#[ even in your distress; you are perceptive || musings ]

[sasukes-tomathoes]

Dissecting Naruto’s Ending in Good Faith

Let's consider the possibility that Kishimoto's ending was deliberate—that things ended how they should've, and some plots weren't mistakes (looking at you, Kaguya).

Okay, hear me out. By assuming this, we can explore the series with a good-faith reading. Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the series as an adult, and it’s shaken up many of my beliefs and perceptions—it's somewhat distressing, so I’ve been processing all this in therapy too, and coming to key conclusions. I think It's crucial to understand the motivations behind Kishimoto's choices, not just within the Narutoverse but also within the Kishiverse. Why did he make the decisions he did?

Why did he suddenly introduce reincarnations and fate? Aliens? Why the couples that seemingly came out of nowhere? Why doesn't Naruto quite change the system, or help the Hyugas? The final arc, overall, just seemed quite jarring, with some plots (like fate) seemingly subverting the message of the series.

I wonder, then, if Kishimoto's ending shows more of a realistic world rather than an idealized one. Reality often unfolds messily and sadly, devoid of perfect resolutions. Whether intentional or not, Kishimoto's storytelling may reflect his acknowledgment of the imperfect nature of existence. His reality bleeds into his creation, and he's subject to the same harsh realities his characters face.

Fate, Justice, and Change

In this unideal depiction, Naruto and Sasuke's actions are tied to fate rather than free will, Sasuke doesn't achieve his revolution, Naruto doesn't dismantle the shinobi system, and both end up in marriages that seem sudden and unsatisfactory.

If Kishimoto indeed intended this, why? Well, change often takes time, and sometimes change doesn’t even happen at all. People can become tired of fighting for a cause in certain ways, and settle for smaller victories. Relationships may not always align with desires, leading to compromises for convenience.

It's intriguing that Kishimoto explores themes of defying fate while ultimately making Naruto destined to save the world anyway. By making even the protagonists constrained by destiny, Kishimoto echoes historical cycles of rise and fall. Perhaps there's something inevitable about human love and hatred. We can begin to see Kishimoto's philosophical musings on how the universe came to be—the First Cause theory, that there's a divine Creator behind the universe. Or, perhaps, no matter the circumstances or our destinies, we must try to make our own decisions.

And, Sasuke's lack of revolution may not be a complete surrender. He doesn't fully support the system, remaining detached from the bureaucratic and familial norms by traveling. He pursues justice by roaming the world as a vagabond, championing justice as a vigilante. Sasuke has never been one to adhere strictly to Konoha's rules; he eschews the headband and prioritizes loyalty to his morals and loved ones. His rebellion does not manifest as he initially envisioned because his youthful idealism inevitably wanes. But this doesn’t take away from his fight, because Kishimoto portrays him as insightful and intelligent, showing that Sasuke can recognize the pragmatic benefits of partial conformity. He forever remains committed to his pursuit of justice by traveling and aiding others. Thus, his true surrender lies in acknowledging that he can be loved without compromising his strength, refuting the notion of love as a weakness.

As for Naruto, he isn't ignorant—he does comprehend the situation fully, sharing a deep understanding with Sasuke that transcends words (“I know your heart, and you mine” telepathic conversations). While it doesn't seem like much has changed, the events in Boruto unfold merely two decades after Naruto's era, a short span in historical terms. Significant societal transformations typically require centuries, not mere decades. Nevertheless, Naruto succeeds in establishing an era of peace, which Kishimoto shows through the relatively low stakes in Boruto. And when there are threats, they often manifest on a cosmic scale involving gods and extraterrestrial beings. While Naruto and Sasuke have brokered peace among nations, they acknowledge the inevitability of conflicts and warfare. Naruto's focus shifts towards fortifying the system itself, striving for safety within the constraints of reality.

Unexpected and Reluctant Couples

To thoroughly analyze the series, we must also examine the role of romance, as Kishimoto's introduction of romantic pairings significantly impacts plot themes, character development, and motivations. Whether we embrace it or not, these pairings alter the essence of characters in ways previously unseen.

In the canon material (manga and anime main story only), Sasuke and Naruto exhibit no romantic interest in Sakura and Hinata throughout the series. In fact, neither actively pursues romance in general. Sasuke states as such to Kakashi, and Naruto tells Jiraiya he’s not interested in girls. While Naruto initially does have feelings for Sakura, he eventually relinquishes them. Both protagonists prioritize their ideological missions above all else, with exceptions made for their friendship with each other. Sasuke, for instance, abandons his vendetta against Itachi when he sacrifices himself for Naruto in the Land of Waves, while Naruto is willing to forsake his dream of becoming Hokage to die to save Sasuke from loneliness and hatred.

So, how does Kishimoto portray their eventual marriages? Sakura pursues Sasuke persistently, repeatedly confessing her feelings until he ultimately relents and agrees to a family life with her. Meanwhile, Naruto displays no romantic interest in Hinata, even disregarding her confession during the battle with Pain. When he eventually marries her and starts a family, it feels contrived and dispassionate, a jarring image contrasting the boisterous Naruto we know. These relationships seem to emerge out of duty and resignation rather than genuine affection. Both Sasuke and Naruto appear worn down by their wives' persistence, leading them to reluctantly accept their marriages.

These couples have sparked considerable debate within the fandom, and rightly so, because they are not healthy or truly romantic relationships; rather, the depiction reflects the harsh realities of many real-life relationships. Kishimoto portrays Naruto and Sasuke's marriages with little prior development; perhaps a deliberate narrative choice rather than an oversight, highlighting their dissatisfaction through their roles as absentee fathers.

And in terms of specifics, Naruto's marriage seems to revolve more around Hinata than anything else. Consider this: why is Naruto portrayed as uncharacteristically serious and subdued when interacting with Hinata? Even during the pivotal moment when he finally confesses his love to her, his demeanor remains stoic and solemn. Where is the goofy and expressive Naruto we know and love? Additionally, why does Kishimoto include comments from other characters urging Naruto to "treat her well"? Because Naruto's marriage is not primarily about him; Hinata simply happened to be there, and it’s his duty to follow up on that.

And for Sasuke, why do we see panels like the family dinner in Boruto where Sasuke appears utterly miserable? Why is Sasuke never around? Why didn’t Kishimoto even give them a kiss scene? Why does Sasuke mostly display emotions when he's engaged in combat or interacting with Naruto? It's because Sasuke finds purpose and vitality in fighting for his beliefs, and Naruto is the only character depicted by Kishimoto who truly understands Sasuke's innermost thoughts and feelings. Sakura doesn't get Sasuke's essence. Isn't a marriage supposed to be built on true understanding, and progression?

One way we can see it is, Kishimoto, as an artist, is deliberate with his drawings, and these details are not mistakes. Canonically, both Sasuke and Naruto are depicted as tired or subdued in their relationships. Despite Kishimoto drawing them blushing in various situations before, neither of them ever exhibits such reactions when interacting with their wives. This deliberate choice by Kishimoto, despite them being his beloved main characters, shows that Sasuke and Naruto are not in love with Sakura and Hinata.

Love and (lack of) Romance

Sasuke and Naruto are not portrayed as romantic individuals; rather, they are depicted as traumatized fighters and idealists driven by a desire to change the world.

Kishimoto remains true to this characterization throughout the series, extending into Boruto. While Naruto is largely a series about love, it's not focused on romantic love. Instead, it delves into the concept of transcendent love and optimism amidst adversity, encompassing love found in seeking revenge, striving to change the world, and fostering bonds of friendship and loyalty. The relationship between Naruto and Sasuke is the one Kishimoto gives the most development to in the series, and embodies nuances of love, rivalry, loyalty, and compromise. This love isn’t necessarily romantic, but it can also be anything because it is transcendent love. This part is up to you to decide and I believe doesn’t take away from their story either way.

Another question that arises is, does Kishimoto really just suck at writing romance? Well, not really. He’s demonstrated his ability to craft compelling romances, such as those between Minato and Kushina, and Asuma and Kurenai. However, he chose not to apply this to Naruto and Hinata or Sasuke and Sakura. Although, he does show that Sasuke cares for Karin at one point, even awakening a new power for her, but takes it back as their relationship ultimately falls victim to Sasuke's madness at the time (although I believe this relationship, along with Naruto x Sasuke, can tentatively be argued for, but I digress for now).

These decisions reflect 1) the fact that Naruto and Sasuke's characters are not about romantic love; their goals and convictions for justice are prioritized above all else 2) Hinata and Sakura are not The Ones for them. Thus, their seemingly unhappy relationships serve as a reflection of their de-prioritization of romantic love in favor of their greater missions.

Further, realistically, people don't always end up with their ideal partners. Many people settle in relationships because they desire families or because they are pursued by others, rather than actively seeking out their soulmates. Kishimoto chooses to depict Naruto and Sasuke with a lack of emotional expression with their respective spouses. Even in the presence of their own children, Naruto and Sasuke are not depicted with joyful expressions, suggesting a lack of fulfillment in their familial roles.

The Whitepill

Ultimately, the way things turned out seems disheartening at first because shows are meant to inspire and provide an escape from reality. Throughout the series, Kishimoto led us to believe in the possibility of an ideal ending, where change is attainable and love conquers all.

But, Kishimoto's decision to depict Naruto and Sasuke's inability to achieve 100% of what we desire is, in fact, profound. The truth is, we can't always get exactly what we want, but we can make small compromises and strive for justice in whatever ways we can. This struggle is something humanity has faced throughout its history. Our world is far from ideal. But, we are still able to achieve bits of justice in ways we can; we get just enough to keep us going, to leave us with the thirst for more.

Naruto and Sasuke's best efforts serve as inspiration for us to take up the mantle and continue the fight.

Perhaps Kishimoto portrays Sasuke's surrender not because he believes Naruto is unequivocally right, but because Sasuke wants to choose love, and is inherently kind and idealistic. He cares deeply about his friend and desires to see positive change in the world. Sasuke's journey leads him to become a protector of not just Konoha, but all villages, reflecting his compassion for people everywhere.

Similarly, Kishimoto may depict Naruto continuing on as part of the existing system not because Naruto is complacent, but because he's someone who seeks to work within established frameworks rather than tearing them down completely. This approach doesn't diminish Naruto's convictions or his commitment to change; rather, it reflects his pragmatic approach to achieving his goals while minimizing disruption

Ideal World and Optimism

Despite this, Naruto’s ending does not really make sense in an ideal world. In an ideal world, there would be a more perfect compromise, we wouldn't be bound by our fate, and the oppressive shinobi system would be dismantled. Naruto and Sasuke would have more time to heal and explore the world alone, and eventually find fulfillment in their love lives; Sasuke would find someone who truly understands him, while Naruto would enjoy a relationship where he can be his true, expressive self. Sakura would be able to move past her childhood infatuation and grow personally, while Hinata would gain confidence and develop her own identity.

Therefore, reading from a purely Narutoverse standpoint, the issues I mentioned do, in fact, undermine the themes and relationships built over the course of the narrative. Maybe Kishimoto fumbled after all, and Boruto sucks, and is simply a cash grab. Or, he intentionally wanted to troll us—suddenly breaking all conventional storytelling rules is suspicious, right? But, there are many influences that led to this, and Kishimoto's mindscape and reality surely play a vital role.

Regardless, Kishimoto's big mistake is being too subtle and abrupt in introducing the new concepts at the end. However, in doing so, he has successfully sparked ongoing disagreement and discourse that persists even a decade after the series concluded.

In this sense, he has effectively brought attention to the messages: make love, not war; seek change, not complacency; and find The One, don’t settle. And even if I’m wrong in everything and this whole essay is just a copium, it's a lot better to believe in my ideals than to accept defeat. Because, Naruto taught me one invaluable lesson—no matter the odds, never give up.

#thoughts #I finally broke and wrote down all my thoughts #naruto meta #meta #naruto #sasuke #konoha #naruto ending #naruto analysis #essay #naruto essay #pro sasuke #pro naruto #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina #media analysis #writing #mine #op #my essays

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 90 🔞

Prompt: Continuation of Days 88 & 89

Tags: Cheating. Y’all know how much I eat this trope up by now. Sorry not sorry. Also degradation kink.

Juyeon was shocked. Hyunjae had actually left. He’d possibly accused Juyeon of cheating on him with Eric. Before he knew what was happening, Juyeon found himself walking to Eric’s room. He didn’t even knock when he got there. He simply let himself in and got in bed next to the younger man. Waking Eric up was a Herculean task. Unless, of course, he sensed his favorite hyung in distress.

”What’s the matter?” He mumbled, still mostly asleep.

”Hyunjae and I got into a fight,” Juyeon replied, cuddling up behind Eric.

”About?” Eric grunted, wrapping Juyeon’s arms around his waist.

”You,” Juyeon replied after a protracted silence.

”Me?” Suddenly Eric was wide awake.

“He accused me of cheating on him with you,” Juyeon told him.

”But we’ve never done anything. I mean, we’ve cuddled, but that’s not cheating. Right?” Eric rolled over to look at Juyeon.

”Not to me. It’s not like we’ve kissed or gone beyond that,” Juyeon said.

”Gone beyond that? You can say fucked around,” Eric grinned.

”Shut up,” Juyeon slapped Eric’s shoulder. The younger man laughed. Even though Juyeon could barely see him in the dark, he knew he looked beautiful when he laughed. If you could call a guy beautiful, that is. “No, we’ve never done anything beyond cuddling unless I blacked out and forgot about it.”

”If you did then so did I,” Eric replied. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m not interested in that, but you’re with someone so I haven’t gone there.”

Juyeon wasn’t sure he’d heard Eric correctly.

”You what?” He asked.

”I’m not saying that I’m not interested in fucking around, but you’re with someone so I keep it PG and underwear on. If you weren’t with someone that would be a whole different scenario,” Eric admitted.

”And Hyunjae?” Juyeon swallowed the lump in his throat.

”I love him like a brother. I’m not interested in getting in his pants,” Eric replied easily.

“And my pants?” Juyeon knew the answer already, but part of him needed to hear Eric say it.

”I’m very interested in getting into,” he replied. “And unless I’ve misread some things, you’re interested in getting into mine, too.”

”Yes,” Juyeon squeaked.

”Hyunjae always was perceptive,” Eric said, rolling on his back and pulling Juyeon on top of him. Juyeon whined, a high note coming from the back of his throat.

”Fuck it,” Juyeon crashed their lips together and Eric didn’t stop him. He let his jaw fall open and Juyeon’s tongue began to explore the inside of his mouth. Eric bucked his hips, rubbing their clothed cocks together. Juyeon could feel himself getting harder by the second.

“Is this what it’s like with Hyunjae? You come before you can even get all your clothes off?” Eric asked when Juyeon began kissing down his neck to his collarbones. No marks was probably the worst part of their job.

“No, nothing like this at all,” Juyeon panted.

”Good,” Eric sounded smug. He had every right to be. There was no one else who could get Juyeon this riled up with only a few words.

”I might end up coming,” Juyeon admitted, trying desperately to not bite Eric’s very enticing collarbones.

”How embarrassing for you. First time cheating on your boyfriend and you can’t even hold it until you get your underwear off. I won’t tell, though. I might spoil comebacks, but this will be our little secret,” Eric replied as Juyeon rutted his hips against Eric’s and whimpered.

First time.

“Touch me. Please,” Juyeon panted.

“Where? You’re going to have to be more specific, Juyeonie. Very, very specific,” Eric taunted, his fingers knotted in Juyeon’s hair.

”Finger me. I need your fingers in my ass,” Juyeon was on the verge of begging.

”Not what I thought you’d ask for. Interesting,” Eric mused. He was able to open the dresser drawer and get a mostly empty bottle of lube out. Eric quickly lubed up two of his fingers and slid them down the back of Juyeon’s underwear. He teased Juyeon’s hole as the older man mouthed desperately at Eric’s neck.

“In me. Now. Please,” Juyeon begged. All his self respect was gone. He needed this. Eric slid two fingers between Juyeon’s cheeks then into him. Juyeon’s body gave instantly.

“Did Hyunjae fuck you before you came in here?” Eric asked.

“I top,” Juyeon replied, wiggling his hips to get more of Eric’s fingers in him.

“So you just want me that bad?” Eric complied and pushed his fingers in further, teasing Juyeon’s prostate in the process.

“Yes,” Juyeon straddled Eric and began kissing him again. “I can take more.”

“Think you can take four?” Eric asked.

“Won’t know until you try,” Juyeon replied between kisses. Eric pushed in two more fingers and wasted no time finding Juyeon’s most sensitive spots.

“I’m gonna make you come in your underwear like the desperate whore you are. Then you’ll have to either risk being seen coming out of my room or sleep in your own come. Personally, I don’t want you spooning me in come soaked bottoms,” Eric hissed as he massaged Juyeon’s prostate.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Juyeon whined.

“Sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it? Not my fault your slut cock can’t hold it,” the younger man continued. He pressed down and Juyeon came, wetting Eric’s torso in the process. Juyeon had a death grip on the pillow and buried his face in Eric’s neck to muffle his curses and moans. When he finished, Eric smoothly removed his fingers and wiped them on Juyeon’s underwear.

“Well?” Eric prompted.

