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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With you part 7

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Summary: Jake just kissed you. Will he let things change between you?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, (Marc Spector x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/notables: Angst, complicated relationship stuff, kissing, cursing, crying. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

"Stop telling me what to do," you fired back, refusing to shrink away. "You're driving me crazy. If you don't want to talk to me, or know me - if you want to sneak in and out of here every night and never see me again, then just say so."

Your chest heaved with emotion. "I won't like it and I won't ever stop worrying about you, or wanting to know you, but --"

You didn't get to finish because Jake roughly pulled you into his arms and crushed his mouth to yours.

You had expected something hard. Intense, possessive. Like Marc.

Or surprisingly, blisteringly seductive. Like Steven.

Jake was tender. And you fell apart in his arms.

Expecting a frantic shove up against the wall, you got, instead, arms cradling you like a treasure. He rocked you gently - gloved fingers winding behind your neck.

The searing heat of his tongue made your chest burn with longing. Realizing you had melted in his embrace, your own arms limp by your sides, you reached suddenly and desperately for his curls.

Knocking the cap off his head, you threaded your fingers through his hair, using the leverage to pull yourself upright, arching against his chest as he groaned into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

Strong arms flexed against your back as he wrapped you up tighter, pulling his lips away for a moment and rubbing his nose against yours.

Unable to resist the heated temptation of your breath, he kissed you again, deeper this time - hungrier.

You were used to this body - accustomed to the response it ignited in you.

But, to Jake, you were all new. A wondrous discovery. He wanted to touch and feel you everywhere at once but the stupid bird was thundering in his head, sending a faint but definite breeze fluttering through the bedroom.

"Wait...mi vida," he panted against your parted lips, pushing you back by your shoulders. "I can't. I have to go"

Your entire world had changed in the span of a kiss - your heart, already so full of love for this system - dug down deeper to plant new roots for Jake to grow there. Forever was born anew in your soul, just like it had been when you met Steven...

...and he had to go?

"Jake," you gasped, undeterred by supernatural events around you, gripping his arms as if it might actually keep him with you. "Wait, please--"

"I know," he softly replied, touching his forehead to yours. "But people are in trouble. They need help."

Releasing you, he stepped back, reaching for his cap. "This is what I have to do. It's...the point of me."

"The point of you? Jake--"

"Yes," he answered firmly, pulling the flat cap over his curls before taking a few determined strides toward the door.

Pausing, he glanced back at you - breathtaking you, so adorable in your hoodie and joggers, peering at him so expectantly. "Imagine if no one was there to help you the other night, mi vida - what could have happened to you..."

You needed to accept this. The way you accepted Marc's sobriety journey or Steven applying to university. This was who Jake was and this was his choice. The stolen moments in his arms - the slight relief of the tension between you just now had granted you at least this clarity.

"I understand," you breathed, grateful that he at least tried to explain himself. "Just...be careful...okay?"

"Claro," he nodded, heading toward the front door.

"You don't use the window?" You teased, following after him, to sweetly see him off, rather than plead with him further.

Turning back, he jingled his keys in front of you with an amused smirk. "Marc gave me a key."

"Wow," you chuckled, impressed. "Be careful," you repeated. "I-I'll wait for you.

"No, mi amor." Jake shook his head, grasping your elbow the way he was prone to do. "Go to sleep. You have your shift tomorrow--"

"Okay," you conceded, feeling a secret thrill that he seemed to know your schedule. The warmth of possibility bloomed in your chest, making it easier for you to agree instead of firing back.

Seeming satisfied with your answer, he finally left.

You did wait.

You sat in Steven's favorite reading chair, which was conveniently located close to the front door.

You listened to the podcast again. Did a puzzle. Read for a bit. Drank another cup of coffee. Splashed your face with cold water. Five times.

But eventually, you fell asleep.

And that's where Jake found you a few hours later, when he entered through the front door (for a change).

Curled up in a ball, with your hands tucked cutely into the sleeves of Marc's hoodie, Jake just stared down at you for a moment. Tempted to leave you there to rest, he found he couldn't resist scooping you into his arms and carrying you to bed.

You barely roused as he lay you down gently and covered you with a blanket. Quickly changing out of his work clothes, he washed up before joining you.

After what happened between the two of you earlier, he was more tempted than ever to touch you somehow - to pull you close. But the body had already lost enough sleep tonight. Steven was going to be so tired for class in the morning.

He couldn't take anymore time away from them. Or you. That wasn't his purpose.

Feeling exhaustion pulling at the corners of his mind, he decided it was for the best - to give himself over to it, like always. You would have your fiancé in a few hours.

Then your alarm went off.

You woke up immediately, digging into the pocket of your hoodie to silence the intrusive noise. That's when you noticed your fiancé in bed with you.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry." Sitting up, your eyebrows gathered in confusion as you tried to figure out...

"What are you doing?" Jake sat up as well, his deep voice affirming that it was still him - that he had yet to fall asleep.

"I'm sorry," you repeated, rubbing your eyes. "I tried to stay awake, but - well, I set my alarm just in case."

"Just in case what? You have to be at the hospital in a few hours, mi vida."

"I know...and I'm not trying to bother you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Softly sighing, you set your phone on the bedside table. "And I didn't know when I would see you again."

Shaking his head, Jake eased back onto his pillow. "That's how it's supposed to be. You have work. Steven has class. The rest of the time is Marc's. I can't take anything else from him."

It took you a minute to process everything Jake said.

"What?" You responded, the implications of what he'd just voiced astounding you. "You want Steven and me to get some rest - I get that. But what exactly are you taking from Marc?"

Lying down, you turned on your side to face Jake, who was staring up at the ceiling.

"Everything. His life. Time. And now you too? I can't," he exhaled shakily. "We can't. It's better the way it was."

Oh, game on.

"Better for whom? For you? Jake...I told you that the reason I stayed up and waited for you earlier was for two things - " You sat back up determinedly and counted the reasons off on your fingers. "One - to ask how you were doing - which I still haven't had a chance to do, and two - to tell you that if you don't want to ever talk to me, or see me, or be in my life, then to please just tell me."

"It's not what I want, mi corazón - it's what has to be - what always has been," Jake said insistently, sitting up in bed beside you, gesturing with his hands. "You don't understand how it works with us - how things have to be.

"Everything I do is to protect us - all of us, because Marc can't live without Steven. And he definitely can't live without you. ¿Entiendes?"

Raking his hands through his hair, he sighed in frustration. "I already fucked up, that night, in the alley, and then he started drinking again, and you were fighting, and it's because of me. I'm only supposed to make things better, not worse.

"And now, tonight, I shouldn't have done what I did, before. You-you don't belong to me." His chest heaved as he shook his head.

"I don't belong to anyone, Jake." Your voice was softer now, the ache in your heart prompting you to reach for his shoulder. "I choose to be with Marc, every day. And Steven."

Inching closer, you traced over his neck to cup his cheek, feeling his jaw clench under your fingertips. "I chose to wait up for you. I want to wait up for you, and to know you."

He physically withdrew from you then, turning his head away from your touch. And that hurt. Still...you couldn't force him to want to know you, despite how confused that intense, delicious kiss had left you.

Reaching for Jake's hand, you gently traced your fingers over his knuckles - only briefly, before pulling away, giving him the space he clearly wanted.

"Jake...all this must be so hard for you to bear. I can't even imagine. But you don't have to do everything all by yourself." Your lip trembled as you quickly started to realize this conversation was ending. You were both exhausted, and Jake was used to sleeping, or another alter fronting, by this point.

