“Is that a problem?”

No. Never. Nothing she does could ever be.

If this is what love feels like, and he does not yet know whether that is quite an appropriate word, it is somehow so much more than he’d once thought possible. To want someone so much, body and mind, every way possible, not to consume just to adore…

“Not at all,” he murmurs, taking a soft slow kiss because he can, because they have time and something about her demands that caution. “You are not…”

“Don’t say what you don’t know.”

He has every reason to suspect that category of information grows larger by the day, but he worries less about it – to the extent she has brought out new traits in him, she has also gentled them. Made him care about her and made him perfectly aware that she doesn’t completely need his protection, made him-

She’s done something to him; his acceptance of fate only goes so far. But not, he thinks, whatever she may have been told to do right before she was given opportunity.

He distracts himself with the minimal softness of her, kisses that feel as real as anything they’ve ever done and her cold hands on his skin and the clear understanding of intentions, of time, of-

“I don’t think I can ever get enough of you,” he breathes, like it’s the only important thing in the world and maybe it is. In all probability she was created to undo him, decisions made for her in parallel with the twists of his life, and-

“Is that meant to be a good thing?”

Right, he’d forgotten she doesn’t flirt. Or do anything else subtle, for that matter. Or take compliments well, and that’s just slightly concerning, and-

“It is,” he says after a few moments, shifting to hold her. “Completely.”

This is how he knows most of this is real. She looks up at him with unusually soft eyes, and he doesn’t think she can cry but she at least looks close, and-

“Then take,” she breathes.

Who is he to ever say no?

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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shawnjacksonsbs · 1 year

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But it is me though . . .that decides what I do, how and why. 4-1-23

"But I feel . . .tomorrow will be ok." – Aaron Lewis, Staind’s song Outside

April Fool’s Day is no time for a relapse. Lol Ain’t even goin’ there.

When one little thing goes wrong, you brush off and handle it.

People problems.

Lots of little things happen to all of us all the time . . .we handle them.

But, when it's a thousand little things it can wear on us. They can add up relatively quickly and make it seem bigger than it is. Which generally feels bigger than it needs to too.

It's so unnecessary sometimes. Waste of energy if you ask me. . .letting it eat our lunch like that.

Just take stock in the things we have to be grateful for and move forward, even if it means a change.

Yes, even a big change.

We can only do what we can do.

If you've exhausted all efforts in one particular arena, what is there left to do?

Exactly.

So why allow yourself to feel like you could've done it differently? Just become as prepared as you can for when, and if, things ever start to go that way again in the future.

It happened the way it's supposed to. Accept that, and everything changes. I mean everything.

I've made peace with today as much as someone like me probably can under the circumstances. I imagine I handle my grown shit better than a lot of people.

Mentally, emotionally, even physically I am exhausted but never finished. Lol no lol

I don't know if that's a good quality or a bad one, but it's where I live now.

I just get it, and I remind myself of who I am, where I come from, and everything I've fucking been through.

"This is my life

Its not what it was before

All these feelings I've shared

And these are my dreams

That I'd never lived before

Somebody shake me

'Cause I

I must be sleeping

Now that we're here

It's so far away

All the struggle we thought was in vain

All in the mistakes

One life contained

They all finally start to go away

Now that we're here it's so far away

And I feel like I can face the day, and I can forgive

And I'm not ashamed to be the person that I am today

These are my words

That I've never said before

I think I'm doing okay

And this is the smile

That I've never shown before" – Aaron Lewis, Staind’s song So Far Away (still my theme song for this life)

I mean, it did start right there.

Always keep at the forefront of my mind, "You know who the fuck you are. Don't ever let anything, or anyone, change that.

You are hard, branded, and with your big heart on your sleeve, you are a winner.

Stronger than a lot, and living with an integrity that others keep me accountable for."

It is a responsibility to try and never waver in the heart and mind, and catch quickly those times when I do.

There is no. . .defeated, only some setbacks (some major, but mostly minor) on my way to being success-filled, and with a heart full of gratitude and a loving kindness that always, always prevails in the end, but no defeated.

Exhausted yes, lol, defeated no.

Just when you think you don't know what to write about it.

I'm always like, "Maybe post an apology and say no entry today, and it's because you're tired, or you don't have time (I am working today), or whatever lame reason I can think of."

You just don't realize how many times we nearly missed out on . . .an entry.

My friends call that slick. I call it wack. Lol

Own it, do better when it wasn't your best, and move on.

It rarely ever goes exactly the way I want it to. It can be close sometimes, but life, inevitably, is filled with too many unknown variables.

Therefore . . .acceptance, just like gratitude, makes changes in all the places that matter. Just sayin'.

Now go and share your love and your laughter with the world around you. Be kind, learn to be grateful, and try to love so completely that you don't understand any other way anymore!

Until next week;

“Broke again? Damn you can never be broken. You can fall, you can get bruises, but you can never be broken. You’re living, breathing, and the best example for yourself. You’re made of galaxies, atoms, fire, and so much more. Never underestimate the magic in you. The light inside you can never be handled by the moths. It’s never your mistake, it’s the eyes that are blind to see the love in your eyes, it’s the hearts that don’t understand how your heart beats for them, it’s the ears that can’t hear the screams you try to raise to make them listen and it’s the soul that’s never able to comprehend the message you sent to them.” - Hareem Ch

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Love Letter - Mailman!James Potter x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3K

Summary: Your daughter has been the mailman’s little helper for weeks, unbeknownst to you. You decide to take up the chance to get to know him better, after all, it would be a shame if your daughter knew the handsome man who wrote you love letters better than you did.

Contents/Warnings: Reader is referred to as ‘mummy’, mother!reader

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Your fingers brushed gently against the translucent plastic covering your name on the front of the envelope. The paper tore easily, your nails scraping against the bills inside as you slit the letter open.

You let out a half-hearted ‘thank you,’ to the mailman who lingered at the door, your eyes downcast towards the letter before you could take in his appreciative smile at your words.

“See you tomorrow,” He called, boots scuffing against the steps of your front walkway.

You only hummed in agreement, and probably not loud enough for him to hear.

Your mind was completely immersed in the bills you clutched. You should have enough to make ends meet this month. Groceries would be tight, but you could cut back on Alyssa’s breakfast budget by sending her to school early this week, in time for the complimentary toast and eggs they served in her school’s cafeteria.

She didn’t mind. She never did. Really, you were grateful to have a daughter who understood you and your situation so well. Long hours, not enough pay, constant stress. She was the light of your life, and it hurt to have to brush her off for overtime hours or because you couldn’t pay for enough food, but you knew she’d understand.

“Mummy,” There she was now. Her bright yellow sneakers, dulled only by loose dirt that she’d managed to grind into the canvas fabric, pounded down the hallway as she ran up to your side, “Mummy, did I get anything in the mail today?”

“No bug,” You smiled down softly at her, your fingers raking gently through the wisps of hair that stuck out around her head, “Why, were you expecting something?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes caught sight of something behind you, and lit up in glee. You spun around as she sprinted to the door, your brows furrowing as she reached eagerly for the knob.

“Alyssa!” You scolded, finally looking through the front window to see who she was so excited about. Your frown only deepened as the kind eyes of your mailman met yours, Alyssa’s little hands still twisting in vain at the knob of your locked front door.

You brushed her aside, flicking the lock open and tugging the door open, “Did you need something?”

“A letter got buried under the others in my bad,” The mailman smiled apologetically at you, a thin envelope between his nimble fingers, “Sorry about that, miss.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” You smiled. waving off his unnecessary apology, “Thank you for bringing it back.”

“No problem.” The man beamed at you as you took the letter from his hands.

“James,” You heard Alyssa’s earnest voice come from behind you, and your face slipped into a frown again as she peered up eagerly at the mailman, “Is it for me?”

“Not this time, pumpkin,” The mailman laughed sympathetically, “But maybe tomorrow you’ll get something!”

“Pro’lly not,” Alyssa huffed, her little arms crossing her chest in annoyance, “‘S only mummy that gets letters.”

“You never know,” He grinned down at her, sending her an over-accentuated wink to be sure she caught it, “I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘Lyssa.”

“Bye-bye James!” She waved jovially at the mailman, James, all traces of her earlier pout gone as she pushed the door closed, his retreating form still visible from the window.

“How do you know the mailman’s name?” You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, stopping her from skipping back down the hallway.

“I see him when I walk home from school,” Alyssa’s cheeks were still brought up in a giddy smile, “And he helps me feed the doggies we pass!”

“Oh?” Your interest was piqued. How long had your daughter been walking home with this man without you knowing? Something uneasy had settled in the pit of your stomach as you urged Alyssa on, though her innocent explanation was disarming it by the second.

“Yeah, he keeps treats in his pockets! Doggies don’t like mailmen,” Alyssa rambled, “So sometimes they bark at him, but they always like me! So he lets me pet the doggies while he gives their owners their mail. He says I’m his partner,” She puffed up proudly, “He says that I could be a mail-lady someday.”

The bills in your hand became the priority once more as Alyssa wriggled out of your grip, picking up the uncapped marker she’d dropped in the hallway and heading back into her room. You watched her for only a moment as she skipped away, then you pushed those lingering wary thoughts out of your head, a long sigh escaping your chest at the sight of the numbers listed on the paper you held.

You paid more attention to James the next day. You took care to let your eyes skim over the soft curves of his face, his angled nose, his crooked smile that aligned perfectly with his equally-imbalanced glasses. You especially took note of the asymmetrical dimples carved into his cheeks, their depth amplified as Alyssa came to greet him at the door again.

You supposed if you needed to describe him to the police for the abduction of your seven-year-old, you’d need to know what he looked like.

“These are for you,” James handed you a thin stack of letters, his hand plunging once more into his satchel, “And this,” He pulled out a powder-pink envelope, Alyssa’s name written on the front with green foam stickers, “Is for you.”

Alyssa squealed in delight as she eagerly yanked the letter from his hand. Her giggles were infectious, and you felt a soft smile slip over your lips as she inspected the mail she’d received.