“I need to break up with Hyunjae,” Juyeon looked over at Eric.

“Yes, I think you do,” Eric agreed.

#just fucking write 2k24 #minors dni #the boyz fanfic #the boyz smut #the boyz juric #juyeon x eric

[pretty-little-candid-blurbs]

Moonlit Comfort

Summary: When the weight of a bad day becomes too much for the reader, Remus Lupin is there to provide comfort and solace under the moonlit sky.

Word Count: Approx. 2,200

Warning: Fluff and some emotional distress

The dark clouds hung heavy in the sky as you trudged back to the Gryffindor common room, your spirits dampened by the rain that mirrored your gloomy mood. It had been a terrible day – a disastrous Potions class, a misunderstanding with your friends, and a stack of assignments that seemed insurmountable. You longed for the comfort of your own bed, away from the prying eyes of the world.

Upon entering the common room, you spotted a familiar face sitting by the fireplace. Remus Lupin was engrossed in a thick book, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite your desire for solitude, something about his presence drew you in.

As you walked past him, trying to be inconspicuous, he looked up and caught your eye. Remus was always perceptive, and he could tell immediately that something was wrong.

"Hey," he called out softly, his voice gentle and comforting. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated for a moment before sighing and sinking into the chair across from him. "Not really, Remus. It's been a dreadful day."

A concerned expression crossed Remus's face as he closed the book and moved closer to you. "Do you want to talk about it?"

And so, you poured out your frustrations and disappointments, unloading the burden that had been weighing on your shoulders all day. Remus listened attentively, nodding at the right moments and offering words of sympathy.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that," he said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You know, sometimes, the worst days bring out the best in us. You'll get through this, I promise."

His words were like a soothing balm to your weary soul, and you felt a glimmer of hope returning. "Thank you, Remus. It means a lot to have someone to talk to."

"Anytime," he replied with a warm smile. "And remember, I'm here for you, no matter what."

As the evening wore on, the common room began to fill with other students, and the atmosphere became lively. However, you found comfort in the presence of Remus, and you were grateful for the respite he provided from your difficult day.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Remus suggested, his eyes twinkling. "The full moon is shining tonight. It might do us some good to get some fresh air."

You hesitated for a moment, but the idea of strolling under the moonlit sky with Remus sounded like a much-needed distraction. "Sure, that sounds nice."

The two of you stepped out into the cool night air, the clouds having cleared to reveal the full moon shining brightly above. Remus led the way, and you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally.

As you walked, Remus shared stories about the moon and its mysteries, weaving tales of magic and wonder that captured your imagination. His soft-spoken words seemed to have a calming effect on you, and you felt your worries slowly fading away.

"It's amazing how the moon can have such an effect on people," Remus mused. "The same moon that brightens our darkest nights also holds secrets and untold wonders."

You nodded in agreement, appreciating the simple beauty of the night. The two of you continued walking in comfortable silence, the moonlight guiding your path.

As you approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, you noticed a patch of moonflowers blooming amidst the underbrush. Their ethereal glow bathed the area in a soft light, adding to the enchantment of the moment.

"Look at that," Remus whispered, pointing to the moonflowers. "They only bloom under the light of the full moon."

"It's beautiful," you replied, feeling a sense of awe at the sight. "Thank you for bringing me here, Remus."

Remus smiled warmly. "I thought you might appreciate it. Sometimes, nature has a way of reminding us that there is beauty even in the darkest times."

The moment felt magical, and you found yourself drawn to Remus. As if sensing your emotions, he turned to face you, his amber eyes searching yours.

"You're a remarkable person, you know," he said softly. "Even on your worst days, you manage to find strength and resilience. It's inspiring."

You blushed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. "Thank you, Remus. You're pretty remarkable yourself."

Remus chuckled, the sound melodic and soothing. "I'm glad I could be here for you. We all have bad days, but it's important to remember that we're not alone."

In that moment, the connection between you and Remus felt stronger than ever. The moonlit night seemed to amplify your feelings, and you found yourself leaning in, unable to resist the pull.

His lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss, and it felt like a promise of comfort and understanding. Remus's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you felt a sense of safety and warmth enveloping you.

As you broke apart, you smiled at each other, the moonlight dancing in your eyes. There were no grand declarations, no elaborate confessions - just the unspoken knowledge that you were there for each other, no matter what.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the castle, hearts full of newfound comfort and hope. The bad day had not vanished, but in the presence of Remus and the magic of the moonlit night, it felt manageable.

And so, under the moon's gentle gaze, your bond with Remus Lupin deepened, and you knew that in each other's company, you could weather any storm that life threw your way.

#remus lupin fluff #remus john lupin #remus j lupin #remus #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus x sad!reader

[writingonesdreams]

And the bridge is love

Summary: Skye, Hal, Zephyr, Leander and Kieran go for a trip for a telepathic link exercise. Set somewhere in the 2nd arc. If you ever wondered what the ability to read each other's thoughts would do to friendships, here is your answer. A fluffy scene.

What better way to train telepathic connection on long distances and discipline and attention of the mind, then going to a crowded place, with a lot of impulses overflooding the senses?

It was Skye's idea how to get everyone involved, because Hal doesn't do impractical things, Leander doesn't do things with Hal, Zephyr doesn't leave his students and Skye rarely steps down from the flying islands to where normal people live.

The more people the more trouble, if you asked her.

That's how it happened they were trying a very unusual constellation today. Leander and Zephyr took Hal shopping, while Skye was taking a walk with Kieran.

It was an easy exercise to do for Skye. The blazing sun, the chaotic crowds, even the pretty sights of the ancient theater on the beautiful square weren't enough to weaken her connection to Hal. His distress at being outside the islands only enhanced his distress at being around people, not to mention the new rawness at being exposed and around so much noise and movement.

Hal was out of his element, which was good, because it was rare. She also felt sorry for him, because this absolutely mundane thing, this thing people called trips and did for fun, was such a dreadful endeavor for him, making his skin crawl.

The difference was, everyone could see that today. The connection in their minds worked for all five of them, so at any time they could sense what all the other were doing and were supposed to be able to zoom in on anyone in particular.

Skye kept focusing on Hal for his anxiety and fear, but she also felt his cold determined will to not let his distress show in his expression, while not clamping his mind shut from the connection.

Because today all of them could feel how much it cost him each day to act like he felt nothing.

Skye could feel this realization hitting Leander as he inspected all the shirts and tops from the shop, as he touched the fabric and checked the composition. Leander who wasn't used to stress of any kind, whose state of mind was the closest to flegmaric she ever encountered. If his carefree mask ever angered her, it was gone now with the sight into his mind - he genuinely didn't feel any concerns. Free, sunny, lazy, playful. That was Leander's mind.

Hal's feelings, all the thoughts and processes and contradictions running through the god's mind confused the blond dragonknight. Flood of threads, colourful and taunt, pulling in all directions.

Zephyr's mind was curious and open. When she brushed against it, she felt the openness, the perception upped to maximum, as he was trying to sense and take in everything around him, especially Hal's state.

She was pulled away from the scene at the shop by Kieran squeezing her hand. He looked at her shyly, despite his height towering over her head and pulled her closer as they faced a big group of tourists coming from the market ahead of them.

This was her problem in turn. Holding a telepathic connection in the crowd was easy, but staying present in the moment was not. Kieran had to actively distract her from her thoughts, bringing her to the market with the souvenirs, buying her a rose shaped ice cream, holding her hand.

Kieran's mind was hard to describe. Fragmented, like it was made of mosaic pieces he didn't find a way to fit together yet. He wasn't sure what he felt, which was a confusing state for her, but so natural to him, it didn't cause him any discomfort.

Not in this moment at least.

His curly black hair was rebellious peaking out from the hat she bought him with the city's name on it. She was so gigglingly happy he wore it, and he could see it, which was even more embarrassing.

Kieran thought she was this powerful unapproachable muse, wandering the castle's towers with books and dreamy looks in her eye and it was disconcerting seeing herself from his eyes, even if she could understand where he was coming from.

She didn't do one on one training with students, her lessons consisting of pretty one-sided lectures. She invited discussion, cherished it, but Kieran was too unused to talking, to participating, to interacting with anything if not forced to. Talking in big groups was his worst nightmare.

He always watched her only from the distance, an unreachable ideal, a puzzling power, authority known for her mind.

Yet here she was, trying to just be a human, a girl he could grab by the arm and drag through the crowds not to lose. Being so close to him, feeling the tight grip, realizing the effects of all the physical training shown in his muscular eyes also gave her a different impression. Physical world just revealed people in a different light, different dimension. He wasn't a name on the list, a spot in the class, a boy Zephyr liked to talk about. He was a person, a strong man, a shy kid, a ripped jeans jacket and a white sneakers. 18 years old, a supposed adult, in some ways too mature for his years, in others alarmingly lacking in nourishment and gentleness.

It was funny, with all the mightiness of his step and pride in his muscles, to see him blush, when he she squeezed his hand back. She smiled, and then clung to his arm with both hands like a coala. His mind erupted into confused panic and endearing joy.

A weirdly protective wave for him washed over her then.

They headed back to the square, Kieran leading the way through the mass of bodies, making space for her. She touched his mind in thankful appreciative stroke, and he just looked down, hiding under the hat and kept pushing on.

Skye was going to make him used to this, this closeness and affection, uprompted touches, uncalled snuggling. His ears were burning red as he registered her thoughts.

They found the others in the shades of the park on the square with the theather. Hal wore a brand new oversized white shirt, but for his paleness looked like a ghost. It suited him though, being out of his black coat. It was a big step for him, big exception he was doing today, not wearing it.

Leander's brows were drawn together and he kept rubbing his hands, like he was cold listening to Hal's conflicted emotions all afternoon. Zephyr looked relaxed, but turned into her direction, expecting her arrival.

All three boys stared at her hanging off Kieran's arm in surprisingly childish way. She send her sharpened goal to affectionate Kieran their way like an arrow, which made Leander just stare more while Hal shook his head. Something like a smile played on his lips.

Leander then stared at him for a change, never seeing him smile before.

Zephyr looked approvingly, no sign of jealousy from what she could detect. She still disconnected from Kieran and nestled with her back against his chest. His hands wrapped around her automatically.

The charm of being near Zephyr was the calmness that immediately settled over her. She felt the curiosity of others, directing their attention to what the pair would say or feel for each other, but there was nothing but peace.

Because when Zephyr was near, she couldn't focus on anything else. Reaching into his mind, obvious and inpecting, she found nothing but his sight directed at her, concentrating on the spot where her hair tickled his chin. She could see herself through his eyes, and the adoration took her breath.

Impulsively, she turned to place a quick kiss on the side of his mouth. He jumped in surprise at her unusual initiation of affection, and then tightened his grip on her. Their noses touched as she put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

She should do this more often.

Better to stop at the best, she wiggled herself gently from his arms to latch onto Kieran again. Leander rolled his eyes, but even he couldn't resist her dazzling smile, she could see it plainly in their connection. The blond then put his arm lazily around Zephyr, squeezing him possessively before extending the other to drag in Hal as well. The black eyed boy looked startled and alarmed, before settling into the half-hug, his distress morphing into curiosity at the new situation.

They spend the day doing wonderful stuff. Leander tried out all the sunglasses at every stand. Hal bought like twenty postcards that look like paintings. Zephyr got a matching ying yang necklace for the both of them from a small souvenir shop and it was the cutest thing she had ever seen. She wore the black and he wore the white half and she kept hugging him too much that day.

They should definitely do this more often.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #creative writing #my writing #writing fluff #wip: tears of iron

[carvemyownpath]

" Because by then there was blood in your mouth. "

Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous.

#[ even in your distress; you are perceptive || musings ]

[therenlover]

Red Nights In Jupiter (A Jimmy Darling/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Tags: Cuddling, Prostitution, Wound Care, Hurt/Comfort, Referenced Past Non-Con (it’s not Jimmy, don’t worry), Implied Sexual Content/Innuendo

Rating: 16+

Warnings*: Mentioned Police Officer Abusing Their Power, Referenced Non-Con, Jimmy Drinks A Beer, Non-Graphic Wound Care 

Word Count: 3000~

* - This fic includes a reader who is a prostitute and has recently been taken advantage of by a police officer in exchange for not going to jail. There are no graphic scenes and it's mentioned only a couple of times in passing, but the ending portion of the fic is Jimmy helping the reader recover from wounds (just bruises/scratches) they got during the incident. If this is potentially triggering, please steer clear!

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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“How did the show go tonight?” You mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

“It wasn’t anything special,” Jimmy responded as you spit, “some dumb kids snuck in a couple of rotten tomatoes but their aim was shit. Nobody got hit, so I’ll consider it a success,”

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder over the tiny kitchen sink in his trailer, clumsily going through the motions to wind down from an exhausting day. Outside the sky was a deep red. The last of the sun’s dying light shimmered over the ferris wheel as it made its last run, cutting through the muggy Jupiter air. In the last weeks of July, everything was sweltering. Even the walls of the little trailer were hot enough to leave a burn in the full heat of the noontime sun. Thankfully for you, as the sun receded so did the worst of the scalding heat, leaving behind a hot, wet, and thick fog over the nighttime landscape.

Jimmy finished washing his face while you rinsed your toothbrush. “Elsa and I were thinking that maybe, in the next couple ‘a years, we should invest in another ride. Not a ‘coaster, nothing huge, just something other than the ferris wheel that would keep the kids busy while their parents watch the show,” As he spoke, he wet a washcloth under the tap before wringing it out and tossing it over his shoulders. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think-” you held your tongue, your biting reply dissolving into bitter acid in your mouth, “I think that if that’s what’s best for the show, we should start investing sooner rather than later. It’s always best to be prepared so we can figure it into the budget ASAP,” With a practiced hand you bundled up your toiletries and tucked them away in the drawer. The shake in your tired digits was barely perceptible in the dimly lit room. What was best for the troupe was what was best for you. Still, you couldn’t help but sneak a gaze at the half-full mason jar sitting on the counter by the door.

“You sure?” Jimmy asked. He was down in the mini-fridge now, pulling out a can of some cheap beer. You closed your eyes and offered a curt nod. There was no need to argue over an impossible dream. If Elsa wanted a new ride, she would get a new ride.

“I’m sure, Jimmy. I’m just tired,”

Thankfully, he accepted your excuse with a shrug, settling in at the pull-down table. “Whatever you say, sweet thing,” he cooed, “now get over here. I missed you today,”

You gave in to his request easily. After everything you’d been through over the last 12 hours, you weren’t about to turn down a little affection and attention from the man you loved. Your sunburnt shoulders stung as you clambered into Jimmy’s arms and allowed your face to settle into his sweet, sweaty embrace. His heart thudded under your ear, a steady quarter-note rhythm guiding your own soaring staccato down to normalcy.

Somewhere out in the field, probably in one of the other rusted-out trailers where your friends were settling down in their own nighttime routines, a radio buzzed to life. The sweet sounds of Paul Anka crooning his newest hit loosened your nerves. Over your shoulder, Jimmy took a long swig from his can.

“How was work?” you whispered. Jimmy set down his drink with a little more force than usual. One of his fused hands found its way into his hair. You both knew you weren’t asking about the show.

“I didn’t make much today, but I’m almost fully booked for Thursday. That’s the last party until next week unless the ladies want to throw something after church on Sunday. Wednesday we don’t have a show, so I’m all yours,”

His voice was tired, a departure from his usual confidence. This wasn’t Jimmy Darling the leader and performer, it was your Jimmy boy, the man who held your broken heart together with his unusual hands. You relished in the vulnerability, letting yourself nuzzle closer to his skin. He smelled like sweat and grease and cheap cologne but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It was him. That’s what mattered.

“I could take Wednesday off, Wednesday is never that busy,” you mused.

“Then we’ll go out on Wednesday,” Jimmy was jovial but not loud, dropping his hand down from his hair to rub abstract patterns into your back above the starchy cotton of your day dress, “I’ll take us down to the beach on my bike and we can have a picnic lunch by the ocean. I know a spot off the road that nobody would ever think to go to, it’s like a private beach we’ll have all to ourselves, and the guy at the deli owes me a favor so I can pick up sandwich stuff for cheap when I run in tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even spend a little extra a grab a bottle of that white wine you like. How does that sound, doll face?”

You hummed out an affirmative, far too deep into your newfound relaxation to form words. Your boneless, half-lucid state made Jimmy laugh. His smile only fell when he found a fresh bruise on your back, making you wince.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, pulling his hand away. You whined at the loss of contact. It was rare for you to have the time to wind down together these days, every second of attention was something to cherish.

“It’s just a bad bruise,”

In an instant, Jimmy had you straddling his lap to face him with your face in his large hands. “Did somebody hurt you?” he asked, running a thumb over your cheek to check for concealer or any small cuts and bruises he might have missed, “‘cause if somebody hit my girl I’m gonna have to show them what’s what. I don’t care if they paid, they don’t get to do that shit to you,”

You couldn’t help but avert your eyes, letting your gaze linger on the veins bulging in Jimmy’s neck instead of his face. It would be too difficult to risk seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “It was a cop, Jimmy. I got busted,”

He groaned. “Those bastards…”

“Thankfully this time he just took what he wanted and let me off with a warning. He’ll be back, though, they always are. I’m sorry, Jimmy, I’m just so tired,” A shudder wracked your shoulders, a silent sob you couldn’t quite choke down. You had to take a minute to remind yourself that you were safe. Jimmy had you. You were tucked away from the world in his arms, and he’d kill someone before he let them do anything to hurt you. Nothing and no one could touch you as long as he was there. When he wasn’t, though…

You gripped his thin, white undershirt a little tighter.