In one last bold attempt, you darted over to kiss the soft fabric over his shoulder.

"Remember that you have a family. And in families, you don't just do jobs, you matter." Lying down on your pillow, you felt warm tears drip down your face, but you tried to keep your voice from shaking. This was about him, not you. "You matter to me, Jake. Even if you can't love me. It's okay - I just want you to know you're not taking anything away from anyone. You only add more."

Jake could hear the sweet sound of your voice and his skin burned from your touch, but a void of impossibility engulfed him. He was so tired. It was so much work to operate in a way that contradicted his entire existence. It was easier to slip away, and before he could even think that he should respond to you...

Steven breathed your name in the dark.

Quickly turning your back to him, tears flooded your eyes. Biting your lip hard to keep your cries to yourself, you attempted to pretend to be asleep. Jake was right that both you and Steven needed some rest.

Your plan worked. Sleepily rolling over, Steven's face found your neck and he latched onto you in typical Koala Steven style. Thankfully he was too exhausted to feel you shudder in his embrace.

Finding comfort in your fiancé's tender, strong arms, you began to calm down. But after everything tonight, your mind raced as you re-evaluated your approach to Jake. Apparently you had done every single thing wrong. He was abundantly clear on his role in the system and what he wanted - or, in this case - didn't want from you.

Why were you fighting him so hard?

After a few minutes of sweet torment, you climbed back out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Shutting the door quietly, you allowed your tears to flow a little more freely, easing down to the floor with your back against the door. Burying your face in your hands, you quietly sobbed, drenching the sleeves of Marc's hoodie.

It wasn't like you to cry very often, or to even operate at the whims of such a wild range of emotions. But as your soft gasps settled, and you leaned over on the bathroom floor, completely drained, you realized something.

If there was anything in this world you wanted, it was for Marc to feel accepted and loved - every single part of him. That, of course, meant Steven, but now it meant Jake too. If Jake didn't want your love, you would have to accept that, but the fact that he seemed to think he didn't even have the right to exist outside his protective role - to ever talk or interact with who he called family, including his alters - it killed you.

That was the last thing you remembered before you passed out asleep on the bathroom floor.

Coming up: Marc finds you on the bathroom floor and freaks right the hell out. Will you see Jake again anytime soon?

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sovksluv · 3 months

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soft sounds from another planet - chapter 1

🪐 . pairing - twelve y/o!Luke Castellan x twelve y/o!fem!reader au

🪐 . summary - who knew a walk in the park would leave you longing for someone who you had no idea you’d ever see again?

🪐 . includes - sadness, baby Luke, May Castellan my baby

🪐 . word count - 2,021 😭

🪐 . series taglist - @sarhrts @mayaahhs @mischiefmoons

🪐 . pjo taglist - @perseus-jackass @niktwazny303

🪐 . now playing - Soft Sounds From Another Planet by Japanese Breakfast

🪐 . a/n - chapter one of the series !! comments and reblogs are appreciated, i love talking to you guys ! <3

🪐 . series masterlist

fallen leaves crunched under your feet, your shaky legs wobbling with exhaustion. the cool autumn air breathlessly flowed through your bones, chilling you to the core. warm hues of august’s blazing sunset casted an ethereal glow on you as you walked, illuminating the breathtaking features that littered your face.

you took uneven steps, which matched your quaking breaths. your fingers flowed delicately through the leaves of the bushes surrounding you. you silently admired the beauty of it all; of all the perfectly woven thorns and petals that equally occupied the bushes. of the few brightly tinted leaves that still stuck strong to their beloved trees. of the precious butterfly families that always find their ways back to each other.

it’s cruel. how everything around you continues on, without a care in the world. without the knowledge that you weren't privileged enough to enjoy things like they did. you tried to focus on the beauty of the scene around you. happy families walking and laughing with each other, leaves falling from their semi-bare trees, birds singing beautifully to their dearest loved ones. maybe taking a picture would successfully etch it into your mind.

it’s unfair. you desperately yearn for the love you sense in the air. for the security that those around you can feel in their own homes. it’s not fair that their habitat has become a refuge for you; to escape from the house called ‘home.’ you felt safe in the masked delicacy of the park. the cherished home of the unique insects and plants.

the sun had traveled further down since the start of your walk, but still gave you the same warm feeling from before. you kept your head pointing to the ground, your eyes traced the path you created. up ahead of you was an empty bench. It sat quietly and unbothered under a tree, which strategically blocked the sun from where you’d sit, while also allowing a slight glow to beam down on it.

in your mind, you had already claimed the bench before you even got to it. and when you were close enough to sit on it, you chose the spot right in the middle, hoping your choice would show those around that you’d prefer to stay alone. you leaned against the backrest of the bench. there was a distant look in your eyes, not truly focused on one thing.

a dim, empty hue flooded your eyes and a solemn look heavily rested upon your intricate features. you basked in the sweet sound of the rustling trees. there was a slight pounding in your head, the result of the sobs that frantically wracked through your body prior to your walk. your strong emotions pathetically left your nose runny and eyes puffy.

the scene that played itself before you in the last hour weighed down all that was left in your heart. the great being that controlled your life roughly pulled on the few strings connecting your heart to your mind. it made your insides feel heavy and achy, leaving your mind an irreversible, trashed mess.

you focused your eyes back to the scene before you. fewer people stood around than before, most having left at the newer darkness that had formed. there was no one that really stood out to you. your eyes glazed over all your surroundings, quickly pausing at things that you found most intriguing. the final stop was at the bench across the park from you, though you were unable to tear your eyes away.

sat at said bench, mirroring you, was a boy. from afar he seemed he could be your age, yet it was still hard to tell. he, too, sat in the middle of his bench. you couldn’t see his face well, but you could see most of him. though he was sitting, he looked to be somewhat tall. he had dark curls and a blurry face you wish you could see up close.

you wouldn't dare go up to him, though. afraid you’d scare him off with your rough voice and red eyes. with your decision held firm in your mind, you still allowed yourself to shamelessly stare at him. how could someone so physically far from you feel so emotionally close? you had an inexplicably deep desire to know him. To understand why he was here. or how he seemed to be the one thing you needed that was there right when you needed him.

you got so lost in your desires to know this mystery boy that you failed to notice how you caught his attention. you were brought back to the present, eyes meeting his far ones. you should've been embarrassed, being caught staring at a boy you’ve never met, yet you weren’t. it just made you want to talk to him even more.

your shared eye contact stayed strong. neither of you chose to be the one to break it. that’s what you thought, until he stood up. he was tall. he made careful, hesitant steps towards you, assuming you shared the same interest in him as he did you. you were intrigued, and him nearing you made your odd desires to know him grow rapidly. so you stood up as well, elegantly flowing towards him.

you and the boy met each other in the middle, what was barely left of the sunset lit up his features beautifully. he looked like a god. the light illuminated the glowing gold specks in his brown eyes. he had a scar of a hero that ran down his right cheek. his raven hair curled perfectly in all possible directions. there was a mystifying, ethereal beauty to him, one that you could spend forever observing.

nothing was awkward between you. it felt as if you’d known him all your life. it felt like you had lived a whole lifetime with him, yet in this one, you don't even know his name. a new feeling washes over you, one so unfamiliar that you struggle to put it into words. you feel like just by being in his presence, you’re more protected than you’ve ever been.

around this boy, whom you ‘just met,’ you felt an indescribable tug. like the being controlling your heartstrings had intricately tied them to his, entrusting him to protect your heart in ways you’d never imagine you deserved. and you did deserve it. one day he’d show you just how much you did.

