#HER PRETENDING TO BE A DUMBASS FOR LIKE 7 YEARS THEN HAVING ECHO EXPLAIN WITH HER MOUTH WHAT DID IS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

olsenmyolsen · 1 year

Text

Olsen I

Part 7 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~3.5K

masterlist

TW: Self Harm. Alcohol addiction.

Y/N POV

The ride to Olsen's feels like it's taking for-fucking-ever. I swear Mr. Bronson is taking every long way he can, but I know that's not true. When he picked me up, he could tell something was wrong. Over the course of the ride, I've sent Elizabeth a handful of texts. I know I'm being harsh, but I'm fucking pissed.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"How many more lies are you keeping from me?"

"Took a look at your wiki ENGAGED since 2019, huh?"

All messages still say DELIVERED.

Looking at her Wikipedia page was weird and only added more fuel to the fire inside me. A small part of my brain knows she must have her reasons, but I'm choosing to ignore it. Most things she told me about herself seem to be true. But why lie? She knows who the fuck she is. Granted, I guess when she picked me, she knew what a fucking dumbass I was.

When the car stops, I finally realize what my hands have been busy with. I look down at the cuts forming on my knees. It's a result of tick I do when I'm nervous/anxious/pissed off. I run my hands up and down my knees, digging into them—something I haven't done in half a year.

Mr. Bronson, like the quick man he is, opens the car door for me, helping me out. I watch him take a brief look at my knees. "I'll be waiting for your return, Y/N." I thank him and make my way to the building entrance. Thankfully no paparazzi are around, well, as far as I know. They snagged that picture of Elizabeth and me from the park, so who knows where those fuckers are.

I greet the doorman and go to walk in before being stopped. I look to the doorman stopping me. "I was just here. I'm a guest of Liz's- um, Ms. Olsen." I grit my teeth. The doorman looks me up and down. "I'm sorry, Miss, I believe you're mistaken." He begins to escort me backward without touching me.

"Really, we're doing this?" I spit out at this man. "Miss, please don't make this a bigger situation." I look up at this man. "Are you kidding me?"

"What seems to be the problem?" I turn around to see Mr. Bronson. The doorman explains how I was trying to trespass and refusing to leave the premises. Fucking prick. Mr. Bronson knows this dude is full of shit, but he pretends to listen to be polite. "Listen, I can assure you that Miss. Y/N is a respected guest of Ms. Olsen, and if you could kindly grab Mr. Madison, he can match my claim."

Mr. Bronson is MVP of the night tonight. When the doorman turns around to fetch Mr. Madison, I turn to Mr. Bronson to thank him, but he looks down at me and winks. "No problem, kid."

Mr. Madison returns without the other doorman. He opens the door, lets me in, and thanks, Mr. Bronson. "I apologize, Miss. Y/N for the trouble that has been caused to you tonight." Getting in the door isn't even my most significant issue tonight. "I'm just thankful you could help me out, Mr. Madsion." He nods, continuing to walk me to the elevator. Once I'm inside, he bids me goodnight.

Like the drive over, the elevator ride feels like it's taking its sweet time. Once the ride stops and the lift dings, I mentally prepare myself as best as I can. The doors open, and I step out into the same hallway I was in hours ago—each step to Elizabeth's door echos throughout my body.

And here I am outside her door.

I knock a couple of times and wait.

Liz POV (earlier)

I cautiously make my way over, unlocking and opening the door.

"Robbie?" I let slip out in my shock.

"Hi, Lizzie." He croaks out. I look at the man in front of me up and down. This is not the man I left in Richmond. The Robbie in front of me has let his beard untrimmed, his face looks beat up, and his clothes seem to hang off of him. I look up into his eyes. The redness and bags hanging off of them tell me everything I need to know.

I've destroyed him.

"May I come in?" I nod and gesture for him to enter. He thanks me and walks in. With his back turned to me, I wipe my now sweat-covered hands off. I watch as Robbie takes a look over everything. "Could I get you anything?" Robbie turns to me. "Just a water would be fine, please, and thank you."

I continue watching Robbie make his way to the couch. He cautiously sits down and waits. I fill up a glass of water and bring it to him. He graciously takes it as I sit down a couch cushion over from him. He takes a sip and places his glass on a coaster. "I know you hate water stains." Robbie and I both give one another a weak smile.

"So where-" "How hav-" We both start simultaneously. "Go ahead." I nod at Robbie.