Jimmy was with you, not some stranger who had picked you up off the streets for a little fun. You were at home in your caravan with Jimmy and he was holding you and nothing else mattered. There was no reason to be afraid.

He gritted his teeth. Obviously, your distress wasn’t as invisible as you wished it was. “Don't be sorry, doll, this isn't your fault. You know what? You don’t have to go back out there. There are plenty of other ways we can make the money, sweetheart, just say the word and I’ll make it happen. You never have to deal with them again,”

“But the new ride-”

“To hell with the new ride!” Jimmy was shouting in earnest now, but you weren’t afraid, pushing yourself further into his touch. Part of you liked watching him come to your defense. It was something he would only do for someone he loved, someone who was a part of his family, not just any horny housewife that used him to chase their own desires. “Your safety is so much more important than a new ride a couple years down the line! I’ll go tell Elsa to scrap the idea right now if that means you feel better. You’re the most important thing to me, Y/N. You say jump and I say how high. I’m not gonna force you to do anything, if you choose to keep working I have no right to stand up all high and mighty and tell you not to, but if you do wanna stop… I guess what I��m sayin’ is that I want you to be happy, and if I have to pick up the slack for you to do that then so be it,”

You were cradled against his chest again by the end of his schpiel. Your anxiety wasn’t quite as bad as it had been before, and the newly fallen darkness added a sort of buffer to your feelings. Everything was fuzzier in the dark. In that place past dusk where the problems of the word lost their sharp edges you let yourself abandon everything that scared you during the day. Children were afraid of the things they couldn’t see by moonlight but you relished in the anonymity of the night. Life was much scarier by the light of the sun.

“Thank you, Jimmy, I mean it,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before pulling away from his touch, “but we both know I can’t quit,”

“But doll, I-”

“No buts. I bring in more in a week than the troupe makes in a month, not to mention that I get half the essentials for the mess tent at a discount from customers who are sweet on me. Someday, and that day can’t come soon enough, we’ll have enough saved up to get out of here, but until then we both just have to do whatever we can to make that future a reality,”

Jimmy nodded, draining the last warm dregs from his beer and tossing the empty can into the trash. “I just hate thinkin’ about you standing out there alone while those assholes look at you like a piece of meat,”

“I get by well enough,”

“I know you do, but you can’t blame me for worrying,” In a moment of drowsy bliss, you let a soft yawn escape your lips. Jimmy grinned. “Are you fallin’ asleep on me?”

You offered him a loose, gummy smile. “Maybe a little,”

He was quick to sweep a well-muscled arm up under your knees, lifting you up bridal style. You let out a small shriek of surprise. Jimmy didn’t let that distract him, though, as he carried your wriggling form over to your shared bed before setting you down with a low chuckle. “Now dollface,” he said, pulling off his sweat-damp undershirt and the washcloth that had been resting on his shoulders, “you up for a little bit of the Jimmy Darlin’ magic tonight, or would you rather just cuddle?”

“Can we just cuddle tonight? I’m still sore as hell. That asshole cop had me up against a brick wall and didn’t exactly take the time to lighten up his grip when I started to bruise,”

Jimmy nodded. “I tell you what,” he said, running a fused digit over the top button of your dress, “first let’s get that dress off you, then I can rub on some of that arnica gel we got as a gift from the new girl last month, alright? She said it helps with bruises. Once you’re all taken care of, then we can cuddle,”

“That sounds heavenly,” You smiled up at Jimmy as you unbuttoned the front of your dress, easily sliding out and discarding it as he changed out of his work jeans and into some thin cotton pajama pants. Your bra came off last, and much to your surprise your beau didn’t spend much time ogling you, instead turning quickly to go recover the ointment from the shelf in the bathroom.

From your viewpoint on the bed, Jimmy looked like Adonis. He was always handsome, sure, but you loved how the moonlight hit his bare back, revealing each plane of thick, workers muscle as it caressed his skin. As your eyes fluttered closed, you could almost feel the ghost of his body above yours. The radio across the field was still droning on outside the window. In your bed, watching Jimmy putter around the trailer and listening to the fuzzy music that drifted in from the outside, you felt complete for the first time in a long time. There was only one thing left to do that could make you feel better.

“Jimmy,” you asked, “tell me about the future?”

He turned to you with a sigh, the glass jar of arnica gel in hand, “Doll, I’m no Dr. Seuss...”

“Pleeeease, Jimmy,” you whined, “for me?”

It didn’t take anything more for Jimmy to give in. “How could I ever say no when you ask so nicely,” He sat down at your side on the bed, nudging you to roll onto your stomach and give him access to your bruised and scraped back. As he began his gentle probing of your wounds, he started to talk.

“Once we save up enough money,” he whispered, scooping up some gel from the jar before rubbing it into a particularly tender purple spot, “we’re gonna get out of here. You and Ma and me will find a nice little house somewhere with some land, and we’ll be happy there. When we get there, I’ll find a job somewhere where people won’t gawk at me. I can work construction or grow produce in the yard, and you… you, doll, will finally get to rest. You can stay home with Ma, cook, sew, read; you’ll never have to sell yourself on the streets again,”

You squirmed under his touch. “Now tell me about the kids,”

Jimmy groaned. “Really?”

“They’re the best part!”

“Alright, alright, because you won’t stop buggin’ me I’ll talk about the kids, but next time I’m down and out after a fight you’d better return the favor. I expect you to talk my ear off about all the sinful things I wanna hear while you’re busy holding a steak to my eye,”

You grinned. “Since when have I ever let you down, Mr. Darling?”

“Not once, sweet thing,” he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head before going back to focusing on your flesh, now doing more of a massage on the less marred areas than anything else. “Now where were we?”

“The kids, Jimmy,”

“Oh right, the kids!” You let your eyes drift closed as he spoke, relishing in the feeling of his hands against your skin. Every moment in his arms was heaven. It was a real shame the rest of society didn’t see him the way you did, but it kept any potential competition away, and for that you were grateful. Life without Jimmy would be like baking with no sugar; just plain wrong. “Once we have our own place and the money is coming in, I won’t have to waste my pocket change on rubbers anymore. I’ll get you nice and pregnant and then, after nine months of getting looked after by yours truly, you’ll finally have your own little Darling, yours an’ mine. Won’t that be a sight? A little Jimmy Jr. runnin’ around in the yard, absolutely spoiled rotten by his grandma. I dunno much about bein’ a good dad, but I sure as hell know what not to do. No matter what the child ends up looking like, I’ll be there every step of the way. Who knows, if you and I get real busy we may have a whole brood of Darling children before long,”

You wanted to offer up some sort of placation, a witty reply, but you found that your tongue was too heavy and your eyes were drooping lower by the second. It was cooler now that the moon had started her ascent into the night sky, cool enough to stay comfortable with the little air conditioning unit in the window running full blast. Suddenly, the bed shifted next to you as Jimmy screwed the top back onto the jar and got up to return it to its shelf.

“Hey, Jimmy?” you called, voice thick with exhaustion. He was quick to respond, slotting the jar into its place and stepping out of the dimly lit bathroom to check on you.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your back and getting comfortable on top of the sheets, “I just wanted to say I love you, so much,”

Jimmy was back at your side in an instant. “I love you too, doll. I dunno what I ever did to deserve you-”

“Oh stop!” your words were slurred now, dripping from your lips as you watched Jimmy climb into bed. You found your place at his side quickly. It was muscle memory to link your leg with his and set your head on his chest no matter how tired you were. "You're the most handsome, wonderful, perfect man I could have ever asked for Jimmy Darling, and don't you forget it!"

“It’s time for sleep now, doll,” he whispered, burying his face in your hair and wrapping his arms around you, “There’s plenty of time to talk about how wonderful you think I am in the morning,” The smile on his face was clear from the tone of his voice, but you heeded his words, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep while he protected you from the rest of the world.

Things weren’t perfect. You would still wake up the next day and watch the man you loved leave as both of you sold your very bodies in search of an impossible dream for the future, but that was okay. As long as Jimmy was by your side, everything would be.

--------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this fic! I intended for it to be a short drabble where I could practice writing for jimmy, but in the end I’m really happy with how it turned out. This is, genuinely, something I’m really proud of, so please let me know if you liked it. Thank you so much for supporting me!!!

#ahs #ahs freakshow #evan peters #jimmy darling #jimmy darling x reader

[mcheang]

Lila goes with the class to New York and lies about knowing Majestia and Knightowl but she gets exposed by Eagle and Uncanny Valley (set after the special).

Who’s the liar?

This is a draft

When the plane was attacked and saved, Lila claimed credit by pretending to have sent a distress signal to the American heroes. Apparently she once helped Knightowl solve a mystery and the latter had introduced her to the other heroes.

At the hotel, this isn’t mentioned much.

But at the party, Lila freaks when Hot Dog Dan shows up. Fortunately for her, the queue is too long to allow for chitchat with the hero.

The class does mention how Lila must know Dan to the Americans. At first they are unimpressed because pretty much every New Yorker has interacted with a few heroes.

But then the class gushes about how Lila helped Knightowl. The Americans are intrigued and ask for details. All except Aeon, who has a built-in lie detector, and Jessica because Lila is lying about being better than both Knightowl and Sparrow.

Jessica rests her hands on her hips. “Are they actually falling for this rubbish?”

Lila overheard and smirked, “Jealous much?”

Jessica twitched. “Why would I be jealous of a liar?”

Someone muttered, “Well, you do love to take charge and get involved in the action.”

Someone else also commented, “I understand you want to help the heroes too. So do we. Lila just got lucky that’s all.”

Alya: speaking of luck, did you know Lila and Ladybug are BFFs?

Aeon: that is a lie. I’ve looked at all reports concerning Ladybug’s feats, and there are none that show Ladybug claiming to be best friends with Lila. But there are reports of her saving Lila as Volpina and Chameleon.

Lila: that’s because Ladybug saved me as a civilian herself. We met when I arrived in Paris and we became fast friends.

Jessica: tell me none of you are this gullible!

Marinette: at last, someone knows my pain!

Alya: not now girl.

Lila tears up, “Why are you being so mean to me?”

Jessica: why do you think you can solve a mystery better than Knightowl and Sparrow?

Someone: oh, she’s not jealous. She’s just a hero fan defending Knightowl’s reputation.

Jessica: I’m someone with common sense.

Seeing Marinette as someone perceptive, she suggests they come to her room and compare heroes.

Adrien and Aeon follow. Lila scowls.

Downstairs, Adrien and Marinette admit Lila has her claws sunk too deep. And every time they try to call her out, she gets revenge or akumatized.

Jessica: I have an idea. Tomorrow Doorman will be giving your class a tour. He can prove that there’s no way that Lila knows the heroes. And there is no danger of being akumatized.

Except the Doorman wants to focus on his tour and doesn’t think it wise to humiliate a girl in front of her class.

Later, in a separate room, Marinette admits Lila framed her to get her expelled, but Adrien made a deal with Lila to get her back.

Of course plans to expose Lila are put on hold.

At the end, at the statue unveiling of the 4 heroes, Eagle wants to make an announcement that she has appreciated all Knightowl has taught her. Her mentor is the best Detective, needing no help at all from anybody to solve a mystery. She also wants to thank Ladybug for trusting her.

Later when reporters asked if Eagle knows Ladybug and Chat Noir’s true identities. Eagle laughs and says that the Parisian heroes value their identities highly, and would never even tell each other that, let alone someone they just met, even if they did trust her with a miraculous.

Watching this, Alya gives a pause. Lila claimed to have met Ladybug when she first came to Paris, not long before she had her first day of school. But she wasn’t trusted with a miraculous like Eagle was.

Ladybug highly valued secrecy. Why would she just tell Lila that, even if they had clicked as friends?

And Alya doubted Ladybug liked Lila telling everybody that they were friends. She hadn’t even wanted Nino and Alya to know each other’s hero identities.

Anyway, the seed of doubt had been planted.

Alya finally asked Marinette how she knew Lila was lying.

Marinette admitted she stalked Lila and saw her steal Adrien’s book. She was there when Ladybug called Lila out. That’s how Volpina came to be. She may be jealous over Adrien but she was a visible witness to Lila being exposed by the hero.

Alya gathers the girls and admits they may have been too hasty to dismiss Marinette. But just to be sure, Rose agrees to ask Ali about Lila.

He confirms he doesn’t know Lila. The girls are angry at being tricked and how Lila framed Marinette and decide to get revenge. But how? The staff are gullible and will defend Lila. Not to mention Gabriel is backing Lila as well.

Alix: how do you think it would look for Gabriel’s muse to be sued by Jagged Stone and Prince Ali? Ali’s secretary is already preparing a lawsuit. With that much public scrutiny, do you think the staff will be able to support Lila?

Marinette was willing to tell Jagged about Lila and the lawsuits began.

With the public spotlight on her daughter, Mrs Rossi had to be involved. And she scolded the school for not double checking with her, just as the media roasted her for not doing her research on akumas.

As Lila faced trouble with lawsuits and school, Gabriel also dropped her after claiming he thought she and Adrien were good friends.

In New York, they heard the news about Lila and Jessica smirked, “Serves her right.”

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous New York #lila busted #lila is exposed #lila gets exposed #Jessica busts Lila

[rpbetter]

Hey, can I get some advice on improving my descriptions / becoming more literate? I feel like I'm really dull when it comes to my writing and would like some advice! Thank you!

You absolutely can, thank you for asking! I apologize it took me a bit to get to this, tumblr didn’t show me notifications and I’ve been rather busy. Hopefully, I can offer some good advice!

Please, keep in mind that, as always, it is just my advice. If these things do not work out for you, don’t feel bad about it! You just need to find what does work for you. And, if you have anything that jumps out at you that you wish me to elaborate more on, or even that simply occurs to you more specifically to ask as you read, please, do ask! I am always happy to have those questions, of course.

Being more literate in itself can help. It can also be a hindrance, however, as we tend to compare ourselves to others negatively. I’d say not to do that, but it’s something you have to unlearn, not something you can simply stop doing. We’re taught a lot of self-criticism by comparison in both the educational system and our society. You’ve got learn to approach material you enjoy as just that, something you enjoy, not a standard you need to uphold. All writers should be unique, they’re all individual people! I think the death of a good many unwritten works hinges on that, honestly; the writer couldn’t live up to their own expectations, born of comparison to their literary heroes.

That being said? Read.

Read new and diverse things, and revisit old favorites. Learn as many words as you can in whatever way works best for you; through reading alone, through word of the day apps, or looking up novel words you run across/looking up words as you write to compare them to synonyms. I know, tumblr has gotten really nasty in recent years about writers who seem to have “regurgitated a thesaurus.” There is always a bad way to do something good, there are always excesses when you’re passionate about something. Don’t replace every third word with an exotic one simply because you think it looks better. Do replace words that are, legitimately, better in how they evoke the setting or mood you are going for. Remember that word flow is important, perhaps especially when it comes to descriptions.

If you do not tend to read much material that is description heavy, I’d suggest doing so. Try to find works that are still descriptive, but fit with the genres you like to both read and write the best to get you started, but don’t stay there exclusively. It doesn’t need to be something like...let’s say, Tolkien. Not to piss anyone off, I’m not anti-Tolkien or anything, but I could never get into his works, regardless of interest or effort, because they’re so description heavy, and in ways that don’t pique or hold my interest much. So, if you find that you are not into description laden works, that isn’t a poor reflection on you! It’s more likely that you simply aren’t into those specific works, you need to find something that is more of interest to you, personally.

If you do tend to read many works that are descriptive at all, take up a few of your favorites and pick some passages within them that you enjoyed the most. Ones that you could feel. When they described an outfit, you not only saw it, you saw the way it moved on the character, knew what it would feel like to touch it. When they described a setting in nature, you had a sensory experience there as well; you could smell the hyper-specific scent of wildflowers on a warm breeze, or the electric chill of a sudden summer storm moving in.

Ask yourself what does this for you so that you can experiment with doing it yourself. Is it the words, the word flow? Is it what the author isn’t saying, leaving the reader to automatically fill in with their own sensory recollections? There are so many ways of being descriptive in writing, as many as there are writers, and as many as there are things to be descriptive about.

So, it’s, again, a bit of a situation of finding what naturally pulls you into those descriptions yourself. While there are always good rules that can apply across the board with writing, it is a creative art. If you’re only following the rules others have set down, you can end up feeling negative about the process, yourself, and the product...or your readers/RP partners feel like the work is lacking or boring. Even when people can’t quite put their finger on something, forced work feels forced, unnatural, or lacking substance.

Diversify what you consume.

I know, I just said that thing about the familiar stories! Once you’re better able to identify what it is that stands out as evocative to you, though, you can better feel that in unfamiliar works. You can get a better idea of how language itself works as a living thing. Read some things out of your usual genres, ask for recommendations from friends or family who read, check out some older works, and even follow some blogs that post a variety of poetry quotes or full poems.