“i’m Luke,” he muttered, it was barely above a whisper. however, your close proximity allowed for his quiet words to be clearly understood. his voice was soft and soothing. the delicate strum of his vocal cords physically calmed you. they sent a strong wave of reassurance through you, ridding you of all your previous worries.

you finally told him your name, and you swear you saw his eyes gleam even more. in admiration? curiosity? there was an unspoken connection that sat comfortably between you two, buzzing with delight. you didn’t even need to speak and still there was so much being said.

neither of you seemed to have an actual conversation to start, both just wanting to be in the presence of the other. he softly smiled at you, his pearly white teeth flashing by in a blink. he had small dimples on both cheeks. his smile, his dimples and his bright eyes ignite something in you, making your head feel fuzzy.

he awkwardly glanced around you guys, taking a calm breath and beginning to talk, “why are you sitting here all alone? you look upset.” you felt his burning gaze as he watched you, awaiting your answer, but you hadn’t returned it. he whispered your name, catching your full attention. your eyes met his. they were full of patience and interest, allowing you to say only what you needed to.

“just- needed to get away, i guess.” he nodded understandingly at your words, knowing that you may not want to share anything else. from an outside view, you two must’ve looked strange, standing in the middle of the park sharing a few words with each other. but between the two of you, it was so much more.

Luke didn’t push you, didn’t make you say more than you could. he waited for you to talk to him, to trust him. a comfortable wave of silence washed over, so much was being expressed just from the eye contact you guys made, and the smiles you shared.

you hadn’t noticed that Luke wasn’t the only one presenting a smile, but he did. a breathtaking smile was plastered on your lips, creases formed in the corner of your eyes, which shone with a feeling that could only be described as feeling alive. you felt like all your problems were small and stupid. when Luke was around, he acted like a true guard of your heart. protecting you from all that burdened and weighed you down.

your body moved on autopilot as you found the words you had been searching for, you were just on the brink of uttering them. “Luke!” his attention was torn away from you at the call, his head darted behind him. a slim woman with long, dark hair, who you assumed was his mother, stood at one of the entrances, waving her arm, beckoning him towards her.

he waved back, possibly a signal for ‘one minute.’ a dreadful feeling flooded your insides, sprouting from your stomach and spreading rapidly. it hit your heart first, and you felt the warm sensation of his silent protection fading away. all you could do was stand and watch the comfort you felt slowly seep from within you.

he looked back at you again, but his smile had shrunk. now, he looked at you with remorse, not missing the emptiness that formed in the dark parts of your eyes. he took pity, understanding the reasons behind your poorly hidden feelings. he still didn't push, however, not wanting to pile on the growing pressure that was filling your heart.

“you have to go?” he sighed. and he waited for the silence to answer your question. it did. he still looked at you, though, as you did him. you tried to not let any emotion on your face, it’s not his fault that he has to leave, and it's not fair to blame him. neither wanted to be the one to walk away first, but he knew it would have to be him. his mother was waiting. he couldn’t keep his mother waiting.

he flashed a dim smile, “it was nice meeting you.” he tried to ease the quiet, hoping it would give back that comfort, even for a small time. you lowly grinned, offering the young boy your hand, “will I ever see you again, Luke?” gears turned in his head as he pondered the question. Luke smiled, answering your question with a nod as he shook your hand. his was warm, and comforting, and it gave you a pinch of comfort that quickly disappeared as he pulled away.

then, he said his goodbyes, walking back over to the woman at the entrance. the woman who smiled brightly at his arrival, wrapping her arm around him and playfully ruffling his hair. you couldn’t tear your eyes from the acts of affection playing in front of you, sending hurtful pangs straight to your heart. the strings felt like they were being forcefully tugged on with no remorse.

Luke had glanced back at you, hoping to make eye contact with you one last time. but your back was already facing him as you walked away, footsteps heavy. Luke didn’t know what you had to go home to. he didn’t know that you yearned for what he had with his mother. but he didn’t have to know.

you had barely been gone for a few minutes, escaping into the darkness of the woods, yet Luke already missed you, wishing he could be back in your comforting presence once again. you cherished the new, euphoric feeling he gave you, the soft sounds that played from him.

the soft sounds from his planet that lit the dim lights on yours.

#𖤐 . rue’s world #𖤐 . rue talks #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo disney+#pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo show #pjo spoilers #pjo tv show #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell imagine

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ineffable-endearments · 4 months

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I was rethinking the bookshop meta I wrote a while ago and realized I was not thinking big enough.

The bookshop has always been Aziraphale's version of Crowley's plants (his trauma reenactment), but also, absolutely everything Aziraphale does in Season 2 is a re-creation of Heaven's role. Crowley's behavior also encompasses everything, not just his plants.

I've seen it suggested that centering Aziraphale and Crowley's trauma histories is reducing their characters to behaving like just reactive victims instead of survivors with agency. Or worse, it's "excusing bad behavior." I don't agree with either of these, because I feel that part of Good Omens is about how large, powerful systems affect individuals, and so the context of every character's decisions matters a lot to the overall themes of the story. Everyone starts out working within a system they believe to reflect reality and then has to learn how to break free of it. You cannot really illustrate that without having the characters start out being genuinely trapped with different ways of coping with their reality.

This is an attempt at a pretty big-picture meta. Although it isn't a plot prediction, it's how I think some of the series' themes are going to progress. It starts out perhaps a little grim, but in the long run, it's how Aziraphale's character growth and relationship with Crowley can simultaneously be massive for them as individuals, a crucial part of the overarching narrative message of the series, and symbolic of a change in all of Heaven and Hell, all while allowing the themes to continue to prioritize human free will.

In short, it's about Aziraphale's problems, but it's also meant to be an Aziraphale love post.

All of the below exists in tandem with Good Omens as a comedy of errors. Just because there are heavy ideas does not mean they will not also be funny. Look back on how much of Season 2 seemed silly until we started to pick it apart! One of the amazing things about Good Omens is how it manages to do both silly and serious at once! (I feel like that's maybe a little Terry Pratchett DNA showing through. "Laughter can get through the keyhole while seriousness is still hammering on the door," as Terry himself said.)

Aziraphale has really embraced his connection to Crowley in Season 2, and he has also become considerably more assertive toward Heaven and Hell. These are both major growth points compared to the beginning of Season 1.

However, again, we have the concept of growing pains...Aziraphale is starting to re-create Heaven's role in his relationship with Crowley and humanity. It's really obvious with the Gabriel argument and the I Was Wrong Dance, but I think we see it all over the place: he seems to feel any serious dissent is a betrayal. He also seems to assume there's a dominance hierarchy and he, of course, is on top. Now that he's decided to take control of his own future, then surely that does mean he's the one in control, right?

With all that said, he still seems to have trouble being direct about the feelings that make him most vulnerable. He manipulates people and engineers situations in which he can try to get his emotional needs met rather than saying things outright (case in point: the Ball).

Like I pointed out in the bookshop meta: subconsciously, he's playing the role of God, modified with what God would be if She were everything he wants Her to be. He's generous, almost infinitely sweet, always does what's best for people...or, at least, what he believes is best for people. During the Ball, Aziraphale influences the people around him to be comfortable and happy even when they're not supposed to be, and he limits their ability to talk about things he thinks are too rude or improper for happy, formal occasions.