Robbie briefly smiles before looking off, thinking. I am mentally trying to prepare myself for anything he might ask, but the truth is I don't have an answer for any of them.

"Before we start, Liz, I want you to know that I did not come here to argue." Robbie points his eyes to mine. He's being truthful. "I came here because we left a lot of things unsaid the last time we saw each other. I hurt you." I watch as his bottom lip starts to quiver. "I'm sorry for that. Truly. And um." Robbie breaths in. "I want us to talk about everything from Richmond to now. It doesn't matter in which order. I hope you understand."

"Y-yes," I reply through a broken voice.

Robbie's eyes glance over at me. I can tell he is thinking about how to start. After minutes of silence, a question breaks through the air. "What's their name?" I was hoping we wouldn't start with Y/N, but I can't blame him. "Y/N." I squeak out. Robbie nods, muttering the name back to himself. I also want to ask him questions, but I want Robbie to do it himself. If I start asking, it'll feel like I'm trying to steer the conversation another way.

"This whole time, I thought you were in L.A. Or maybe I just hoped you were." Robbie shrugs. I let my shoulders drop. "Robbie, I- I'm sorry." Robbie shakes his head. "I thought about you every day." Robbie offers. "I thought about you too." I retort, hoping to give him a tiny shred of happiness.

"Were you gonna come back?" The pain in Robbie's voice every time he speaks is like a stab to the heart. "Yes." "For me or your job?" I bite my bottom lip before replying. "Both." A whispered, "Okay." Falls from Robbie's mouth as he goes to take a sip of water. "I should have been more forthcoming and clear from the start. It wasn't my intention to hurt you and make you leave."

I nod. Robbie sees it and falls back into silence. I know it wasn't, but I was blinded by it all at the moment.

"What the hell are you saying!? You want to break up? Is this about what happened on set?" Robbie sighs. "Lizzie, that's not what I'm saying at all!" I throw my hands up, walking away. "Oh, really, Robbie? You just told me you've been thinking that we should take a break and slow down!" Robbie follows after me. "Lizzie! I'm just saying that we've both been way too stressed and busy with everything. Maybe we should slow down!"

I walk up the stairs and into our bedroom door, closing it and locking it behind me. "Lizzie." Robbie tries opening the door but stops when he realizes it's locked. "Babe." I sit on our bed, ignoring him, trying to catch my breath. I'm on the verge of an attack.

I hear Robbie take a seat outside the door. I run my hand through my hair, remembering the last time he asked for something like this.

We were only a couple of months into our relationship. When I was asked if we could slow things down. I was hesitant, but I agreed. His band was starting to do well, and I was being booked more frequently, so it seemed like a good decision. Only for a couple of weeks later, Robbie showed up in the middle of the night profusely apologizing, slurring his words, saying, "she meant nothing." I know he wasn't lying but yeah, it fucking hurt. What hurt even more, was how much Robbie hurt himself over it. That night he showed up. He had cuts up and down his biceps.

So yes, Robbie is right. We've both been stressed as of late. Yes, we barely feel like a couple at times. But I can't help but think about before.

"Is- Is thi- Is this like last time, Robbie?" I ask through the closed door. I hear him shuffle. "Not at all." His voice sounds sincere. Robbie tries the door again, Still locked. "Lizzie, I'm just saying that." He pauses. "That we both haven't felt each other in a while. It just seems like we're here just to be here. Maybe slowing things down and taking a step back might be good."

I break down. I stifle my cries through my palms. I didn't want to hear this. I don't want a repeat of last time. I believe Robbie when he says that's not his intention or plan, but you never know. I try to gather up as much oxygen as I can. I look around the room and make a choice.

Before Robbie knew it, I had two bags packed up. I shuffled my way past him and down the stairs. Robbie pleads for me to answer any of his questions, but I can't focus on that. If I stop, my body will betray me. Before I make it out the main door, Robbie asks. "Lizzie, is this it?"

I don't turn towards him, but I answer. "I just need to think about this. Us. I'll call you when I land."

"Robbie." Robbie watches me scoot closer towards him. "Take off your coat and roll up your sleeves," I ask him in a calming tone. I don't want to force him, but I need to know. How is looking at me hurts. He thinks I'm judging him, but I want to ensure it didn't happen. Robbie stands up. He removes his coat, setting it down on the arms of the couch. Robbie shuts his eyes as if he's trying to hide from the world. He carefully rolls up his sleeves.