Reading song lyrics and a variety of other spoken-word style things like slam poetry and rap is helpful as well. They’re all doing the same here, evoking imagery and emotion. That is what you are trying to do as well! These formats, additionally, use highly evocative words to describe in a shortened way. They are great for realizing unique ways that familiar words can be paired.

By going outside of your usual bounds, you may encounter words, writing styles, and other descriptive qualities you hadn’t considered before. If you don’t, you still end up with a fuller grasp on writing itself. Everything is a potential learning experience if you are willing to approach it that way! Use it to play around with words and styles, Use this as experimentation, and realize that it is perfectly alright for it not to work out. That’s part of the exercise of finding what works for you; realizing what doesn’t work.

When you have some ideas of what makes you experience the things being described, practice. Pick anything. In fact, incredibly mundane, irrelevant things are perfect for this. If you can describe a sock in good detail, in a way that isn’t either inaccurate or boring, giving it relevance and life, you can describe anything.

Use ask memes and writing prompts, and write them out from your character’s perspective.

Even if you are not writing a first person account, it helps you to use narrative language that the muse might use, or that gives the reader a intuitive feeling for the muse. Don’t try to fill the whole thing up with descriptions. Sometimes, just simplifying is a good thing, and will help more relevant details stand out.

For example, I will often use things in the environment around my muse to help pair with, further denote, and give the reader a feeling for the muse’s emotions, psychological state, and so on. If that muse is in a hectic state, I’m not going to describe something in the environment that isn’t, like a peaceful meadow. I’m going to describe the seeming chaos of some ants in the grass taking apart their food, the erratic seeds or spores on the wind, or the clatter of an old farm truck on the roadway that breaks up the peace of the surroundings.

It’s a very different effect than describing the entire meadow in high detail, in ways that are perceptible to my muse and not, down to a blade of grass or a rock. It then takes over too much of my reader’s imaginative process and agency without giving them anything of nonnegotiable importance about the scene or the muse. Details that reflect a state of internal distress, like the ants, seeds, or truck, then fall by the wayside of this massive scene-setting I’ve done. And, as unfortunate as it is, if you are writing RP especially, your audience is looking for details that are pertinent and impactful. They’re likely to, intentionally or otherwise, skip several paragraphs of descriptions no matter how beautiful they are.

Since you just said “descriptions” and “writing” {nothing wrong with that, I just want to be sure I’m covering as much as possible that might be of help to you}, I’m not sure if you are meaning external descriptions or more internalized, character-driven ones, and not sure if you are writing only RP, only traditional writing, or a combination thereof.

As I said above, using descriptions that reflect things about the muse is useful and interesting, regardless of how or what you are writing. So, even if you were not meaning internalized descriptions, doing the things I’m about to talk about relating to this will still be helpful!

Internalized descriptions include things like: mood, thoughts, memories, and sensory perception.

To do these things any justice, you have to really know your muse, be able to experience things from their unique perspective and not just your own - or just what you wish the reader to experience through them.

If you didn’t have inspiration for the muse, you wouldn’t be writing them, but inspiration isn’t the same as knowing them as well, maybe better, than yourself. To do that, it is a process of learning and experimentation...and practice.

Those memes I mentioned above? Those are useful here, too! It doesn’t matter if it isn’t an ask meme you want to reblog, or if no one sent you anything from it; you can find a variety of memes, save them, and ask yourself the questions.

On sentence memes, or “starter memes,” ask yourself what your muse’s internal reaction to having that sentence said to them would be, how it might externalize (or not), and if these things are true, or just your perception/what you would like to have happen. If you’ve developed this muse from scratch or spent time learning them from canon, you should have some pretty good ideas as to how they’ll feel. Expand on that instinctive or learned idea. Does it change if a different muse or character type says this? Say it is an inflammatory sentence, something accusatory, derogatory, or pushy. Do they react the same way if a loved one says it instead of a stranger? How about a person who is obviously intoxicated, or a person who is under the influence of youth, so to speak? Take that, and write out two different scenarios.

On ask, or “headcanon/development memes,” pick a question and answer it yourself. Just answer it in depth. Now, have your muse answer that question. You may notice that the muse didn’t want to answer as clearly, is lying or omitting things, and/or had other thoughts generated by that question. If you didn’t already do it this way, answer the question again as a story in which your muse goes through those thoughts. Describe their emotions using words that carry the same emotional resonance, not all descriptions need to be lengthy if the right words, right word order, are found for optimum impact on the reader. Write out the thoughts they are having, just as messy as they are naturally having them.

Outside of memes, you have yet more options for helpful exercises that get you in touch with your muse and your writing.

Try out photography and inspiration blogs. Pick a some pictures that drew your attention, and write about them descriptively. Write out how the picture makes you feel, what it makes you think about. Practice not just describing how something looks, but how it would feel to be there. Using the same pictures, write as your muse in the same way. Put them in this scene to give their experiences. It helps you get a grasp on putting impressions and experiences down in creative ways that allow others to experience it the same way, and it helps you more easily step into your muse’s mind and experiences.

Seeing things through your muse’s eyes (through the lens of their life experiences, preferences, biases, emotions, and thoughts) is critical in giving authentic descriptions. To do more of this, you can practice in every day life. Even if you cannot write it out, or write it out yet, you can consciously think as your muse. If your muse was watching this TV show or hearing this song, what would they think? Don’t just answer as, “they would/n’t like it.” Answer as to why they would or would not, what it makes them feel and think. You can continue doing this with your muse’s impressions of different environments and people.

You can even simply contemplate an emotion and how your muse feels and expresses it.

Adding on underlying and overarching emotions to the mix as you go along; emotion, and thought, is complex. We very rarely are only angry, sad, or happy. We are very rarely only thinking of a single thing, and even rarer, thinking of it out of nowhere. It’ll help you identify the way your muse experiences emotion and thought, as well as how best to describe these things.

For example, I write a muse that can easily present as simply being quiet and angry. Additionally, as the character develops, his actions and general behavior can seem to not match well with his overall, genuinely kind nature. It’s necessary for me as a writer to identify where the anger comes from, what its components are; it isn’t just anger. It’s built on the things anger so often is; frustration, sadness, and fear. It gives the reader insight and helps delineate the muse’s expression of “anger.” When the anger is coming more from a place of insulation and protection than it is frustration, it presents differently.

I describe the sensation of the most obvious emotion, the anger, but also the underlying states that have led to it being apparent. How it really feels to be a wounded animal in a corner. I describe an experience or two pertaining to the emotional pain and fear, keep it relevant throughout the text in callbacks (what set him off is related to those experiences in some way, and during or after the experience of anger, those other situations are referenced again). Maybe it is an outright flashback, maybe it is less thematically stated. The descriptions I use, again, of his surroundings-not just his expressions, tone of voice, or movements-denotes that he is in this particular state of mind. He might notice similarities in the environment relating to a previous bad experience, since he is in that mindset, or he might be noticing things in a more critical way than he normally would. Things he might see every day are being processed as hateful in some way; garish or otherwise visually displeasing, might be seen as outright harmful, or even menacing. Bold colors, sharp lines, stand out. Things come into high relief and are painted in large swaths of color, the minute details missing suddenly.

Further, you can think of things that make your own similar state of mind so much worse in these situations. Is there a repetitive sound in the background? Is the person he is speaking with seemingly blowing him off in some way? Is he hungry, tired, thirsty, in physical pain? I then write those things throughout as additional, building irritants. 

Using your personal experiences isn’t a bad thing, I really wish tumblr hadn’t gotten into that mindset. Unless you really have written a 100% self-insert character, they shouldn’t experience things exactly as you do, no. However, you have a basis to go off of already when you are describing their inner life; your own.

Maybe you have never been so wracked with grief that you collapsed, but you have been caught up in a significant loss of some sort that you can build upon. If you can better imagine what your muse’s experience is, you can describe it not only better, but also in a way that reads as legitimate. It’s not a description of grief that you could have gotten from anywhere else, doesn’t have cliché lines in it about grief, such as, “though he was drowning in an ocean of loss, he knew he had to be strong for his friends, so, he put on a brave face.” (There are other issues with that, but that’s a whole other post!)

My point is, you have the tools of accurate inner life within you, and you should use them to build that accuracy in your writing. Again, play with the words and structure, make sure you are building the feelings or otherwise being immersive about them. Keep them throughout the thread, do not have a muse magically become the opposite of what you’ve described because it is no longer convenient, and do not forgo little reminders that the muse feels the way they do, no matter what their actions might be saying.

When you describe your muse’s actions that are being influenced by an emotion, good or bad, use words that evoke the emotion while describing those actions.

If the muse is very sad, do not use words that bring to mind vivacity and passion. Don’t use metaphors that bring to mind those same things. Your muse doesn’t slink like a jungle cat to the table when depressed, but they might move in a daze, like a shadow, or a have to put maximum effort into their every step as though heading to their own execution.

I don’t think anyone should describe, let alone to an extreme, every action their muse undertakes, but when you are imparting these things with emotional tone or thought processes, it really shouldn’t be done. It’s exhausting for you to write, and just as exhausting for your reader, who is very likely going, okay, we get it, she’s angry. Like the descriptions of the surroundings, try to keep it to important and telling actions. You needn’t describe your muse’s every eye movement, but if they are so embarrassed they’re having trouble keeping eye contact, or so annoyed they glare, that is a description you want to add.

Writers never seem to forget facial expressions or dramatic body movements, which is reasonable, considering how visual a species humans are, but quite often forgo tone of voice and word pronunciation entirely. These are great ways to denote what your muse is feeling. Consider how your muse speaks most often, whether they work at proper pronunciation and hiding an accent, or if they simply let their most natural speech flow. Then, consider how different emotions might impact that. I’m not talking about the only go-to many muns on tumblr have, the “my muse speaks -first language here- when angry” thing. I’m talking about your muse entering into any emotion strongly enough to drop crisp pronunciation, outright mess up familiar and easy words, stumble, stutter, or pause. Write emotion into your muse’s speech, and don’t keep it to adding things like, “said angrily.”

That’s telling, not showing, and is the death of descriptive writing of any sort.

Doing any of the above in a document is highly recommended. Not only are you less likely to encounter tumblr eating your drafts as you work on them, you have more freedom to open it up later and play around with the structure. Additionally, writing directly on the platform can be distracting in more ways than just the desire to dash scroll! It can make you feel like you need to be doing what you owe instead, need to be responding to messages, posted memes, comments. Taking it off site feels more like your own space and time for experimentation.

I know this was long, and covered many points (though, it could always use more). So, I’m going to kind of rehash some below!

For learning and inspiration:

read things both familiar and not in order to figure out what sort of descriptions speak to you, then practice doing them yourself

read a variety of works, not just books, and not just new books; oftentimes, the lessons in older books will stand out to you even more for using descriptions that are no longer common. Those lessons still hold, like the very act of using common, highly recognizable objects and settings to describe a person, place, or thing. In those cases, see what you can rewrite that would give the same feeling using things that are currently so recognizable

don’t count out things like music and poetry, they flow with emotion and it is imperative that they give emotion and setting in unique ways

use ask/starter memes, pictures, and even common situations occurring around you to experiment with both writing descriptions and getting into your muse’s mindset

think on your own experiences with your environment and emotions

consider how your muse’s perceptions may change based upon thoughts and emotions, and/or how you can describe the setting to reflect and drive home these factors

really get to know your muse by exploring headcanon memes, giving yourself a refresher on their canon (yes, even if you wrote it), and comparing and contrasting your experiences with your muse’s on the same topics

experiment with new words, their use, and their flow

seriously, practice! Outside of writing you intend for anyone else to ever see!

Things to Remember:

you are unique as a person, therefore, you are unique as a writer...and that is a good thing, you just need to find what works for you

describe things that are important in setting the scene in ways that are not just visual; be emotive, and pick things that have bearing on the immediate topic

don’t forget that your muse’s voice and spoken words use can, and should be, impacted by thoughts and feelings

just like you, your muse is unlikely to see the same objects in the same light under any manner of strong emotional influence

also just like you, who is saying something and in what context is extremely important in how your muse reacts internally and how that is presented externally; if your muse feels and reacts the same way no matter the other party, they’re a little cardboard and you’re not being descriptive or thoughtful enough

listen, if you just really need to describe something utterly irrelevant to live another second? That’s fine, but you need to make it relevant. Perhaps, your muse noticed the cracks on that rock because they’re in an altered state - be that by way of a substance, or an emotion

there is a reason why we use clichés, and I am not going to say they should never be used, just that you should try to be more creative with them, and they should always be viable ones that truly match the mood

the same is true of words, we have some words that are just so commonly expressive of sensations and emotions that they come up quite often, but again, try to find something similar if possible, and always make sure it’s still evoking the right thing

I repeat: get in touch with your muse, even if you do not write them from first person. The language you use as a writer to describe them and their world is better if it feels like them

no support for tumblr’s anti-wordiness, but huge support for optimizing word use for maximum impact

to that end, if you’re a RPer, even a fic writer, please know that your desire to write descriptively isn’t going to be appreciated by some people. That’s their fucking loss, and you are better off without them. You will find the audience that will properly appreciate what you’re doing!

I hope some of this helped to give you some starting points you might not have thought of!

#rp advice #writing advice #descriptive writing #Anon E. Mous #answered

[greatatmakingmemes]

Funn Fragments: Graveyard Shift

RP sentence starters from Funn Fragments, “Graveyard Shift”. TW: death. Feel free to change pronouns, etc. to better suit your muse(s)!

“Well, the shop hasn’t burned down so it’s not that kind of emergency…”

“You’re up late.”

“It’s really not worth the hassle.”

“Just come here - quickly!”

“She/He/They could be back at any moment.”

“She/He/They attract(s) shadows like a magnet.”

“November is rather spicy.”

“I just made a cup of coffee and it went a bit wrong!”

“It’s hard to look anywhere else.”

“What is the skill in this particular situation that you think I could bring to help you with this predicament?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I tried to make it better, but it’s just gone squishy.”

“I thought if I poured some coffee over it, it might counteract the acid.”

“[Name] will murder me for this and she’s/he’s/they’ve had years to think about how.”

“Contrary to the public perception of me, I do know where the line is.”

“You really are nervous about this, aren’t you?”

“I don’t understand how she/he/they does/do it.”

“You could have been down here doing paperwork all night.”

“When you’ve nothing to do for an evening but stare death in the face, it’s hard not to feel like you’re next.”

“I’m great at cleaning up.”

“You’ll help me with this?”

“Every single moment was magical… and deeply distressing.”

“Don’t you ever want to just watch a good rom-com?”

“Why can I smell fear?”

“[Name] doesn’t know much about astronomy, so he/she/they  wanted me to explain the professor’s lectures to him/her/them!”

“What have you learned about the constellations?”

“Make sure [Name] doesn’ ttouch anything!”

“I’m going to need chewing gum, a fishing line, and lots of play-dough.”

#roleplay meme #rp meme #funn fragments #funn fragments: graveyard shift

[batbobsession]

“What does it mean to be a father?”

Maurice will never know how he got to be in such a position as this, and he certainly wishes for a handkerchief—or something to wipe his paint-stained hands with—to be nearby.  He’s sitting next to the most powerful man in the land, after all, though at the moment, his looks did not match his title.

The regent—or is he the king? Maurice wonders—is dressed in a simple coat and trousers, both of which are an earthy brown. The absence of the wig reveals natural greying hair, and without any bracelets or jewels he looks quite…normal. Nothing at all like the paintings in the West Wing.

Even more of an interest, he muses, is the look in the man’s eyes.  They are a hard, rather miserable gray, a shade Maurice would only use when painting a thunderstorm or a cloudy night.  But his expression does not match such a sad color.  The man’s hands are folded politely in his lap, and on his face, there is a genuine look of interest.

He somehow looks skeptical even without the skepticism, Maurice thinks, and tries to compose himself before speaking.

“Forgive me, Sire, I believe I misheard you.”

“Please don’t,” the man replied, and for a second Maurice’s thoughts flew to the etiquette lists Cogsworth had so graciously made for him, wondering if he had said the wrong thing.

“I have been neglecting my duties for years now,” he continued.  “I am no more a royal than you are.”

Oh. Maurice opens his mouth, compelled to reassure him that it isn’t his fault, that magic is a fickle thing, but something stops him.  There’s a flicker in that gaze, hinting that he meant more than what was said.

The old artist did not know much about Adam’s father, only that he was absent the night the curse was cast, meaning he had forgotten about the inhabitants of the castle just like everyone in Villeneuve.  Maurice had arrived with Monsieur D’Arque, just as the sun rose above the highest turrets and towers.  In his search to locate his daughter, he had noticed this same man, haggard yet joyful in the presence of his son.  He had no idea he was staring at the true master of the castle until Lumiére—the candlestick, he still couldn’t believe that—had addressed him as such.

“Well, I…I wish I had an answer that would suffice, Monsieur,” Maurice finally says. “To tell the truth, I’m not much of an expert on the matter.”