Doesn't this pattern sort of make sense for an angel who's just discovering free will? Like, at the end of Season 1, he made an enormous choice to stand against Heaven and realized he could survive it. Now he's gone a bit overboard with exerting his own will. Unfortunately, while he's learned to question upper management, he's still operating on a fundamental framework of the universe where there have to be two sides and there has to be a hierarchy. Also, since Aziraphale is on the Good side, he of course has to gear his desires into what's Good rather than just what he wants, so he sometimes thinks he's doing things for others when really he's doing things for himself. (For example, matchmaking Maggie and Nina started out as something he wanted to use to lie to Heaven, but by the time he was commenting "Maggie and Nina are counting on me," he seemed sincere, like he had genuinely convinced himself this was for them and not for himself.)

Aziraphale knows Heaven interferes in human affairs, ostensibly on God's behalf. He thinks She should be intervening in ways that are beneficial. What I believe the narrative wants him to learn is that God and Heaven shouldn't be manipulating people at all, not even for Good, and in fact there is no real meaningful hierarchy.

Anyway, a top-down, totally unquestioned hierarchy is the primary social relationship Aziraphale has known, and it's certainly been the dominant one for most of his existence: you're either the boss or the underling, and if someone seriously questions you, they don't have faith in you - they don't respect you.

No, his relationship with Crowley has not always been like that, but they've been creating their relationship from whole cloth, so how would he know it shouldn't become that way, now that it's "real" and out in the open?

No, human relationships aren't like that, but Aziraphale clearly does not see himself or Crowley as human. As the relationship approached something that seemed like it must be "legitimate," Aziraphale would naturally look for a framework to fit it to. And again, the only one he has is the shape of "intimacy," or what passes for it, in Heaven. What has "trust" always meant in all his "legitimate" relationships? It has always meant unquestioning obedience, of course. What have the warm fuzzies felt like in Heaven? Well, praise from the angels above him is nice, so that must be it, right?

Aziraphale even describes being in love as "what humans do," separating out that relationship style. Someday, I think he'll realize he favors the shape of love on Earth, something that's more inherently equal, more give-and-take. Look at how he idealizes it from afar at the Ball. But I think that, like Crowley before Nina pointed it out, Aziraphale maybe hasn't 100% grokked that it can and in fact should work that way for him and Crowley, too. Just like people can desperately want to dance without knowing how to dance, or can desperately want to speak a language without knowing the language, Aziraphale does not instinctively know how to have the kind of relationship where he can be truly vulnerable and handle Crowley's vulnerability as well.

Aziraphale is downright obsessed with French, known as the "language of love." He's trying to learn it the Earthly way. He's not very good at it, but he wants to be.

This pattern is still present during the Final Fifteen even if we assume Aziraphale is asking Crowley to become an angel again out of fear (and I find it very hard to believe that fear doesn't factor in at all). He's still building his interactions off of that Heaven-like framework: he asks Crowley to trust him blindly, he tries to assume a leadership role with a plan Crowley never agreed to and couldn't follow anyway, and he tries very hard not to leave room for an ounce of doubt. He also suggests making Crowley his second-in-command and obviously does not register that this could possibly be offensive. Again, I think this is because for Aziraphale, there has always been a hierarchy in Heaven, it's started to transfer to his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of that assumption about relationships is going to take more processing than a single argument can do.

As I mentioned in another post, I don't believe Aziraphale had a real choice about whether he accepted the Supreme Archangel position. I think he could sense that he was not getting out of it and chose to look on the bright side, to see it as an opportunity. And instead of looking realistically at how that would feel to Crowley, he tried to sweep Crowley up to Heaven with him using toxic positivity, appeals to morality, and appeals to their relationship itself. Again, mimicking what Heaven has done to him.

To me, "they're not talking" is a big clue that Aziraphale's approach with Crowley is going to be the mistake the narrative really wants him to face. "Not talking" has, thus far, been presented as the central conflict of Season 3! After losing the structure and feedback Heaven gave him, Aziraphale started creating Heaven-like patterns in his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of those patterns is what he needs to do. Discovering first-hand that Heaven's entire modus operandi is bad no matter who's in charge is how he can do it.

Look, either you're sympathetic to Aziraphale's control issues or you're not. Personally, I am. He's trying so, so hard to be good. I think trying to figure yourself out (which Aziraphale is clearly doing) is hard enough, and when you start balancing what you want for yourself, what you think are your responsibilities, and what other people are actively asking of you, you're bound to fall into the patterns that have been enforced for your whole life or for millions of years, whichever came first.

It is very easy to assume that people should Just Be Better, but it's not actually that simple to be a thinking, feeling person. My anxiety tends to move in a very inward direction and Aziraphale's moves outward. But I'd imagine the desperation and exhaustion are the same.

Unlike Nina, Aziraphale became a rebound mess. I don't think it occurred to either him or to Crowley that there could be any soul-searching, anything but carrying on with the new normal after their stalemate with Heaven and Hell.

Now, instead of getting rejected by Heaven and surviving it, Aziraphale needs to be the one to reject Heaven. It needs to be a choice. And that choice is going to come from realizing that Heaven isn't just poorly managed but also represents a bad framework for all relationships.

How could this happen? Good question. We're obviously not supposed to know yet, although I think picking at existing themes within the narrative could possibly give us hints.

It's possible Aziraphale's character development trajectory will be akin to Adam Young's in Season 1. Please see this stellar post by eidetictelekinetic for more thoughts about it, but basically, in Season 1, Adam saw that the world was not what he wanted it to be and decided his vision was better; as he ascended to power, he took complete control over all his friends and then soon realized that's not what he wants because there's no point in trying to have relationships with people who can't choose you. It's that realization that leads Adam to conclude he doesn't want to take over the world and to reject the role he's expected to play as the Antichrist. Maybe Aziraphale's trip to Heaven is an attempt at a control move during which he'll realize he's defeating his own point.

Aziraphale clearly wants to be chosen. From the very beginning, he's wanted to be special and cared for - just like Crowley has.

Incidentally, I think Aziraphale and Crowley are going to represent pieces of the bigger picture here, and this - first imitating and then rejecting Heaven's relationship style - can both symbolize Heaven's transformation and directly start it (probably in an amusing, somewhat indirect way, like when he handed off the flaming sword to Adam).

If I'm right - which I may very well not be - I think this would all be so, SO cool. Like, "An angel who is subconsciously trying to be a better God" is a concept with so much potential for both tender kindness and incredible darkness. Add to that the comedy-of-errors aspect of "...but even deeper down, he'd much rather just be super gay on Earth" and you have, in my opinion, a perfect character.

I think this could work for Crowley as well. It's obvious that in the Good Omens universe, at least so far, Hell is all about detesting humans and punishing them; Satan seems to genuinely hate humans (unlike in some of NG's other works). Our perspective on this could change, but it potentially puts Crowley in a complementary position to Aziraphale, as a demon who is trying to be "better" than Satan. But this isn't about being "morally better." It's about things having a point. Crowley's exploits usually have a point: they test people. And you can pass his tests! He sincerely likes making trouble, but Crowley doesn't live to punish.

But, once again, the above paragraph would describe a transient phase for this infinitely charming character. Because, again, I think the point will be that in the end, Crowley's deeper-down desire, moreso than testing Creation, is watching it grow with a glass of wine in hand.

#go3 speculation

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gladiolidiaries · 9 months

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Must Read Drarry fics

A compilation of the crème de la crème Drarry, all the fics that I always go back to when I want to immerse myself in the Harry Potter universe. In no particular order.