“Thank you James,” She slipped past you, arms curling around James’s waist as she hugged him as best she could from her height. He chuckled deeply, leaning down to scoop her into his arms instead. She screeched through a giggle, clinging tightly to his shoulders as he adjusted her on his hip.

“Open it!” He urged, shooting you a soft, questioning glance. You nodded, the ghost of your smile still lingering over your lips, giving him the silent okay to continue holding your daughter.

She clumsily tore open the envelope, hello-kitty-patterned stationary staring up at her covered in sparkly purple block-lettering.

“Go ahead, pumpkin,” James jostled her slightly in his grip, “Read it, they’re easy words, y’can sound ‘em out.”

Alyssa squinted slightly at the lettering on the paper, all of her concentration devoted to the task at hand.

“Dear Alyssa,” She read her name confidently, and James smiled at her voice, “Thank you for helping me with my.. my-”

“Route.” James prompted, “My route.”

“Route! Thank you for helping me with my route. I would be dog food by now if you didn’t tag along,” Her voice was monotonous as she slipped into the cautious pronunciations of each scribbled word, “So I’m glad that you’re there to protect me.”

She giggled at the mental image her brain was presented with, her little seven-year-old frame enlarged and standing guard over a cowering James, puppies eagerly pawing at her legs. You were sure it was a plentiful ego boost for the girl, hearing that she was the protector of someone as big and strong as James.

“You’re very brave,” She began again, the paper held closer and closer to her face as she concentrated once more, “And I’m happy to be your fry-... friend.”

You hadn’t realized that your smile had grown on your face until your cheeks began to ache, and you zoned back into the moment. Your eyes drifted to James’s own grin, his arms wrapped protectively around Alyssa as she finished reading the last sentence of the letter.

Her grin was infectious once she finished reading, the letter clutched tight in her little hand, the grip warping the paper slightly as she turned to throw her arms around James’s neck, “’M gonna be a mail lady when I grow up,” She squeezed James in a tight hug, her sandals pressing into his sides as she curled around him, “‘N then we can work together!”

James chuckled warmly, returning the eager hug that Alyssa had trapped him in and setting her down gently a moment later, “I’d love that, pumpkin. We could drive around in the mail truck and get ice cream every day.”

“Really?” Alyssa’s eyes shone as she looked up at James in wonder.

“Really,” He beamed down at her, a hand combing gently through her whispy locks.

He glanced up at you after a moment, a sheepish grin on his face as he nodded down to the stack of letters in your hand.

“There’s one for you, too.” You glanced down at your handful of bills, spotting a similar baby pink envelope in your hands. You frowned confusedly, plucking it out of the pile and biting your lip to contain the smile that tried to escape when you saw how James had decorated yours.

Gone were the green puffy stickers, replaced instead by beautifully scripted letters in the same purple ink that had been on Alyssa’s card. You noticed a few pencil smudges, and your heart flipped in your chest as you realized that he’d traced out the letters before inking them, just to be sure they were perfect.

You slid your fingers between the envelope and its opening, trying not to tear the pretty pink paper as best you could. The paper inside was not hello-kitty-themed, instead a baby blue hue with floral designs around the edges. The writing in your letter was much more elegant than what had been in Alyssa’s, and you finally let an amused smile slip over your lips as your eyes flew across the page.

Dear Y/N,

I hope it’s not weird that I know your name! I just see it on your letters every day, and Alyssa talks a lot about you. Speaking of Alyssa, I also hope it’s not weird that I’ve been walking her home. She’s street smart, and I know she’d be okay without me, but sometimes I just get nervous about her crossing the streets. She’s a big helper, so if you’re alright with it, I’d love to keep walking with her. From what she tells me, you’re a very busy woman. But if you’ve ever got a night off, I’d love to get to know you more, hear something about you that comes straight from the source, not that I don’t love talking to Alyssa. Let me know, okay? I’ve left my number on the bottom corner of the page—

You glanced down at the bottom right of the paper, seeing his number scribbled in the same purple ink, with a smiley face drawn beside it.

—so if you wanted to take me up on that, all you have to do is call. I hope you have a lovely day :)

xoxo, James Potter ♡

You glanced back up at James, seeing his apprehensive gaze locked onto you. Alyssa was staring curiously at you, but she quickly became the last thing on your mind, the sweetly-scrawled note and James’s trepidatious expression invading your thoughts.

“I understand if I’ve overstepped,” He started, sucking his lips into a sheepish grin, “But if you’ve got the time...”

“I will make the time.” You weren’t sure where your sudden confidence came from, probably from James’s anxiety, but you smiled sweetly, “This weekend work for you?”

“That works perfectly,” James gushed, chest heaving as he let out the breath he’d been holding, “I’ll- if you call me.. just let me know when!”

“Saturday at six,” You unlatched the screen door, holding out your arms for Alyssa who eagerly reached out for you, “I’ll call the babysitter tonight.”

“Perfect.” James breathed, his eyes sparkling as he stood under the shade of your porch, “I’ll see you then, Y/N.”

“See you then.”

James waved to Alyssa who’s brows were adorably furrowed, her confusion apparent at the strange exchange. You were barely able to shut the door before she spoke up, watching your eyes linger on James’s retreating form down the path.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, lovey?” You brushed her hair out of her face, her skin soft against your weathered hand.

“What did your letter say?”

“Um,” You glanced at the envelope on the edge of the bookshelf beside you, “It said that he thinks you should eat all of your veggies tonight, no fussing.”

“What?!” her mouth fell open indignantly, “I wanna read!”

She reached for the letter, nearly slipping out of your arms as she lunged for the stationary. You caught her just in time, snatching up the letter and setting her down on the floor. She jumped eagerly for the envelope you held above your head, a pout slipping over her lips as you denied her access.

“No tantrums! Go back to coloring,” You tried keeping your lovesick smile at bay, not wanting to give her the wrong idea, (or the right one), “And I’ll get started on the brussel sprouts.”

The last you heard from her was a disgruntled, “I don’t like James anymore!” as she tore down the hallway, the door to her room shutting as soon as she was over the threshold.

You finally let your smile take over your face, finally free to express yourself as you grabbed your phone. You pecked at the keyboard, typing in James’s number and sending him a quick message:

I may have just ruined your reputation with Alyssa, I hope you’re ready to grovel.

Your heart sputtered slightly as you watched the message go immediately from delivered to read, quickly clicking away from the message thread as James typed back. You didn’t want to seem desperate, right? Even though you were?

You didn’t need to open the message that came through to read it, though, it was short enough that it didn’t cut off in your notifications.

I’ll win her back with ice cream, that always works.

Always?? You typed back, Have you been taking my kid out for ice cream without me knowing?

I’ll make it up to you, James’s message came through and sent a burst of heat straight to your cheeks, on Saturday I’ll take you out for ice cream without her knowing ;)

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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aashi-heartfilia · 3 years

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The character arc of Ochako Uraraka

I think the biggest problem with Ochako was thinking of her feelings as a burden to other people. She just doesn't wants to be a bother to anyone and that's why whatever she has to say or what's going on her mind isn't important to her and she just keeps bottling it all up.

Pretty ironic when you remember the fact that she wants to become a hero who can lift the burden of other people.

I think, it emerges from her own household where her parents worked so hard just to keep food on the table. By the Bonus Material that Horikoshi added it can be seen how far she's willing to go to save money i.e. how far she's willing to go to not be a bother and while wanting to help her parents is a very good thing but going on extreme lengths to do so and then giving birth to a new set of problems definitely isn't.

Instances of Ochako's bottling up her feelings:

She doesn't even talks about herself. She told Izuku in the Cavalry Battle that it's better to team up with people you're friends with but later revealed that how bad and ashamed she felt for relying on him. The problem here is also that she's too critical of herself. She knows her limits (after her brawl with Bakugo, she knew she lost because she didn't have a back-up plan, in season 5 also she admitted that she should have been a bit more calm) and while that is a good thing, she just overvalued other people way too much.

Even after her battle with Bakugo when Deku comes to check if she's okay, she pretends as if nothing happened and all his worries were for nothing. Because again, it was her loss and she wouldn't want Deku getting bothered by it. So she just puts on a fake cherry smile and wishes Deku luck for his match only for him to overhear her crying in her phonecall with her parents.

She has strong feelings, opinions and motivations but she wouldn't let anyone be bothered by it. She has a side that gets jealous, that is insecure, that is strong willed but she wouldn't let it show.

Another big instance is when she refused to go for the Bakugo Rescue in Kamino. She knows Bakugo well to understand that he wouldn't like receiving help from people he looks down on. She thought too much about what Bakugo would think and it all ended up in vain when Izuku and gang went anyway and saved Bakugo from the LoV. Just like Asui at that time she felt sad and maybe ashamed but she never said anything like that during that time and yet it was brought up again in the recent manga.

Why? Because it was yet another example of her ideology that her opinion is not necessary which is wrong since her take on this matter was damn important!!

Despite her own second thoughts on the matter she suggested how Bakugo who was the victim, would feel about all this and that lead to Deku deciding that it would be Kirishima to offer help.

Her biggest development in the Pro Hero Exam?

Come to think of it, it was one of my least favourite arcs because how less of Ochako it had. Most characters in MHA learn from their mistakes but ever since her battle with Bakugo it felt like Ochako was never making any mistakes and suddenly been reduced to nothing but a love interest. This scene right here is also probably one of the most misunderstood or misinterpreted scene in MHA.

Ochako decides to completely her feelings away for Deku might have been a good thing on the short term basis but if we look at the impact it had on the larger scheme of things, we can see how big the concequences were. She thought that again, her own feelings are very unnecessary and just a burden on Deku and his Hero career and even for herself, so she decides to put it all away but it's just partial as stated by Toga in chapter 288.

"When you keep bottling it all up it only grows on the inside"

Which is true because ever since the pro hero exam it feels like despite not admitting to herself or Deku, her crush has only gotten stronger like seriously Chako, you say that you don't like him and yet to keep that All Might Keychain safe and close for your dear life!

So yeah while it might look like a character development on her part, it was one of the biggest mistakes Ochako has made in the entire series! And she was forced to face the consequences of it when Deku left UA and she couldn't do anything anymore. She was forced to face all of it and finally admitting how much of a dummy he is!