“And yet your daughter is one of the most remarkable women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” the king replies. “Most of the princesses I would have picked for my son would only have their titles going for them.  Shallow, easily influenced, lured here under the prospect of an alliance.  Your daughter is—”

“Perfect.” The word is out of Maurice’s mouth before he can think of what to say.  He stares hard at his hands.  One has a rather large smudge of yellow on it.

“Certainly,” the king admits.  “I’ve not found fault with her yet, and I usually have a knack for that sort of thing.  Strange how things dissipate over time.”

Maurice blinked, again struggling to speak properly, but now there was something like a cloud over them, and he wondered if the other man knew about the curse at all.

“Your—Monsieur,” Maurice begins again, “I—”

“Maurice, isn’t it?” he interrupts.

“Oui, Monsieur.”

“I am asking this genuinely, as someone who has no experience in the matter.”  He is silent for a moment, and stares out the window.  “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen my son, and I’m sure his memories of me are…few and far between.”

Maurice notices it then. There is something keeping this man back. The way he speaks of the prince is not as a son, but as an unapproachable. Something that he is hesitant to think of.  

Is this man really Adam’s father?

“You believe that you cannot father the prince because of your absence? Is there something you’re afraid of?”

Sacre…the yellow smear now seems alarmingly bright. Since when did such a color exist?

He had thought that his initial fear of speaking to a royal was enough to stay his tongue, but…

It’s almost as if he has not spoken at all. The king retreats into himself, eyes glazing over, head inclined, on the verge of remembering, but not quite there.

“I don’t know.  I’ve forgotten how.  But I’d like to try again.”

Maurice blinks, and the cloud dissipates.  This is something that the curse had very little to do with.  Something that could have very easily been Adam’s childhood, or lack thereof.  He had never let the lives of the noblemen grace his thoughts, but now he imagines that because of their upbringings and various duties to attend to, they never had time to enjoy.  

The man sitting across from him probably has no idea what rain smells like.

Maurice folds his hands and smiles.  

“The reason I happened upon this castle was because I was attacked by wolves, and I was seeking shelter from an oncoming storm. I let myself in, as the lamps were lit, but no one was inside.”

Maurice pauses, but there was no sign of anger from the other man, so he kept going.

“After I left, I noticed that the garden—your garden, I suppose—was filled to the brim with roses.  They were white, absolutely pristine despite the snow. Though I was in quite a state of distress when I left, I remembered the last thing my daughter asked of me was that I bring her back a rose.”  Maurice chuckles.  “In hindsight, that action could have cost me my life, but I still would have done it, thinking back on it now.”

“Pardon me,” the other man interrupts, “it could have cost you your life?”

“Ah—” Maurice halts, staring. He quickly shifts his attention to a paintbrush he left by the window. Perhaps this man does not know the entirety of it. Surely, he could explain, but this man is still a stranger. And Adam’s father. It’s not his place to tell. “In a way, yes. But there’s no need for concern. If there had been a threat before, it has long passed.”

In the window, Maurice can see the young boy, Christopher, and his mother, playing outside.  Maurice cannot see them smiling, but he can tell just by looking.

I suppose I have a knack for those kinds of things.

“I’m a lucky man,” he admits.  “I was able to use my passion to create a living for us. But I would burn every canvas if it led to her happiness.  I would give up anything and everything for the sake of my little girl.”

The king is quiet, and for a moment Maurice thinks he got through to him.  Then he said “And your wife? Where is she in this wonderful family?”

It is Maurice’s turn to be quiet.  He closes his eyes and her face swims before his, smiling and proud, tears in her eyes. He is able to smile back, and he thanks God for it.

“Her mother died of plague a few months after she was born.”

There is nothing from the king.  In the silence, Maurice turns his hands over in his lap, wondering if he should say more.  Instead, he glances up, and the king’s expression is one of a man trapped. He stares at Maurice with such sympathetic agony that Maurice wonders how long he should hold his gaze.

He’s caught in something, Maurice thinks, but does not look away.

In this moment, the answer forms.

“Sir, if I may,” he begins, “I think the answer you are searching for is just to be there.”

The other man snaps out of his reverie.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Be there.  Smile when Adam notices you watching him.  Answer any question he asks as honestly and as truthfully as you can. Support him in everything he does, even if you don’t like it.”

“But that seems too simple.”

“It’s the hardest thing in the world,” Maurice replies.  He goes to gesture to his studio—before cringing inwardly at how haphazard and disorganized it is.  “When I was a young man, I lived in Montmarte, in an old repurposed windmill that my wife was able to earn. When Belle was born, I—I wanted everything to be flawless. I felt like she would never experience any of life’s troubles, not as long as I was around. I never wanted her to stop smiling. Of course, life will never work out the way you want it to.”

The king nods. “I’ve no right to call my life treacherous. But wandering these halls again, it’s so different. Familiar.” He raises an eyebrow as his gaze travels upwards towards the chandelier. “But lost.”

“To be lost is to be blind to everything around you,” Maurice replies.  “In a way, I was cursed to be perceptive in everything I did. I saw everything in painstaking detail. So much so that the only way to be rid of it was to paint it.

“But in recent years,” he continues, “I’ve begun to forget small things. How many gears fit into a music box.  How many folds to draw in a frilly dress. And almost as if to correct my memory, my daughter will round the corner with the correct gear in her hand or twirl for me until I remember.”

The man tilts his head, but Maurice can tell that he’s getting it.

Good, he thinks inwardly, I fear I’ve started to ramble.

“Though our relationship needed no improvements before, I’m grateful for my weakening senses,” he finishes, “because now I am constantly reminded of how much she means to me.”

“You’ve made no mistakes, sir, it seems,” is the response. Maurice laughs.

“Oh, don’t say that; I’ve made plenty of mistakes. There was a time, after her mother died, when I refused to acknowledge it.” This sparks something in the king’s dark eyes, and Maurice pushes on, refusing to let him think of it. “It wasn’t until Belle decided to find her mother on her own that I knew I couldn’t hide from it any longer. And there have been moments like that as long as I’ve lived.”

“Sometimes those moments seem to last forever.”

Maurice grins then, at what the king probably thought was a morbid statement. But that is what makes life beautiful.

“You, sir, are not blind, so you are not lost,” he decides. “In fact, the very action of asking me for advice shows that you see your son, and you see the bond that you want with him. But pay no attention to my story; I’m a humble painter with no knowledge of the world inside these exquisite walls.”

He gestures to a painting in the far corner of his studio. His daughter stands there, mid-twirl, the sun on her smiling face and a few rose petals drifting in her wake. Her joy is his now, and he will experience it every time he looks at her.

“Maurice, I possess none of the detail-oriented capabilities of an artist like yourself—”

“No,” Maurice interrupts, and this time he’s not afraid. “It’s just smudges on a canvas. I don’t see every detail anymore. But I see the emotion, and that’s far more important than any scrutinizing on my part.”

Maurice leans forward, smiling. “Be there. And if you truly want it, the rest will come.”

The man nods then, and Maurice can see that his words have somewhat fallen through the other’s sadness. “Imagine finding such a profound man in a village somewhere. I’m very lucky, aren’t I.”

“I’m an old fool,” Maurice assures him. “The villagers used to call me crazy.”

“I imagine they stopped when you moved in,” the king murmured.

“No,” Maurice shakes his head, “they stopped when your son greeted them.”

The man’s lips part in surprise, and for a split-second Maurice can see a smile on his face. “I suppose that’s very like him.”

Then the moment melts away, the two rise, and he offers his hand. Maurice freezes. He’s not wearing gloves. The handkerchief is once again at the forefront of his mind. But he’s also not one to leave a hand unshaken, so he takes it.

“Merci. I would like to visit with you again, if my presence was not a bother to you.”

“O-of course,” Maurice responds. “But please, a word of warning. My study…is not a sight for sore eyes at the moment.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” is his reply, and he’s gone. Maurice can hear a second set of footsteps tailing him, and he wonders if the attendant heard the conversation or not.

But instead, he sits back down and stares out the window. Chapeau and Lumiére have joined the Potts in the courtyard now. The roses are in full bloom. It’s a lovely picture. He’ll have to remember it for when he buys a bigger canvas.

He raises his paintbrush. The smear of yellow is gone. He can feel tears coming.

“Be there,” he murmurs, and adds a stroke of carnation pink. “And the rest will come.”

He glances at one of the roses outside. Have I done enough, mon ange?

-

Tagging those I think might enjoy this: @lumiereswig @tinydooms @naturepointstheway @im-too-obssesed @morgaine2005 @forr-everrmorre @greensearcher @firstherofirstlove @ginnyweatherby @sweetfayetanner 

#batb2017 #batbfics #maurice #adam's father #this was supposed to be my father's day fic #SORRY FOR THE LATENESS #I hope I haven't lost it #I wrote a fic YEARS ago #about Adam's father being alive and regretting his actions #This is a sequel #enjoy best dad and worst dad having a conversation

[i-rely-on-you]

could I request a Farah/Saul...with maybe Farah taking care of hurt Saul...I need more content

Okay so this took me so long to write, I am terribly sorry I am so slow at this!

This one got away from me a little and I am laying it on thick with the angst but oh well... I hope you enjoy regardless

Thank you so much for the wonderful promt!!!

Soothe my Heart

It wasn’t often that Saul went out on a mission without Farah by his side and there were several good reasons for that.  

First off he had a tendency to get hurt whenever she wasn’t there to have his back. It happened a lot. And it was annoying and easily to be avoided.  

Secondly, in all the years they had worked together, fought together as a unit, they had rarely if ever been separated on any of the many assignments they’d been on together. It was always better to have your partner with you so they could make sure the other was alright.  

Third and the most important reason for Farah, she worried when he was gone. It didn’t matter if he went out with a whole platoon of royally trained soldiers or not. She worried regardless.  

Their bond was too strong and whenever she could feel even the slightest bit of anxiety or stress the headmistress had to get up from whatever task she’d been performing to walk off all that muscle tightness that wasn’t her own.  

It was distracting to say the least and had also disrupted her class on several occasions.  

Which brought us to Farah’s current predicament.

The mind fairy could feel heat radiating off of her bond with Saul. And it wasn’t a good kind of heat. Not the kind she felt when they were stumbling to their rooms late at night after leaving Bens and having had one glass too many of his home made parsnip wine.  

It was piercing hot pain like an iron pulled from the flames, still glowing red from the fire. It was torching her nerve endings where she could feel herself being attached to Sauls mind.  

It was excruciating and painful. And she could only imagine the pain he must be in, if this was how she felt still being many kilometres away from him.  

The white hot pokers continued to stab her in the side with each minute passing. And the pain was worsening steadily which could only mean one thing. He was on his way back.

It gave her solace to know he’d be by her side again soon.  

Finishing up classes early for the day Farah dismissed her pupils and went to search for Ben. She found him in his usual place, the greenhouse, tending to his flowers.  

The way she came strutting into the room had the earth fairy on high alert in an instant.

Turning towards her Ben started “What’s going on?” brows knit together in concern.  

Coming to a stop before the man Farah said “Saul is on his way back and he will be in need of medical attention.”

Having known of their bond for many years now, it didn’t even surprise the botanist anymore that the mind fairy could predict or rather know this before anyone had even called ahead to inform them.  

Nodding Ben walked over to his well stocked medical cabinet and started preparing the small infirmary for the arrival of their patient.  

“Is it a stabbing pain or rather an infectious pain? Is he still lucid?” her friend inquired.  

Concentrating on the ever growing pain Farah focused on her bond with Saul trying to determine just how severely he had been hurt.  

Scrunching up her face in concentration the headmistress replied “It’s definitely a localised pain radiating up from his flank. I can’t feel the onset of an infection yet so I don’t think it was an attack from a Burned One. I would be able to feel the difference.” She paused for a moment. “It could be a stab wound?” she wondered out loud.  

Nodding again without taking his eyes off his task. “How close is he?” Ben questioned over his shoulder.  

The bond Farah and her specialist shared didn’t exactly come with a GPS, but it was as close as it could get in her opinion, enabling the woman to vaguely feel the distance their bond had to travel.

“They shouldn’t be long now. I will wait for them at the gate. Maybe get Sky to help me get him here.” The fairy mused. The greenhouse was located to the far left side of the old school building. There was a pathway leading up to the entrance of Bens workplace but it wasn’t wide enough to navigate a car through. She’d have to bring him here on foot. With the help of her magic if need be. Begging to all the gods that were listening it wouldn’t come to that.  

Farah shook her head to clear her mind of that thought and started walking out of the building back towards the main hall in the hopes of finding Sky. The boy needed to know.  

Making her way through the winding corridors she tried to press down on the distress she was still getting from Saul and tried to concentrate on Sky’s energy. He was surrounded by friends that much she knew.  

Not being able to stench the feeling of her specialists pain though, she opted for asking other students if they had seen the blonde soldier.  She would not be able to find him with this much pressure pushing down on her feelings.  

At last one of the first graders directed her to one of the reading nooks where she found Sky chatting and laughing with his friends Sam, Terra, Bloom and Musa.  

Coming to a sharp halt in front of the group her face must’ve looked anxious in some way because the group stood up as soon as they saw her rounding the corner. All of them having apprehensive looks on their faces.  

“Headmistress Dowling is everything okay?” Bloom asked immediately. Concern for the older woman clear in her voice.  

Nodding Farah tried to smile reassuringly, “Yes Bloom, thank you. But I need to talk to Sky for a second. Alone.” she added.  

Knowing it wasn’t a request the group dispersed quickly while still throwing worried glances at the headmistress and their friend as they went.  

Sky’s face didn’t betray his emotions she could feel bubbling to the surface and she was very impressed by that.  

Getting a little closer as to not alert any bypassing students Farah spoke lowly. “I need you to come with me. There has been an incident.”

Being the ever perceptive young man he was Sky picked up on her meaning almost immediately. “Is he alright?” he rushed out in a hushed tone.  

Bowing her head Farah knew she couldn’t lie to him. Not about this. “He is severely injured. I don’t know more than that other than he’s in pain and on his way back.” Sky’s eyes widened a fraction his mouth falling open but unable to form the words she felt circling his mind.  

“I will need your help to move him from the car to the infirmary.” The specialist in training nodded his head before she even had time to finish the sentence.  

“We will meet the Queens cars by the gate but we will need to get him from there to the greenhouse and I don’t know if I can hold off on his pain and carry him all the way both at once.” she pressed on.  

Sharing a nod with the boy they made to move towards the main hall again weaving their way through masses of students mingling on this early evening.  

Reaching for the big door to the front of the school Farah let him pass through first before following him and closing the door quickly behind her.  

She could already make out headlights coming up the path to the gate and they both began walking in the direction the cars where coming from.  

On instinct the mind fairy braced herself for the onslaught of emotions that were coming their way.  

The black jeep came to a halt in front of them and a Solarian guard opened the door to greet them.  

“What happened?” the headmistress inquired without wasting a second on pleasantries.  

The man didn’t waste any time either before opening the back door of the car.  

With the last barrier between them gone the pain wafting off of the man lying in the back was like a punch to the stomach. She would’ve probably lost her footing if the need to get to him hadn’t propelled her forward in the first place.  

She couldn’t even make out the words of the guard explaining the hows and the whys over the pounding in her ears anymore and in this moment she didn’t even care.  

Taking the last steps she pushed past the guard and looked inside the cabin, bending over the crumpled form of her partner immediately.  

“It’s not as bad as it looks Farah.” Saul tried to placate her while trying to slide out of the car.  

Reaching out for him promptly the woman grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him towards her hauling him out of the enclosed space.  

Stumbling as soon as his feet hit the gravel, Farah tried to steady him. Sky coming around from behind slipped underneath his other shoulder and took the brunt of his weight from her.  

Looking him up and down while already steering them in the direction of the greenhouse she noted that he had already been patched up to a degree. There were bandages peaking out from his ripped shirt and he was limping quite severely too.  

She could also feel his mind being a little foggy around the edges making her think he might’ve been drugged. Pain medication of some sort probably.  

Struggling to keep the heavy man upright and moving, the two Alfeans staggered under his weight.

Covering the distance from the gate to the double doors of the greenhouse quickly while half dragging half carrying the injured man, Farah used her mind to give a powerful push to the door making it swing open for them.

Ben was already pacing up and down the space between the door and the infirmary when they stumbled into the room. He stepped up to them, taking Farah’s place at Saul’s side and helped them settle his injured friend onto the flat white surface of the stretcher in the corner of the room. She helped the men heave Silva’s legs onto the recliner as well before taking up her spot at the head of his prone form.  

Just now noticing his pale complexion, the fairy sucked in a breath, before putting her hands on either side of his face tentatively.  

Ben had already gotten to work cutting open his ruined shirt and peeling away the soiled bandages. It had indeed been a stab wound that she had felt.  

Taking her eyes off of his wounded side again she looked into the face of the man before her with a solemn expression. He closed his own eyes for a second, leaning more fully into her touch, sweat glistening on his forehead.  

Asking quietly what had happened, Farah waited with baited breath for him to open his eyes again and explain. After a while of just hearing him taking in shallow breaths and the soft sounds of Ben cleaning his wound he looked up at her again and swallowed thickly. “It was stupid really. It was standard procedure.” Ben snorted at this in disbelief. The absurdity of the situation making Saul grimace at how ridiculous it sounded to his own ears.  

