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violettduchess · 11 months

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My favorite writer taking requests! I have to ask for Carlo and kiss 8 - dying to see what you come up with!

A/N: Here you go, anon! This took some time but I hope you enjoy it! 💜

Carlo x f! Reader

Word Count: 3106

Today:

How did I get here?

You stare at yourself in the floor-length mirror, taking in the fitted, shimmering green skirt that is supposed to represent a mermaid’s tale, the filmy pale pink and yellow of the material wrapped around your midsection and chest. Your bare shoulders and upper arms have been dusted with pearlescent white powder, your hair held out of your face by small hair pins in the shape of seashells. You look every inch the siren, foreign and mystical and not at all like yourself.

Behind you, you hear footsteps across the wooden platform, soft muttering in the language of Benitoite and you turn to see Carlo, Prince Silvio’s aide, followed by the twittering costume designer as he approaches to get a look at himself in the mirror. Gone is the solemn man in the plain clothing that skirted the border of being shabby but saved itself through quality of material. His ebony curls have been freshly washed and brushed away from his angular face, his dark blue eyes, the color of the sea at midnight, lined with black kohl. His usual fitted shirt has been replaced by a swashbuckler’s billowy tunic, wide open to reveal a surprising amount of well-muscled chest. Carlo used to work down at the docks before Prince Silvio found him, recognized the flame of intelligence that burned in those dark eyes and plucked him out of one life stained with hardship and into another one of research and service. Fitted black trousers hug shockingly well-formed legs, the calves of which are also covered by knee-high black leather boots. A sword hangs loosely about his hips, drawing far more attention to that area than it should.

He looks up from fussing with the scabbard, seeing you and he stops walking, nearly causing the costume designer to crash into him. With a few chirps she flits from here to there, making minute adjustments now that he is finally standing still, not noticing the way your gazes have locked with one another, the way his throat works as he swallows, trying to fight the sudden dryness. You have stolen his capacity to breathe, to think. How, how will he ever even remember his lines when he has to see you.....looking like that?

You turn away, hand pressed against the thunder of your heartbeat.

How did I get here?

Yesterday:

In your role as Rhodolite diplomat, King Leon has sent you to many places. You had proven yourself during your time as Belle and he valued your judgment in many matters. He had been especially impressed with the way you had won over his brothers, each and every one of them coming to, if not exactly like you, at the very least respect you. There was no one else he would have been happier to see take on a representative role, your intelligence and kindness and charm qualities befitting an exemplary ambassador.

You had chosen the gift for the Benitoite royals with care: a first-edition copy of a play by one of Rhodolite’s most famous writers, a tragic love story between a sailor and a mermaid who fell madly in love with one another but whose families were locked in a centuries-long feud that would ultimately lead the sailor to drown in the arms of his lover rather than be apart from her. Leon had chosen this gift as the story is set in what is now Benitoite and hoped it would please the royals.

And it had. Perhaps too much. Silvio, mercurial as he is, had decided he wanted to not just read the play, but actually watch it be performed. When he had been informed that the national thespian troupe was on tour, traveling throughout the Ruby kingdom, he had turned those sharp ocean eyes onto you.

“I’m sure the ambassador is willin’ ta do just about anythin’ to please us. Ain’t that right?”

Alarm bells began tinkling in the back of your mind but you found yourself sitting up straighter at the table, head tilting to one side as you regarded the haughty prince. A smile, much calmer than you felt, touched your lips.

“Of course Prince Silvio.”

He leaned back in his plush chair, necklaces jangling softly as he crossed his arms. Something about the expression on his face made those alarm bells begin chiming even louder.

“Then I say you do it. You can be the mermaid princess and uh....” His gaze scanned the room and landed on the man standing by the doorway, half in a shadow, quietly reading from a small, black leather-bound book. “Carlo!” The man looked up, startled.

“Yes, your Highness?”

Silvio smiled broadly. “You will play the lovestruck sailor.” He nodded once, pleased with himself. “Arrange for costumes, music, and all that shit. I wanna see the play tomorrow.”

Carlo blinked as he looked around the room, his expression one of bewilderment. The leap from whatever he had been reading to his new reality seemed to have clogged the mechanisms of his brain as he comprehended what had just happened.

“Go on.” Silvio waved a jangly hand carelessly in your direction. “Go meet your lover.”

His gaze jumped from Silvio to you and the question he was asking himself was written plain as day on his face:

How did I get here?

Several hours later you found yourself in the library, which normally would have thrilled you to no end. Except instead of foraging for new literary treasures, you stared at the gift you had brought like it was to blame, while Carlo stared at you, looking a bit like an owl that had been awoken far too early from its slumber and wasn’t quite sure if it was night or day.

Silence filled the room, snaking its way around bookshelves and wrapping you both up in its tendrils, leaving you awkwardly stiff and unable to form words. You had introduced yourselves, fumbling over each other’s sentences, words clumsily knocking into each other, and then you had placed the book on the desk with a loud thump.

Since then, there was no sound.

Finally you cleared your throat. “Staring at it isn’t going to help us. It seems Prince Silvio really is expecting us to….perform this.”

Your voice cut the strings that the room’s silence had been holding him hostage with and he sank into the chair across from you, a frown on his surprisingly handsome face.

“I would try and speak to him but I fear if he knew how much neither of us wanted to do this, he would dig his heels in even more and perhaps invite outsiders to witness our….production.”

You found yourself regarding him a moment as he ran a hand through his dark curls. “You really know him well.” Silvio Ricci was not a man that let people close to him. Clearly Carlo was one of the exceptions.

A smile, ephemeral as quicksilver, touched his lips. “Si. He is truly….exceptional in many ways.”

You sensed how there was more underlying his words, an entire iceberg under that small sentiment that poked out from the ocean of his experience with Silvio. But now was not the time….you tore your gaze away from him, clearing your throat as you placed your hands on either side of the book.

“I can edit this…write out the lines of the most important scenes. That way we don’t have to worry about the entire play.”

He nodded, encouraged by your brilliant idea. “Excellent thinking, Signora.”

You glanced at him. “You can use my name.” You added a warm smile, lifting one shoulder with a shrug. “After all, we’re going to be scene partners, aren’t we?”

You didn’t expect the flustered way he ran a hand through his dark curls, a faint dusting of warmth falling across his slanted cheekbones.

“If…if you insist.”

Tilting your head, you searched for and caught his gaze, your warm smile still in place. “I do.”

He nodded, rising from his seat to walk over to a desk across the room, kneeling to open a drawer. That smile was fogging his brain and he needed a moment away from its radiant light. You weren’t aware of the effect you were having on him. You were suddenly far more aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders as he crouched, rifling through that drawer and the narrow taper of his waist as he rose back up to full height. Quickly you forced your attention back to the play, opening up to the list of characters, blinking against the swift barrel roll your blood was doing inside your veins. A moment later, Carlo returned, setting several sheets of blank paper and a fountain pen of marbled blue and silver next to you.

“You can write out our lines here?”

“Yes, perfect. Thank you.” And you got to work, forcing yourself to focus on the familiar play rather than the man who was smiling so openly it made you literally ache to touch his cheek, close to that smile.

Another hour had passed. Outside the sky was readying itself for the night, painting itself in the most striking orange and pink. You were writing madly, lost in your work as you read over the famous play, picking out the most important scenes and transcribing key lines that would keep the story intact but trim away any extras. Carlo peeked over the top of his notebook, his mind distracted from nautical calculations and oceanography notes by…..you. You, lost in the play, mouthing certain lines as you copied them out diligently. And in beautiful handwriting, no less. Especially when compared to his own chicken scratch. You, so focused, trimming the play like a master butcher, carving out the heart of the story from within the many words. He understands that kind of concentration, that singular mindset as you navigate work like a skiff on the water. That was what he told himself anyway, that he was interested in watching you work and not in the way the evening light, spilling in through the library windows, blanketed you in its softness, catching highlights in your hair, the rose of your lips, the brightness of your eyes.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the sound of the fountain pen dropping to the wooden table startled him, his dark sapphire eyes blinking rapidly as he brought his gaze quickly back down to the notebook he had been happy to ignore.

“There.”

You slumped back in your chair, shaking out your hand, a grin on your lips. You actually did it and the pride in your accomplishment hung on the curve of your smile. Standing just as suddenly as you let the pen fall, you shoved back your chair and walked around the table to set yourself down next to Carlo. “Let me show you.”

His notebook disappeared into his pocket and he leaned in to where you began explaining the play and the scenes you chose. You spoke quickly, excitedly, as if making up for all the previous silence.

“This scene is where they meet, the handsome, adventurous sailor and the innocent mermaid…..” You went on to explain their instant connection, the fascination they have with one another. But their relationship is dangerous, forbidden by their differences, and when the sailor tries to tell the mermaid they shouldn’t see each other anymore, she responds with a desperate kiss, one of the most romantic, most famous kisses in any drama throughout the lands.

When you got to this part, he noticed the way you paused, lifting your gaze to meet his and suddenly you were both imagining the same thing: kissing the other person.

Your gaze dropped to his lips, tracing their shape. He has such a beautiful mouth….He found himself wondering if your lips would feel as soft as they looked. The moment stretched out, the only sounds in the room the knocking of your heart against your breastbone, the audible inhale and shaky exhale of Carlo’s breath.

And then the doors to the library swung open, scattering the moment like sand in a violent breeze.

“There ya are. I’ve been lookin’ all over for you.” Silvio sauntered in, shaking his head, golden earrings swinging with the movement. “You’re still my aide, ya know, Carlo. I ain’t got all night to wait while you two practice your little show.” He stopped walking, taking in the blush spreading across your cheeks and the way Carlo had immediately shoved his chair away from yours. Blue eyes snapped from you to him like taunt sails in the wind and then a slow, wicked smile claimed the prince’s handsome face.

“Looks like I'm interrupted somethin’.”

You sprang to your feet, dipping into a quick curtsy.

“Prince Silvio. We were just going over the edits to the play I made.”

Silvio cocked his head, moonlight-colored hair falling to one side as he continued to grin. “Yeah I saw.” He paused, considering his next words. “Well I hate to break up ya’ little rehearsal or whatever but I need my man here.”

Carlo nodded, brushing down the front of his shirt. “Of course, your Highness.” He turned to you, not meeting your gaze as he pointed to the papers on the table. “May I borrow these in preparation for tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you answered, the words coming out a touch too fast, stumbling on each other’s heels. “I remember which lines I transcribed. I can study them from the original.”