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#this post will interest maybe 3 anons but it was fun making it #drarry #harry x draco #hpdm #harry potter

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word-wytch · 1 year

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 11

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 11/? 5.2k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Parent teacher conferences and long forgotten stories uncover worlds beneath.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: stories within stories, high fantasy, discussion of childhood hardship, implied spousal abuse, parent death mention, drug use mention, heavy angst

Friday, November 15th 1985

Eddie was lost in another world.

He was floating actually. High above the clouds, not that he could see them. He wished he could but the empty crate he had stolen away in was the only thing shielding him from the suspicious eyes of the merchants aboard the zeppelin. His heart pounded as the wind carried him further than he’d ever been from the only place he’d ever known — the isolated Cloud Kingdom of Myrne. High atop a mountain range. A city of gold, gleaming like a beacon in the sun.

His back ached against the stiff wood rocking him like a cradle. He was lucky to be small enough to fit. Lucky that he had just enough space to shed his silk coat to use as padding. If he laid just right he could even stretch his legs toward the ceiling to relieve the cramps that threatened his claves.

He would have to ration the dried boar’s meat and meager flask of water that he’d stashed away in his knapsack. There wasn’t space for very much, and he needed the precious real estate for not only clothing, but the jars of herbs and poultices to stave off the illnesses he was so susceptible to.

That was why he — or, Lady Cybelle rather, ended up here in the first place. See, there was something she needed from the world beneath. Desperately. Her brother did anyway. A rare, translucent plant called a ghostfern found only in the depths of certain caves. It was a known cure for his equally rare illness, or at least that’s what she read during her herbalism studies. Much like Eddie, all she knew of the world beneath was what she read about.

Cybelle begged the high council to send for it. To send scouts to collect it. But they refused, unwilling to risk the safety of the collective for the life of just one. There was always a risk involved in the leaving and returning of Myrnish people. A risk to contract and spread more illness that threatened the lives of them all.

Cybelle was crafty though, and equally determined. She’d fashioned a mask out of moth silk with a pocket for illness-staving herbs. She would need it when the zeppelin finally landed in Torgaard. When she figured her way out of this crate without being spotted. When she set foot, for the first time, on the land she only caught a glimpse of when the clouds beneath her parted.

Eddie had grown rather fond of Cybelle. He’d been spending every evening with her since Wednesday. Ever since you handed him your world in a black three ring binder — Worlds Beneath.

It was intimate, reading your work. As if he could read between the lines and observe the way your mind worked. The way your phrasing flowed. Your choice of words. As if part of you was there within the pages. The hidden part of you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was as captivated as he was impressed. He supposed after watching you analyze literature on a daily basis that it would be more… literary. More serious. Less fantastical. But this was beyond anything he could have anticipated.

There was a secret world in you. He would catch glimpses of it sometimes when you laughed. It would peek around the mask you wore like a curious child when he talked about elves and magic. He could hear its quiet voice becoming braver.

He was there now, inside of it. Crammed inside a crate aboard a zeppelin. You had a way of doing that, he noticed. Taking him there. Making him feel the wooden crate against his spine. The stuffy air in the close darkness around him. The fear twinged with excitement. It was a sort of magic you possessed.

He could feel it outside the pages too. The gentle burning in your fingertips, even when you pulled away. Especially when you pulled away. The quiet wanting of it all.

He wondered how often you went there, to the secret world in you. Did you drift there as you glided down the hallway? Would you hide there when the real world was too much?

He wondered how many people saw it. How many others you let in.

He wondered if he stayed there long enough, set up camp and looked around, if he would find himself there too.

______

You fixed your hair as you checked your reflection in the faculty bathroom mirror. The old light bathed everything in a yellow wash. It made your skin look as tired as you felt. You picked lint off the black blazer you pulled from the back of your closet this morning. The one with the shoulder pads. Professional, right? It made you look bigger than you felt. Perhaps parents would take you seriously if you looked like you belonged behind the desk.

There were some perks to in-service days. No classroom to manage. You got to come in at noon instead of 7:30 am. Got to be the one listening to a lecture instead of giving one. The only downside was having to stay until 7:30 pm. That and trying your best not to cry when a parent inevitably got defensive. You always looked for something nice to say about all of your students. It softened the less savory news, if there was any. More often than not it was just making small talk, telling parents what a pleasure their child was to have in class.

The heels of your shoes clicked down the empty hallway, past the trophy cases filled with plaques of names you still recognized. You caught the ghost of your reflection in the glass, the angular silhouette of the costume that you wore. You noticed your tight pencil skirt riding up in the back and you corrected it with a downward tug, keeping on the straight and narrow path toward the teachers lounge.

The wood paneled walls welcomed you in, and you padded across the old carpet toward the open boxes of pizza laid out on one of the three round tables. You grabbed a paper plate and pulled a few slices of pepperoni from the large, square cut sheet, the cheese already hard from sitting out. You rarely complained, and this time was no exception. Your stomach was threatening to eat itself and lukewarm pizza more than fit the bill.

You took a bite to satiate your blood sugar and made your way to the coffee station for the third time that day. Grabbing a mug from the stack, your fingers grazed the faded lettering that vaguely resembled the Chief’s Auto Repairs logo. You glanced at the clock as you filled it with your liquid vice. It was 2:37, which meant you had approximately twenty-three minutes before you had to be posted at your station. Your stomach churned, and not from the pizza.

“Boo,” came a gentle whisper from behind you.

Your hand jerked, sloshing coffee all over the wood veneer.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Diane apologized, making haste to grab a generous handful of square napkins from beside the sugar. Her bright red nail polish glinted under the fluorescents as she blotted up the mess.

You put a hand to your chest. “No, no it’s ok,” you sighed, grabbing a napkin to wipe the bottom of your mug. “It’s good to see you, honestly. I didn’t think I would.”

“Yeah, I still have quite a few notes to catch up on. Just because I’m not a teacher doesn’t mean I’m off the hook,” she said with a wink. “What was the seminar about this time?” She tossed the napkins into the trash at the end of the table.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Classroom management, how to have better boundaries with students, you know, hah.” Knots twisted in your stomach as you leaned against the counter, grabbing a milk carton and tipping it over your mug.

Diane hummed, eyes fixed on your generous pour threatening to overflow the coffee from the rim. “Sounds riveting.”

“Oh yes, enthralling,” you said, folding the mushy lip of the carton back in on itself, something to do with your hands to keep them from shaking. The coffee probably wasn’t going to help.

Diane’s eyes narrowed, “Are you… ok?”

“Me? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just uh,” you tapped your finger on the edge of your mug. “Parent teacher conference day nerves, you know.”

“Ugh, I can only imagine. I hope everyone is nice to you today. I have no idea why they wouldn’t be.”

You offered a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, me neither. Just getting in my own head I guess.”

“Love the blazer, by the way. Super sharp.”

“Oh, thanks. Figured I’d dress the part.” Grabbing your plate of pizza in one hand and very full mug in the other, you took a sip off the top, marking the rim with a delicate red blot. You pulled out one of the old chairs and found your place in it, which your feet were thankful for.

Diane leaned against the table, “So, Darren called last night.”

“Oh, you’re still talking to him?” The sauce squeezed out from the corners of your bite as you sunk your teeth into the hard cheese and gummy crust.

“Yeah, a bit. Off and on. He’s a nice guy. Does stuff for his sister and her kids lot, which I feel like is a good sign, right?”

Your brows raised a little. “Yeah, totally a good sign,” you said through a mouthful.

“He invited me to the Colts game this weekend. I think I’m gonna go.”

You blotted the sauce from your lips. “Really? I thought you said he wasn’t your type.”