Farah nodded at him to continue. “It was basically just Luna trying to show off her power in the kingdom again. But it escalated into a small revolt in the blink of an eye. And I got stabbed by one of the insurgence party.” At this Farah’s eyes lit up with her powers and also barely contained anger.  

Feeling this Saul grabbed one of the hands still holding his face and turned his head so he could place a soft kiss in the palm of her hand.  

“He was barely Sky’s age. He was so afraid the guards were gonna kill him for just standing where he stood and he reacted on instinct taking me for one of Luna’s men.” he continued. Breathing deeply. “It was an accident.” he added. It was so like him to try to shield his own attacker from

Farah’s wrath. He had always had a heart too big for his own good.  

“An accident that left you almost dying in an unmarked car on your way back here.” pitched in Ben while applying a local anaesthesia before getting ready to sow him back together.  

Stepping up to Farah, Sky asked “Should I tell the guards to leave?” with a not small amount of distaste in his voice.  

Having almost forgotten the boy was there the headmistress turned to her young pupil to address him directly. “They have already left Sky. But I would like for you to retire for the night now. Headmaster Silva is in the best of hands and we will inform you of any changes. I promise.” she vowed honestly.  

Seeing as this was another situation where he needed to prove his level headedness Sky hesitated a moment before looking down at his father figure and getting a small reassuring smile in return from the man. “Okay.” he breathed out and looked up at his headmistress again. “Okay.” And with that he walked over to the double doors to the infirmary, looked back one last time and left.  

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Saul sagged in on himself a little. The front he had tried to keep up for the sake of not worrying the boy having drained the last of his energy it seemed. “How bad is it really Ben?” He asked breathlessly wincing a little.  

Not looking up from his work the earth fairy started to tie off the last of the stitches on the wound before saying “It is rather deep but it seems to have missed any of your organs. It is mostly just tissue damage. It will heal but it will keep you immobile for a little while. I’ll have to keep you on bed rest for a few days but you should be fine in the long run.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief of herself Farah closed her eyes and lowered her head to her partners forehead. She started to slowly caress his temples in a soothing motion making the man relax slightly.  

Reaching deep inside his mind she started to look for his pain receptors. They were alight with stimuli at this point and she had a little trouble grasping at all of them all at once. But once she had gathered the strongest points of pain she started to pull them from him and into herself. Her own head began to hurt from the pressure she created.  

Sighing Saul started to shake his head. “Stop it Farah. It’s too much.” But his almost begging went ignored by the fairy. She kept on soaking up his anxiety and hurt like a sponge.  

Knowing what was coming Ben got up from putting the last of the bandages on the wound and brought over a nearby chair for Farah to sit down on. Not needing an invitation she let herself fall into the cushioned stool and kept on stroking Sauls face.  

The sensation of taking on someone’s pain had always been a difficult one. But taking on your partners pain was a whole different world of anguish. Their bond was so powerful that it left her panting with the sensation of tiny needles prodding her brain and then experiencing the wound for herself in every way but the physical. The only thing lacking in this exchange though was the blood.  

Panting out one final puff of air the mind fairy leaned back in her chair suddenly and tried to calm her breathing. Putting her head in her hands for a moment to collect herself she suddenly felt the specialists hand in her hair. Carding his fingers through her wavy locks still held up by a few pins he proceeded to caress the side of her face with his thumb.  

“You didn’t have to do that Farah. Not all of it. Never all of it.” he breathed. But hearing the relief in his voice let her know she had made the right choice.  

Looking up from her hands again she found his gaze  already resting on her. A relieved little smile playing around his lips. But she could also see pain there from causing her so much grief.  

Tutting she got to her feet again already shaking her head. She took the half step separating them on unsteady feet until she was standing close to his side again.  

Letting her fingers slowly move across his cheeks she bent down to lay a gentle kiss on his sweaty brow before putting her forehead to his again. Blowing out a shaky breath, letting it waft over his face she shook her head whilst never losing contact to his skin. “Of course I did. You know I always will.”  

Nodding a small nod of his own the man admitted defeat albeit unhappily, fully knowing he’d do the same thing in a heartbeat had their roles been reversed.  

Feeling a lot stronger now with the pain not lingering in every pore of his being Saul grasped Farah’s face in both his hands and nuzzled her forehead for a moment before trying to get up from his reclined position.  

Feeling and seeing the movement both the headmistress and the earth fairy at his side went to help him sit up.  

Letting out a small grunt as the motion pulled at his fresh stitches Silva let his feet fall to the ground and tested his bearings. Farah having moved to support his side inched closer to him to be able to assist if need be.  

Standing up as straight as he could manage the specialist looked down at his side and put a hand to the bandage for a second before his eyes landed on Ben still standing close by in case he was needed.  

Putting a reassuring hand on the other mans shoulder Saul said “Thank you old friend. I’m as good as new.” and gave him a small grin. Scoffing at that Ben responded quickly by saying “Hardly but I know you are in good hands.” Moving his eyes to his other friend standing to support Silva, Ben looked at Farah now. “You okay to get him to his quarters on your own?” he continued.  

Nodding the mind fairy slipped beneath her injured specialists shoulder and started to move him in the direction of the door. Throwing a small goodnight over his shoulder Saul grasped at Farah’s arm to keep from staggering.  

Opening the door for them with her powers she put her hand not lying on Sauls uninjured side on his stomach to keep him balanced. They hobbled slowly in the direction of his sleeping quarters. The quiet of night being their only companion. They didn’t feel the need to talk on their way up the long winding passageways and staircases of the old school. They were very content to just be in each other’s company without talking, seeing as they knew what the other must be thinking anyways.

Upon reaching the door to his quarters Saul put out a hand and pushed it open, letting them into the room. Farah let the door shut behind them with a small click as the lock latched into place.  

She steered them in the direction of his bed and proceeded to set him down gently on the neatly folded sheets. Looking him up and down carefully the fairy wondered “Do you want to take a shower or just sleep for now?” she reached to help him get out of his ripped shirt before even having asked the question.  

“I don’t think I could manage a shower if I tried to be honest.” he laughed softly. She knew he meant it as a joke but could also hear an underlying truth and honesty laced with his words which told her just how bone tired he must be.  

Nodding once the headmistress got to work undressing him and decided it would suffice to leave him in just his boxers before pulling back his sheets and helping him get settled beneath the covers.  

Sighing Saul stretched out his long limbs and looked up at the woman. Holding out his hand for her to take, she came closer to his side immediately. “Will you be staying?” he asked with more than a little pleading in his eyes.  

The fairy conceded without hesitation. Nodding, she straightened up again before kicking off her heels and crawling onto the covers to sit next to him stretching out her legs in front of her fully.  

Saul took this as permission to get closer. The headmaster rolled onto his stomach at an angle as to not put pressure on his sore side and laid his head in her lap.  

Throwing his arm across her legs he grabbed on to her tightly before slumping down into her body in a boneless heap and let out a content sigh.  

Still reeling in his pain through her mind the fairy also let out a small sigh in relief at being able to sit like this. Starting to relax herself she put her hands on his head and started to massage his scalp in a soothing motion. Moaning a little in bliss, Saul let out a big puff of air from his lungs. Grasping onto her legs tighter he caressed her thigh where his hand had found a spot to call home.  

They continued to lie like this in companionable silence just feeling the other all around them.  

It was Saul who broke the silence first. “I am sorry I caused you to worry.” he mumbled it into her thigh so softly she had to strain her head a little to hear his words.  

Letting out a sad sigh she let her hand wipe across his brow to soothe his worry lines she could see forming there.

“I felt your pain since the moment it happened Saul.” she gave back quietly.  

Letting out another groan but this time in discomfort the man turned his face further into her legs. The air coming out of his mouth warming her thigh letting a tingle of heat seep into her bones. „I’m sorry.“ he pressed the words into her skin more than actually saying them.  

Humming softly Farah continued to card her hands through his hair more firmly now. She knew he would never cause her pain willingly if he could help it. It was hard for him to hold back his feelings sometimes causing their bond to simmer with activity. But she wouldn’t have it any other way if it meant she knew he was still alive.  

Wiping a few wisps of hair that had fallen into his face away, Farah hummed again. “Don’t be.” Patting his cheek softly she went on “I like knowing you’re still alive out there.” Smiling at feeling his lips forming a smile of his own on her skin she thought of something else.  

“We need to stop doing this.” she muttered sadly.  

Not knowing what she meant by that he let her gather her thoughts quietly. He could feel she needed to say something and he would give her all the time in the world to find the right words for it.  

After a short pause she continued on tangling her hands through his short hair.  

“We can’t go out on assignments on our own anymore. I don’t care what Luna has to say about it and how much she despises seeing my face.” Letting a breath leave her lips in an exasperated manner she pushed on. “If she needs either one of us for something again we go together.” The finality in her statement made him giggle a little.  

Tugging on his ear softly the headmistress scolded the man in her lap “Oh don’t you laugh at me now Saul. It’s not funny.” Belying her own words she puffed out a small laugh herself.  

“Hey, injured man here. Stop tugging on my ear woman!” he feigned being hurt gaining him another soft tug shortly after.  

After giggling softly to themselves for a minute the room grew quiet again.  

“I can’t bear it Saul.” With this Farah grew solemn. But she pushed on to get her point across. “I can’t walk these halls and teach these young minds what it means to control their powers when I can feel a knife being pushed through your flesh as if it were my own.” It saddened her to know he felt bad about it even though he had no way of preventing it from happening. He couldn’t shield his feelings from her like she could from him. He wasn’t trained like she was.  

Knowing she wouldn’t want to hear another apology he opted for rubbing circles into her thigh again. It seemed to have the desired effect as she sighed a little in response to his ministrations.  

“You should get some sleep.” She mumbled softly.  

Nodding he responded “So should you.” Before letting out a yawn, almost biting into her leg with the force of it.  

Smiling she caressed his head a little more softly now. “I will. Now close your eyes.”