Amusement has Silvio’s eyes gleaming like coins in the sunlight. The sardonic curve of his mouth told you both how much he was looking forward to whatever happened tomorrow. He turned on his heel, jewelry jangling and snapped his fingers as he strode out of the library, but whether the motion was a signal for Carlo to hurry up or simply a sign of his glee at the situation he had forced you into was unclear.

Carlo started after him, holding the papers you painstakingly wrote carefully to his chest. Suddenly he stopped mid-step, turning to look your way one last time. Your eyes locked and then he gave you a quick bow.

“Until tomorrow.” He glanced up quickly, and then in a softer tone, added your name to the thought. The sound of it coming from his lips, rounded by that accent, sent a flare of warmth from your stomach up through your face. Every nerve in your body felt incandescent and alive. You managed to incline your head in return, hoping he didn’t notice the flush you knew was rolling across your skin.

When the library door closed behind him, you found your legs too shaky to support your weight and you sank back down into the wooden chair, drawing in several deep breaths.

How did I get here, you wondered, hand pressed against your midsection as if calming the tornado of butterflies that had taken residence within.

And what am I going to do?

Today:

Carlo is a marvel. Never would you have expected the quiet, seemingly shy attendant to step out from behind the red velvet curtains and become the witty, bold sailor who enchants the mermaid princess. He strides across the stage, a new man, shoulders wide as if challenging the world to even try and burden them. Sometimes, as he delivers his lines, you recognize shades of Silvio in the lilt of his voice, the swagger in his movements. Carlo mirrors the Benitoite prince as he brazenly proclaims his love for you, swearing to fight the seven seas themselves if it means he is allowed to be yours. He makes it easy, so very easy, to slip into your role as the lovestruck siren, completely taken by this man, wondering if she could risk everything to be with him.

You’ve arrived at the turning point of the play, the moment when the mermaid princess has had enough of denying her feelings and makes the decision to follow her heart. How does she do this? By interrupting a passionate rant, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and yanking him towards her, stopping the flow of words with a kiss.

Carlo is pacing, his lines flying from his lips, memorized with the same perfection he uses to calculate wind rates and ship speeds. His hands, glinting with golden rings under the bright stage lighting, are as active as his mouth, punctuating his words with gestures, emphasizing his embattled state of being in love and never wanting to wonder what could have been.

And then it feels like a dream, like you really are swimming underwater as you cross the stage to where he is standing, roughly gathering the soft white cloth of his tunic in both hands. You pull him to you, leaning up to press your lips against his.

The ocean roars in your ears the moment they touch. The stage, the gathered audience of royals and nobles, the cavernous ballroom where the performance is taking place, the dazzling stage lights. All of it is swept away, like the sea raking its fingernails over the shore and pulling sand along with it. All you know now is the shape of his mouth as it fits against yours, the feel of his arms as they wrap around you and pull you tightly against the safeguard of his body. It is both electrifyingly new and astonishingly familiar, as if your body already knows something your mind doesn't. His lips part and he seeks entrance to your mouth, brazen as the wind when it plucks at a ship’s sails, snapping them to and fro. There is no resistance. You yield, softening in his arms, relinquishing your hold on his shirt to run your hands down his sides, around his body, palms pressing possessively against the small of his back. You are sinking, down, down, into the taste of his mouth, the heat of his embrace. Still waters run not only deep but hot, full of unexpected fervor and heart-stirring excitement.

You have no idea how long you kissed, the time it takes a wave to caress the shore once, twice, fifty times. What you do know is when you finally break apart, the audience is motionless, breathless, hanging on the edge of their seats, and in Carlo’s midnight gaze you see truth, burning like the fire of a thousand stars.

In the front row, arms loosely crossed, Silvio Ricci smiles slowly. Knowingly. His instincts had been right and he practically glows with the satisfaction of it all. Benitoite will likely be seeing much more of the Rhodolite ambassador. Che bello.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri carlo #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #1k first kiss celebration #violettwrites

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finleycannotdraw · 1 year

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Sorry for this stupid question, but I haven't watched or played Witcher (but planning some day at least to watch it) so I think you'll understand me 😅

I saw you reblog at first a lot of Witcher x that young boy (sorry, I have literally no idea what's his name is but he sings cools songs)

And now I'm seeing Witcher x another old man about which I know even less than nothing

Maybe I'm being stupid or something, but these guys are one from the series and another from the game? Idk cuz I knew only about Witcher x young boy and now I'm seeing that old guy and I'm confused because you just haven't reblogged it before and your reblogs are the only thing that teaches me about the Witcher. Idk when I'll watch series, but here's the question. WHO SHOULD I SHIP BRO JUST SEEING THEIR PICTURES AND HAVING NO IDEA WHO ARE THEY BUT STILL CARE FOR THEIR GOOD???

It’s not a stupid question! I’m happy to explain.

The first one is Geralt (witcher) x Jaskier (younger man who is a bard), and most fan-content of them portrays Jaskier the way the Netflix series portrays him. He is an adult, but most people tend to ignore the age gap because fantasy world (Geralt is close to 80 when he meets Jaskier in the show, but doesn’t look it). Plus, henry cavill and joey batey (actors) are close to the same age, so people tend not to think about it.

Jaskier is based off of Dandelion from the original witcher books. In the books, we don’t get to see how Geralt and Dandelion meet, because Dandelion is almost 40 and has reunited with Geralt for the duration of the books.

Another character in the books, that Geralt meets later on, is Regis (the old man). They get along very well, and Regis ends up traveling with Geralt, Dandelion, and a few other people in a group called the hansa. The way they interact is often flirty and sometimes homoerotic. Eventually it’s revealed that Regis is a higher vampire (very powerful and potentially very dangerous), and he and Geralt have a bit of a falling out, but that only lasts about 15 pages or so before he’s back with them.

Regis appears again in the Blood and Wine DLC of the third witcher game (the one I’ve played), where he and Geralt reunite as old friends before advancing the plot together. Regis is not in the Netflix series as of now.

Another character in the games that I’ve been posting about is Vernon Roche (but I wasn’t sure if you were referencing him at all). He’s a major character in the second game and comes back in the third. He’s the commander of the Blue Stripes, a Temerian (country) special forces unit designed to combat the Scoia’tael (a group of elven bandits from the books; they appear in both the second and third games, but much more heavily in the second). I’m not actually sure how old he is, but he’s more middle-aged than Jaskier or Regis.

As for the reasons I ship all of these different couples, it just comes down to a few things:

- I watched the Netflix series first, and therefore started off my witcher hyperfixation and subsequent reblog spree with Geralt x Jaskier. Later on, I learned about the book series, and fell in love with Regis, which led to the beginning of my Geralt x Regis reblog spree, continued vitally by me playing the witcher 3 and loving him even more. Then I made a super awesome friend who shared their love of Geralt x Roche.

- All of these characters, in my opinion, can make Geralt feel safer, happier, and more comfortable with emotional vulnerability. (This is also why I don’t enjoy the ships with the sorceresses, but that’s another post). I enjoy all of these ships because Geralt is an amazing, dynamic character whose relationships with others provide lots of space for good feelings and creative expression.

- I don’t stop shipping any of them when I have a burst of love for one of the ships in particular.

As for who you should ship, I can’t make that decision for you! I’d recommend engaging with at least one witcher series, be it Netflix, books, or the games (or the 2002 Polish Hexer series, which is low budget but made with so much love) and then deciding whose dynamic makes you the happiest! Fandom should be fun, shipping should be fun, so my advice is to just have fun.

Hope this helps! If you want to know anything else, don’t hesitate to reach out. :)

#the witcher #asks :)#geralt of rivia #jaskier #emiel regis #vernon roche #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geregis #geralt x regis #geroche #geralt x roche #the witcher books #the witcher games #the witcher netflix #information post #(i guess)

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writtenjewels · 1 year

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Super Massive Party

[This will contain characters from Devil in Me but is spoiler-free on the story. Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate and please consider donating to World Center Kitchen for Thankmas!]

Anthony stood at the door, debating whether or not he was going to knock. He had recently made peace with his past-- finally let go of his family and moved on from the tragedy-- only to get a call from this man claiming to be his younger brother. His living, biological brother. He wasn't sure he was ready to accept anyone else into his life.

On the other hand, a part of him always wondered about his biological family. Who were they? Why did they give him up when he was a baby? He took a breath and knocked.

The door opened and for a moment he stared at the face on the other side. It was like looking at a slimmer version of himself. Their faces were similar and though this version had more hair, it was the same color as Anthony's. Naturally this man didn't have a burned ear, and he wore glasses.

“Anthony. So glad you came,” the slimmer man greeted him. Charlie, Anthony remembered. His brother's name was Charlie Lonnit. The accent still threw Anthony off. Apparently his birth family was British. Maybe some part of him knew that and that was why he imagined the accent whenever he thought of the Little Hope witch trials. “Do come in,” Charlie gestured.

Anthony did so and was immediately overwhelmed by the number of people inside the house. Most of them were clumped together in groups chatting or already in the kitchen making food.

“Let me introduce you to my team,” Charlie offered. Anthony was grateful for the direction. Charlie led him over to one of the chatting groups. One of them turned and Anthony gave a little jerk of surprise. That face reminded him strongly of Vince when he was young. “This is Mark Nestor; he's my photographer.”

“Hi,” Mark nodded with a pleasant smile. “Nice to finally meet some of Charlie's family. Though I guess... the two of you are meeting for the first time too?” Anthony didn't know what to do so he just nodded. With Mark was Kate Wilder, the host of Charlie’s show. She seemed friendly enough and joked that she hoped Anthony wasn't as big as a pain in the ass as Charlie. Or at least Anthony assumed that was a joke. He was relieved when Charlie steered him to the next guest.

“These two are Jamie Tiergan and Erin Keenan. Lights and sound design, respectively. Jamie helped me find you,” Charlie informed him.

“Wasn't that hard,” Jamie shrugged. “Just plugged some information into Ancestry dot com and just like that--” she snapped her finger-- “I found you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony said quietly. He caught Erin's eye and she gave him an understanding smile. I'm shy and quiet, too, she seemed to be saying, and that made him feel a little better.