“I mean, what is a type anyway? If I keep waiting around for my type I might be waiting forever. I’ve gotta just start putting myself out there, you know? Give guys the benefit of the doubt for once. You never know until you try,” Diane offered as she opened up the large box of sheet pizza and ripped off two slices onto her plate.

You huffed through your nose, “Sometimes you know.”

“I mean, yeah. Sometimes, but with this one, I dunno. I mean we do have some things in common. We both like Saturday Night Live and spending time outside. He’s decently attractive, or he was at Mojo’s anyway,” she chuckled. “We’ll see what he’s like off the phone. At the very least it’s something to do, right?”

You swallowed your bite. “Right. I mean, hey, free entertainment I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Diane as she settled into the seat beside you.

______

The phone was ringing. Shrill and deeply annoying as it echoed through the trailer. Eddie sighed and pulled himself away from your world in his lap, his expression blank and perturbed. He thought for a moment about answering it. About putting an end to the intrusive noise, but that would mean getting up from the toasty blanket cocoon he’d wrapped his legs in, like a warm pretzel. November’s creeping chill was doing nothing to help his motivation to leave it.

So he let it ring. And ring. Until finally the answering machine picked up, coloring the voice that came through in static and tin.

“Hey man, it’s Gareth. Um… I’m kinda freaking out about this date tomorrow. I know you’re probably just gonna tell me to stop being a pussy, but uh… yeah. Call me back.”

Eddie smirked and rolled his eyes. His friend knew him so well. There would be plenty of time to tell Gareth exactly what he needed to hear. That he was, in fact, being a total pussy. Later though. Right now he was busy.

He was a man named Lazarus now. The Amazing Lazarus, formally. And he had a full time job shuffling cards and making purses disappear.

The small crowd that gathered around him didn’t know that though. Not in this city anyway. He was certain he hadn’t seen any… artistic interpretations of his face plastered on any of the buildings in Torgaard. Yet.

If he could be quick enough with his hands they wouldn’t even notice what was missing until they were blocks away, and by then he would have long since packed up his banner and left.

“Is this your card?” he flourished to the unfortunate man who had stepped forward from the crescent crowd.

The man squinted. “No I don’t think it is.”

“Ah,” he answered curtly. “Oh, what’s this?” He feigned surprised, reaching forward to dip his fingers into the man’s pocket. He pulled back with another flourish. “Is this your card?”

“Why it is!”

Cheers and claps erupted from the crowd. Lazarus took a bow. “Thank you, thank you.” He took off his weathered top hat and passed it around to collect any loose change that the crowd was eager to get rid of.

The people dispersed as quickly as they came, leaving him alone. He reached into the hidden pocket beneath his leather glove and extracted a small pouch. And now, for the even bigger reveal.

He dipped his finger into the opening and loosened the draw strings to reveal a few spare coins and…

Another pocket watch.

It was almost like everyone carried them around in their pockets. Dull and predictable, and practically worthless to him. He sighed, wondering how long it would be before he actually made his trade worth his time today.

That’s when he spotted her — the strangest person he’d seen all day. Maybe all year. Maybe in his entire life, and he’d seen a lot of people.

The first thing he noticed was her shock of white hair, cropped in a bob with bangs like a toddler. She toddled like one too. Petite and girlish. Flat boots with curled toes flapping like duck feet against the dirty cobblestone. Deeply unstable. Crinkled gold coat gleaming like a beacon in the sun.

But the real clincher was the mask she wore. A big crescent moon that swept across her round face. Strange and alien. Stark against deep copper skin. Eyes like saucers.

The perfect target.

He strolled up to her, and her enormous eyes drank him in like they were parched.

“Hey, you look like the type of person who might appreciate a magic trick.”

She looked up at him, chin lowering beneath her mask. “A… a magic trick?”

He couldn’t place the accent.

“Oh yes,” he said, shuffling his cards in an arch from one hand to the other. “Have you ever seen a magic trick before?”

It was a silly question to be asking someone who looked like they’d never seen a man before.

“Oh, um. I do not think so,” she said, her flat silk boots stumbling across the cobblestone to regain her footing. “Sorry I am a little, uh… it is like the air here is just so… different.”

Lazarus stopped shuffling. “Different? Different how? Different from where?”

She looked around, out past the zeppelin docks toward the horizon. She pointed toward the sky. “Myrne.”

“Really,” he half whispered. In all his travels he had never seen a Myrnish person before. He had only ever heard about them from others and what little they knew secondhand of their isolated culture.

“The air…it is just… thicker,” she said between breaths. “Sorry. I am quite dizzy.”

He took a step closer. Close enough to assess that there were no pockets to be found on her strange garments, but there was something else that excited him much more. An obelisk of glimmering pale gold that dangled from her neck. Worth a small fortune, at least.

The gold found in the mines of Mount Myrne was different from any other precious metal in the world. It was found only there, and unlike common gold, was very hard. It sparkled rather than shined, and most importantly possessed an energy that could be harnessed. Like magic.

The gnomes would use it to power their inventions. It didn’t take much of it to make a moderate machine come alive. A piece this size could surely afford him a permanent home, and then some. No more hiding his caravan outside cities. No more paying for stables or worrying about wolves making a meal of his horse.

He could picture it now. A little cottage in Shantiglade by the sea. He would wake up to a full body stretch in a real bed. He would fix himself a goose egg omelet over a real stove with peppers from his garden. He would open his windows and taste the fresh brine in the air.

He would stroll leisurely to the beach where no one knew his face. Where the tide would kiss his ankles and wash away his footprints. Where his past couldn’t follow him.

The pendant winked in the sunlight. She was so small. He could easily break the chain from around her neck with a single tug and run.

“So, what brings you all the way down here?” He drew closer, unable to tear his eyes from the shimmering treasure.

She stepped back in time with his advance, like a dance, adjusting the mask on her face with hesitant eyes.

“I am looking for ghostfern.”

“You’ve come a long way for a plant, my dear.” Another step forward.

Another step back. “My brother needs it. He will die without it.”

It was a look he’d seen before. Desperation twinged with hope. He’d seen it in his own reflection more times than he cared to admit. He saw it in his mother too, though the hope faded almost as quickly as she did when the cost of the cure was too great.

She lowered her gaze. “Ghostfern is very rare. None of our merchants carry it, though I hear it can be found in caves outside of Rower’s End, but I do not know how to get there.”

Rare, expensive — what difference did it make when it was out of reach?

“That’s a long ways off,” he offered solemnly. It was deep into the boglands and nary a merchant dared to venture along the thin, winding path to Rower’s End. The rumors of sinister creatures and bog crone hexes were enough to keep them away.

The strange young woman seemed unfazed by this. “Have you been there before?”

Lazarus huffed. “No, I but I do know how to get there.” The gold obelisk winked at him again and he stilled his itching hands. “How about I uh… make you a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Yes, a deal. I take you to Rower’s End in exchange for that pendant you’re wearing.”

She sized him up, the gears turning behind her enormous, chestnut spheres. “You will take me back then too? To Torgaard?”

Lazarus nodded firmly, “Of course.”

Her eyes crinkled, sparkled like the obelisk she wore. “Then it is a deal.”

“Excellent,” smirked Lazarus. “Ah, what is your name, by the way?”

“Cybelle.” Certainly one he hadn’t heard before.

“Lazarus, pleasure to be doing business with you.” He extended his hand.

Cybelle cocked her head, studying his open palm hovering in the space between them like a foreign object.

“Uh, you — you shake it. See? Like this.” He demonstrated awkwardly with his other hand, then presented her with the opportunity again. “Now you try.”