Some moments of realisations

One of my favourite thing about MHA is how realistic the characters are written. Despite Ochako not admitting her feelings much often, she does have her own moments of truth.

Before her brawl with Bakugo she admitted that they were all rivals and she wants to get stronger too.

After the Bakugo Rescue she admits that they were all uneasy.

After Sir Nighteye died, she admits to herself that she wants to save people.

In season 5 she admitted how dangerous hero work is and acknowledged how Deku's power hurts him too.

She has a parallel to Bakugo in a way that goes around announcing his motivations to the whole world while she cannot even admit it to herself. She looks up on other people so much that she doesn't looks at her own strength and while idolizing Deku had its own merits, what about her own capabilities?

After Sports Festival she went to learn some Martial arts because she needed more combat experience.

After the Black whip incident she attaches grappling hooks to her costume which gives her more mobility in air and ability to grab people and things from distances (obviously) giving her much needed ranged moves.

But where is her mastery over Zero Gravity?

Where is her use of her actual power?

Their is a big reason why the name for Toga vs Uraraka 2.0 was "Miss Candid vs Miss Shut away". Toga here is the candid one! She is honest because she has learned it the hard way (during her quirk awakening) that the transformation is only external. She tries telling that to Ochako but well, wrong place, wrong time.

Despite being the more Frank person of the group Ochako is not honest to herself and even Horikoshi has stated in his bonus Material that she has no hidden sides to her *wink* *wink* What's the meaning of this?

Obviously, Ochako has a secret side. A dual personality of some sort, that is not the cherry girl we're used to seeing on regular basis. The one that is insightful, brave and doesn't give a shit about what other people have to say and we finally witness it after the war arc when Deku leaves UA.

Now that is not to say we haven't have seen that side of her in pieces even before the war ended. She has shown her sheer wit and determination in Ocha vs Bakugo.

She shows her thoughtful side in season 5 when she acknowledged how hard it is to be a hero and her philosophy on saving other heroes in need.

We have seen it all in tiny bits and pieces though she herself thinks of them as something insignificant, as something not necessary. She just goes along with everyone and never truly admits to the situation because that will lead her to admitting her own flawed thinking.

During the war arc, both her philosophy and her Candidness were put to a test and she was made to face the harsh realities of war. She saw Toga crying, she saw casualties, she saw heroes giving up, she saw the society and the hero system fall apart right infront of her and for someone who originally wanted to do it as a job it was an especially important moment that Ochako had to witness.

And finally her breaking point was when Deku leaves UA. It wasn't the only thing that changed her forever but rather the series of events that followed the events of war but it had to be one of the most shocking ones.

After the kids make an epic return in chapter 319, we see the true side of Ochako Uraraka. The real one that is not faking things just for the sake of keeping the environment tension free. She is still a figure of reassurance for her fellow classmates and family but she is no longer thinking too much about how other people would think, infact she doesn't give a damn!

She is calm, determined and decisive.

She was the major advocate in bringing Izuku back to UA and it just only goes to show how far she has come, both as a hero and as a person.

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hwiyoungslesbiangf · 3 years

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SFH Drabble

“What feeds your heart?” Jongwoo asked hesitantly as he swiped the blood from underneath his lip.

They had been fighting, but the fiercity was lost when Jongwoo wrapped his fingers into the cotton fabric of Moonjo’s thin long sleeve and tugged, body shaking with the quiet sobs he let out.

Jongwoo had nothing left to give. Moonjo’s strength was relentless and had already bruised his ribs enough to spawn a silent fear that a few of them may be fractured. Jongwoo had landed a few jabs on Moonjo too, earning himself the satisfaction of Moonjo’s blood running down from the slit in his eyebrow, but his will to fight back emptied out when Moonjo stopped in his tracks to tell Jongwoo he embodied the passion of the killer he described in his novel.

Moonjo looked down on the younger man in front of him, his much larger hands enveloping Jongwoo’s wrist with an iron grip.

“You do, jagiya.” He sighed out. “Every word you speak, every vain attempt to hide your anger, every sly remark you pass under your breath, all of it.”

“No. That isn’t true. You know what I’m asking.”

“Jagiya, do you have any clue of what you look like the moment you step into this building? When you shed the velvet exterior of your soul and reveal the linens underneath?” Moonjo paused to pull Jongwoo’s lithe fingers from the now stretched out fabric of his long sleeve. The pristine, long digits were now covered in purple and red.

Jongwoo reached out once more, hoping to grasp onto any form of control, any way to avoid being a mouse caught in a rat trap. Moonjo shoved Jongwoo to the bed, the force completely unnecessary in light of the short distance between them and every object in the cramped room.

“Jagiya, do you know what you look like when you shed your layers? Have you witnessed the glint in your eyes when the man from room 313 steps out of his room just to stare at you?” Moonjo loomed over Jongwoo, leaning just far enough in for his thighs to hit the younger’s knees.

Jongwoo could feel his face burn as the ghost of Moonjo’s breath passed over his lips. This wasn’t right. This moment was too tender, too soft, yet still carried the underlying edge of creepiness that came with everything that was Seo Moonjo. Jongwoo leaned back and his legs unconsciously spread as Moonjo pushed further into his space.

“Jagiya, do you understand the way my blood rushes hotly through my veins when you yell at the others. The way your voice echoes through the halls and rings through my body like a bell caught in the wind? You ask what feeds my heart, and all I can answer is you.”

Jongwoo grit his teeth and clutched at the collar of Moonjo’s shirt. Jongwoo yanked him in closer, their noses almost touching, and faltered slightly when Moonjo’s lips stretched out into an empty smile.

“What are you trying to say? Do you even hear the words as they’re coming out of your mouth? I’m asking you why you’re doing all of this, this destruction, all these wasted lives.” He seethed.

Jongwoo’s face burned hotter with each word, his normal anger seeping back into his blood and bubbling up just underneath his skin. Moonjo latched his hands around Jongwoo’s wrists, making no move to release or pull him closer, merely forcing him to stay put. The bend of Moonjo’s back as he leaned into Jongwoo’s face was reminiscent of a predator. A silent reminder in the dull, yellow light that Jongwoo may burn his hands should he not stop playing with fire.

“Jagiya, this is what I mean. Every attempt you make to maintain your sanity only makes this chase more delicious.”

Moonjo released his wrists and pushed him fully back onto the bed with a cheshire grin. Jongwoo winced when his back hit the hard mattress, the light bounce of his body jostling his ribs painfully. The older man stood up above him, body still wedged in between Jongwoo’s thighs.

“Jagiya, don’t you understand? You belong to me. Each word, each drop of sweat, each cell—they’re all mine.”

Jongwoo went completely still. Belonging? That wasn’t a word meant for him. He didn’t belong. Not to this man, not to his company, not even to the attention of his girlfriend.

Jongwoo stared up blankly at Moonjo. He was so tall. Too tall. His figure bled into the darkness of the room, an apparition of Jongwoo’s haunted dreams. Was all of this a figment of his imagination? What god had he disgraced in his past life to end up in a situation as horrible as this—pinned to this dirty bed, in this dingy room by a man that tormented his very soul, yet a man he still had an inkling of respect for. How had he slid under the cover of night so skillfully? How had the shadows of his heart faded seamlessly into the emptiness of the sun?

“Jagiya, there is no God. There is only me,” he pointed towards himself, “and you.” He placed his palm on Jongwoo’s chest, feeling around for the man's fluttering heartbeat.

“Do you want to know why you feed my heart, Jagiya?” Jongwoo nodded.

“You have let me consume you. You hand-fed me your deepest wishes. Words weren’t needed for me to find out. The way you carry yourself through the halls, each meeting up on the rooftop. You are a beacon of misery, a misery I devour, Jagiya.”

Jongwoo shivered underneath his gaze, powerless in the intensity of Moonjo’s existence. He understood now. What this all meant in the end. He was the method to the madness. The butter that turns sugar to caramel. The marshmallows to a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Moonjo was fine on his own; devoid of any problems and perfectly capable of maintaining his lifestyle. But with Jongwoo, he had passion. Unlike all his other kills, all the other canvases he painted red, Jongwoo sealed the tiny sliver of his heart that hadn’t been mended by Moonjo’s strongest desires. He was the missing piece, his magnum opus.

“Fine then. Shall I feed you more?” Jongwoo whispered.

“Of course, you will.” Moonjo said. “But understand this; My appetite will never be fulfilled.”

#strangers from hell #seo moon jo #yoon jong woo #jongmoon #don't have high expectations I haven't solidly written something in so long

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ignitedbynatsu · 3 years

Text

He Makes You Feel Insecure ~ Rogue

A/N: let it be known that I finally managed to update at the deadline I set myself 🥳 I'm so sorry I was gone this past week but college was getting hella busy so I had to focus on that this past week but I'm backkk. Thanks to everyone who stuck around, I missed you all and can't wait to get to the requests ❤️

Genre: angst to fluff

Warnings: swearing, insecurities (he makes you feel too childish)

Other versions:

Gray ~ Laxus ~ Cobra/Erik ~ Bickslow ~ Gajeel ~ Natsu ~ Jellal ~ Freed ~ Sting

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

A loud crash could be heard followed by your and Sting's laughter filling the guild. You quickly fled the scene and hid behind Rogue while stifling your laughter.

You had played the oldest prank in the book on Minerva. A water bucket on a half-open door. You'll never understand how the brilliant mage fell for that one, but she did, resulting in you hiding from her wrath.

"(Y/N)! Sting!" Minerva screeched as the water dripped down her hair.

"We're sorry Minerva-san, we just couldn't pass the opportunity" you apologize on your and Sting's behalf, but it was nowhere near sincere As you both were still doing everything in your power to not burst out in laughter. It wasn't even that funny, but to you and Sting it was hilarious.

"I swear I'm dating a child" the annoyance that was latched on to the words made you immediately stop laughing. Surely he didn't mean for it to come out that harsh, right?

"I'm sorry, what was that" a soft smile still playing on your lips, but that was quickly wiped off when you met his cold gaze.