Charlie moved them on to his other guests. Anthony was a little surprised Charlie knew so many people, but his brother (still strange to think of Charlie that way) admitted he knew all of them through work. He'd gotten his start doing war documentaries before moving on to true crime.

“That's where I met these fellows,” Charlie concluded. He named them and Anthony nodded to each in turn: Jason and Salim Othman-Kolchek, married for almost twenty years now. They had a little girl with them and Anthony almost blurted out Megan? But no, her skin was darker than Megan's. Her name was actually Alima and Jason and Salim had adopted her.

“I was adopted too,” Anthony told her. She looked about Megan's age, he reflected, but also looked happier than Anthony remembered Megan being. “I had two sisters and a brother.”

“I have a brother too!” Alima chirped. “His name is Zain. We're going to visit him and his family in London.”

“That sounds nice. I hope you have a good time.”

Anthony got another shock when Charlie introduced him to Eric King. Something about Eric's face reminded Anthony of that officer who directed him to Little Hope a few years back. He also met Nick and Rachel Kay and Nick’s two nephews Alex and Brad. Alex’s wife Julia was in the kitchen helping with food.

Anthony was having trouble keeping track of all the names. Finally Charlie left him to his own devices and he wandered into the kitchen. He checked out the stovetop and let out a breath. Relax. This is a modern home. Everything's fine. Two of those in the kitchen were arguing with each other, one speaking in French and the other in Arabic. The French speaker looked a little like Jamie and Anthony wondered if they were related. The Arabic speaker turned and Anthony gasped. The man looked like his father! A different skin tone like Alima and a little heavier-set, but the face...

“Dar.” Eric stepped in, taking the Arabic man by the shoulder. “Did you want to take a break from cooking?” Dar’s expression softened at once (Anthony found it hard to imagine his father looking like that) and followed Eric back out to the party.

“Oh, good,” a voice spoke up. “More help. Could you take these out for us?” Anthony reeled back as yet another familiar face stared back at him. The man gave him a smile. “Don't worry, I get that reaction a lot.”

“Sorry,” Anthony sighed. “You just reminded me of someone.” Now that he could think straight he could see that of course this man wasn't really Dennis-- he was bald and Anthony couldn't imagine Dennis ever getting rid of his hair. This face was familiar for a different reason: this was Jonathan Finn, accused of being the serial killer known as the Trapper. “My brother,” Anthony clarified. “My, uh, adopted brother.”

“Funny,” Jonathan mused. “You remind me of a judge. Speaking of brothers, I work with yours sometimes as an expert consultant. Personally knowing the Trapper has made me quite the hot commodity in true crime shows.”

“That sounds... interesting.” He was a little glad he never told Charlie about his own time in jail. “I'm glad you turned your life around,” Anthony added. “I, ah, know a little something about that.”

“I figured you might.” Jonathan leaned forward and added: “If you wanna get out of here, just let me or Daniela know.” He nodded to a woman helping set up the tables. Anthony gaped yet again as the face reminded him of his sister Tanya.

They were here... they were all here. The only one missing was his mother. But just as that thought came to him, someone turned on the TV so they could watch the parade. And the woman on the screen had Anne Clarke's face. Or at least reminded Anthony of his mother.

Anthony had to take a seat then. He knew his family was gone, but to see so many who reminded him of them, of people he'd known, made him feel strangely safe. It was like they were telling him they would always be with him. That it was okay to welcome the new family of Charlie and all the people that were part of Charlie's life.

He wasn't alone anymore.

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silent-partner-412 · 10 months

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i just finished the pikmin 4 demo. i did everything there is to do, which it turns out is an entire area’s worth of content?? jesus christ i did not expect to spend my whole evening on this but i’m not exactly complaining either because there was a LOT to dig into. i’m gonna spoil it rotten so read at your own risk but wow there’s a lot of stuff i wanna gush about.

so far this game looks fucking incredible lol. the worst part was the very beginning which dragged a lot and took significantly longer to enter you into the gameplay loop compared to any of the previous games, but otherwise? i had an absolute blast. the new overworld is absolutely gorgeous, and there’s a ton to explore and interact with even in the overworld. the caves from pikmin 2 return, this time with actual level design though! and i enjoyed every single one of them, and there were like five in this demo which is more than i expected (to be fair they all only had two floors but still). what i didn’t expect was that there are special types of caves which replicate the side modes from pikmin 3??? i was so sad because i thought mission mode, one of the best aspects of pikmin 3 and pikmin in general, was removed from the game but NOPE! here it is as a special type of cave. and it was so fun, i had to retry it like four times to get platinum and i wouldn’t have it any other way. they also brought back bingo battle minus the bingo for the other special cave type which i also enjoyed but not quite as much.

the new ice pikmin were super fun to play around with (USEFUL too, it’s nice to see them have some combat utility that isn’t just big damage good), also the broader mechanical differences were largely successes imo. like, the fact that you can move your base is so great, it’s something i never even would’ve considered but changes the gameplay loop entirely. there’s a new collectible that increases the amount of pikmin you can bring into the field, which is interesting. they restrict you to only having three types of pikmin in the field at a time, which will probably cut down on a lot of tedium since there’s gonna be like nine types in this game?? jesus christ. the new dog is actually really fun to use, way more than i ever expected! once again it’s interesting to have new utility tools at your disposal, though it is wild that he basically gives you access to a jump which fundamentally changes how these levels can be designed. they turned onions into a collectible so that you can only let pikmin reproduce if you find their onion. but you can still find pikmin to use in caves even without their onion; the ice pikmin onion for example isn’t even in this demo but you can still find dozens in the caves.

also the story is kinda fucked up?? i don’t wanna spoil it but it goes in a weird fucking direction compared to the other three games and i’m very much interested to see more. also it’s interesting for them to introduce actual npcs into the game, which once again i’m not complaining about but it still is very bizarre for this series.

all in all i cannot wait for the full release later this month. it seems like it’ll be more pikmin 2 length than pikmin 1 or 3 which i am absolutely thrilled about since every minute of this demo (once you get out of tutorial mode) was an absolute delight. it’s been ten years since pikmin 3 came out, a game i first played when it was new when i was like 11. but it seems like this is going to be worth the wait, and i could not be happier.

#pikmin #pikmin 4 #oh one other complaint #it was very very easy #like ok i know this is the first area so of course it’s easy #but i played for like four hours and did everything there was to do and i lost only 3 pikmin #only 3!!!#it seems like this might end up being the most forgiving pikmin yet which is a tad unfortunate #but then again i’ve also been playing this series for a decade and have beaten pikmin 2 like six times #and also i’ve platinum medaled every mission in pikmin 3 mission mode #so maybe i’m not the greatest benchmark #but i do hope the difficulty ramps up pretty quick

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tinyspringtrap · 2 years

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ugh I’m still upset about this stupid fucking drawing tablet

rant incoming. gets personal. life shit. its not really about the drawing tablet.

I hate this stupid fucking thing so much. I’ve never before in my life had something give me an actual, genuine meltdown, but this tablet??

every time I try to open this thing and give it a chance it just pisses me off - half because of the tablet itself and half because... I pretty explicitly said I didn’t want a drawing tablet, and then I got one anyways :/

and it’s not even one I would pick out - it’s fucking horrendously overcomplicated, has too many fucking buttons on it for a drawing surface, it comes with a bunch of random pieces that I cannot figure out what the hell they’re supposed to do - AND. AND. the charging cord. plugs into the right hand side of the tablet. where I would be drawing. who the fuck designed this piece of shit? I would never willingly buy this thing. I don’t NEED ~*professional grade*~ I just need something that functions and isn’t stupidly overcomplicated.

It’s not a very good gift if the person explicitly says they don’t want it. Idk. call me ungrateful or w/e if you want but the tablet combined with the fact I also got a coffee maker (????) just kinda. further made me feel like people don’t really care a lot about what I wanted.

it’s... not a new feeling. and I don’t get it, because pretty much everything on the wishlist I sent was cheap and/or something I would have gotten real use or joy out of. I don’t think I got a single thing that I actually... enjoyed, in any capacity, from my mom or grandparents. meanwhile I bought things that catered to what they enjoyed - they might not have /needed/ any of it, but they were all things based on what they enjoy and/or wanted. like it’s just.

it’s like they went out of their way to get me things I explicitly said i didn’t want. like it would have genuinely been easier to just. buy a small handful of the plushtoys i wanted - it would have made me a lot happier too. I don’t need or like expensive gifts.

I think it really says a lot when my narcissistic aunt who I can barely stand to be around because she’s fucking terrible got me a better, more thought out gift that fit with the kind of things I actually wanted.

You know what she got me? a 20$ mug with a cat and a funny saying on it. and that was a far more enjoyable gift to open then half the things I actually received from my mom and grandparents.

I’ve asked now for so many years in a row to NOT get pajama pants because I literally have too many and I keep getting them anyways. shirts would be nice, some pajama shorts/capris for summer would be super useful and appreciated because I literally have like 1, maybe 2, pajama bottoms for summer

sometimes I wonder why they even tell me to send them a list anymore, it’s not like they buy anything I would actually enjoy having. and it’s not like it’s 100% stuffed animals or anything either?? like I have underwear in there that i like, that would be cool and rad and helpful to receive. I have mugs and kitchenware that I like - I have shirts that come in my size, I have bras that come in my size in there.

but i keep getting things that I have never shown interest in or have outright verbalized disinterest in.

and like. I expected that from my grandparents. it’s been pretty clear for a while now who the favourite grandchild is. it’s no secret that my grandpa hates my biological father with a burning passion and its pretty obviously effected his view on me my entire life.

but idk, it just kinda hurt in a whole new way to have my mom be so clearly dismissive of my wants too.

you’d think i’d be tougher after being emotionally and psychologically abused for more than half my life by a shitty excuse for a stepfather but here we are.

really wish he would have just beat me more instead of fucking with my emotional and psychological wellbeing. at least if he just beat the shit out of me more I might not be as deeply convinced I was undeserving of love and incapable of trusting people to have genuine good intentions when it comes to wanting to know me.

also if he’d beat me more often I might’ve been able to get someone to actually help me maybe instead of being laughed at by a guidance counsellor for opening up about the incredible levels of abuse because ‘hitting your children occasionally isn’t abuse’

anyways. listen. listen it is such a small fuckign thing, it’s such a small thing but receiving one of the items on my list just once would make me so happy. it would make me feel heard. it would make me feel like my wishes mattered and i was deserving of the things i want. it would make me feel like ppl cared about what i want when i have been told for so many years that they dont.