Cybelle stared at his hand. Her fingers twitched, gaze darting from his palm to his eyes. “Ah… sorry.” She put her hands up sheepishly, waving his away. “Trying not to get sick.”

Lazarus retracted his hand and gave a single, solemn nod. “As you wish.”

______

Your eyes tracked down your list of parent names, then up at the clock. It was 6:45 on the dot. The last name on your list was scheduled at 6:40.

There was a part of you that hoped he wouldn’t show at all. The churning in your stomach was kicking up with each minute that ticked by, anxious eyes flitting from the paper, to the door, to the clock.

Until suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway. He was tall, weathered, with a short grey beard. Hair even shorter, stark against the ruddy skin that it encircled atop his head. He wore a denim jacket with a corduroy collar and olive green work slacks stained with patches of grease.

He peered around your classroom tentatively, as if looking for a sign that he found the right one. “Hi, Wayne Munson." It sounded like more of a question.

You stood up from behind your desk with a jolt. “Oh, hi! You must be Eddie’s dad.” Knots twisted in your stomach. You extended your hand to him and put on the warmest, brightest mask you could muster.

“Uncle, actually.” His hand was rough and thickly calloused, fingers stained from nicotine. You could smell the stale scent of his vice on him, a family habit, evidently. “Sorry ’m a little late. Still a bit early for me, I work the graveyard at the plant.”

Uncle. The questions bubbled in your gut but there was no place to air them in the split second between you. “Oh that’s no problem, you’re last on my list today anyway. Here, have a seat.” You gestured to the chair opposite yours at your desk.

Your desk. The same desk his nephew held your hand under. Your stomach churned again.

As Wayne eased himself into the small, wooden chair, you allowed your timid eyes enough agency to take stock. There was a weight to him, not in his body but in his aura. A heaviness that you could feel. Tired stories you strained to read between the lines on his face, stained into the cracks of his fingers. You would search for the resemblance to the one you saw most often in that chair. You would find very little save for their strong oval faces and the warmth that surprised you in his ice blue eyes.

Wayne sighed, deep and heavy as he creaked back into the chair. “Alright, how’s Ed doing in class?” he asked flatly.

There was something else in his eyes, leaden like defeat. Like bracing steel. Like tired expectation.

He might as well have said, “Let’s get this over with.” It was the same tune. A tune he memorized. Sung a thousand times. A tune his voice was tired of.

“Eddie is…” a soft smile crept onto your face and you suddenly became captivated with the pen on your desk. You felt him lean forward, hinging on the words you left hanging in the air.

And so you told him the truth.

“…one of the most creative and tenacious people I know.”

There was a breath that he’d been holding in, a sigh that permeated the stunned stillness between you.

“I know it isn’t easy for him to be here. I know he’d rather be doing a million other things but he’s still here, you know? Despite being denied graduation twice.”

He knew. You could see it as clearly as the lines that softened on his forehead.

“I mean sure, I could tell you that he’s got a B minus in my class right now. We could sit here and talk about grades, and attendance, and behavior, but… he’s trying really hard and I don’t think that you can… quantify that. There aren’t grades for effort. They don’t give marks for how many lonely students you offer a place to sit in the cafeteria. It isn’t something you can measure.”

Wayne leaned closer, the ice in his eyes melting so much that he needed to blink it away.

The sight stirred a deep part of you. The easing of the bracing steel into something so much softer. Tender like a bruise. You thought about Eddie Munson with pen on his hand and shame in his eyes. Your nose burned.

“You know he’s got a lot of leadership qualities too,” you said, steadying the quiver from your voice. “He’s in a band, he runs a club. He’s involved and engaged. He’s…” your eyes lowered again, thumbing at the pen on your desk. “He’s got an enormous heart,” you said, quieter. “I think he’s just… extraordinary. If you want to know the truth.”

Wayne glanced away, toward the windows, as he swiped a calloused finger at his cheek. “M’sorry,” he muttered, blinking. “Y’know I’ve been goin’ to these for the past, what is it… nine years now? Nobody ever has nothin’ good to say about ‘im. Not a single one.”

An ache sank deep in your chest. It stung, like your eyes did when you imagined the younger versions of the man who took that chair most often, and those of the one in it now. Sitting in front of the big desk. Facing someone who was far less kind than you on the other side.

“You’re the one who’s been tutoring ‘im, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, stomach churning again. You figured he’d mentioned that. It would have been strange for him not to. “Yes. A few times a week after school. It seems to be helping. He showed me his progress report, all passing grades so far. He’s gonna walk that stage this year. He will if I have anything to do about it.”

Wayne cracked a smile at your determination. “Well thank you kindly for all your patience. I mean it. The boy’s always struggled in school. Been an issue even ‘fore I had ‘im.”

“What happened before you had him?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you even had a moment to process whether they were appropriate or not. Whether it was your place to ask.

Wayne sighed deep as his weathered hand eased the exhaustion creasing his brow. “My younger bother is… really somethin’ else to put it mildly. Always has been. He’s in county now doin’ time for stealin’ cars and other petty shit— sorry, young lady, pardon my French.”

You shook your head and waved it off, the humor of his comment overshadowed by the concern twisting in your stomach. “It’s fine, really. Please continue.”

“Ed’s mom on the other hand, well she had ‘er own problems but not like him. Actually, I recon Warren was the biggest problem she ever had. Real young when she had Ed, maybe 19, if even. ’S hard to remember. Younger than Warren was, I know that much. We were all still livin’ in West Virginia at the time. A few years after that Warren got in hot water with the law. Packed up Lorena and the baby and settled in Hawkins with a few gamblin’ buddies he’d met from out this way.”

A twist, deep in your heart. You swallowed, leaning forward.

“Well, Warren managed to find some stable employment fixin’ cars. Stayed out of trouble for a few more years. Then Lorena started gettin’ sick. Always had issues with her heart, see. I don’t think the stress of livin’ out here with Warren helped none. I seen the way he’d talk to her when I would visit, always so suspicious of every damn thing.”

Your chest was so tight all of a sudden. Head filled with flashes of images you’d never seen. Images that you could feel. A woman in a cotton dress looking out a window. A profound loneliness. A longing for a freedom she may never know.

“When Warren started gettin’ into trouble again I knew I had to do something, for Ed and Lori’s sake. They put ‘im away for a year that time, so I packed it up and moved out here. It was a good year. Gave us all a break from my brother. Sorry to go on a tangent, it’s just been a lot.” Wayne sighed deeply, smoothing his beard with his hand.

“No, no you’re fine,” you reassured, putting on your best mask for him. Behind it you were breaking.

“He was worse when he came back though. Started gettin’ into drugs. Few years after that, Lori passed due to her heart. Ed was ten at the time. I shouldn’t have let the bastard have him at all, but he was stubborn as hell and he had custody. Had ‘im for a year before he finally messed up bad enough to go away for a long while. Best thing he ever did was go to jail, I’ll tell you what.”

“I—,” you took a deep breath, the pen on the desk so enthralling again, “I’m sorry, this is… I wasn’t, um, expecting—”

“No I’m… sorry to dump all this on you. Don’t get many people who wanna listen to be honest.”

“No, it’s really ok. I’m the one who asked. It’s just…”

“I know. Kid’s had it rough, to put it mildly.”

You took a slow, shaky inhale to steady yourself and found the courage to meet his eyes again. “He’s incredibly lucky to have you,” you said earnestly.

The ice in his eyes melted again. The steel now soft and pliant. The weight in him less heavy.