"I said that you're fucking childish, (Y/N). It was bad enough having Sting act this way, but with you encouraging him and even joining him? I feel like I'm in a fucking daycare. Grow up, will you" Sting laughter also died down as he saw his friend take his frustrations out on you. "Hey, man, that's not cool-"

"No, Sting, it's fine. I- uh- I'll see you all tomorrow" even Minerva shook her head in disappointment as she observed your slumped shoulders as you left the guild. She didn't miss the tears starting to form either.

The rest of the day everyone felt that they were walking on eggshells around Rogue, not daring to get on his bad side. They felt bad for you. Sure you could be a little annoying with all the pranks you pulled, but they all knew it was just good fun. You never meant any harm and just wanted to make the guild feel a little more like home.

That homeyness that you seemed to bring everywhere you went, was gone the next day. Your usual colourful outfits were replaced by dull grey and black clothes. They even were certain that they hadn't seen you crack a smile once that day.

"Hey, (Y/N)! I got this amazing idea for a prank and-" you interrupted Sting before he could elaborate his grand idea "thank you, Sting, but I'll have to decline."

You had never refused a prank before, nor had he ever heard you talk that formal "that's it"

You raised an eyebrow at him as he stormed off to God knows where.

You hated turning him down. After all, you had been itching all day to break this facade, but it was for the best. It'll pay off in the long run you kept telling yourself. After all, you couldn't imagine a world where you'd have to live without Rogue. So if that meant you'd have to change your personality a little bit, you wouldn't even hesitate to make that sacrifice.

Meanwhile, Sting had left to go find Rogue. He knew that his best friend was the only one who could put an end to this "is this what you wanted?"

"I have no clue what you are talking about" Rogue replied as he turned around to meet the fuming blonde.

"You seriously don't see how miserable you made (Y/N)?" He scoffed as Rogue looked around to spot you. It took him some time as he did not expect you to wear something so... Colourless. "You haven't even spoken to her today, have you?"

"I decided that I was way out of line yesterday and that I should give her some time" he explained. Did you really think you needed to change just to please him?

"How kind of you" Rogue was surprised by the sweet words coming out of Sting's mouth, but when he turned back to the said boy he was met by a harsh glare "now go fix it"

"What if I make it worse" the guilty was slowly eating him alive as he dared to steal another glance at you.

"You can't possibly make it worse than it already is" Sting dismissed his insecurities

"Fro thinks so too!" Rogue's head snapped towards the Exceed "Frosch?"

"It's three against one here" Lector also piped up as the three stared at him expectingly.

The raven-haired sighed, knowing he should do something to fix his mistakes, so he took a deep breath, gathered all his courage and headed towards his girlfriend. He never thought he'd feel this scared again to talk to you.

"(Y/N)... Can we talk?" He wanted to sound confident but when you looked at him and not even spared him a small smile, he felt like he wanted to sink back into the shadows.

"Of course, what is it you'd like to talk with me about?" Rogue cringed how smooth your tone was. No unnecessary intonation, no shouting, no expression. Everything was dull and blank.

"Why are you acting like this" your eyes went wide for a second. Were you still not living up to his expectations? Was it too little? Too much? You had no clue.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you are talking about" you replied swiftly, covering up any traces of emotions you had just shown. "Did you not want me to stop acting like a child?"

"Yes, but-" "and is what I'm doing not exactly that what you asked me to do?" "Yeah... But-" Rogue was getting frustrated, but he knew he had no right to snap at you again.

"Then I don't see the relevance of this conversation. I'll be heading home now. I'll see you tomorrow" with that you placed a kiss on his cheeks and headed back out of the guild.

Rogue's attempts at covering up his frustration were in vain as you could read him like an open book. Afraid to get yelled at again you hastily decided to head back home. Ready to scream or punch something just to get your own frustrations out.

After the failed attempts of him making it up to you, you managed to put up your facade for a week, until one day you just didn't show up. You didn't notify Sting or Rogue in advance, which you normally do, you were just too tired to deal with anyone.

"Has (Y/N) told you she wasn't coming today?" Rogue's anxiety was through the roof. He nearly burned a whole town to the ground when he lost Frosch. Imagine what he'd do if he didn't know where you, his significant other was. "No"

"I'm going to her house" with that Rogue left in an attempt to find you. Luckily for him, you were indeed just at your house.

Your stomach dropped at the sound of someone knocking at your door. You were tired, no, exhausted even. You hated that you had to pretend that you were someone that you're not, but it was all for a good cause you kept telling yourself, and yet you couldn't muster the energy to keep up that facade.

"(Y/N)? Please tell me your home" your heart broke at the sound of his voice. The worry and desperateness were caused because of you. Once again you were not good enough.

You opened the door ever so slightly, just enough, so he could make out that it was in fact you. "Thank God you're here"

"I'm sorry for not giving a heads-up. I promise I'll be back tomorrow" you promised him as you were about to shut the door again, but he stopped you by placing his own hand against the door.

"(Y/N), please, we need to talk" you contemplated for a minute, weighing the pros and the cons "please"

You slowly opened the door further as a signal for him to come in.

The sight in front of him shattered his heart. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your figure was completely slouched and your arms were wrapped around your middle, hugging yourself, in an attempt to shield yourself away from.

"I'm sorry I probably look like a cry baby right now-" he stopped you before you could finish your excuse "hey, no, none of that"

"I want to tell you something and I need you to listen without you interrupting me, okay?" You nodded your head at his request and waited patiently as he continued. "First and foremost I'd like to apologize for my behaviour last week. I shouldn't have worked out my frustration on you and I shouldn't have attacked you like that."

You nodded your head at his apology "second, I want you to know that you should never change your personality. Especially not for me. I love you, (Y/N). And when I say that, I mean every piece of you. Your good and your bad traits. If fell in love with you for who you are, and not the person you've been portraying as the last week."

"Please go back to your old self. I'd rather have a childish person as my girlfriend than a fraud that's clearly exhausted by putting on a facade. I really am sorry for making you feel like you had to change for me" by now you were full-on crying. Maybe it was because of Rogue's kind words, maybe it was because of the exhaustion, maybe a bit of both. All you cared about now was being in his arms and feeling loved.

"It's okay" you whispered as placed your head on his chest as he planted a kiss on your head.

"It really isn't. That's why I'd like to make it up to you" you broke the hug to look up at him as a mischievous glint was sparkling in his eyes "how about we prank Sting?"

"I'd love to, but for now let's just watch a film and cuddle" you smiled at his idea as you had never pranked Sting before since you always prank others together.

"Anything for you, princess" that's how you spend the rest of your evening in each other's arms, with him reassuring you every once in a while that he loves you and that you should never change.

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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lady-elora · 3 years

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"It was love", or five reasons and five refutations of hatred for sylki

So, folks, I did it. I finally translated from Russian an amazing article about the romantic line in “Loki”. I agree with every word in it. Hope it’ll help all the sylki shipers to fend off the attacks of antis with a reasoned arguments.

Would you like to talk about our god Odin the most controversial Marvel franchise pairing which caused a storm of indignation and negative emotions on the part of fans?

We're talking about Loki/Sylvie from "Loki" (2021) mini-series, or sylki (lovie) as they were called by fans. Apparently a simple get-pairing consisting of a man and a woman (or bisexual gender fluids, if you prefer), but some people were shocked by such a relationship on the screen. Why? What for? How? That may be your questions. So we’ll discuss their claims and groundlessness of them in this article.

But before we start talking about it, I want to clarify what actually the concept of the "selfcest" is.

Usually we marked as a "selfcest" those works that describe the relationship of a character with himself. Most often, this warning implies a "doubling" of the character; alternatively – the same character is taken at different ages or falls for his/her absolutely identical copies.

Agreed?

Let's go then.

< < < 1 > > >

The first and main thing which follows from the definition above is: "Showing the selfcest on the screen is disgusting and immoral!"

It also follows from the definition above that the selfcest is the relationship of the same character with himself in the form of identical copies both in character and appearance. The highest form of narcissism, according to Mobius (which, in fact, is to some extent true). Horrors from a snuffbox, according to some impressionable audience. It hardly makes sense to rant about the fact that masturbation is also a form of selfcest (although the fact is rather amusing).

The bottom line is that if Loki once again created a copy of himself to deceive someone and fell in love with it, it would be a selfcest. Splitting himself into two people and building a relationship between them is a selfcest as well. Turning into a hermaphrodite and ... no, this is something completely perverted.

The basis of the selfcest is absolute identity. If we take a character who is so in love with him/herself that he/she sees relationships only with him/herself, then in such a case he/she can only build them with a perfect scanned copy of him/herself. It will be very easy for the person who knows him/herself inside and out to notice some inconsistencies in a partner, and then it makes no sense to build a relationship if he/she is not as perfect (as the "original" is), isn’t it? That’s how this logic works.

And now attention, please!

Is the romance of two Elvis Presley understudies a selfcest?

They look almost the same, both like Elvis... But no, right? These two people are different people, with different tempers and lives, who are similar only in appearance and pseudonyms. So this is a very ordinary relationship.

Now let's get back to our sheep. So we have two people from different worlds, with different stories, different tempers, different powers and different external signs who were born under the same name and later lived their lives with different ones. The only thing that is identical in them is the essence of the God of Mischief. So where is the ground for an egoistic selfcest? Nowhere.

Don't forget about identity. We can say that they are very similar, since initially they are both Lokis. But do you wanna say it's so hard to meet similar people in real life? No. Do you wanna say it's hard to meet similar people in two similar universes? No. I'll tell you a secret: writers often like to use the trope of intertwining almost identical tempers between characters to show their mental connection. And it's not a crime, but a common technique. And, again, a "similarity" doesn't fall under the criteria of selfcest.

And finally, if Sylvie were an exact copy of Loki, would there be people who love one but can't stand the other? It's the same character after all, so what's the problem? But the point is that Loki is Loki. And Sylvie is Sylvie. They exist separately from each other and are not the same due to the presence of distinctive features.

If you want to use Kang's words, remember that he admired these two.

< < < 2 > > >

The second and no less amusing is "Loki doesn't need a love interest at all!"