I hate that my mental health is so ruined. I hate that I will never get over any of the shit i was told time and time again as a child about how i dont deserve things and im subhuman and dont matter. i wish i could juist function mentally like a normal person who hasn’t been abused god i wish i could i really do.

but this shit sticks with you, forever. I’m never going to get over it im never going to be able to escape it all i can do is try my best to deal with it. i shouldnt fucking have to. i shouldnt have to fucking suffer for the rest of my life because someone decided to emotionally and psychologically destroy a child but i do.

#sassy says #personal bullshit #long post #personal shit #mentions of child abuse #the tablet is the catalyst for way too much thinking about how my wishes and desires have never mattered to people who it should matter to #//sigh//#venting #its one of those days lads.#its just one of those days #just needed to scream into the void a little #i wonder if he's dead yet i really wanna piss on his grave whenever he gets one #idk its less about the tablet and more about the blatant disregard for my wishes concerning it #im genuinely never going to use this thing.#its not something i would buy of my own volition #its literally everything i hate

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write-lets-do-this · 2 months

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Fate and destiny are often very important in spiritual contexts, and for someone with very few ties to the realms of spirituality and religion, it’s easy to forget that these things could actually be considered a real part of our world.

The idea that all the decisions we have made and ever will make are all pre-determined, however, steps beyond the limits of these concepts. It even makes a show in psychology, in the big debate of nature vs nurture. If the genetic makeup of every living being dictates their behaviour, then our responses will always be the same when we face a given situation. Of course, in a practical sense, this idea cannot be proven as even the tiniest of changes between one setting and another, even down to a few seconds’ time difference, can be enough to alter our behaviour quite significantly.

If you think about it from the very beginning of time – not in a literal sense, but, say, in an imaginary world where the first living being, you, has just come into existence. This world has nothing else in it except for you. Now, if your genes will always respond the same to any given situation, theoretically, if someone knew the makeup of your genes and had some genius way of calculating exactly what those genes would cause you to do in that setting, they could accurately predict exactly what you would do for every moment for the rest of your existence.

Now, this idea relies on this theoretical someone also knowing every detail of your past life, but in our little imaginary world, you don’t have one. You’ve just come into existence, memory as fresh as a newborn baby’s. Thus, your genetics are all you have to go on for your first decisions, before experience can have any effect on the choices you make.

If this concept is true, then the idea of free will is not. But there is, much like most significant philosophical debates, no way of proving or disproving this.

Do I believe it?

Well, that’s the question that prompted this post, isn’t it?

I don’t believe in the theory I just described. Partly because it simply seems unrealistic to me, and partly because, even if it is true, choosing to believe it would likely cause me to live a less happy life, with much less motivation if I’m convinced I don’t have any choice about what I’m doing. Humans are designed to believe they have full freedom to make decisions; it makes us happier as creatures on this planet.

But as for fate?

Well, in my eyes, fate is a lot less restrictive than the idea that we have no free will at all. Often, in the books I’ve read, it’s simply a couple of sentences that describe some achievement someone will make.

If I were to go somewhere and have my future read out to me, I do believe that that specific future would be more likely to happen, if only because (if it’s a future I desire) I would be actively trying to make it happen. If it’s one I don’t desire, I doubt that I would attempt to make it a reality, but the fact is once an idea is lodged in your mind, you’re more than likely, if you spend much time thinking about it, to compare what actually happens with what you were told until the two become so similar that you have no choice but to believe the prophecy was right.

So yes, in a way I suppose I do believe in destiny.

Not necessarily in the cosmic-alignment, decree of the Gods kind of way, but at the very least in the sense of a ‘self-fulfilling prophecy.’ And I think part of the truth is, I do want to believe.

I want to believe in some power beyond what is tangible so bad that I’ve dedicated my whole life to exploring things that aren’t real. Secretly, I probably want to be more powerful than I possibly ever could be in this world, but that’s a whole god-complex-flavoured can of worms that I don’t think I’ll be opening any time soon.

-Olive Tree

#my blog #blog #blogging #writing blog #fate #destiny #psychology #philosophy #free will #sorry these tags are kinda generic this time lol

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litchizzle · 1 year

Text

12.29.22

HELLO I GOT A NEW MECHANICAL KEYBOARD

And I am typing on it bc it feels nice :) When I was trying to think of somewhere where I could type a lot of stream of conscious bullshit I thought of tumblr :) :)

I do sometimes wish I had kept up with posting on here more often so I could get a full account of my life up to now, but... there are too many places to do reflections these days and it takes a lot for me to keep up with them. Plus it’s not like my posts on tumblr ever were a good representation of my life - it was just a place to rant and word barf and write back in the day when writing perhaps meant more to me (and I was a dramatic little shit)

I did just read a post in my drafts from midway through 2021 and I seemed a little lost about what to do with my life/career and it scared me a little bc I resonated too much with that, and it’s been 1.5 years and like I haven’t figured my shit out????

But I KNOW I KNOW I have actually come a long way. This year I think I figured out a path career-wise and have started carving my way forward - slowly but surely. I also picked up some hobbies again since then. Crazy to think that it happened this year because now it feels like I (should) have always been doing this. But I started painting and making art again, and just doing more creative hobbies in general. I think I always scattered a few creative activities here and there (maybe more graphic design related things in 2020/2021 though), but I had neglected the more tactile drawing/painting that always brought me a lot of joy. So I’m glad I pushed myself to start taking art classes this year, which definitely helped me restart the hobby again.

I also rebooted a lot of health/mental health related habits again - exercising regularly, meditating, reading. I’m getting better at being disciplined at those things. It’s almost weird to think of times when these things weren’t built into my habits. So yay progress!

AND this year did start to feel like the pandemic was lifted off our shoulders a bit more for me. I went out a lot more (especially in the summer) - met new people, tried to looked for new activities to do and ways to explore the city. I have lived in Boston for two years now and this year I really felt like I was getting to know it better finally - which felt really really nice !!! And it feels a lot more like home. We also moved to a new apartment. It feels a lot homier and happier than our old place. Perhaps I was starting to feel a little stale being in that old apartment all the time though, considering that was like my “pandemic apartment” and I was there literally all the time...

I did not intend for this post to turn into a yearly reflection thing, but TIS that season after all. 2022 started out pretty rough (it was a bad winter) but I think I grew a lot from that dark time LOL. There were a lot of negative thoughts that pushed me forward to do more things and try more things. I would say that I tried to embody “growth” as much as I could this year - with baby steps because you have to start somewhere. And a baby step is better than no step.

I am looking forward to 2023, not just because 23 is a special number to me (lmao) but also that I feel surprisingly in a good place right now and ready to take a bigger step. And I trust that I have the tools and the strength to go forward!!! I think this past year (or even two) has been a lot about resetting and gaining those tools again, after a weirdly destructive 2020. (Well I don’t think 2020 destroyed me that much but it put me in a weird place in terms of life and goals) (I felt really lost about my focus and values, in a way where I wasn’t really thinking about those things - I was more carefree perhaps) But I somehow feel more confident now about where I am and where I want to go - even if it’s not super clear, I know what I want to TRY at least. I know I want to keep doing things that make me happy and pushing myself to grow.

I will detail more specific goals later of course, but a general theme I have been thinking about is “intentionality”. I often feel like I am water, I go with the flow more than I should. This used to be a personality trait I held proudly, but I know now that it’s not always a good thing. If you flow too swiftly sometimes things pass you by. And sometimes you get no shit done LOL. I feel like I often go with the flow so often that when I think about where I am in life, I wonder how much of it was because of my own doing. It’s that whole “do I have free will” debate, but amplified in my brain because I’m SUCH a passive person. So much of my life has just been saying “yes” to the right thing at the right time - which I don’t discount, I think it’s great where it’s taken me - but it makes me feel..... like I don’t have control and take charge enough. Even for small things.

Which is not even true, bc I do take charge of small things ok - I wouldn’t be surviving here if I didn’t. But I’m just a VERY externally motivated person, a lot of my decisions are influenced by others (or done for others) OR my actions are triggered because of something someone else did. Which is fine, individuality is a myth and we’re just combinations of the people and things around us BUT

I want to at least be more conscious about the above, and how they relate to my decisions and actions. I want to actually act on the ideas I have of “oh I would like to do this” instead of waiting to see what other people want to do. AND I want to be intentional about the things I do, truly think about whether I want to do something or if I’m just “going with the flow”. I want to be more proactive, less reactive. I want to initiate plans more (I think I’ve been getting better at doing this) When I make plans for myself, I want to be more willing to follow through with them.

That is the gist of it. I think it correlates to just being more aware of your own actions and surroundings. (Which is something meditation taught me!) I don’t want to be living in a vacuum/matrix/haze or whatever you call it. In general I have been moving away from this but next year I want to put more effort into this mindset. Bias for action as they call it :^)

Anyways this has been a lot. Happy Holidays

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quibbs126 · 2 years

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*sigh* Do you ever have that problem of knowing you can do something, but not believing you can?

I don’t mean like, a self-worth thing, I mean like as in you know, logically, that you have the ability to do something, but in your mind, it doesn’t click that you can do that, because you’re still stuck in that mentality that you can’t?

Like for example, I’m just starting in college, but I feel like that hasn’t…registered in my mind yet. Like I know that technically, I can go wherever I want, do whatever I want, I could go like, dye my hair or get a tattoo or something I dunno what people do, but I won’t. Because I don’t believe that I am able to do those things. Not that I really want to do those things, I’m happy with myself the way I am, and those things don’t really sound that enticing to do for me, it’s not my thing. I dunno

I’m an adult now, but I don’t seem to think that. I know it to be true, but my mind just…doesn’t process that

And it’s not just a problem of “oh I won’t go out there and live a little” no it’s a problem of “I don’t understand what being an adult is”. I don’t understand that as someone in college I need to be invested in the real world. I don’t know how to drive, nor do I have much inclination to, even though I know I need to. I don’t understand scholarships or the fact that I need them, because in my mind that’s for “older people”. It’s the same thing with money, I don’t understand that I need to get a job so I can get more money. I don’t understand I need a resume to get a job. I don’t understand that I need to actually explore opportunities for my future career instead of just ignoring them because “I’m only a freshman, that doesn’t apply to me”. I don’t understand that I need to study, because for years I never have, and I don’t understand that the major I want to get into requires me to get good grades that I’ve been able to get in the past. I don’t understand that my grades really do matter now, because before when I got bad grades I learned to realize that they really don’t mean much in the long run, so I don’t apply myself to do more than I already do. I don’t understand things are different now and that my grades matter if I want to get into my major.