Robbie stops at his elbows. I stand up and carefully take an arm in my hand: no marks or anything. Robbie still hasn't opened his eyes. I gently place my hand on his elbow, and I start rolling up the sleeves some more.

I take a sharp breath in when I see the first cut. I look up at Robbie's eyes closed and ashamed. I keep pulling up. One cut turns into two, which turns into five. I stop when Robbie places his hand over mine. He's looking at me through tears. "I'm sorry." I don't respond. Instead, I pull him into a hug. Both of us take it as a sign to let the tears fall.

Standing here brings me back to this morning when Y/N held me.

After a while, Robbie whispers something into the top of my head. I pull back, not knowing what it was. "What was that babe- Robie?" Robbie unwraps himself from me and takes a seat at the kitchen island. I sit on the couch cushion closest to him.

"I don't remember doing most of these." I know he is talking about his arms, but he doesn't remember? I raise an eyebrow, confused. Robbie sees it and explains. "Since you left, I haven't been taking care of myself. Well obviously. But I- I've been-" He pauses, but I already know the answer. I knew it from the second he walked in.

"You've been drinking," I say, catching me off guard. Robbie accepts my tone. "The day I decided to call you, after not hearing from you. I woke up on our kitchen floor at 5 P.M." Robbie pauses as he runs his fingers through his beard. "I don't remember the previous night." Robbie lets out a weak chuckle. "As I said, I thought you were in L.A. this whole time. Then I saw the pictures."

I drop my head into my hands. I regret not telling Robbie where I was and if I was safe. I can't imagine the hell that was running through his mind. Because I know I've been there consistently worrying about your partners' well-being for them to be silent.

"Liz." I turn my head up to Robbie. I swear, for a second, I thought it was Y/N. "Yes?" "In Richmond, I asked if we could slow down. That was a terrible way of saying that, but I did it because we were both stressed about the wedding, your show and movie, and my band. But I just wanted us to be in a good position for our future." Robbie gets up and comes closer to me. He sits down in front of me on the floor.

"Lizzie, I believe I still want that." Robbie gently reaches for my hands. I place them in his. "But I'm not going to lie before you left, it felt like for the weeks prior- It felt like we were never on the same page. We just didn't feel each other anymore. Did you feel that way?" Robbie brushes his thumb over my engagement ring. A tear falls from my face at that action.

"Yes. I didn't feel you anymore, Robbie." Robbie lets out a disappointed sigh. "Is there anything I could've done?" My lips quiver at that question because the truth is. "I don't know." I watch Robbie think.

"Robbie, when you said what you said, yes, it hurt me not because it was coming from you but because I already knew it. I knew for a while. I was scared, and I didn't want to face the truth. Robbie, I still love you. I do. But-"

"But it's not there anymore." I nod at Robbie as tears and sniffles fill the room. Robbie gets up from the floor and sits down next to me. I turn to him so we can hold each other for what might be the final time.

Being held by Robbie was about the last thing I expected to happen today. But it's something I needed. I'm still kicking myself over how I acted in Richmond. I have anxiety, and for me to treat Robbie how I did when he was being open with me... I'll never forget.

"Lizzie," Robbie whispers, breaking me out of my head. "It's okay. I'll be okay." I cup his face, nodding. "I want to help Robbie." Robbie places his hands over mine. "Lizzie, I- I don't. I- I've been talking with a doctor in L.A. and talked to someone from the Crisis Text Line."

"Robbie I-"

"Don't worry, Lizzie. I know that look on your face. It's one of the reasons I love you. You want to help no matter what. But this is something I have to do for myself. I leave tomorrow morning. No matter how our conversation went, I was still returning to L.A. I just wanted to know if we would be together or not."

"I'm sorry, Robbie-

"Elizabeth." This time Robbie is holding my face. "Stop apologizing. I know what's going on in that head. What's happening between us right now is happening in the most mutual way possible. Plus, you didn't force me to make the actions that I did." Robbie wipes away the tears I have.

"I understand, Robbie, but please, I at least want to do something. Let me come with you to your first visit. Is it tomorrow?" Robbie shakes his head no. "It's in a couple of days when you should be back in London. I planned it that way." I shut my eyes hurt. I know it is for the best, but ow.

I hear Robbie sigh. "Tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to an AA meeting back home. I don't believe I have an addiction per se, but we both know what the last few days have done to me, and not for the first time. So if you want to help, you can make sure I make it to that meeting. Plus, being in L.A. for even a day can make it so I can start moving out."