I'm sorry, but which Loki?

The one who appeared in all the films of the series "Thor" and "The Avengers"?

He's dead, guys.

And Loki from the series is a character torn out from the finale of the first "Avengers" and revamped by TVA with the help of an impromptu session of psychologist Mobius and viewing on-screen all of his promising deeds. This Loki was told head-on that he was created as a minor character in order to plot his machinations for the development of the protagonists and he was unnecessary to the whole world. This Loki has an advantage over the previously known version of himself just in knowing this fact. This Loki has recognized for everyone and for himself that he didn't want to harm the others. And this Loki, by definition, is already a different character, but for some reason people tailor him to a long-familiar one, ignoring the obvious things point-blank.

He is no stranger to simple human feelings, because every version of the God of Mischief is initially an offended and despised child grown up in the shadow of his own brother, a child who just wanted to be loved too and in the same way. Only the paths to this under-goal were different for all Lokis. One killed Thor in order to remain the only ruler (people always adore kings), another invented unthinkable feats (people love heroes), the third built a perfect world out of promises for everyone, the fourth tried to become a hero himself, but was too crushed to find mistakes in his plan, the fifth excluded himself from the equation so that everyone understood he didn't want to harm the others and to cause the pain.

Loki from the series is a version that knows everything about himself, but at the same time is not bound by the framework of the other variants' plot. He doesn't need to win back Asgard, to fight with Thanos, with the Avengers, with contempt and so on. He is free from borders. He is from the world where Frigga never died. He is the only Loki without the "glorious purpose". He is different.

So his attitude to other people is now different as well. It's stupid to perceive this version exactly as a long-known character.

After all he had seen, this Loki would hardly be able to live alone like any other. He is extremely naked and needs love (in any form), as the most reliable and not bringing destruction and suffering point of support.

< < < 3 > > >

The third and my favorite thing is: "Love in five minutes! Why did it come out at all?"

Why did Loki fall for Sylvie, and even in a couple of days?

OK, you can quite easily explain Sylvie's motivation: she found a person who had interest for her, who suddenly cared about her, protected her... Could he be an unworthy party in such a case? Moreover, before that, Sylvie, in principle, had no close people and she internally really lacked such an attitude to herself, banal love (parents, people, friends, romantic), which she hadn’t due to the lack of normal childhood and a stable life.

But Loki?..

But Loki is not a vain killing machine from The Avengers anymore, not a person for whom the self-affirmation is the only goal in life. Let's rewind a little, and remember that he was brainwashed in TVA and lowered from heaven to earth. Loki was always reasonable. Loki could always be courteous and friendly. Loki was always a gentleman. And finally he realized that there's no sense in all this aggression and hyperbolized narcissism, and he pushed his one-actor theater aside in order to at least normally rethink the concept of time and reality.

And here comes Sylvie.

Unpredictable, dangerous, painfully similar to him, but at the same time completely different. Loki never had good intentions in his conquests; only the ways were sometimes good. Sylvie went to the good liberation of people and the return of their right to choose their lives, but through blood. In fact, she is his mirror image.

She intrigued. A wild person who swung at the destruction of the time control organization alone and coped well with it.

However, the countdown started from the moment when they both got on the train. The moment when Loki began to understand what the real essence of Sylvie was. Grown up in fear, distrustful, broken Sylvie, who was desperately trying to make TVA pay for everything. For everyone. And it was amazing for him.

Here, as for me, the Moffat's quote about his BBC Sherlock fits very well: ..when he saw her, he thought: "Maybe there can be someone like me?" – but with a slight nuance that Loki himself would like to be someone like that. Like a fighter in spite of and for the good, causing admiration. With some corrections in the form of the absence of a painful childhood, despair and anger.

Then the spring of "Loki's MeUs" begins to unwind, and the essence of it is that he understands her and her feelings, because, although they are different people, they are internally similar. Loki looks at her as if she is a person he has known for a very long time, but not completely. It's like if you met an old childhood friend seven years later: it seems to be the same, but also it seems to be different. It seems that everything is elementary, but there's not enough of a certain number of details.

(He'll realize later that he was missing much more).

So we take the initial interest, add the conditional knowledge of a person, and we get a very specific variation of the trope "from friends to lovers".

This may seem far-fetched, but we have two factors on our hands that are fundamental for this trope. Keep them in your head, but for now, let's applaud the fact that Marvel for the first time figured out how to derive formulas for the logical development of relationships in the shortest possible time. In what way? In the most elementary way: through psychology.

There's such a thing as the stages of the formation of relationships, which includes:

- Falling in love (interest, flirting, rethinking)

- Trust (challenge, joint activity, mutual assistance)

- A sense of kinship (empathy, responsibility, confidence)

- A sense of unity

- Love

In our case, only the first three points are considered, but the third one is with a chip in the form of a final. I should also focus attention on the fact we are not considering love. We are considering a serious crush, which can develop into love, since the latter one is a slightly longer process that still has to go through to the end. And we consider them in extreme (+accelerated by our two fundamental factors) conditions, where our heroes are forced to work together and trust each other in order to survive.

After reviewing the aspects of the three points we have chosen, we can easily draw analogies with the events that happened with Loki and Sylvie.

They are interested in each other, they think that they know each other, they develop in relationships with each other in a completely healthy way. A little faster than in the series for a hundred episodes maybe, but it is conditioned.

Needless to say, this is impossible and illogical: we have the clearest example of love from nowhere in the form of a couple of Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne, who had absolutely no prerequisites to it, but at the same time kissed at the end of the first film. Nothing personal, it's just a fact.

The relations of our "defendants" aren't based on carnal attraction, they didn't immediately break out ready-made due to a rush of adrenaline, they are not one-sided and not abusive. Loki and Sylvie carry about each other, support each other (if it doesn't seem so, then we'll also talk about Sylvie a little later, everything in its own time), plus sympathy and love based on the fact that a person is ready to fight with you and trust you, sounds very appropriate, doesn't it?

And yes, there are similar examples of "love in five minutes" in life, which I've also seen. This is real.

< < < 4 > > >

The fourth thing which also makes me roll my eyes is "Sylvie didn't need relationships at all and she didn't care about Loki."

So let's make a small lyrical digression and think about who Sylvie is.

The Goddess of Mischief? Yep, but far from Loki, which means there's no sense to adjust her to the same classic image. As a child, Sylvie was dragged out of her own world. As a child, Sylvie fled across the time with fear and horror from TVA. Sylvie hid all her conscious life and saw people dying around her over and over again. Sylvie knew that outside of the apocalypses millions are simply dying from the hands of TVA too. She was alone all the time, during all her life she developed anger and hatred for this organization, until revenge for herself and for others became the only meaning of her life.

And here comes Loki.

Another version of the God of Mischief, which forces her to rebuild the plan on the go, in order to still bring it to the end. Frivolous, broken, stucked up Loki. He lazily, automatically puts sticks in her wheels. And then, on Lamentis, he suddenly decides to fight with her and help. After that, he completely trusts her with his life and cares about her own. And it seems to her like some kind of nonsense, like another trick, an invention for personal gain. Sylvie understands the essence of Loki, but she can't perceive him the way he perceives her. She sees in him what she could have become without the intervention of TVA.

But after that rush through the city, after realizing the hopelessness of the situation, when he says he is sorry and he thinks she is amazing, something clicks in her head. No one has ever cared about her (in this regard, she is not like Loki, who had at least Frigga), and now Loki, who knows her only from the archives and her meager life-story, who dragged her into the apocalypse, but also tried his best to help her to get out, just says that he is fascinated.

Sylvie grew up with her own concept of truth and lies: for her, there's only her truth and the eternal deception from the others. And then she thinks: may it be that..?

The thoughts that no one on the entire Timeline needs her, and that she should have recognized the lie, are marinating in her head to the end. Loki is not like the people she has spent her whole life with (he looks more like her, understands more or tries to understand at least; he believes), Loki behaves strangely and worries about her. Sylvie can't believe it (her past affects her completely), but subconsciously she wants someone to really care about her.

And she starts taking care of Loki in return. She comes closer and closer, but at the same time she is ready to turn around and rush back at any moment. Because she's scared. Sophia Di Martino says that for Sylvie, feelings are something new, unknown, and such things always cause fear in people. She tries to deny it, to be ironic, she's waiting for a trick, but doesn't move away.

She's just thinking: "Come on. Betray me. Betray me so that I'll be right again and trust no one anymore."

But Loki doesn't betray her. On the contrary: he recognizes that he cares of her, he tries to protect her with all his might. And that's the moment when Sylvie finally falls in love. That's why she pushes him through the portal to TVA which – the Multiverse is being formed, yay – is the safest place at the time.

Why didn't she give up on killing Kang? Because that was her glorious purpose. Sylvie lived with the revenge and the dream of saving everyone from the dictator and she just couldn't give up all this after the horrors that she experienced in her life. Blood, death and fear – that's what she saw during all these years. But Loki didn't see that so he couldn't understand. That's why Sylvie didn't listen to him.

And if she didn't care about Loki, if she didn't feel anything at all, Sylvie would have killed him the moment her sword was at his neck. She'd killed before – it wouldn't be a problem. But she does care of Loki.

< < < 5 > > >

The fifth and final thing is "These relationships hinder the development of both characters!"

And that's the funniest claim from those who watched the series with their eyes closed.

During the series, Sylvie and Loki are revealed from new sides thanks to their feelings. Caring for others, compassion, responsibility, the very fact of showing love for another person – all this develops them both. The friendship was shown through Mobius. The family has always been represented by Thor, Odin and Frigga. But showrunners wanted to reveal Loki from all sides, decompose him into components and show what he is from the inside in all aspects. And they did it.

Loki, who doesn't care about the fate of the Universe, and who only wants to regain world domination again, turns into a hero who wants to save the whole world. And one more person.

With Sylvie, it's a little more difficult, due to the fact that her life was also more difficult. Her case is more lost. However, in the end we see that such a long-awaited retribution doesn't bring her satisfaction. Because she understands the wrongness of this act, she regrets it and realizes that everything was wrong. But she realizes it too late.