Heck I’m not even sure this is the major I want. I want to go into Computer Science to make video games, because I like making stories and some of those involve video games, and I’m personally interested in learning what else goes into video games, and maybe if I learn I’ll be able to make my own video games. But at the same time, I like to draw art, and my passion is more making characters and stories. Character design is something I’m very interested in, and sometimes I feel like I’d be happier and more invested in a more art focused major, like Visualization. And I want to learn to write better stories, or more accurately make a story out of the ideas I have, but at the same time I’m not sure I want to do a major in English or literature or whatever it is, because I don’t like writing essays. But maybe I don’t like writing essays because I wasn’t invested in the material we were writing essays about. Or maybe it’s just social stigma, and in reality I don’t actually have anything against writing essays, it’s just the idea. Because belief is a very powerful thing. But at the same time, I don’t want to give up on engineering because I’ve made friends because of engineering programs, because there’s a support structure here I know engineering has that I don’t know if other major areas do. Maybe it’s because I was told they have weed-out classes and they try to make people quit engineering, and out of a sense of pride I don’t want to quit it. Will I even be happy in Computer Science? Is it what I want to do? I don’t know because I’m not in it yet, I don’t know what it entails, other than the hardest thing about it is getting in to it in the first place. Or maybe the real reason is that I can’t be bothered to go through the effort of looking into other options I know I have

Because I swear, that’s the biggest problem I have, I can’t be bothered. I’m not invested enough in my own life to do something with it. I can’t be bothered to study. I can’t be bothered to do my homework long before it’s due, even though I know it’ll save me headaches in the future. I can’t be bothered to look into other means of paying for college, because that requires effort on my part. I can’t be bothered to try and get a job, because that means effort and I don’t want to spend my time being productive with my life. I can’t be bothered to interact with other people and make friends because what, it’s hard? I don’t understand people? I can’t be bothered to leave my room or my dorm because I can entertain myself with my iPad or my games. Because that’s all I ever want to do

I’m stuck in this idea that I don’t have responsibilities, I can just have fun during my free time. I don’t need to manage my time or spend it actually doing something, that’s for grown-ups. It’s like…I never learned to grow up, I still have the mentality of a 12 year old, and I never learned that I need to grow up, that I can’t stay like this forever, that I need to be actually invested in my life.

I don’t understand how people do it. How do they…learn to grow up? How to be mature? How to manage their time? How to be productive? It all looks so easy. And they have fun too, it’s not like their lives are nothing but work. They can have fun, and they know how to manage their lives, and here I am, stuck in my fantasy world, always trying to just have fun…and I’m dragging myself behind in the process. I see my friend, we’ve been friends since elementary school, and she’s figured it out. Whenever we hang out, she’s working on her work, she tells me how she’s working on her projects little by little each day, how we’re supposed to instead of cramming it all at the last second, while I draw on my iPad or play on my DS or scroll through tumblr. For some reason I feel like whenever we meet, I have time to just goof off, when I have time to do something else. And it’s like that with free time in class as well. I don’t think I need to do anything more, so I sit there, all the while the people around me use their free time to work on homework or other stuff. I don’t understand it. How do they do it? Why am I the only one who doesn’t get it? Heck even my 12 year old brother gets it better than me, and I don’t understand it.

How do people invest themselves in reality, and how can I do it? Because I’m not invested in the real world, I’m invested in the lives of fictional characters, characters I know aren’t real and don’t contribute anything to the real world, I know they don’t matter. But they’re all I think about. They’re all I can connect to. And in turn, I don’t understand real people. I can’t know their lives like I know a fictional characters, I can’t understand how they operate, I can’t summarize them with a few words, mostly because I don’t know how to describe people, other than people. I’m invested in creating fictional storylines, both for characters from franchises I enjoy and for ones of my own making, and I spend all my time thinking about them, and not on things that really matter. Whenever I talk to someone, I just talk to them by showing them my art, and infodumping stuff about franchises I like, because I don’t know how to interact with people like a normal person, there’s nothing about my life I can talk to them about. I’ll be going to the dining halls and I’ll see other students easily able to strike up a conversation with the staff, but whenever I get to the staff, no conversation ever seems to happen. They just give me my food and be done with it. And I’m happy to strike up conversation, I like small talk. Is it something about how I come off to people? Is that why nobody wants to talk to me? They don’t know me so it’s not about my conversation topics. You know, I could swear this was a problem I had back in 5th grade as well. But getting back on track, I think that might be part of the reason why in my descriptions for my drawings, I go in detail about my stuff, even though I could make it much simpler (that is if I knew how) and just keep it to the point. But I don’t because I want to explain things to people, I want them to get to know me, and I want to contribute to a conversation, and that’s how I see people on the internet interact, by talking about franchises they like, so why not do the same?

*sigh* I hate being like this. I hate not being able to invest myself in reality, not being able to balance work and fun, not being able to understand other people, being the spectator in life when I could be doing something.

Because I’ll go on and on about the future, saying how “oh, on the weekend I’ll actually study” only to never do that. I’ll be like “I’ll spend my 5 hours of free time catching up on my homework” and I’ll never do that. I’ll tell myself I’ll be productive, and maybe I’ll do one small thing, but then I’ll be like “okay that’s enough for now, why not take a small break, pace myself?” and then the rest of the day goes by and it’s 9:00 and I haven’t done anything else. Every day I’ll tell myself I’ll be productive, only to go to bed disappointed in myself for not doing anything. And I hate it. And I have long term ideas too, like one day making a TV show or a video game series, and I’m terrified that I‘ll say that, but due to my lack of effort I’ll never reach that, and I’ll end up spending my days as a waste of space, contributing nothing to society, not even the bare minimum, while everyone else I know goes on and accomplishes things with their lives, while I could never be bothered to, and I’ll end up as nothing but a disappointment to everyone

Because my parents told me I have skill. I’ve been told I’m smart as a kid. I know school stuff comes easy to me. And because of that, I can never be bothered to give more than the bare minimum, because that’s all I’ve ever needed to do. But I don’t realize that I need more, and people telling me it’s okay to fail sometimes or not be the best at anything just makes me desensitized to doing bad, I just think it’s no big deal. So I never apply myself, and I don’t understand what I need to do to stop.

Because I want to stop, I want to live like everyone else, I want to be happy, I want to know who I as a person am other than a disappointment, I don’t want to go to bed every night disappointed in myself.

And I know this all falls on me. I know that there’s no one else to blame for this misery but me. There are people who can help, who want to help, who have tried to give me help and options so I can improve myself. But I don’t listen. They’re just saying words, words I’ll ignore. I know I shouldn’t ignore them, that I need to listen, but I won’t. I won’t tell people how I feel, heck honestly this post here is probably the only time I’ve been truly honest to anyone about my feelings, and I know it’s to my detriment. I’m not good with words in real life and to be honest, I’m surprised I’ve even been able to make it this far saying all of this. Because in my head, it always blows over. I’ll get like this sometimes, and I’ll want to talk to someone about it, but when that happens it’s not exactly an opportune moment, so I wait…and my feelings go away. You know how in cartoons, status quo is king? Yeah that’s how my mind works. And it’s infuriating. I’ll never tell someone how I feel about things, and it’ll go away, to come back another night to haunt me, so I’ll drown it out with thoughts and music.

And like I said, it all falls on me. I can’t blame other people for the way that I am, I can’t blame the fact that I’m overworked or that I have problems preventing me from doing something about myself. Because I don’t. The only thing stopping me from doing something about this, to try and make myself better is me. I need to be the one to step up, to stop procrastinating, to start learning how to talk to people, to start doing good on what I say I’m gonna do, to be part of the real world. It doesn’t fall onto other people, I need to be the one to make that change. But I won’t, because it’s too much effort. Because it’s no one else’s problem, why does it matter? How long before I break? Will I break? Or will I be stuck in this miserable cycle forever? Because honestly, I want to break. At least then someone might be able to tell there’s something wrong with me, at least then I’ll know if there’s something wrong with me, or if I’m just someone who’s making way too big a deal out of all of this

Sometimes I wish I didn’t know these things about myself, that I could remain ignorant about my problems and live in and ignorant bliss. Because the worst people are the people who know they have a problem, who know what they’re doing is bad…but won’t do anything about it. They know the problem but refuse to seek out a solution. So I guess that makes me a bad person too.

I don’t know why I wrote this. I know no one will read this, it’s tumblr for god’s sake. Only like, 3 people will read this or something. And it’s not like it’ll have any change in my life. Sorry, this is just my only social media platform, and I guess I just…wanted to vent. Maybe this would have been time better spent sending it to people who are actually part of my real life instead of random strangers on the Internet.

#I don’t know what to tag this #ramblings #random stuff #long post #real life stuff #what does any of this matter

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thebluewritingbench · 3 years

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if you’re still taking prompts, can you do happiness #1?

Before we launch into 6b next week, here's a small fantasy of a scene that I wish the cw would give us. Happiness #1 from this prompt list again.

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“Alex calls it The Honesty Policy.”

Lena takes the mug of hot chocolate Kara offers, cradling it between her hands. “The Honesty Policy?” she asks, as Kara sits down on the couch beside her.

“I imagine Kelly probably fed it to her,” Kara says. “But she was helping me try to figure out how we could get ourselves… well, back to normal, after everything, and she was really insistent that this one was worth a try.”

“What is it?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. No more secrets,” Kara says, tapping her own collarbone, then fixing her gaze pointedly on Lena. “No more lying. We tell each other things. We’re honest. We trust each other with our secrets.”

Lena nods, looking down into her mug of hot chocolate. The dim lights of Kara’s loft glow orange across her cheekbones, and in the silence, the sounds of late-night passing cars rumble up from the street below. It’s the first time they’ve really spent time truly alone together since… well everything.