"Moving out? What Robbie no-"

"Lizzie, we're-" Robbie looks at me, confused. "We're-"

"I know, but as you said, I'm going to be in London. So it'll be easier for you to stay at our- the house. I trust you, Robbie." I pause. I want to say more, but I don't want to make things more upsetting or worse. "You're still my friend." I smile at him.

"Just friend, not best friend?" We both let out a deserved laugh. Robbie looks up into my eyes like it's his last time. "Thank you for everything, Lizzie." I frown, not letting the waterworks start up again. "Thank you, Robbie." We pull each other into another hug before releasing one another. Robbie goes to get up. I watch him curiously.

"This is a little weird, but could I use your bathroom before I head out?" "Robbie, you're not seriously considering leaving right now, are you?" "Well, yeah?" I shake my head no. "You're staying here tonight. No offense Robbie you look like hell. You need a shower and a good night's sleep. Plus, I want to know you're safe. So please stay here tonight." I get up, walking closer to my now ex.

"Are you sure?" Robbie is hesitant, and I get it. "Mm-hmm," I reply. I get closer and closer until I wrap my arms around him. "Plus, I can make us breakfast in the morning before our flight." Robbie puts his arms around me. "I'm going to miss your famous waffles." I unsling myself from Robbie. "What about my anchovy toast?" This causes us to both crack up. "Only a little," Robbie says through a smile I haven't seen in a long time.

After helping Robbie find towels and clothes, he could wear later tonight. I helped him get out of his shirt and pants, and even though Robbie told me this was unnecessary, I still wanted to help, plus a part of me was curious to see if he was self-harming anywhere else. Thankfully he wasn't. I started a nice bubble bath for him as he laughed at all the effort I was putting in. But I don't mind.

Robbie sits on the edge of the tub next to me as we wait for the bath to fill up. "Elizabeth?" I turn to him," What's up?" "I just want you to know that if anything did happen between you and Y/N, I'm not mad. You seem happy with Y/N." A smile creeps on my face. I am happy with her. "I figured," Robbie replies, looking away. "We both know I've made mistakes in the past, so I can't blame you if anything happened."

As awkward as it is, to hear Robbie say it was lovely. I thanked him before stealing his phone, so I could start a soothing, calming playlist so he could enjoy as much of his bath as possible.

Robbie thanked me for everything and escorted me out of the bathroom. According to him, it's weird for my ex to watch me bathe. I guess he's not wrong. I clean my face and eyes before exiting. Closing the multiple doors from the bathroom makes the playlist nonexistent, which is good because right now, I could use a moment to think. To think about myself. To think about Robbie and mines future apart. To think about Y/N.

My mind begins filling with Y/N before a set of knocks interrupts me.

After being surprised visited by MK and Robbie, this time, I decide to check the door's peephole."Y/N?" I say to myself.

I unlock and open the door. "Y/N? Why are you here? Are you okay?" I look Y/N up and down. She doesn't seem happy or sad. She looks hurt and upset with a mix anger. "Y/N?" I feel the tension being built between us.

"I never knew the Olsen twins had a sister."

Pt. 8

A/N

If you or anyone you know self-harm I just want you to know that you're not a bad person. We all have shit going on with us. Self-harm is not a mental disorder. It is a behavior - an unhealthy way to cope with strong feelings. The important thing is recognizing it. Talking to someone, anyone who you think can help, is always a good idea.

Here is the Crisis Text Line. Text HOME to 741741 to reach a volunteer Crisis Counselor.

Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger but don't worry, next chapter! Stay safe, everyone.

If you have any comments or ideas, leave them <3

#fanfic #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #y/n #OTIWEO #lizzie olsen #sorry #drama?#robbie arnett #cheating #talks #oof #DRAMA #the drama #bi drama #angst #not fluff

34 notes · View notes

20dollarlolita · 4 years

Text

More replica chat, because every time I link this blog to anywhere I’m in fear that someone’ll ban me for the posts where I pick apart the logic of in what ways replica dresses are bad things.

But I want to be extremely clear about one thing:

If the group you’re in has a no replicas rule, there’s no logical morality in the world that can change that rule. There’s a huge difference between a overarching, agreed upon, all-applying moral law and the rules that someone sets down for their space that they create.

And it does not matter how morally or socially or economically correct you are, if you’re violating the rules of a space you voluntarily joined, you’re wrong.