He did as he was told and it didn’t take him long to fall over the edge of unconsciousness. Snoring softly.  

~~~

He woke up some time later to the feeling of slight shifting beneath him.  

Farah had gotten up during the night to take off her dress as he could see it hanging from a chair in the corner of the room. She was now clad in an old black t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs of his.  

How she had managed to do that without waking him he didn’t know.  

She was lying on her back, her arms wrapped around him. He had his head pillowed beneath her breasts resting on her stomach as it moved up and down with each breath she took. One of her knees slung over his ribs where he lay nestled between her legs, bracketed by her thighs. He didn’t know where he began and she ended anymore. But he didn’t care. It was the most comfortable and safe he had felt in years lying with her like this.  

Snuggling down again he pressed his face to her belly softly. Her shirt had ridden up during the night granting him access to the soft skin of her stomach. He laid a kiss on the spot where his lips met her skin making her shiver subconsciously in her sleep.  

Still asleep as if wanting to make sure he was still alright, Farah wound her arms around his head and let her hands sink into his hair at the base of his neck. Sighing softly she settled down, her breathing evening out again.

They were going to be alright.  

They were home.  

Together.  

fin

Thank you so much for readin! Be sure ro like/reblog

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[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-11)

Word count: 4.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I’ve been good. I am very curious about what you think of this chapter, though ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​ Shout out to this girl for being so awesome!

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Oh, look at you. You’re so tired.” Madison rubbed your back as you rested your head against the table in between the lectures.

“She does have a night job.” The stink eye you wanted to give Rebecca would require you to raise your head. She didn’t deserve that sort of effort. All of your thoughts were anyway occupied with how Sam’s trial must be going. You were praying that the poor kid would get off.

“It’s a good thing Civil Procedure class is cancelled for today. You can go home early and sleep the exhaustion off before the party,” Madison said excitedly. If only you could make an excuse out of the exhaustion and ditch the evening completely. The thought of Madison’s disappointed face stopped you from doing that. She really wanted you to come. The least you could do was show your face and then go back home.

It irked you that Madison was so excited for this but the rest of her friends were treating this as just any party as opposed to her party. You turned your head towards her and asked, “So who else is coming?”

She perked up immediately. “Well, it’s you guys, Brad, a couple of his friends and a few girls who were in my sorority.”

“What about your brothers? You have two, right?”

Her face remained carefully fixed in the same expression, though you saw the warmth in her eyes go out. “C’mon, you don’t really think they’d wanna be at my party, do you?”

“They’re your brothers! They’re supposed to be with you on your birthday.”

Lacey gave a high pitched laugh. “They’re both older and cooler, why would they wanna be at their baby sister’s party?”

“Clearly you don’t have any siblings,” Rebecca commented. “Definitely not a brother.”

But I do. I do have a sister, you wanted to say. The words never made it out.

Madison took over quickly, realising that the words were unnecessarily sharp. “It’s just different with brothers, Y/N. They aren’t up into each other’s businesses.”

She was still looking at you uncertainly, worried if the taunt from Rebecca had stung. It hadn’t. You had accepted that Rebecca was mean simply for the heck of it. It was her problem that she was an awful person. Not yours.

You were actually feeling bad for Madison. It was appalling that her family didn’t want to spend time with her. Jo wasn’t your blood sister, yet she dragged you to the one ‘average’ birthday party so she could celebrate with you. And when it came to brothers, you had seen brothers who would die for each other. Heck, even when it came to simple things they would crawl over to be there.

Long after you had reached home and dropped into your bed, Rebecca’s comment kept coming back to you.

Definitely not a brother.

She was wrong.

**************************

22nd September 2008

You knew you shouldn’t have been out this late in the evening, even if getting the printouts was essential. The only functioning printing shop was across the town and you didn’t want to ask Jo or aunt El to give you a ride. Already, you were asking too much by agreeing to live with them. So far they had denied your requests to work at the diner to be a helping hand, too. Asking for anymore would only tip the balance further.

The bylane was empty, not a single vehicle on either side. You walked up ahead, holding your papers close to you along with your bag.

“Hey, Darlin’, where you headin’?”

Three men had appeared at the other end of the bylane, their raucous laughter trailing after them. You couldn’t get a look at their face, however, from the way their silhouettes stumbled against the light from the street behind, gave you the impression that, at least, two of them were drunk.

You turned around and started back in the direction you had been coming from. The street there had a lighter traffic than the one you had been heading towards, but it was still better than having to walk past those men.

“Honey, come back,” another one called. The other two jeered in encouragement. You didn’t dare look back as you hurried along, almost to the end of the bylane. Why did it have to be blank walls on both sides? Their voices appeared closer yet and you took off in the sprint, stopping only when you appeared on the street.

Shops were open here and people were still walking up and down. You broke into a run once more without a backward glance till you stumbled into someone.

“Y/N?”

Dean Winchester’s green eyes were looking down at you, in surprise at first, then concern. “Are you okay?”

“I- I…” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, your lungs out of breath.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, slowly leading you towards the steps of a nearby store. “Sit down a minute.”

He perched on the steps next to you as you steadied your breath, his hands still holding you by your shoulder. “I was being followed,” you said. “Those men down the alley.”

Dean’s eyes steeled and he looked in the direction you had just pointed to. There was no one there. Maybe they had gone back the way they had come.

“Did they hurt you?” Anger evident in his voice.

You shook your head. “I was too fast.”

His concerned eyes hovered over your face, ascertaining that you were truly okay. It was something that Sam did, too. See for himself than blindly trust words.

“Those bastards,” he finally spat.

You were beyond glad you ran into Dean. His hand on your shoulder had calmed you more than anything else.

“What’re you doing in this part of the town by yourself?”

“I needed some printouts to confirm my acceptance. I thought I’d take a walk.” Your voice grew smaller with each word, knowing for sure that Dean would chastise you for poor decision making skills. You waited for him to say something along the lines of ‘What were you thinking?” Instead he gently let go of you.

“You think you can walk?” He asked, none of that judgement in his voice.

“Yeah.”

He stood up and offered you a hand. You took it to hoist yourself up.

“My car’s parked a few blocks away,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to protest, not wanting to appear a damsel in distress, but you knew your legs just might give out any moment.

Perhaps he saw it in your eyes or in the set of your mouth. Dean gave you a small smile. “Humour me. I had a rough day, too. Could use the company.”

You were beyond grateful to him for upholding your dignity. You didn’t know many men who did that, who wouldn’t want to jump at the opportunity to play the saviour. Not because they wanted to save someone, but because it would stroke their own ego.

“What happened to your day?”

Dean’s smile widened just a bit. “This asshole supplier came in with a shipment, delivered it at the wrong yard and took up a fight for payment.”

“What a jerk!”

He gave you a ‘I know, right?’ look. “Jackass wouldn’t listen long enough for my man to explain the mistake.”

“Must be hard running a place,” you mused.

“It’s actually a lot similar to running a family.” He looked at you. “You’d know.”

“My grandma had a very small business and she ran the family.”

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “It takes one more than one person to make a family and more than one to run it.”

You knew what he was actually saying, the meaning behind his words. That while gran took care of you, you took care of her, too.

“Why didn’t you ask Jo to drive you to the copy place?” He asked out of the blue, saving you from replying to his earlier remark.

“I didn’t want to disturb her. She’s already so busy running the diner…”

“Jo would kill me if she found out that I told you this, but she worries about you more than she lets on.”

You were taken aback. “I didn’t mean to-”

He clarified quickly. “I’m not accusing you for worrying her. She worries because she loves you.”

“I just don’t want to be a burden,” you murmured looking down. You had reached his car.

“Is that how you feel about being with Sam, too?”

He had cut to the chase quickly, and hit the nail right on the head. You didn't know how to answer Dean’s question without making it look like you were putting yourself down. You knew that if you lied, he’d know that, too. Dean was very sharp and perceptive when it came to people. More so that Sam.

You decided to tell him the truth.

“No, I don’t feel that with Sam. He chose to be with me without any prelude. He’s accomplished so much in life already and I’m so sure he’ll achieve so much more. I used to wonder what could he possibly want with a small town girl like me, but I don’t think that anymore. He sees me as the best version of myself and I’m beginning to see it, too.”

“You’re making him sound cooler than he is, you do know that, right?” Dean teased lightly.

You rolled your eyes.

Dean opened the door of his car for you and then got into his side.

“As much as I would want you to see it differently, I understand not wanting to be a burden,” he said, revving up the engine. You thought back to everything you knew about Dean and it made sense that he would understand you. There was never any judgement there. “But they’re your family and I get that you’re self-respecting, that you’re used to doing things by yourself. But would it be such a bad thing to let others help you once in a while? Do it for her and Ellen, if not for yourself. I know you love them enough for that.”

His words made up your mind on something you had been debating for a while.

“Dean,” you said unsteadily but upfront, “I need money for college. I know I can sell off Gran’s old house for the money but I want to keep it. I can’t ask aunt El to help me with the diner facing financial issues.

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m asking this from you. But…  with you, I feel like I’m with someone I can trust. Will you be the guarantor for my student’s loan?”

His face jerked towards you instantly.

“You can say no if you want,” you said quickly. “I won’t be upset, at all.”

Dean didn’t answer you immediately. He drove along the lane and turned into Aunt El’s driveway. He turned the ignition off and only then did he look at you.

His eyes were soft and his voice was low. “When Sam was about twelve, he came home one day and announced he was going to be a lawyer. He’s been a smart kid all along, but the look in his eyes… the memory gets to me even now. I knew Bobby didn’t have the sort of money to fund college, so we both worked all the odd jobs we could find to at least start saving.” He laughed as he reminisced.

“Bobby is a stubborn old man. He wanted to pay for Sam’s college. We had to fight it out with him, too and things were somewhat crazy up until this kid scored a straight up full ride to Stanford. We decided to use the college fund to move back here, start the garage. Ended up starting a whole new fund for law school. Turned out he didn’t need that either.”

The faraway look in his eyes vanished and he glanced at you. “What I’m getting at is that the money is still in the account. Use it.”

“Dean!” You gasped.

“Pay it back when you start printing dollar bills.” He held up his hands. “I know you’re not the one for charity. I’m not offering you one. This way you’ll save a lot of interest money.”

This was insane. When Sam had suggested that you ask his brother to be a guarantor you had agreed only because you knew Dean was kind and he wouldn’t put you down in any way. But this was asking for too much. This was his hard earned money.

“I can’t possibly-” you spluttered; he cut you off.

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “I was wary of you when you first dropped into this town, seeing how quickly my brother was head over heels for you-” he chuckled. “But not anymore. He couldn’t have found a better person. And look at all that you’ve achieved by yourself. That money can’t be put to a better use. We are all so proud of you.”

You flung yourself into his arms, tears running down your face.

“Shhhh…” he soothed you. “Don’t hold them back, kiddo.”

You didn’t hold back. You clung to his jacket and sobbed into his chest, the way you wanted to when you found out Gran had passed, the way you wanted to at her funeral. It was guttural and raw and instead of flinching away from you, Dean held you tightly against him, his fingers digging into your shoulders.

Slowly your sobs subsided into tired breaths but you didn’t make a move out of his arms. It felt safe here- you were both comforted and understood.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked after a while, voice small.

“Hmm?”

“You said you were wary of me being in Sam’s life. What changed your mind?”

Unexpectedly, Dean laughed. You looked at him in confusion.

“Sam started playing again,” he said simply.

You blinked at him.

“The piano in the house belonged to our mom. She wasn’t an expert in any way, but she loved the sound it made. She used to play simple songs on it for birthdays and on Sundays. In high school Sam took classes, to honor mom’s memory, I guess. He played a lot when he was learning. Ever since he first started college, I haven’t heard him play at all. You come in and suddenly there’s Bethoveen in the air.” He chuckled.

“Whoa.”

“He’s been happier, really. He laughs a lot more now.” Dean titled his head to one side.“That and the fact that you’re pretty freaking awesome.”

Sam was lucky he had a brother to look  out for him. “I always wanted an older brother,” you voiced out your childhood hope.

“You know, when Bobby first took us in after the fire, he told me something.”

“What?”

“Family don’t end in blood, sweetheart.” He shrugged, eyes so full of warmth. “You want a brother, you got one.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

Dean didn’t come inside to meet Jo.You waved to him from the door. He waited till you were safely inside before pulling out of the driveway. You watched the sleek black car disappear into the night from the window of your room, thinking about how just in a couple of months Lawrence had started feeling like a home. You thought about how Aunt El made sure that you ate every meal and Jo gave up the nicer mattress for you. You thought of the selfless love Sam showered you with and now here was Dean, offering up his hard earned money without a second thought. You had yearned for a full family all your life. Here, you had found one.

**************************

“No no no…” Meg glared at you in horror. “You absolutely CANNOT wear that!”

You looked down at your ash coloured jeans and the cream cashmere sweater. “What’s wrong with this?” You were offended. This was the best fitting pair of jeans you owned and it was a lovely sweater.

“You’re going to a party, honey,” Meg said slowly, as if talking to a five year old. “Not to the Walmart.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’m not letting you out in that thing. This reflects very badly on me as a roommate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dear God, stop with the melodrama!”

“You think this is melodrama?” She got up from the chair. “This is a fashion suicide. I know you have your weird cold thing, but three drinks down you’re not going to feel anything.”

You put your hands on your hips, staring her down, knowing fully well that you wouldn’t get beyond one beer. Three drinks Y/N thought it was a good idea to dance on tables. You did not want to meet her.

“C’mon, in you go!” Meg didn’t give you an option. She pushed you into your room.

You protested to the best of your abilities. “I’m not wearing a stupid dress!”

“You don’t have to wear a stupid dress. Just something cool.”

“Like what?” You challenged.

Meg sat up on your table. “Show me what you got!”

Resigned, you opened your wardrobe for her to see. There wasn’t much to it, so Meg would have to give up sooner or later anyway.

“What’s that I see?” She was pointing towards a purple satin top, hanging at the very end. It was skimpy, with a plunging neckline and noodle straps. The top had been a gift from the girls at your last office, hoping it would brighten your wardrobe.

“Oh, hell no! I’m not wearing that.”

But Meg’s grin in that moment would have given the Cheshire cat a run for its money. “You’re totally wearing that, Darlin.”

Too late to regret now. You should have thrown out that scrappy blouse ages ago.

“That’s barely any material. You know me. I’ll freeze to death in it.”

“That’s why man invented leather. I’ll be back,”

With that, Meg bounded out of your room and returned with one of the coolest black leather jackets you had ever seen. “You try them on!”

It was abundantly clear she wasn’t going to take a no for an answer so you stalked off to the bathroom, making sure you huffed enough to let Meg know you were mad. She couldn’t have cared less.

Trying it on, you realised it actually looked good on you. The smooth velvet satin was sultry and felt great against your skin. It would have otherwise been too skimpy and you wouldn’t have dared to step out in something like that, but paired with the jacket and your dark jeans, you looked like a badass. Feeling bold, you pulled out the kohl pencil and lined your eyes for good measures, then pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

Meg, who was holding a book in her hands, whistled loudly at the sight of you. “Hotness!” She sang. “My, my, Y/N. Where have you been hiding all that?” She was definitely eyeing the tops of your breasts.

You blushed. “You don’t think this is too much, do you?”

“Oh, hell no! You look like a goddess! The only thing missing is a pair of heels.”

“I don’t own any except the formal ones.”

“There’s my pair right in front of the door,” she pointed.

You tried on the classy black heeled boots. They fit perfectly.

“What do you think?” You did a twirl.

Meg blew you a kiss. “You look mind blowing. There are going to be casualties tonight.”

You had to admit, this felt great. To dress up and go out and about. Even though the party was bound to suck and you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t stay beyond a drink, this feeling of confidence made you want to keep dancing. You wanted to ask Meg to come with you, however, she had already mentioned that she had some plans for the night. She’d been cryptic, too, about what they were. You had your suspicions.

“I didn’t know you owned the first edition of To kill a mockingbird,” Meg said, showing you the book she had been holding. “This is priceless.”

“Yeah. It’s my favourite book.”

“Must have cost a fortune.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Do you mind if I keep it for a day or two? I promise it won’t leave the apartment,” she reassured.

“Of course.” It was one the only two things from your past life that you couldn’t bring yourself to part with.

“Have fun, Darling!” Meg kissed your cheek as she handed you her purse. It was all very fancy, the jacket, the boots and now this chain strap purse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You blew her a kiss and set out into the night. The Alibi was just a couple blocks away. In those unused boots it felt like a mile. During the stretch, your mind kept wandering to what had happened in the courtroom. Sam would be back in Stanford by now and you desperately wanted to contact him to see if the kid was finally free. Several times you opened your mail and almost typed out a message to him, then backspaced it all. The second guessing was killing you, however, you weren’t sure about where you stood with Sam still.

You were so relieved when you finally reached the bar, albeit fifteen minutes late. The place was halfway between fancy and fun with dark interiors and dim light. Everyone was already there. Madison wore a sparkly green number that brought out her complexion perfectly. She looked absolutely beautiful. Lacey and Rebecca wore similarly skimpy outfits. Meredith was slunking in the corner, busy in her phone, sipping on what looked like a cosmo. Brad and the boys were huddled around the pool table. There were three other girls you didn’t recognise. You assumed they were Madison’s sorority sisters.

Madison squealed when she saw you and immediately tackled you in a hug. “Y/N! I’ve been waiting for you since so long.”

“Happy birthday in advance, Maddie!” You kissed her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“You’re the one to talk.” Madison put you at arm's length, giving you a once over. “You look like a femme fatale. You have a rocking body!”

“So that’s what’s been hiding under the sweaters?” Lacey teased.

You shushed them and pulled out a small package. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have!” Madison said. She opened the box carefully. Inside, were a pair of dangling pearl earrings. They had cost you a bit, but gosh, they were so elegant. You knew they would look lovely on Madison.

“Oh, these are beautiful!” She quickly removed her sparkly pair and replaced them with yours even though they didn’t really match. You were touched.

“This is such a perfect gift, Y/N!”

“Enough with the mushiness,” Lacey complained. “Get her a drink, someone!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Madison said. “What will you have, Y/N?”

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Rebecca who was holding a glass with something red in it, sauntered over to you. “C’mon! The over-achiever of the class can do more than just a beer, right?”

You were taken aback by her comment. Overachiever? You were hardly that. Is that how everyone saw you?

“If she wants a beer, she gets a beer!” Madison adamantly stalked off to get you one.

You took a seat next to Meredith who gave you a nod of acknowledgement and went back to whatever she was doing on her phone. Sometimes you liked her the best in the unholy trinity that followed Madison everywhere.

“Beer for the lady who is a lovely vision tonight.”

It was Brad. You groaned internally, taking the beer from Madison.

“Gotta say, Y/N,” he slid in next to you. “Never figured you would be the one for beer or satin and leather!”

“What can I say, I’m a new discovery everyday.” The sarcasm was dripping off your tongue, but despite scoring a seat in Stanford, Brad didn’t have the mental ability to figure it out.

“I like that in a girl.”

That was your cue to get out of there.

“Gonna head to the powder room.”

You made your exit as quickly as possible. It was close to twelve. All you had to do was stick around till Madison turned twenty-six and then get the hell out of here.

Easy enough, right?

Not so much.

When you got back from the washroom, everyone at your table was highkey excited, giggling and squealing.

“What is going on?” You asked Lacey.

“Look there,” she pointed out to the other end of the bar. “It’s Mr. Winchester.”

You stomach dropped straight to the ground at the mention of his name. And sure enough, there he was sitting in a corner booth dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, busy with his phone.

“My GOD will you look at him!” Rebecca screeched. “He looks like a fucking lumberjack.”

“Oh, he can lift me all day for as long as he wants,” Lacey sighed.

“Should we go talk to him?” Rebecca asked, excited. “I mean he’s by himself. I can buy him a drink.”

“It’s a private booth, dummy,” Meredith said, looking away from the screen for the first time. “He hasn’t ordered anything. He’s clearly waiting for someone.”

“Maybe we get to see his lady love today,” sighed Lacey.

Rebecca gave her a scornful look. “There’s no one with him right now. So who cares?”

“Madison will. It’s her party and it’s almost midnight,” you said quietly. “Maybe we should concentrate on her right now.”

In reality, you wanted to throw up. You didn’t want to believe Sam would be seeing someone, let alone stay here to witness his date. All that time you had been worrying about his case, had he been waiting for this?

The cake cutting and celebration for Madison was all a blur. There was a lot of hugging, unnecessary screaming and then a round of super expensive drinks.

Rebecca, the absolutely horrible person that she was, decided to go to Sam immediately afterwards and Lacey tagged along. Madison was busy with phone calls, one after another wishing her a happy birthday. It would have been the perfect opportunity to slip out and go home. Instead, with unsteady feet, you walked to the bar.

The bartender had his back to you, so you asked loudly. “Vodka. Neat, please.”

You removed the leather jacket, leaving your shoulders completely bare, the plunging neckline making more skin visible. Next, you yanked the tie out of your hair, letting it spill over your shoulders.