There’s still a lot of awkwardness between them; turns out secrets and betrayal and double-crossing—and the fact that forgiveness was barely hatching between them when Kara was banished to the phantom zone—will do that to a friendship. There was the initial hug, of course, after Kara was rescued, when Lena wrapped her arms around Kara and buried her face in Kara’s neck and held her so tightly that Kara was certain she’d never let go, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her whole body quivering. It was somewhat surreal, the warm shock of having Lena in her arms after so many months, her hair against Kara’s cheek, the muted scent of her shampoo. They’d sank to the floor, still holding each as the ship creaked around them, and stayed there for god knows how long in each other arms.

But since then, since that initial wordless embrace that felt as much like coming home as anything, they haven’t known what to say to each other. They work together easily enough, the animosity between Supergirl and Lena finally gone, but it’s more difficult when they’re just Kara and Lena. They’ve forgiven each other, Kara thinks. Or at least agreed to forgive each other, even if there’s still work to be done. But it’s weird. It’s not like they can snap straight back into how things were before.

Hence The Honesty Policy.

“Okay,” Lena says finally. “Yes. No more secrets. A clean start.”

A clean start. It’s what they need, after an entire friendship where one or the other of them has been hiding things. For the first time, everything between them will be out in the open. Nothing left to hide.

It’s oddly freeing.

Kara takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “So, where do we start?”

“Start?”

“I think we should have just an honest conversation. I don’t want this to be awkward anymore, I want to be able to talk to you like we used to. So, in the interest of honesty, tell me something you’ve never told me before. It doesn’t have to be big—” she adds hurriedly, when Lena’s eyes widen in alarm. “Something small. Something tiny you’ve never had reason to tell me.”

Lena nods slowly, thinking. “In the interest of honesty…” she starts. “In the interest of honesty, I… I really think that those bangs were a mistake.”

Kara makes a noise of offended disbelief in the back of her throat. “I—Rude!”

“You said to be honest!” Lena says, biting her lip like she’s holding back a laugh. “They’re growing out now, anyways. It looks much better.”

Kara gives her bangs a self-conscious pat. They’re still at a slightly awkward length, but they’re long enough to blend in semi-decently with the rest of her hair now. “If we’re being honest, then,” she says. “I think that blouse is really ugly.”

Lena looks down at herself. She sounds slightly hurt when she says, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything! It’s—the pattern! The sleeves! The collar! It looks like it’s made of cheap polyester.”

“It’s designer!” Lena pouts.

“Who designed it?”

“Well, I thought that blazer you wore last week was kind of hideous. I didn’t say anything at the time, but in the interest of honesty…”

Kara laughs, and Lena’s irritated expression melts away at her laughter, something in her eyes softening. It’s an expression Kara’s been seeing on her more often, in moments she catches Lena watching her when she thinks Kara isn’t paying attention.

She’s always paying attention to Lena.

“Maybe we should just agree to say that we both have questionable fashion taste sometimes and call it a day,” she says, downing the rest of her hot chocolate and placing the mug on the table.

Lena takes a dainty sip of her own still mostly filled mug. “Fine.”

There’s a long pause, and Kara taps her fingers on her pant leg and tries to think of a new conversation starter. She finally settles on. “In the interest of honesty… how are you holding up?”

Lena shrugs. “I’m okay, I suppose. I’m anxious about Lex—I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s back on our heels. Mostly, I’m just glad to have you back.” She looks over her mug at Kara. “I think that’s more a question I should be asking you, though.”

The look of intense concern in Lena’s eyes makes her feel hot, and Kara squirms slightly, pulling her collar away from her neck with a finger. She wants to say I’m fine, but honesty is the whole point of this exercise. “I’m… still not great. Being back there it… brought up a lot. Brought back a lot. I’m still having a really hard time with it all. It’s—it’s hard to talk about.”

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“I want to talk about with you at some point. I just… don’t want it to ruin every conversation I have, you know? I want some things to be normal, still. I want to pretend things can be normal.”

“That makes sense,” Lena nods. She looks small when she says, “In the—in the interest of honesty, are you still mad?”

“At you?” Lena nods again, and Kara sighs, looking away. “It’s complicated, I guess. A little, maybe? I meant it when I said I forgave you, but there’s still part of me that’s a little angry. You did a lot of things that were… really bad, Lena.”

“I know.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Kara asks, and Lena’s shaking her head before she even finishes the question.

“No. No, I’m done being mad at you. I get it. I get why you hid your identity, and I wish you’d told me sooner, but I’m not angry anymore. I don’t have enough energy to be angry anymore. I’m happier if I don’t hate you.”

“Well, I’m glad for that.”

“I would have done anything to get you back, you know,” Lena says in a rush, words spilling out like she can’t stop them. “You say I did bad things before, but I would have watched the world burn if it meant I could have brought you back.” She looks down at her lap. “Who knows what I would have done if Alex hadn’t been there to stop me.”

“Lena.” Kara reaches over to take her hand. “You know I can’t possibly be mad at you for that.”

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay,” Lena whispers. Kara watches her swirl around the dregs of her hot chocolate and takes a deep breath.

There’s still one more secret between them. One more secret that has the potential to ruin their friendship. Kara thinks they’re both aware of it, on some level. Aware of the way the weight of it shifts their every interaction. The others are aware of it too, have maybe known longer than Kara has. Alex certainly has. It was she who looked Kara in the eye when they were discussing this whole honestly policy and said, “You have to tell her this. You know you do.”

She can’t risk another secret in their relationship.

“Um, in the interest of honesty,” she starts, and finds she can’t quite meet Lena’s eyes. “I have to tell you—in all honesty, I would probably just keep it a secret, if I could, but I don’t think we should do secrets anymore, so I just need to tell you that I, um, have feelings for you.”

Lena straightens. “Feelings?” she says, her voice cautious.

Kara closes her eyes. Takes a breath. Steadies herself. Opens them again. “I’m in love with you,” she says. “Um, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, but I need… I need you to know.”

“Oh,” breathes Lena. She opens her mouth, and it seem to take several moments for the words to catch up with her. “Well, in—in the interest of honesty, Kara, I’ve—I’ve been in love with you for years.” She gives a wry little half smile. “If we’re being honest.”

“What? You have?”

“Darling,” says Lena. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“The day we met?”

“Why do you think it hurt me so badly when I found out who you were? Why do you think I was so deep in denial about it that I never figured it out myself? Do you really think you were that good at hiding it?”

“I mean, I thought—”

“The disguise. The hair. The glasses.” She puts down her mug, then reaches over and gently tugs the glasses from Kara’s face, folding the arms in and placing them on the table. She brushes a strand of hair behind Kara’s ear. “You mentioned Supergirl far too much as Kara and Kara far too much as Supergirl and one time you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

“That’s—yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

“You’re in love with me? Honestly?” whispers Lena.

“I am. I really, truly am. Why do you think I refused to give up on you when everyone else was ready to?”

“I thought that just how you are. You don’t give up on anyone.”

“I try not to. But you, I could never bear to, even when it seemed like the only logical option to everyone else. Why do you think I waited so long to tell you in the first place? I was so scared to ruin things between us.”

“Why do you think I bought you an entire media empire?” Lena murmurs, and she’s so close, hand fisted in the collar of Kara’s shirt.

Kara giggles. “Why do you think I flew all over Europe to get you lunch?”

Lena laughs, and it’s such a relief to hear her laughter again, to let the conversation flow between them. There’s a bud of hope for the future that’s been sitting in Kara’s chest for years now, and under Lena’s adoring gaze, it starts to open.

“In all honesty,” Kara says, “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Lena slips a hand into her hair, runs her thumb over Kara’s cheekbone. “In all honesty?” She leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “I’d like that.”

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl fanfic #featuring me making fun of the supergirl costume department and also the bangs #and justifying all the sc bullshit i can #and making our girls have an hONEST CONVERSATIOn #is this therapy?#anyways I wrote this as a palate cleanser in between chapters of my WIP so enjoy :D #asks #anon #prompts #bluewritingbench writes #bluewritingbench ficlets

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getosboobies · 3 years

Text

reasons i think matchablossom is or has been canon!

once again, i have become overly obsessive and have throughly analysed each and every kaoru & kojiro scene that we currently have. i indulged and created my own list of “ are they besties or are they banging or both “ but i have decided to share it all with you :))

( keep in mind, i’m a reacher and these are just my interpretations. i will go to any extent to prove myself correct - no matter how unlikely )

so first of all, we have the fact cherry is the only one we have yet to see at joe’s restaurant after hours. this immediately shows that they are extremely comfortable with each other and spend a lot of time together even when they’re not skating. it also potentially suggests cherry is waiting for joe to go home, maybe a habit they’ve developed over time. before these scenes, the producers always show an image of the restaurants front door which states closed. by showing this frame, it obviously gives the impression it’s important for us to know that it is closed and therefore showings us that joe and cherry’s relationship is more than just some rivalry banta and that they have an established friendship built on trust and time. the creators could have just not shown that it was closed and had us assume that’s they were just good friends who spent time together but they went a whole step further and showed us these two men’s personal lives are somewhat intertwined with one another, showing us that they don’t have large boundaries for each other which would be considered strange in contrast to the “ arguing “ we had previously seen between them. if this isn’t enough for you, in these scenes we also see joes uniform unbuttoned so i take this as even more evidence of how comfortable they are around each other. also ! restaurants tend to close quite late ( avg. 8pm-12pm ) and on all the shots of the closed door, it has been dark outside. why wouldn’t cherry be home at this time settling down or something??? or maybe cherry has a lot of love for joe if he’s willing to wait that long for him to finish work... just sayin’. more on this, i analysed the restaurants design and noticed that the plug in the wall is really low down to the ground. maybe this is just one of joes odd design techniques or maybe it was specifically placed for cherry to charge carla, the concept of which, makes me very happy

keeping on the point of joe’s restaurant, whenever we have seen cherry inside he always sits right in front of the kitchen, this is pretty normal unless you think about 1) how much time he spends there 2) how busy restaurants get 3) he came there while he was with a colleague. we’ve already seen that cherry doesn’t mind coming after hours so why did he come during the day if he knew joe would be busy? this is similar to the fact he came in with his colleague in episode 2 - he obviously wasn’t expecting to be able to talk with joe while he was out for a work meal, so why on earth would he sit right in front of where joe would be, which is situated in a considerably inconvenient table for work meal? what i’ve interpreted from this is that cherry’s must enjoy being in joes presence. cherry canonically having anxiety would explain why he likes being close to someone who he knows well, and that cares for him. being able to see and hear joe so close is perhaps very relaxing for cherry.