This is true everywhere. My old apartment only had seven rules: 1) Do not make eye contact with Steve the fish, 2) do not remove the glass Dr Pepper bottle from the rack behind the sink, 3) keep all your dishes on the right hand side of the sink so the dish disposal is clear, 4) do not let any authority (landlord, cops, etc) into the apartment without permission of everyone who lived there, 5) do not touch Pink’s sewing scissors, 6) do not stab David, and 7) if someone pretends to shoot you with finger guns, you need to pretend to die.

A couple of these are based in morals or logic, like number four protecting the privacy of the people living in the shared space, or number six protecting David. There are some that make some logical sense when explained (Roommate Echo walked in his sleep and if he couldn’t drink out of the glass Dr Pepper bottle, he’d end up making a huge mess trying to do something like cook orange juice, my sewing scissors are for fabric and are not for paper or opening a jar or whatever horrible things people do with them). Some of them don’t make sense, even when they’re explained to you (if you made eye contact with Steve he might take your soul and when he takes souls he gets bigger and we can’t have more than a 10 gallon tank so we needed him to not get any bigger than he was). However, regardless of the logic of the rules, they are the rules of the house. We had them framed. If you were over at our house, you would be expected to follow the rules, even if you didn’t believe that eye contact with Steve would make him larger. You were in our space, we created our rules, and if you didn’t want to follow them you had to get out of our space.

So if you’re on a with a rule against replicas, don’t post them, because “they’re against your rules but the morality of it is not as cut and dry and some people want to believe and I know this because some dumbass bitch on the internet told me so in a post she wrote three years ago and she’s such an adult that her house has a rule about playing the finger guns game,” isn’t going to get you anything and isn’t what I want to be known for.

If you post somewhere that doesn’t have an anti-replica rule, and people get angry or tell you to take it down, don’t try to fight it. You’re not going to change anyone’s mind, because there’s only five arguments for or against replicas and everyone’s already got their minds made up. Instead, invoke that it’s not against the rules of the group, and leave it at that. If someone’s bullying (instead of just disapproving), get a mod. Facebook groups can change their rules pretty quickly and if your replica posting causes that change, then you can’t wear replicas there anymore but you sure can add that to your swagger pack that you made that change happen.

In the end, regardless of your interpretation of laws and economics and your presence or lack of a soul, when you’re buying a replica you know two things about it 1) it won’t be as good as the original and 2) you won’t be able to wear it in 75% of lolita groups online. They’re also, by the basic laws of economics, either higher priced or lower quality than comparable offbrand 99% of the time, so you do you but know what you’re getting yourself into.

#replica shit like usual #20dollarlolita quality posts

8 notes · View notes

gingervsblondie · 4 years

Text

Blondie Plays Cupid (1940)

1:54 AM, Monday, 25 November 2019

Whoops it’s been more than a month since I did one of these WHOOPS

Been really busy working on my short film for college and I didn’t find time to keep doing this. But now it’s finished so back to the Blondie grind! There was a point a while back where I had the thought “I’d like to be watching a Blondie right now,” so I guess it may have gotten to the point where these are somehow a comfort thing for me. But hey we’ll see how long that lasts when I’m actually watching one again.

This time it’s Blondie Plays Cupid.

1:58

AAAHHH WTF THEY’RE NOT PLAYING THE THEME SONG! I WAS ABOUT TO START TYPING IT OUT AND NOW IT’S DIFFERENT! THIS IS NOT A GOOD TIME TO BE THROWING CHANGE AT ME!

2:00

Dick Flournoy is credited in the intro but not on the Wikipedia page. Wonder what the deal is there.

2:02

There’s a bunch of dogs in the Bumsteads’ house chasing Daisy right now. Shenanigans, not important, but one who’s got its head stuck in the pet door just did two barks that were definitely played backwards. I have no idea why they were played backwards, but I’m sure I can hear the echo before them.

2:07

Hey, movie got a laugh out of me!

Dagwood found one of Daisy’s bones in his bed. Dagwood: What have I got in my hand? Blondie: Why, it’s a bone. Dagwood: Oh, I’m coming apart! Blondie: Nonsense, you don’t come apart til you’re 40.

Just looked it up, Arthur Lake would’ve been about 35 when he was playing Dagwood in this. I look forward to seeing him come apart in a few films time.

2:10

The dog’s such a good actor. The way it emotes just by looking where it’s been directed sells the anthropomorphism so well.