If we had cut Loki out of her life, Sylvie would have killed the Keeper without any guilt, without feeling remorse, because she wouldn't have known that everything could be different, that she might choose another way.

This is what is called character development.

Sophia says both Loki and Sylvie feel the same, they grow together, but at different rates. And by the end of the series, Sylvie is approximately where Loki was after a psychotherapy session with Mobius. But not at the very beginning – that's what's important.

I hope this article has at least a little explained the whole essence of sylki pairing, because surely I'm not Tom and Sophia, who know their characters best. However, trying is something, isn't it?

Thanks for attention ;)

Source: «Это была любовь», или пять причин и пять опровержений ненависти к Sylki

#loki #sylvie #loki x sylvie #loki series #sylki #lovie #lovedaggers #fandom analytics #translation from russian

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mxttellion · 3 years

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is tbatf slander allowed? because i need to get this off my chest:

I hHAAATE IT

especially how selfish they made edd and matt like. AH

we get it!!! green guy likes his coke, ginger likes his face, but there is No Excuse for matt and tom getting their asses beat while edd. completely ignores them over a FUCKING VENDING MACHINE

and then tom gets his ass beat over matt, and matt just. completely ignores tom's existence, let alone edd, and goes "QUEST TO SAVE MY FACE :DDD"

like. no. no! NO!!! your friend got so distressed seeing you hurt that he turned into a monster and tried to protect you, STILL LOST, and. there's not a thank you anywhere??? huh?????? like tom can't be the only good friend out of all of them jfc

not to mention tord's fucking face looks like someone's half grated old dry cheese. tord in general in that was fucking weird i didn't like him

and. the weird fucking thing with his anime girls, like. so many people have said this and it can be summed up to FUCKING GROSS.

last thing, and this may just be me, but all the unnecessary blood and gore??? like eddsworld and cartoons like do have blood and stuff but. tord throwing tom around and the blood flying after him, the whole thing with the clones being torn apart, it's. it's weird to me

anyway tldr tbatf fucking sucks lmao

GO OFF ANON GO OFF I'M HERE FOR THIS SLANDER

BUT ALSO BASED!!! I apologize for the long rant I'm about to do but.

Look, we all love assholes, and the ew gang is just made of 4 bastards who would probably beat eachother up over petty shit, but if we have to APPARENTLY feel something for them and take them seriously, maybe you should write them as likeable assholes? You know, a character you enjoy watching because. They're entertaining? Instead of making them selfish dickheads?

Idk if I can really talk about the ew characters being ooc in general, since let's be real: none of the eddsworld characters have a set personality, they change based on the eras

But at the same time, if you're giving them a specific personality or just fit with the general gist the fanbase has for certain characters (Edd being the "tired dad who still cares for his friends" person, for example), and you expect the audience to understand their actions..... DON'T MAKE THEM GO OOC FFS

If you've established that, in this case (then again I might be wrong since I've never completely read tbatf and I refuse to) Edd looks for his friends even if he might be an ass at times, you can't just have him ignore them literally bleeding to death for whatever reason (was it character development? really lol). If anything, you can still have the gag, but let him go "aw fuck my friends are probably a bit more important than cola"

Tom is either ignored or used for dumb jokes and honestly, good for him, at least he isn't tainted

Does Matt even have some character beside "ahahahahahhahahahhahaha vain ginger says he's pretty"?

And last but not least, Tord is literally a 101 on how to NOT write villains, the fanbase is filled to the brim with better representations of Red Leader lmao

And regarding the gore, it's so unnecessary even for eddsworld, that thing is so weird and makes me uneasy at best

Yeah I don't like this comic either is that clear

#rxplies #out of ew #ew discourse #I'm not gonna tag the name of the comic bc I don't want it to appear in the main tags. But tell me if u need it tagged

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Note

“Stay the night. Please” for pynch? <333

decided to make this an angsty post-trk, pre-epilogue fic, and I’m hoping it doesn’t feel too out of date and you still enjoy ❤️

12. “Stay the night. Please.”

Monmouth felt quiet, even though it was as full as it got. They’d all silently agreed to return to the building together, despite Maura asking them to come back to Fox Way where she could watch over them. Blue had seemed to consider it, but the rest of them were more used to taking care of themselves and each other. She’d seemed to want to go where Gansey went much more, and Gansey wanted to go home.

They all went where Gansey went. It was an even stronger desire now than before.

It might have been the silence that made it feel empty. Gansey and Blue were curled on Gansey’s bed, Blue still clinging tightly to his hand, with Cheng sprawled at their feet. Adam didn’t think he’d ever seen Henry so subdued. It shouldn’t have seemed like the strangest thing about today.

That felt like Ronan, sat at the opposite side of the couch from Adam, as silent and still as he had been that day in the car when grief overcame him, the restlessness tucked down deep and only visible in the depths of his eyes.

Adam had hoped for his presence to offer some quiet comfort, then. Now he was staring at the bruises on Ronan’s neck with fear clogging his own throat.

Maybe it was that they could feel the lack of Noah’s presence in the place he’d so long occupied. His complete absence sucked out a pocket of sound they hadn’t known was ever present and left Adam’s good ear ringing. His limbs felt dead without Cabeswater tickling his veins. The unexpected grief was overwhelming.

He couldn’t imagine how it felt to Ronan.

The only thing overpowering the hurt was the relief. Having Gansey with them felt like a blessing they hadn’t thought to pray for, despite all the warnings they’d had. Just as Blue hadn’t managed to peel away from him, Ronan hadn’t taken his eyes off of him once. Adam understood. He was also waiting for the farce to wear off, for the trick to reveal itself and strip what they had left away from them. They were all supposed to come home, and half of them almost hadn’t.

Half of them, Adam couldn’t stop thinking. Noah, and Gansey, and Ronan, whose life Adam could still feel slipping away beneath his hands. Squeezed out of him by his hands.

Perhaps the building felt so quiet, so still, because Adam’s insides were such a riot that the outside seemed behind glass.

It made Gansey’s interruption startling loud. “This is unusually somber,” he said lightly. They all only watched him. He gave Blue a careful jostle. “Since when have you let me quiet you, Jane?”

Blue cuddled against him and squeezed his hand tightly, and Adam felt a pang of longing as his gaze shot back to Ronan. Ronan’s leg had started jingling. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Blue said, aiming for teasing and landing on tired. “I don’t care how annoying you are today.”

Cheng patted Gansey’s leg, and even his grin seemed to fall flat. “Free pass, Gansey-boy. You’re a lucky man.”

Ronan’s jaw twitched, his usual explosive anger bubbling, ready to destroy to avoid self-destruction. Adam’s hand made an aborted movement towards him that he hoped no one caught.

“Lynch,” Gansey said, painfully gentle. “Help me out. You’re not the quiet type.”

Adam watched Ronan bristle as Cheng snorted, which was admittedly a bold move. “Ah yes, surely Lynch has a way with words.”

It should have earned some very particular words, but instead Ronan stared at them in his stubborn silence, then lurched to his feet and into his room. The door swallowed him with a bang, and Adam jumped in his seat.

Gansey was already edging off his bed, but the movement was sluggish, and he didn’t seem too excited to shake off Blue’s reluctant grip. Adam didn’t pause to think before rising. He told himself he was doing the right thing as Gansey met his gaze and seemed to relax.

I’ve got him, he tried to communicate; though he hardly believed it himself. But Gansey smiled, and his gaze held that unbearable fondness it usually did, and he nodded. A bubble of courage popped in Adam’s chest and left him striding after Ronan.

He didn’t knock, partially because he didn’t want to talk to Ronan through a door with their friends watching and mostly because he knew Ronan wouldn’t answer. He nudged his way in quietly, shutting the door with a click instead of a slam. The only indication that Ronan heard him was a half turn of his head. He was sitting on the far side of his bed with his back to Adam, gently ruffling Chainsaw’s feathers.

Adam lingered by the door, and they remained in a stalemate.

Then Ronan said, “You just come to gawk, Parrish?”

Adam could have teased back, should have, knew it was the best opening for him to take—the only one Ronan would offer. Instead he heard the scratch and scrape of Ronan’s raw tone and blurted, “I’m sorry.”

It was so quiet he wasn’t sure Ronan would hear him, but he whirled around fully and looked at Adam. Adam was surprised to see his defenses dropped down. The lingering panic was visible in him, and he swept his gaze over Adam quickly, as if suddenly needing to make sure he was still in one piece. Then he met Adam’s eyes and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he murmured. He held his hand out; it drooped after a moment as Adam hesitated. Ronan’s previous panic slipped into sadness, and Adam went to him.

Then: the relief.

Ronan latched onto Adam’s hand the moment he was within reach and clung. He caressed with his thumb and squeezed with his fingers and reached out until Adam presented his other hand. Ronan drew the first until they were pressed over his heart, and brought the second to his lips.

Adam shook his head as Ronan kissed his knuckles, filled with disbelief. “You can’t—“ he choked, then made a wretched noise as Ronan kissed the pads of his fingers. “Ronan.”

“I know your hands,” Ronan murmured. “They don’t feel like that did.”

Adam sucked in a breath, then huffed. He wanted to believe they hadn’t touched enough for Ronan to be so sure, because Adam was flinty with his affection and didn’t know how to offer it at the best of times. But for the moment they’d been allowed to share it, Ronan had handled him with such reverence that Adam thought maybe he had been memorized. Who knows how many times Ronan had felt it since, or how long Ronan he’d been waiting to begin with to know what to replicate in his dreams.

It was an odd thought, a prideful one of the vain thread that Adam didn’t frequently have. He’d been doubting himself even more than normal these past few hours, unsure if Ronan would want him any longer, or how he possibly could.

But with Ronan finally looking at him, he felt ridiculous for believing it could be different.

Ronan’s expression smoothed out, as if he could see Adam’s acceptance and allowed himself to relax. But then he was letting go of Adam’s hands, and Adam hurt for the instant it took for Ronan’s arms to wind around his waist.

Adam let himself be pulled, stepping into the space between Ronan’s knees and cradling his head with special care. It took a few minutes of Ronan nuzzling him before he felt brave enough to brush his hands over Ronan’s shorn scalp, trailing them down to his neck then quickly retreating again.