now when i watched sk8 for the first time, i gather the impression that joe was a forgive and forget kinda guy when it came to someone who did him wrong. when we’re introduced to adam it’s evident there is some hostility within joe but this does not nearly compare to the anger cherry showed. when suggesting a beef their intentions seem to be completely different. cherry outrightly admitting to his grudge and anger for adam whereas joe seems to just want to prove a point to adam by winning against him ( i mean look at the image above, their facial expressions show it all ). but i noticed that as cherry would speak about adam, joe’s intentions slowly shifted and became far more serious and full of anger. “ there’s someone i’d like to punch “ is a sentence said by joe in episode 8. this is quite different to what we had seen in earlier episodes of him just wanting to make a point. i think this shift was predominantly when joe found cherry at the ocean view. joe knew how cherry was feeling towards adam BEFORE this scene because he knew where to find him, but the realisation that cherry was standing there, alone, and reliving some of his saddest memories probably hit joe that cherry couldn’t do this alone. therefore stepped up his game and met cherry’s loathing so they could do it together. as far as things go, this is one of the most important things they have done for each other because it shows clearly how devoted they are to each other.

this is one of the most confusing lines in this show thus far. i’m sure it’ll make sense in the oncoming episodes but i have come to two conclusions. so either adam has created this false reality of what happened and has told himself his evil ways stemmed from joe and cherry or, the more likely in my opinion, adam always felt like he was in need of a partner, a rival but also someone to love. this is displayed in the show in his predatory ways, aka, he wants his own ‘eve’. now there’s no ruling whatsoever that a skater needs any sort of dedicated rival, or skate partner, so i believe adam probably got this want from his peers, for example, joe and cherry. adam seems to believe you need to love your ‘eve’ and it gives me the idea that maybe he saw joe and cherry -in love- and decided that was what he wanted, but then as we know he went about it in an extremely toxic way. the “was it so“ was really hard to interpret, he’s clearly quite smug by the way he shrugs and smiles and shows that he’s very confident about what he’s saying but the question is short and leaves a lot unknown, which suggests why cherry and joe don’t respond. either they are as confused as i am, or they have a slight idea what adam could be suggesting and they feel guilty. we all know cherry and joe aren’t bad hearted people but as adam is insinuating ‘no, you guys parted ways from me first’ it could suggest that joe and cherry had perhaps become closer in high school and had developed a stronger bond than they had with adam and this left adam feeling lost and alone. this is more of a canon compliant headcanon that would make sense rather than a fact but it’s certainly something to think about.

one of the most obvious factors in their relationship is how they always know what the other is thinking or planning. we’ve seen in recent episodes that when cherry was racing, joe knew exactly what his motive was even without discussing it, thats enough information to show how well they truly know each other and how connected they really are. it’s also shown with cherry. when joe is racing, and is going extremely fast towards the corner, we see a frame of miya and shadow being worried for him, but then it shifts to cherry watching and there’s not a spec of worry on his face because he KNOWS what joe is planning and knows he will be fine. they know each other’s techniques better than anyone and it shows they don’t doubt each other’s choices one bit.

we learn right from the beginning that cherry and joe like to argue and fight, at first we think this is because they dislike each other but we learn that they are best friends. so when watching back you notice that none of the insults are ever actually insulting. let’s think about it, the most common insults they use are gorilla, dimwit and four-eyes. now to me, none of these actually seem insulting whatsoever and even if they do like to argue a lot it’s obvious they never ever mean any harm to one another.

from analysing the scenes one of the things i’ve noticed the most is how cherry and joe turn up and leave together. when the cops came during the langa x adam skate they both started to run off together leaving everyone else behind. as we know, they spend a lot of their personal lives together but leaving and turning up together every single time we’ve see them there seems like they’re a bit more attached than i originally thought. there’s a chance they meet before hand but why always that late at night? why aren’t they ever at home alone? unless...they live together. i mean it’s a perfectly valid suspicion right now as we’ve never seen either of their homes and we’ve never seen either of them turn up anywhere alone but either way it confirms they spend an awful lot of time together in general life. going back to my original point of them not only turning up and leaving together but they also never leave each other’s sides. there’s a heap of frames that you can see them standing together watching a beef or even just them talking. they’re literally attached at the hip and nothing makes me happier.

the creators of the show have made countless points to show that joe and cherry have a lot of history. from the school references to the fact they have TRAVELLED THE WORLD TOGETHER. they could have just shown one or two so we know that as a general fact they’ve known each other a long time but they bring it up an awful lot for it to be just a general fact. this being shown so much let’s us know that this is important information and that they’ve obviously wanting to lay down a foundation to bring something crucial up. so far they have mentioned their social studies trip, a school excursion, joes love for haunted houses, holiday to La and the Paris bar they went to. now you might be thinking, oh they were in the same school they probably just went on a trip together nothing confirms they were close, well i am here to prove that statement false. joe said he found cherry’s wallet, this not only shows that joe was close to cherry when he lost it but also that he knew where to find it, showing how well he knew cherry. another point is that legal age to drink in Paris is 18 so unless they had fake ID it’s safe to say this is a trip they’ve done since becoming adults and leaving school. it’s also canon that have gone together, so the fact they’ve been travelling as adults together is quite interesting. same with the restaurant in LA, sounds kinda like a date.

over the course of the episodes we’ve seen so far there has been a few comments they have made to each other that suggest a little bit of jealousy. for cherry, these comments are made in episode 6 in the hot spring. cherry brings up joes love for haunted houses and then joe agrees and says it’s because “chicks get scared and grab onto me” * with a smirk *. now what’s interesting about this is cherry’s response. “you really are a scumbag” this insult feels a lot more insulting than usual and the response itself surprised me. at this moment cherry looks away from joe which is an action people tend to do when they’re hurt or pissed off. either works in this scenario but neither make much sense as we know cherry’s already aware of joes status with girls. so why was he mad? well this was obviously a fond memory of cherry’s and joe replying with a statement about girls probably made him a bit angry because that was supposed to be their memory. but joes smirk with the comment makes me rethink, did he state that on purpose to make cherry jealous? obviously we can’t be sure but the entire encounter left me a bit confused. now onto joes jealousy, in episode 2 dub joe says “dude, you’re talking to a machine?” now in context this seems like joe is partially bewildered by the fact cherry is casually talking to his AI skateboard but he also seems slightly jealous that cherry is talking to carla instead of talking to him. this is one of the only scenes where joes facial expressions actually seem insulted rather than just having a bit of fun. he follows this up with “figured you’d give your board a girls name seeing as you can’t get a real one!” why can’t he get a real one? we hear tonnes of girls screaming compliments at cherry when he turns up so he definitely could get a girlfriend if he wanted, and joe no doubt knows this too, so why would he use it as an insult? i’m not sure what to make of this but it’s got to be a factor somewhere.

more on the haunted mansion chit chat, the line about chicks grabbing onto joe is quite funny when you look at the entire scene, because as soon as they get jumped they grabbed onto each other in fear. seems a little ironic if i do say so myself.

they both seem very secluded about their personal lives. cherry more specifically does not like the use of his skate name in his personal life or vice versa. joe is the only one we have seen to be aware or use cherry’s real name. the way joe slips up and calls cherry ‘kaoru’ at “S” shows how close they are and how much time they spend together to be able to accidentally mix up the two parts of their lives. this is just an extra point on how conjoined their lives must really be. in the photo above we see how cherry easily calms joe down when he starts to get annoyed. joe is the only one who knows fully about cherry’s life as emotions and cherry is the same for joe.

now one of the most heart wrenching matcha blossom scenes is when joe finds cherry at the ocean view. i have a lot to say about this so let’s start at the beginning. first of all, joe noticed cherry was missing. it’s not like cherry was there for a massive amount of time, so joe noticing that cherry was gone for even as much as an hour or two really says a lot about the placement they have in each other’s lives. there was really no reason for joe to worry about where cherry was considering they’re grown adults but he continued to go out and find him anyways. this is also set in the late afternoon judging by the sky, whereas the previous scene had been set at night at “s”, so this is suggesting the ocean view scene is on a completely different normal day for them (another factor showing how much time they spend together). next, the fact joe knew exactly where to find cherry. this truly shows how much they know and how connected they are to each other but also how well they understand the others coping mechanisms. cherry was dwelling on memories from 7 years ago and yet joe still knew exactly what he was doing and what he was thinking about. plus cherry didn’t even seem surprised when joe turns up. but one thing i noticed is that in this scene is the way they (in this case, didn’t) hold eye contact. while cherry is faced away, joe is staring at him but as soon as cherry meets joes eyes, joe turns away. either joe didn’t want to be caught staring or joe realised something crucial in that moment. i’ll let your mind decide what that is.

obviously, miyas comment about joe and cherry being his parents is a light hearted joke just to ruin joes chances of flirting with girls but it also implies that the group can tell that joe and cherry are respectively closer than anyone originally thought and they perhaps have caught on that the tension between them is a little bit too gay to be just a bit of banta. obviously in this scene we then see joe looking at cherry’s legs while a blush clearly intensifies on his face. yeah no, this is self explanatory.

one of the things i like about joe and cherry’s relationship is the fact that within that joe also has a somewhat dynamic with carla. although carla is non-living, there has been several interactions between them. for example the beginning of episode 6 on the boat joe recognises carlas voice immediately. i mean straight off i think it’s suspicious as hell that they all happened to be going there at the same time but the fact joe realised cherry must be there because of the sound of an AI skateboard? that’s impressive. also, at the beginning of the series carla is aware of who joe is when calling joe an imbecile, this shows that cherry has obviously had this modified to specifically refer to joe as joe rather than just refer to him as a general person.

there was a popular tiktok i saw the other day (if anyone has the username of the person please tell me so i can credit them!!) and it showed the two images above. in these photos it shows joes skateboard and his odd looking wheels. the creator of this video further analysed that these reflect the general outlook of a cherry blossom flower. though the actual wheels in real life don’t look as similar to a flower as they do in the show. but now if this is what they’re meant to look like, this is a really sentimental fact and shows how highly joe thinks of cherry in his skating career. but what about his personal life? well that’s where my analysing comes in. i noticed in the dessert joe makes in episode 5 he had a range of fruits displayed on the top as well as a single flower. this flower looks identical to a cherry blossom. once again the reflection of cherry within joes life makes an appearance. we’ve seen that flowers actually mean something in this show (toxic example but adam’s red roses for langa) so it would make sense for this to actually mean something about their relationship. i studied a range of Japanese desserts and, although every chef works differently, most of the dishes tend to only have a display of fruits and no flowers. so i have come to the conclusion that this dish certainly had some symbolism to cherry in joes life, some way or another.

so overall, their dynamic already shows that they have a very thin and mistakable line between very close best friends and potential lovers. although some of this was based off personal interpretation the majority is cinematic displays and general facts. so take this and use it however you like. let me know your opinions and other factors you have! for all i know i could be completely disproven with the next few episodes but surely if this many people see a bit more than just a friendship there’s got to be a reason for it.

if we can have one lgbt+ character... why not two more?