The bartender eyed you appreciatively before putting down the shot in front of you. “This one’s on the house.”

“Thanks!”

You brought the glass to your lips and tipped it back.

“One more!”

“You sure?” He asked, hitching one eyebrow

You grinned, though none of the warmth seeped into your chest. “I am one hundred percent sure.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, hey,” you said, as the distinct squeals of Rebecca laughter erupted from the background. “Make it tequila this time.”

**************************  

A/N 2: Hah! Who is excited for the next chapter? It’s one of my favourites ;)

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[jonesgirl88]

Katie! Do you ever think about how Oliver married Holly because he was looking for Shane before he knew Shane existed? He was looking for someone who would shake things up a little, but in a way that made him better - that made his life better - yet still see him for who he was, and love him for that? Then Shane shows up and even though the timing seems wrong and he can't do anything about it, his heart goes "Oh, there you are. I've finally found you." UGH MY HEART

I DON'T KNOW YOUR NAME AND IT MAKES ME SAD. Until I know your name, you are 'Muse' and I'm perfectly okay with that! You thought you had long answers...hold on, sister. I have wanted to ask you about Holly FOREVER but didn't want to seem stalker-y so I've been holding off. You asked first so HERE'S ALL MY HOLLY & HOLLY/OLIVER THOUGHTS AND DO I HAVE T H O U G H T S. I'm going to try to organize this as best I can. First, if you haven't seen the international version of the FPWL Holly/Oliver drink scene you need to watch it. It will explain why Oliver decided to marry Holly through Oliver's eyes. I need to use 3 quotes: "Don't you think you've waited for her [Holly] long enough? I believe in keeping promises. I am, after all, a gentleman" - Pilot "This odd fellow who loves words and books and things from the past, and has spent his life trying to find a future with someone to share it with. I haven't been very successful at that yet" - For Christmas "Holly you are a beautiful woman with a fascinating way of looking at the world that could entrance the most stoic of men. I had never met anyone like you; you made me uncomfortable with my life and I thought maybe that's good. Maybe my life needs a little shaking up. You certainly did that." - FPWL (International version) First things first: I don't hate Holly. I really want your thoughts on Holly because I don't see her as a "bad guy". She's an antagonist but she's not a villain and she's not hate-worthy in my opinion. Yes, she's flawed. Yes, she's not "wife material". Yes, I wouldn't trust her to watch a goldfish let alone live a life with her. However she's not a bad person and she's very upfront with what she wants. We're only told Holly's side of the story once in FPWL during the drinks at the Brown scene. We have no reason not to take her at face value so from the beginning, she's been honest. She wants to travel the world and write poetry--she doesn't want to be tied down. The elephant in the room: yes, it was VERY wrong of her to run away to Paris. It was VERY wrong of her to cut off contact for 2 years. Holly is a flawed human who, like someone else we know, leaves when things get tough. There is no excuse for her absence and I appreciate none is given other than she is who she is and Oliver has to come to terms with that. Oliver is also a flawed human with a bit of a savior complex. He saved Holly in the middle of a blizzard, a noble and righteous act. He remains true to the covenant of marriage despite his wife running away, a noble and righteous act. He protects Shane in the bank vault when she's freaking out, a noble and righteous act. He's a protector and he calls himself a "gentleman" and he has a strict moral code but as Shane points out, he's a hypocrite. In his need to save the "damsel in distress" (Holly), he sees who he wants to see--someone who needs protection. Holly doesn't need protection past that one instance but he continually wants to be a hero. Oliver is intense. About everything. He and Holly have been married 3 years (said in For Christmas) but she's been gone 2 years (FPWL). Rita and Norman have been working together 4 years and Rita knows Holly. We know Norman and Rita first met Christmas Eve and Holly and Oliver were stuck in a blizzard. Oliver and Holly went from complete strangers to married in one year. If you watch the international version of FPWL, they explain both Oliver and Holly thought they were destined to be together because who survives something like that without something happening between them. Hopefully this is where it all ties together. Oliver sees himself as a "gentleman" but he uses that as a façade to see people how he wants to view them. He puts them in easy-to-understand boxes even if that's not who they are. In this instance, Holly never wanted to settle down but Oliver didn't want to see that. They both thought they belonged together because of what they survived. If Holly didn't want to settle down, why would she propose? I'm not 100% positive, but I'm about 82% sure she thought she could

change him. Holly and Oliver aren't that different; they're both wordsmiths, they both have a love for experiences rather than things, and they both believed they were part of divine timing. Even how they married speaks to the wanderlust of Holly: they eloped. She proposed and 3 hours later they were married. As a man of faith I would think that would cause Oliver to open up his eyes to the reality of who Holly is, but when you believe this person and you are meant to be because of a divine meeting...I can see how and why he rushed in without much forethought. Holly leaves and Oliver freezes in time BUT he does begin to think about what he wants, leading to quote 2. Oliver wants to spend his life with someone. I believe he loved the Holly he built up in his mind, but not Holly the person. Over the course of 2 years, he comes to the realization the Holly of his mind and Holly the person are different beings; one very real and the other a figment of his imagination. Now enter Shane and Oliver wants to put this new mystery in a box but Shane refuses. She bucks his perceptions of her and is part of his growing process he has to go through. I honestly do not believe Oliver had romantic feelings towards Shane until the dance in the DLO. That's the beginning of him realizing he wants Shane but at this point he is still devoted to Holly and I believe he wants her to come back. Unlike Holly, Shane never leaves and he keeps bumping against the wife that left and a woman who doesn't and his heart is definitely conflicted. We know Shane is conflicted; Becky literally tells her to get "an available Oliver". Holly is the characterization of "refusal to confront". Holly ran away when she didn't like her circumstances and it takes 2 movies and 9 episodes for her refusal to be realized. Shane self terminates several times because she can't deal with the circumstances BUT she comes back. Oliver leaves in emotionally charged moments because he can't deal with what's happening BUT he comes back. Now we come to the last quote: the confrontation between Holly and Oliver. Did Holly love Oliver? I think she did as much as she could. She is drawn to a boho, artist, backpacking lifestyle and if she found someone who could do that with her, I think she would have no problem committing to that person. But Oliver isn't like that. He wants a house and a steady job and to work at the post office. Living out of a backpack is as disinviting to him as living a routine is to Holly. Did Oliver love Holly? I think he did as much as he could. He pigeon-holed her and didn't listen to what she wanted when she told him explicitly who she is. He had to grow to see his own errors and in that, he saw Holly for who she really is. At the end of FPWL I think Oliver is seeing Holly for who she is and Holly is seeing Oliver for who he is. I think they care for each other but Oliver is now listening to his heart and realizes what and who he wants. Look at what he says to Shane: "You know, for two years I've imagined what it might be like if it became absolutely clear that my marriage was over. Once all the questions were answered and I knew I would never be Holly's husband again, how would I feel? What would I do?" What did he do? He went out and bought a porch swing. He's over Holly and is ready to move on. The refusal to confront had to be confronted; the truth was revealed; and now we can move on. Oliver and Shane can move on and there's no more running away. Oliver literally says "I'm not letting go". One more quote and then I'll finally answer your question. "Well, when we began together as colleagues charged with delivering so many lost things, I believed that to everything there is a season and to every lost letter there is a divine purpose. Only today, seeing you, Norman, and you, Rita, so happy, and you, my Shane, my love, promising to love me forever, only now do I realize... just how very lost I was, too, and that your friendship and your faith have uh, delivered me as well." - TTA Oliver has changed and he knows he's changed. He's

changed for the better and didn't realize how lost he was until he found his way out. The savior needed a Savior and while he was a "man of faith" before, he's truly a faithful man now. He knows how much he's changed and how much he needed to change to be the man Shane needs and deserves. SO TO FINALLY ANSWER YOUR QUESTION: Do I ever think about how Oliver married Holly because he was looking for Shane before he knew Shane existed? Answer: No, because Oliver didn't realize what he needed until he grew up and saw what was in front of him. I don't think his heart knew Shane when he saw her BUT when he starting thawing and allowing himself to feel and think about what he wanted and needed in his life as a partner? ABSOLUTELY his heart, mind, and body jumped to Shane in a moment. This isn't speculation: it's canon. The ring is freshly off. The divorce papers aren't even signed. Holly probably isn't even on the plane back to Paris. Oliver is already building Shane her porch swing because his heart looked up and said "Oh, there you are. I've finally found you." And that, my dear Muse, is totally worth gushing about.

#sholiver #asked and answered #this literally took me all day to write #and I can keep going #but then I'll really look crazy #but if you want more...ask #signed sealed delivered

[gothamblacka]

cognitive assessment.

bold all that apply to your muse’s current mental state; italicise any that apply to your muse’s past mental state — repost don’t reblog !

alcoholism: or alcohol use disorder ( aud ), is a broad term for any drinking of alcohol that results in mental or physical health problems.

amnesia: a deficit in memory caused by brain damage, disease, or psychological trauma.

anxiety: a mental health disorder characterised by feelings of worry, anxiety, or fear that are strong enough to interfere with one’s daily activities.

appetite loss: a reduced desire to eat.

binge eating: a psychological illness characterised by frequently eating excessive amounts of food, often when not hungry.

co-dependence: dysfunctional and maladaptive relationship reliant on another person’s dependence on the affected individual.

cynicism: an inclination to believe that people are motivated purely by self interest ( scepticism ), or to question whether something will happen or whether it is worthwhile ( pessimism ).

defensiveness: the tendency to be sensitive to comments and criticism and to deny them. to constantly protect oneself from criticism, exposure of one’s shortcomings, or other real or perceived threats to the go.

depersonalisation: a state in which one’s thoughts and feelings seem unreal or not belonging to oneself.

depression: a mental health disorder characterised by persistently depressed mood or loss of interest in activities, causing significant impairment in daily life.

derealisation: alteration in the perception or experience of the external world so that it seems unreal.

devaluation: defense mechanism used when a person attributes themselves, an object, or another person as completely flawed, worthless, or as having exaggerated negative qualities.

displacement: an unconscious defense mechanism whereby the mind substitutes either a new aim or a new object or goals felt in their original form to be dangerous or unacceptable.

dissociation: is any state of a wide array of experiences from mild detachment from immediate surroundings to more severe detachment from physical and emotional experiences, such as a disconnect from reality.

drug abuse: the extreme desire to obtain, and use, increasing amounts of one or more substances.

dysphoria: a state of unease, or generalised dissatisfaction with life.

emotional detachment: an inability to connect with others on an emotional level, as well as coping with anxiety by avoiding certain situations that trigger it; it is often described as “ emotional numbing ” or dissociation.

flashbacks: an involuntary recurrent memory, is a psychological phenomenon in which an individual has sudden, usually powerful, re-experiencing of a past experience or elements of said experience.

flat affect: a severe reduction in emotional expressiveness. they may not show the signs of normal emotion, perhaps may speak in a monotonous voice, have diminished facial expressions, and appear extremely apathetic.

guilt: a cognitive or emotional experience that occurs when a person believes or realises — accurately or not — that they have compromised their own standards of conduct or have violated a universal moral standard and bear significant responsibility for it.

hallucinations: an experience involving the apparent perception of something not present.

hypersomnia: or excessive sleepiness, is a condition in which a person has trouble staying awake during the day.

hypervigilance: an enhanced state of sensory sensitivity accompanied by an exaggerated intensity of behaviors whose purpose is to detect activity.

hypochondria: ( also known as illness anxiety disorder ) is a condition in which a person is inordinately worried about having a serious illness.

idealization: the action of regarding or representing something as perfect or better than reality.

insomnia: a sleep disorder where people have trouble sleeping. they may have difficulty falling asleep, or staying asleep as long as desired. insomnia is usually followed by daytime sleepiness, low energy, and a depressed mood.

intellectualization: a defense mechanism by which reasoning is used to block confrontation with an unconscious conflict and its associated emotional stress — where thinking is used to avoid feeling. it involves removing one’s self, emotionally, from a stressful event.

introjection: regarded as the process where the subject replicates in themselves behaviours, attributes, or other fragments of the surrounding world, especially of other subjects. cognate concepts include identification, incorporation, and internalisation.

isolation: a defense mechanism in psychoanalytic theory characterized by individuals defending themselves from possible threats by mentally and physically isolating themselves. by minimizing associative connections with other thoughts, the threatening cognition is remembered less often and is less likely to affect self-esteem or the self concept.

low self esteem: a person with low self esteem feels unworthy, incapable, and incompetent.

narcissism: is the pursuit of gratification from vanity or egotistic admiration of one’s own attributes. narcissistic personality disorder ( npd ) is a personality disorder in which there is a long term pattern of abnormal behaviour characterised by exaggerated feelings of self importance, an excessive need for admiration, and a lack of understanding of other’s feelings.

night terrors: also known as a sleep terror, is a sleep disorder, causing feelings of terror or dread, and typically occurs during the first hours of stage three to four rapid eye movement ( nrem ) sleep.

obsessive compulsion: obsessive-compulsive disorder ( ocd ) is a common, chromic, and long — lasting disorder in which a person has uncontrollable, reoccurring thoughts ( obsessions ) and behaviours ( compulsions ) that they feel the urge to repeat over and over.

panic attacks: a sudden overwhelming feeling of acute and debilitating anxiety.

passive aggression: a tendency to engage in indirect expression of hostility through acts such as subtle insults, sullen behavior, stubbornness, or a deliberate failure to accomplish a required task.

paranoia: the irrational and persistent feeling that people are “ out to get you. ” the three main types of paranoia include paranoid personality disorder, delusional disorder, and paranoid schizophrenia.

phobias: an extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to something.

projection: psychological projection is a defense mechanism people subconsciously employ in order to cope with difficult feelings or emotions. it involves projecting undesirable feelings or emotions onto someone else, rather than admitting to or dealing with the unwanted feelings.

psychosis: a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality.

rationalization: a defense mechanism in which controversial behaviors or feelings are justified and explained in a seemingly rational or logical manner to avoid the true explanation, and are made consciously tolerable — or even admirable and superior — by plausible means.

regression: a psychological defense mechanism in which a person abandons age — appropriate coping strategies in favor of earlier, more childlike patterns of behavior. this regression is a form of retreat, bringing back a time when the person feels safe and taken care of.

risky sex: risky sexual behavior is commonly defined as behavior that increases the probability of contracting sexually transmitted infections, diseases, becoming pregnant, or making a partner pregnant. drug use is associated with risky sexual behavior.

somatisation: the manifestation of psychological distress by the presentation of bodily symptoms.

splitting: ( also called black — and — white thinking or all — or — nothing thinking ) is the failure in a person’s thinking to bring together the dichotomy of both positive and negative qualities of the self and others into a cohesive, realistic whole.

sublimation: is a mature type of defence mechanism, in which socially unacceptable impulses or idealizations are unconsciously transformed into socially acceptable actions or behavior, possibly resulting in a long — term conversion of the initial impulse.

suicidal ideation: ( also known as suicidal thoughts ) is thinking about or an unusual preoccupation with suicide. the range of suicidal ideation varies from fleeting thoughts, to extensive thoughts, to detailed planning, roleplaying, and incomplete attempts.

sleepwalking: formally known as somnambulism, is a behaviour disorder that originates during deep sleep and results in walking or performing other complex behaviours while asleep. it is more common in children than adults and is more likely to occur if a person is sleep deprived.

suppression: the act of stopping oneself from thinking or feeling something. it is generally assumed ineffective because even if you suppress or hold back an emotion, like anger, that feeling returns with a vengeance.

thousand yard stare: a phrase often used to describe the blank, unfocused gaze of soldiers who have become emotionally detached from the horrors around them. it is also sometimes used more generally to describe the look of dissociation among victims of other types of trauma.

triggers: something that sets of a memory tape or flashback transporting the person back to the event of their emotional trauma. triggers are very personal ; different things can trigger different people. the survivor may begin to avoid situations and stimuli that they think triggered the flashback.

trust issues: a person with these kinds of thoughts may construct social barriers as a defense mechanism to ensure that trust is not lost again. these barriers are often a person’s way of avoid the pain, rejection, or guilt associated with mistrust.

violence: the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against oneself, another person, or against a group or community, which either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment, or deprivation.

temper: a reflection of irritation or rage, a propensity to be angered rapidly.

tagged : stolen tagging: @viclentheart @enygma @falsedking​ @cathief @0000004479 @sonicanary @prettybird @greenpuns,  @batvvmn, @starxhal , @btwng , @quinzotic , @chaoticblondes, @gctjinxd , @bulletballet , @reincarnatedhawk , @bcthound , @charmher

#gothamblack / games

[acalculatedfuture]

Five HC's of Barry's worst experiences during his League Challenge.

Send me “Five of those ______ HC’s” and fill in the blank with a topic, and I’ll give you five headcanons about that topic for my muse!

Top 5 worst experiences but this time it's Barry's turn to suffer

5) The first time he got to Veilstone. By that point, he was pretty much convinced that there was something his friends weren't telling him- he was collecting badges much faster than them, after all, to a point where it seemed less like he was just doing better than them and more like they were outright incompetent, a fact that didn't match his perception of them- but since he didn't know about Team Galactic yet that led to him trying to find other causes for this problem.

The thing is, when Barry's own insecurities come into the picture, he ends up making assumptions that don't necessarily match up with reality. In that case, the lack of information made him feel left out and wonder if people weren't just humoring him so he'd pay attention to the league challenge and leave them alone. That wasn't the case, of course, but sometimes when you get ideas like this it's hard to get them out of your head.

4) Right before being given his starter Pokémon. Barry was always motivated to take on the league challenge and become a famous trainer, so he wanted to ask Professor Rowan for a Pokémon so he could officially get started. Being an impulsive 12 year old, however, he wanted that as soon as possible and didn't consider the risks of going through Route 201 without any Pokémon of his own, even convincing one of his friends into going along with it.

What got him out of trouble back then was the professor showing up at just the right time to interrupt him. Being called out on his recklessness was one thing- he was willing to admit he was wrong after thinking it through- but what really scared him was the fact that he could've ruined not just his own chances of getting a starter Pokémon, but also those same chances for one of his best friends. The idea of causing trouble for someone he likes was so distressing that his first thought was to convince Rowan that the whole thing was his fault so he'd be the only one blamed for it, which ironically is what kickstarted the plot of the whole game.

3) The Giant Marsh bombing, for two big reasons- the first one being, of course, that a bombing happened in Pastoria while he was there and regularly visiting the Great Marsh, meaning that he could've died had his timing been slightly different. The second one is that it was the first time he actually saw Team Galactic in action, which made him realize he was suspecting his friends for no reason.

That made him recontextualize many events over the course of his journey that were suspicious but didn't stand out too much at first. Why he was always several steps ahead, why his friends were always spending time with some shady police officer, why Kouki was so cagey about losing his Pokédex if he simply got robbed- that was all because Team Galactic was a much bigger threat than expected. If he could beat them, then everything would go back to normal- or so he thought.

2) Losing to Kouki right before getting to challenge the Elite 4 was something he was bitter over, but eventually channeled into motivation to become stronger. After all, becoming the champion meant a lot to him, as he wanted to surpass his father's legacy and prove he was good enough, so while he was happy for his friend that didn't make his own failure hit any less hard.

There was a certain amount of envy to it too, as he felt like he wanted it more than Kouki and that it was a waste for the title to get passed over to someone that didn't intend to stick around and maintain it for very long. He got over it eventually, though, as there would always be a next time and the title did matter to his friend, even if in a different way.

1) Lake Acuity. After learning about Team Galactic in Pastoria, he wanted to make up for his previous lack of assistance by stopping them himself, both to take weight off his friends' shoulders as well as to prove that things weren't so bad, because he was still young and didn't completely understand the situation. So when the professor told him to investigate Lake Acuity, he jumped at the chance to be the hero.

Getting there, however, he got defeated by Jupiter, failed to rescue Uxie and could've gotten into serious trouble if not for, again, someone showing up at just the right time to bail him out (in this case Kouki). That was the reality check he needed to understand the gravity of the situation, but at the same time because he was trying so hard to be optimistic to the point of ignoring things that didn't match his worldview, that failure hit him the hardest.

Honorable mentions: Stark Mountain (his loss at the league still hurt and that made him lose to Buck), Spear Pillar (didn't make the cut because he got revenge on Jupiter at least), Veilstone but in the Canary Diamond verse (holy fucking shit)

#oflegendariesandtrainers #ask meme #about: barry

[carvemyownpath]

" A steel smile curls up the corner of her lips before they can even think of trembling. "

Morgan Nikola-Wren, from Magic With Skin On.

#[ even in your distress; you are perceptive || musings ]