“Adam,” Ronan said.

Adam wound his arms around him, sliding down into a crouch so he could hold Ronan against his shoulder. He let out a breath as Ronan kissed his jaw. “Why’d you run?” Adam asked.

Ronan shrugged, sinking closer.

“He’s okay,” Adam said, quietly.

Ronan nodded. He clutched at Adam’s back. “Are you?” Without looking at him, he could somehow tell Adam had a protest brewing, and reminded him, “It hurt you, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Great. Me too.”

“Ronan.”

“Adam.”

“Be serious.”

“Stay the night. Please.”

Adam froze. He made to pull back, but Ronan held tight, pressing his face to Adam’s neck and resolutely not looking at him. “That’s what I wanted to ask,” Ronan continued quickly. “That’s why I left. Because even fucking Cheng is going to stay because Gansey wants him to and that’s fucking fabulous, and I know you would too. But I don’t—there’s not—“

“I’m here,” Adam said, understanding. He wasn’t as good at this as Ronan, which was saying something, because Ronan was awful. Adam wanted to give him everything. He could start with a little bit of himself. “I want to stay with you.”

Ronan let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah?”

Adam nodded. He didn’t care that Ronan was almost crushing him now. The overpowering strength that should have made him shy away was somehow the most comforting touch Adam had ever felt. All in knowing Ronan was holding on when his senses should have urged him to let go.

“Gansey wants you here more than anything,” Adam added. “He was ready to follow you right away.”

“Maggot and Henry-fucking-Cheng holding him hostage?”

Adam huffed. “No. Well, they might have, but I don’t think he would have let them. But I wanted to come.”

Ronan pulled back to look at him now, and like always, Adam gravitated towards him. Ronan’s touch gentled for their kiss, his hand raising to cradle Adam’s jaw and keep him in place. It was unnecessary now—Adam didn’t want to go anywhere. But he wouldn’t protest Ronan’s touch, not when it was lovely enough to wipe away the terribleness of the day, when it felt like a whisper of Cabeswater against his skin. It made Adam pull Ronan closer, cupping a hand around the back of his neck. He stroked it in silent apology, his chest constricting, and Ronan kissed him harder.

“Stay,” Ronan repeated. It was more than a request for the night.

Adam nodded. “Okay.” They remained there until Adam’s thighs burned and he finally had to draw himself up. He winced as his knees cracked, but didn’t let go of Ronan. “Shall we go back out for a bit?”

Ronan did his smoker’s breath, then nodded. “I’ve done enough sleeping on the floor for you, though, Parrish. They can have their three-way out there, but I have a perfectly fucking good bed.”

Adam’s lips threatened to curve in a grin. “So, the couch—“

“Parrish,” Ronan groaned, face mushed to Adam’s stomach.

Adam laughed. “I’m kidding. Message clearly received.”

Ronan smiled; not his sharp grin, but a small, soft thing, as gentle as the lips he once again pressed to Adam’s hand before rising. “Come on, then.”

He held out his hand, and Adam didn’t hesitate.

Prompt List

#pynch #the raven cycle #trc #my fics #prompts #this is my first time writing for trc as well so i’m very sorry if it’s bad

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

It is @veraverorum ‘s birthday today! So they get a birthday fanfic, because I love them!!

(also on AO3)

It hadn’t been Nie Huaisang’s plan to visit Lan Xichen in seclusion.

But that was the issue, of course. Lan Xichen always interfered with his plans, willingly or not. That stupid man, with his too forgiving heart and his big eyes, his strong shoulders… Nie Huaisang’s entire life would have been much easier if that idiot of a man had been even just a little less handsome.

Not just because of the effect it had on him, Nie Huaisang told himself every time he became angry about it. He was not the only one who had put up with Lan Xichen longer than necessary just because he happened to be handsome when he smiled. Surely the Lans would have realised what a fool their sect leader was, if they hadn’t been blinded by his good looks and his undeserved air of wisdom. And Jin Guangyao either hadn’t been immune, or else he would have gotten rid of the man who forced him to continue pretending he was a paragon of virtue.

Lan Xichen had one great skill, and it was to be so handsome people became as stupid as he was just to get one smile from him.

It wasn’t a bad skill. It certainly was one Nie Huaisang envied on occasions. His own life would have been much easier if he’d had such a talent… but instead, that beauty had been wasted on a man who thought people were mostly good and deserving of second chances.

What a joke.

Nie Huaisang had opened a bottle of Emperor’s Smile when he’d heard that Lan Xichen had entered seclusion, and privately celebrated what he’d thought to be the man’s first wise decision in a lifetime. He’d also celebrated the fact that, now that he was safe from the effect of those kind eyes and strong shoulders, he would regain some degree of control over his traitorous desires.

Perhaps Nie Huaisang too was a fool sometimes. The effect Lan Xichen had on people couldn’t be countered by mere absence, he soon learned. And after only a few months, he found himself missing Lan Xichen’s company.

It was only because of old habits, he told himself at first. After a decade of constant contact through letters and visits, of course he’d grown used to Lan Xichen’s frequent presence, useless as that had been. It would pass with time.

Time passed indeed, but the gnawing coldness in his heart did not, and Nie Huaisang instead found himself longing for Lan Xichen with increasing frequency. Everything reminded him of that man, be it his birds (Lan Xichen had more than once complimented how well trained they were), his favourite painting brush (a present from Lan Xichen. He should have burned it and gotten another, but it was a very good brush), a set of robes (Lan Xichen owned one that matched it), or even the damn sunset (it had been a very pretty one though, and Lan Xichen had a fondness for those).

It took Nie Huaisang a while to understand why his thoughts always returned to Lan Xichen. Partly because he had little time to spare for that problem, busy as he was preparing the return of his sect’s former glory. Then, one evening, in the company of some passable wine and a frankly pathetic novel, Nie Huaisang was hit by a realisation: if he couldn’t stop thinking about Lan Xichen, it might have been because he was in love with the man.

The idea was ridiculous. Repulsive, almost.

Whatever else others might have thought of him, Nie Huaisang knew his own value. He had proven himself to be smarter and more cunning than anyone else in his generation. His appearance was also above average, even if he’d looked rather awkward before puberty worked its magic, meaning he’d been left out when that stupid list of bachelors had been created. His cultivation was on the lower side, but only compared to some of his most talented peers. In fact, Wei Wuxian in his current body had a much worse level than him, and would remain that way until Lan Wangji had fucked a golden core into him. Then, there was the matter of Nie Huaisang’s other accomplishments, which were many: he had perfect mastery of the six arts, he’d learned to be politically astute, his taste was excellent in all things.

Almost all things.

Apparently, when it came to men, his tastes were shit. After all Lan Xichen had nothing to commend himself except a pretty face, a pleasing body, and a charming smile. Certainly he had also once been a very accomplished young man, but the burden of leading Gusu Lan had not left him a lot of time to continue improving his mind, and he wasn’t quite as interesting a person to chat with as he’d been.

Lan Xichen was a man one might have taken a fancy to, a man perfectly fine to fantasise about, perhaps even to fuck once or twice for the novelty of it if he could be convinced, but that was it. Only a fool would have fallen in love with such a person, and Nie Huaisang wasn’t a fool.

He refused to be one.

So he took that unpleasant realisation and set out to destroy any unnecessary emotions. He tried, at first, to simply stop thinking about Lan Xichen. A vain effort, he soon realised: the more he wanted to avoid that topic, the more his mind lingered back onto it. Nie Huaisang thus decided another approach was necessary, and started working on a detailed list of all of Lan Xichen’s faults.

The list was lengthy enough. Lan Xichen was a fool, he was blind to the fault of others (a kind heart), lacked judgement (trusting), had horrible taste in friends (Nie Huaisang was hardly better), he was weak willed (but only on personal matters), too forgiving (and yet he had killed Jin Guangyao in the end)...

The list was a mistake. It did nothing to reduce Nie Huaisang’s feelings, and only ended up highlighting those qualities of Lan Xichen he disliked thinking about, since they ruined his comforting image of the man as a complete idiot.

Briefly, Nie Huaisang considered looking for a different lover. For a wife even, if it came to that. The idea was dismissed as quickly as it came to him. He didn’t feel ready to get married, not until his sect was back to its proper place as a great one, and he certainly felt no inclination toward the concept of having children. He’d rather pass the title of sect leader to some talented cousin or even a no-name disciple who would have proved their value, rather than some brat whose only accomplishment was to have been born and who would feel entitled to power for that reason, regardless of talent.

And as for merely taking a lover… searching for a replacement was too much of a hassle. He’d have to find someone handsome, reliable, trustworthy, capable of putting up with his personality… and at that point, it’d be easier to just seduce Lan Xichen than find another person with those exact same qualities.

Having reached that conclusion, Nie Huaisang accepted the inescapable and started planning a visit to the Cloud Recesses.

It couldn’t be good for Lan Xichen to remain isolated, anyway.

It was surprisingly easy to get into the Cloud Recesses. It helped, of course, that Nie Huaisang had timed his visit carefully, so that Lan Wangji and his too-suspicious husband were away on a Night Hunt when he happened to come by. Those two would have interfered with his plans, while Lan Qiren, even though now aware of his true personality, had some lingering affection for Nie Huaisang. He’d been the old teacher’s worst student for three years in a row after all. That sort of thing created bonds.

Besides, Wei Wuxian’s mild dislike of Nie Huaisang could only serve as a recommendation.

So Lan Qiren welcomed Nie Huaisang with all the honours due to a sect leader. They had tea together and played weiqi while discussing the different problems Nie Huaisang had invented to come there. He had, he realised, missed the Cloud Recesses. The place had an air of careful elegance, an ethereal look to it that contrasted sharply with his own home in the Unclean Realm. Luckily, he would get to enjoy it for more than that single afternoon. In spite of his and Lan Qiren’s efforts, they were not able to solve everything that Nie Huaisang had needed to discuss, so he was invited to stay the night. Nie Huaisang tried to protest, and pretended he couldn’t possibly impose himself that way, when already his visit had been unplanned, but Lan Qiren would hear none of it and had a guest room prepared for him.