#written pre ep 9 #matcha blossom #matchablossom #sk8 cherry blossom #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #cherry blossom #joecherry #kaoru sakurayashiki #cherry #cherry blossom x joe #these bitches gay #call me obsessed i don’t care

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dumbikawa · 3 years

Text

Taking Care of the HQ Boys

GN!Reader | Fluff | Warnings: None

Characters: Suna, Kuroo, Iwaizumi

A/n: I’m such a simp for these boys it’s insane

SUNA

It took Suna a while to get used to the way you never held back when it came to taking care of him. One night, after a particularly rough practice, he’d sluggishly entered the apartment and practically collapsed on top of where you were laying on the couch. Wordlessly, you positioned yourself so that he was resting on your lap with both his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. It was comfortably silent as you ran your fingers through his hair that was still slightly damp from showering at the gym and in no time at all he was softly snoring.

He'd never admit it aloud, but he loved when you took care of him in little ways like that. From the start, he had always insisted on being the big spoon, obsessed with the way your body perfectly molded against his and the satisfaction of knowing you felt safe in his arms. Ever since that night, though, it became a regular thing for you to see him standing, looking at you like a pouty child, from the corner of your eye waiting for you to take the hint that he wanted you to cuddle him. You'd simply open your arms for him to crawl into without even having to look up from your phone.

Today was no exception.

Suna can feel the physical exhaustion down to his bones as he allows the cool water to wash away the sweat and grime he collected over the course of practice. Mentally he feels the same; completely drained in every sense of the word. He can’t even find the energy to thoroughly dry his hair, opting to quickly rub it with a towel before making his way to the bedroom and collapsing on the bed.

“Rin!” you gently scold, placing the book you’d been reading beside you on the bed. “You’re going to ruin your pillow.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, eyes remaining shut as he lets out a content sigh. He did care, actually, but his decision was already made and now that he was in bed there was no way he was getting up. He truly meant that, but when he feels you tugging at his hand for him to get up he begrudgingly obliges.

You’re holding your hair dryer and gesturing for him to sit on the floor. It doesn’t seem wise to disobey when you look so determined, so he slides off the bed, giving you full access to his sopping mess of hair.

His eyes flutter closed as the warmth from the hairdryer and the way your fingers are skillfully brushing through his hair begins to pull him towards sleep. Not to mention, in this position he has the perfect opportunity to use your thigh as a pillow and he makes a mental note to have you dry his hair more often. But, sadly, the flow of warm air shuts off and your voice pulls him back to the present.

“C’mon you big baby,” you laugh, watching him groan and throw himself back up on the bed. He shimmies under the covers, but refuses to place his head back on the damp pillow. Instead, he stares at you with sleepy eyes until you’ve positioned yourself so that you can sit comfortably and open your arms for him.

His arms automatically snake around your waist as he buries his head in your side.

“Do I do enough to take care of you?” he asks softly, turning to look up at you with a vulnerability that he doesn't often display so openly.

“Of course, Rin,” you hum, tracing your fingers down his exposed back. He still seems unsure as he pushes his face against your shirt, but his shoulders relax slightly. “I mean it. I like taking care of you, okay? There’s nothing to repay if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Your reassurance falls on deaf ears, though, as you feel his breathing even out and his grip on you loosening.

“I love you, baby,” you whisper, grabbing your book from where you’d set it earlier and relishing in the quiet as you continued to absentmindedly draw designs against Suna's warm skin.

KUROO

Kuroo closes the apartment door quietly, finally letting his shoulders droop with exhaustion now that he's inside. He slips his bag noiselessly onto the ground and flicks his watch up to check the time. It was well past midnight by the time he actually clocked out of work and, although he wants nothing more than a dual welcome home/goodnight kiss from you, he hopes you’re sound asleep by now.

However, much to his surprise, you’re curled up on the couch with a book and a warm cup of tea, so enthralled in whatever you’re reading that you don't hear him approach. There’s a strong possibility you aren’t even aware of what time it is, completely lost in another world. He tests this theory by walking behind the couch and wrapping his arms around you, chuckling at the way you jump at the sudden contact.

“Welcome home!” you beam once you recover from the small scare. You press a quick kiss to his upturned lips before he walks around to the front so that he can relieve a proper hug.

“Thank you, babe,” he murmurs against your lips, not wanting to pull away from your warmth just yet. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I wanted to wait for you and then I got to this really good part in my book and just...lost track of what time it was.” The way your eyes light up sends a wave of admiration shooting straight through Kuroo’s heart. “How was work? Why did you have to stay so late?”

Kuroo begins walking you through his hectic day, quickly turning the discussion into an irritated rant about having to fix other people’s mistakes and figuring out schedules for upcoming projects. You listen thoughtfully as you migrate towards the kitchen, your boyfriend trailing closely behind.

Soon, there was a cup of hot tea in his hands and the two of you are positioned on the couch with your legs thrown over his lap as he gently massages your calves.

Your eyes never leave his as he talks, nodding along and asking questions every now and then. He didn’t need nor want any sort of advice or words of wisdom. Simply having you listen to him was enough to have him feeling ten times lighter by the time he reached the bottom of his cup.

“Do you want more?” you ask, beginning to stand up. Kuroo doesn’t answer, instead leaning forward and hooking his arm around your waist so that you fall back into his arms.

“More of you, yes,” he says, smiling into your hair. He can practically feel the way your eyes roll as you let out an exasperated groan at his cheesy comment, but the hint of a blush making its way to your cheeks betrays you.

You make the first move to get up, offering a hand out to him. His hand engulfs yours as you pull him towards the bedroom. The bed has new sheets and the laundry is sitting in a basket freshly washed and ready to be folded. A wave of guilt crashes into him, knowing that you also worked today and must’ve come home afterwards and cleaned up.

“Baby, you should’ve gotten some rest,” Kuroo sighs, gesturing to the laundry and neatly made bed. "I'm certain it was my turn to do the laundry.”

“Yeah, but when you told me you had to work late I figured I’d knock out some chores since I had the time. It’s not like it’s a big deal, Tetsu.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” The words have barely left his lips before he's throwing the covers over the two of you and shutting off the lights. His arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you close to him, relishing in your small giggles. It doesn't take long for you to drift to sleep while Kuroo places soft kisses against your exposed shoulders. He soon follows, matching his breathing with yours and immediately winding down, but until his brain finally shuts off from exhaustion he's thinking of all the ways he's going to show you just how much he appreciates everything you do.

IWAIZUMI

Iwaizumi watches as you begin cooking dinner for the two of you as a quiet pop song plays off your phone. His work day was less than stellar, to put it simply, but watching you dance around the kitchen has already earned the frown from his face and has him smiling like a damn fool.

“Haji!” you exclaim, suddenly noticing the lurking figure from the corner of your eye. He steps out from his hiding place, an amused yet sheepish look on his face as he notices your flustered expression. “Why were you just standing there? Come here and give me a kiss, idiot.” He raises his hands in surrender as he does what you say, letting his lips linger on yours for a moment longer than usual and wrapping his arms around your waist to draw you closer to him.

“Hey, doll,” he murmurs against your skin, resting his face into the crook of your neck. You pull back slightly, ignoring his childlike protests as you do so.

“Are you okay?” you question, eyeing him up and down. Iwaizumi is sure he could get lost in your beautiful eyes that are currently filled with concern. You know him too well, he thinks, as you give him a knowing look. It was still difficult for him to open up about things, especially small things that had bothered him throughout the day. There wasn't a real reason to talk about all the irritating parts of the day because he knows he can handle them himself, or so he claims.

“Y/n, it’s nothing,” he reassures, kissing your nose in an attempt to further prove he’s not bothered. “It was just a very long day, but now I’m back here with you and I couldn’t be happier.” His smooth talking makes it impossible for you to stay mad, but you surely try.

“Alright, well, you know you can talk about it even if it’s ‘nothing.’ In the meantime, stay here and watch the food for a moment while I run you a bath.” Iwaizumi is quick to object, but you’ve already sauntered out of the room and he can hear the faint sound of running water.

It truly did feel nice to be taken care of, he thinks fleetingly as he sinks into the warm water, but it's difficult for him to fully relax when he can hear you bustling around the kitchen. He waits in the bath for a little longer so that you won't bite his head off for how quick he was before changing into a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable shirt. The sounds of you beginning to set the table echoes down the hallway and he finds himself hoping you'll at least let him help with that.

“You lasted longer in there than I thought," you tease as your boyfriend appears back at your side. "Now go sit down." He opens his mouth to argue, but one look and he finds himself moving towards the table, wondering why you were so intent on doing everything.

“At least let me do the dishes,” he practically pleads, watching you with an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude as you bring the warm food over to the table.

“Or, hear me out, we leave the dishes to deal with tomorrow and spend the rest of the night watching movies cuddled up on the couch." He narrows his eyes as he searches through his brain, trying to remember if he'd forgotten an anniversary or birthday because he surely didn't feel as if he deserved this.

As if reading his mind once again you reach out and hold his hand, gently rubbing your thumb in circles against his skin.

"Can't you just let me take care of you? You're constantly going above and beyond for me, so I just thought I'd try and return the favor." Iwaizumi feels his face heat up as you place a kiss against his knuckles like he always does to you. It did feel nice, but he enjoys taking care of you. He never even thinks twice about it.

"Alright, alright. In that case, you can do the dishes tonight and maybe also get some desert." He can feel your eyes boring into him as if to say, 'Don't push it.' A smile breaks out on his face as he begins digging into the meal you prepared, peppering you with compliments until his plate is clean.

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witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

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