Dinner was a pleasant enough affair. The food was plain, and there could be no conversation because of Lan rules, but silence was not an unpleasant thing, and Nie Huaisang had a fondness for Gusu Lan’s tasteless cooking.

After eating, Lan Qiren and him chatted some more. They talked about events of their youth, and about how promising the new generation was. They talked about mistakes they’d rather have avoided, and those they would repeat in a heartbeat. Lan Qiren had always been pleasant to chat with, and that only became more true as Nie Huaisang became older. Then, at last, Lan Qiren had to send his guest to his room, and bid him goodnight. Nie Huaisang answered in kind.

Alone in his guest room, Nie Huaisang sat on the bed and waited. He waited, first, for the bell signaling bedtime. Then for the second one which announced that the curfew had started. After this he waited a little more, just for safety, and left his room.

To make himself as silent as possible, and to give the illusion that he was merely sleeping, should someone enter the room, Nie Huaisang left his boots behind. The gravel of various paths was uncomfortable under his feet, but he’d dealt with more painful things before, and he didn’t stay very long on the path anyway. Having come to this place for so long as a youth, having returned to it so often as an adult, Nie Huaisang prided himself in knowing every shortcut to every part of the Cloud Recesses. It was easy, then, to make his way to the isolated little house where Lan Qiren had mentioned that his nephew had chosen to live for the duration of his seclusion.

There was a light inside the house, the flickering flame of a candle that weakly offered a beacon into the night. Nie Huaisang smiled at the sight, both because his plan would be easier if he didn’t have to wake Lan Xichen, and because being still up was a blatant violation of Lan rules. Having broken one rule, Lan Xichen had to be in a mindset where breaking more might be considered. Encouraged by this, Nie Huaisang knocked on the door.

For a moment there was only silence coming from inside. Then the faint sound of ruffling fabrics, of light steps on a wooden floor, and the door opened to reveal Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen looked much more put together than Nie Huaisang would have expected. It worried him briefly, as a Lan Xichen in full possession of his senses would be harder to seduce. But there was still a certain air to the other man, something in the way his robes were slightly too creased, his hair not tied quite as tight as usual… Lan Xichen wasn’t at his worst (good, Nie Huaisang had no interest in a pity party) but he wasn’t quite at his best either, and that was all that mattered.

So Nie Huaisang put on his silliest smile, and prepared himself for a little game.

“Er-ge! I was here for business and I just thought it’d be nice to say hi!’ he chirped. “I hope you don’t mind? I know you’re in seclusion, but…”

“Stop,” Lan Xichen cut him, his face turning pale.

Nie Huaisang tilted his head and blinked innocently, even going so far as allowing himself a slight pout

“Er-ge? Are you angry that I came? I just thought…”

“If you’re going to play a comedy, then leave,” Lan Xichen said. “I’ve had enough of being lied to.”

Instantly, Nie Huaisang dropped his smile. “Then if I’m honest, will you let me in?”

Lan Xichen hesitated, which once more marked him as a fool to Nie Huaisang. A clever man would have realised nothing good could come of a conversation between them. A clever man would have wondered why Nie Huaisang had felt the need to come to that house in secret at night instead of requesting a meeting through more official channels.

Lan Xichen wasn’t a clever man. He stepped aside and gestured for Nie Huaisang to come inside that little house.

The place wasn’t anything impressive. Furniture was sparse even by Lan standards, though the bed did have a few more blankets than was usual, making it looking almost obscenely comfortable by contrast. There were also many books, some of which were currently being read if bookmarks were to be trusted. No musical instruments though, and no sign of Shuoyue either.

“I can try to make some tea if you’d like,” Lan Xichen offered, inviting Nie Huaisang to sit at his little table. That was where most of the books had been left, as well as writing implements. It appeared Lan Xichen had been taking notes on something, which he now had to put away. “I hope you will forgive me for the mess. I do not get a lot of visitors, and those I do get don’t usually come in.”

“And yet you make an exception for me,” Nie Huaisang replied with a smirk. “Er-ge, how kind of you. But don’t worry about the mess, we both know I’m worse than that.”

“Do I know that?” Lan Xichen sighed as he finished cleaning the table. “I once thought I knew you, I’m not so sure anymore. How much of everything was a lie, Huaisang?”

“Enough of it. But not all. It’s difficult to always lie. Even San-ge must have been honest sometimes, I suppose, though probably not with either of us.”

At the mention of the man he’d killed, Lan Xichen startled and gave Nie Huaisang a pleading look. Pain was a good look on him, Nie Huaisang decided, though he’d probably look even better panting in pleasure.

“I’m sorry, am I not supposed to talk about him?” Nie Huaisang asked with a smile. “But he’s been such a great part of both our lives, I can’t help it.”

“Huaisang, please…”

“You must miss him so much,” Nie Huaisang remarked. “He was your very dear friend, your confidant… though what sort of a confidant, I must now wonder. People have started throwing the word around about Wangji and Wuxian, did you know? So of course it got me thinking…”

“It wasn’t like that,” Lan Xichen objected, hands clenched into fists as he finally sat down opposite his unwanted guest, forgetting all about the tea he’d offered to make. “San-di and I were only…”

“Oh, so it’s San-di now. No more A-Yao?”

Lan Xichen glared. Nie Huaisang smirked.

“Why are you here, Huaisang?” Lan Xichen asked, sounding so tired and old that Nie Huaisang’s heart, if he’d had one, would have ached for him.

“Why do you think I’m here, Er-ge?”

Lan Xichen fell silent, his gaze falling to the table between them.

“I think you want to finish your revenge,” he said at last, meeting Nie Huaisang’s eyes again. “I think you blame me for your brother’s death. I suppose I understand your line of thinking. I gave San-di the means, I pushed for Da-ge to tolerate him much longer than he ever would have… How could you not blame me for what I’ve done?”

“He’d have done it without you,” Nie Huaisang retorted with some amusement. “And if you’d tried to oppose him in any way, he’d have started hating you just as fiercely as he hated Da-ge. He might even have killed you, and wouldn’t that have been a loss? No, believe it or not, I don’t blame you.”

“How low I must have fallen in your esteem, then, if I am not even worthy of blame.”

Without thinking, Nie Huaisang nodded. Lan Xichen was nothing but a pathetic idiot, unworthy of every advantage given to him, of the goodwill the entire world insisted on extending to him, and yet…

And yet Nie Huaisang couldn’t tear his eyes away, and found himself impossibly endeared by this fool of a man who dared to think he was important enough to deserve his hatred, when he was already unworthy of his love.

“Why are you here?” Lan Xichen insisted. “If it isn’t to torture me with guilt or to kill me…”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Nie Huaisang retorted. “A more interesting question, I think, is why did you let me in if you thought I might wish to kill you?”

Distress flashed across Lan Xichen’s perfect face. Nie Huaisang was still only getting used to causing fear in others, and usually enjoyed it. To his surprise, he found Lan Xichen’s terror less pleasant.

“I’ve… missed you,” Lan Xichen confessed, averting his eyes. “Even if there was a chance you had come with ill intentions, I’ve missed talking to you and it felt worth the risk.”

Something warm and sharp exploded inside Nie Huaisang’s chest, delicious and painful all at once. He’d never thought Lan Xichen more stupid than he did in that moment. He’d never been more delighted by that stupidity, either. After everything that had come to pass, after every lie, and deception, Lan Xichen could still miss him.

How pathetic.

How wonderful.

“Er-ge, I am starting to think you have a type,” Nie Huaisang teased, just barely resisting the impulse to reach for the other man’s hair and steal a forceful kiss from him. Just a moment more, just to see how low Lan Xichen might fall before being granted what they clearly both wanted. “I do suppose I have a lot in common with San-ge, hm?”

“I miss him too,” Lan Xichen agreed. It felt like a slap to the face. Nie Huaisang would have struck him, if he hadn’t already known he’d be the more hurt of the two. But before Nie Huaisang’s anger could fester, Lan Xichen continued. “I haven’t missed the two of you in the same way, though. I… was always more fond of you than I ought to have been. I used to think you felt the same. What a fool I was.”

“Indeed you are,” Nie Huaisang said, leaning over the table without thinking. He was glad, suddenly, that Lan Xichen hadn’t gotten around to making tea, because he suddenly decided that he intended to bend that man over the table and fuck him until he begged for mercy.

Fools, after all, needed to be punished so they might learn better, and Nie Huaisang would be more than happy to dole out that punishment, to show Lan Xichen his true place in the world. And then, when Lan Xichen would be at his lowest, filthy and abused and beautiful, Nie Huaisang would show that he could be kind too, when the mood struck him.

“Er-ge, my dear Er-ge… you certainly like being lied to, don’t you?” Nie Huaisang chuckled. “I suppose I could continue lying to you, if it’d make you feel better. Is that something you’d wish for? For sweet, stupid little Huaisang to fawn over you again and get stuttery every time he meets your eyes? I could do it again, quite easily.”

“Huaisang, don’t. I’m ashamed enough to have thought it was real.”

“I’ve told you earlier: it’s impossible to constantly lie, Er-ge. Some of it had to be real.”

Lan Xichen glared at him, eyes shining as if he might cry, hurt and furious at once. Nie Huaisang only smirked at him, and watched as the other man slowly processed what he’d said, and what the context for it had been. Lan Xichen’s glare softened into a frown which shifted into fear before settling on something fragile and hopeful.

It was amazing, Nie Huaisang thought, that any person with Lan Xichen’s life experience could still so easily trust others. He almost envied it. It must have been so easy to go through life like that, refusing to accept that people, as a whole, were nothing but a bunch of selfish assholes. It also made him furious that Lan Xichen had learned so little, that he was so determined to let himself be abused again by whoever his stupid little heart would settle on.

But Nie Huaisang would reward that stupidity well, and take full advantage of a trust he knew he didn’t deserve.

That beautiful imbecile was his now, Nie Huaisang thought as he finally grabbed Lan Xichen by the collar to pull him into a kiss, and what a beautiful reward it was for every crime Nie Huaisang had committed.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes

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