“You’ve done such a good job raising him,” you offered gently, swallowing your tears. “Really, he’s a wonderful person. You should be so proud.”

Wayne sighed, allowing a full, bright smile to wash over him. He blinked quickly, glancing toward the windows again, and you wondered how often he heard that. If he ever did before.

“Thank you,” he said, barely audible.

It was strange, your sudden fondness for a man you dreaded meeting.

“I should be thanking you. For sharing. For everything,” you said, stilling the quiver in your chest with a deep breath. “I think that’s all I really have for you today.” Your trembling hands gripped the chair beneath you.

Wayne nodded, “I’m glad I came. For once.”

You smiled, big and bright. “I’m glad you did too.” You extended your hand, your open palm hovering in the space between you. “It’s been an honor to meet you.”

Wayne’s warm, calloused hand bridged the great divide and squeezed yours gently. Lingered for a moment. “You as well,” he said, a fondness you could feel in his touch. He gave a firm shake before letting go.

“Have a great rest of your day,” you said with mustered cheer as he creaked out of the wooden chair.

“You as well,” he said with a wave as he made his way toward the door. His footsteps faded beyond the threshold, into the din of the hallway.

A deep, ragged sigh escaped you.

You thought about Eddie Munson again. Thought about his oval face and big brown eyes. Thought about them smaller. In a hospital. Filled with unspeakable sadness. Sitting in the emptiness she left behind. At home by himself drawing dragons on his pages. Fighting a monster in his living room.

Eddie Munson. With pen on his hand and shame in his eyes.

There was hope in them too. Unbreakable. Eager and wild. Restless, and frenetic, and warm.

All at once.

It surfaced then. The strangled sob that released from your chest. It echoed off the tile floor and concrete walls that would still surround you both.

______

A/N: Apologies for how angsty that was. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it though, lots to explore in these new worlds we're uncovering ;)

As always, I deeply appreciate any and all comments -- keyboard smashes, theories, small novels, all of it. I work very hard on this story and hearing your reactions fuels me in ways that I can only begin to tell you.

Please reblog and help others to find my precious creation! ✨

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @newlips @kasbite @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @wordscomehither @munson-blurbs @blue-mossbird @alottanothing @bebe07011 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @ruby-dragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 7 months

Text

Honey Sweet Words

One of the many reasons why I love playing a 'good' character while romancing Astarion is you can see how he tries to manipulate the character. It smooth, a smirk here, sway and purr there; but my fav is how he tries to use your words and just adjust them to his idea.

He has so many layers I love him lol

Rated: M

Warnings: manipulation, blood tears, shared vision into each others' trauma

Taglist: @aurasyn

It took you aback, the confusion and uncertainty, his words quick to draw you to his logic. You stood there completely at a loss for words. Is he… Is he manipulating you? "Like a spoonful of honey," You mumbled, "Sweet but thick enough to choke me." Pretty words and Astarion makes a face.

"So much for ambition."

"I won't become my master," Looking at him with a stance of bravery, you weren't going to back out of this. "He wants to control people, to strip them of everything to the marrow. I won't be like him— We don't have to be like them."

"See what I mean? You are too naive, darling." As he fronts concern, your head turns away, "Don't be like that."

"I won't do it. It's wrong."

You do not like having these sorts of talks with Astarion, the battle of morals where Astarion is easily gaining the upper hand. His words cut deep, poking holes into your choice to show you his point of view: control.

Domination.

Astarion groans as your mind unintentionally opens to him, the high amount of emotion from both of them calling out to each other.

You, the fear… The way you were not in control of your actions. A doll, a vampiric doll, for your master's amusement. You were his angel of music perfectly preserved and performing only for him.

Him, the anger… To be forced upon his back over and over for his master. Used and abused, his screams of pain and hatred were so sweet to his master's ears.

Two creatures who know the darkness, who drink crimson, both of whose nature is the very essence of domination and debauchery. A beast that will never be satisfied.

The connection is cut, and you try to stop the red tears that soon spill. Astarion's hands take yours, drawing you close to him. You whimper, the fear of submission to his reasoning… Maybe…

"Will you be satisfied if you controlled it all?" Astarion hears your worry, "What happens if one day I no longer want to be by your side? Will you force me to stay?" Fear that you will always be a captive to a lover who only wants power.

"I am not him." Astarion tries to assure you, lure you with his sweet voice. "But I know you won't leave my side. We balance each other." Do you?

"The power to control people," You shake your head, "We would be just like the monsters who created us."

"I am nothing like Cazador!" He growls in defense, "We are better than them. We can make the realm better– A peaceful world where no one will suffer the way we have." His words are smooth and quick to pull at your naive kind nature.

"By force."

"Anything you want in this realm, anything of worth, is often gained by force, darling."

You shake your head, that isn't right. He kisses those bloody tears away, kisses you, pulls you close then wraps his arms around you while your hands rest on his chest. His lips find yours but move to your neck when you do not return his kiss.

"Astarion."

"(Name)," Saying your name like the lyric to a song he only wants you to hear, a siren song you fall often prey to. "Shh." He hurt you by planting doubt in your mind, yet, it had to be done. It would be a waste of power and he sees this tadpole as the advantage you both need against your master— Sires as you told him.

Never again, never again, never again will he grovel or be forced to submit to Cazador— To anyone.

You should feel the same way. You should.

#reader insert #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x you #astarion x vampire spawn!tav #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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my-mt-heart · 2 months

Text

What Makes Caryl's Romance Organic

By organic, I mean it's a natural path for Daryl and Carol to take as characters and their explicit canon is fully supported by the writing in the flagship show.

The seeds have been planted. We got to see the genesis of their bond when Daryl made it his mission to find Carol's lost little girl, and we watched it grow in "real time" as the overarching story progressed. We saw intentional, suggestive beats like Daryl massaging Carol's shoulder on top of the bus, Carol openly flirting as she tried to reclaim her sexuality after Ed, Daryl's jealousy of "the king," the visual and emotional parallels between Carol and Leah, Carol's dream of being married to Daryl, and I could go on.

By watching their interactions with each other over the course of 11 seasons and perhaps also differentiating them from their interactions with other characters, it's easy to assert that these two broken souls relied on each other not just for survival in the ZA, but for emotional fulfillment. Every character wants something, and in this case we were shown time and time again how much Daryl and Carol desire each other, though not just in a superficial way. After surviving abuse and loss and tragedy, they've come to represent each other's light at the end of the tunnel.

Daryl: What do you want?

Carol: A man of honor.

Judith to Daryl [looking at Carol]: You deserve a happy ending too.

Our investment deepened as the relationship deepened, and we could anticipate where it was eventually going to lead if we kept following along, reading the subtext and analyzing the symbols (the Cherokee rose, the jasper stone, the double capper). The longer that anticipation builds, the more essential the payoff becomes.

In contrast, when we have no expectations for a pairing and they go canon "out of the blue," it's quite possible the purpose of it was shock value. Not that the audience can't still get invested, but as we say in the screenwriting world, it hasn't been earned. Instead of building up to a moment of relief and joy (Finally! I knew it!), it often requires a lot of backfilling, finding moments between the two characters that could be used to rationalize the writers' choice and create the illusion that it was always planned when it wasn't. People will either buy it or they won't.

One thing no writer can control is acting chemistry, and McReedus? They've got it. A lot of it. Any good writer would lean into that, not force them to pull back because when they do that and they're undermining the story that's already being told, the audience will feel cheated. Hence, why so many people hated Carol's line "it'll be good for us [to go our separate ways]" in the finale.

The Book of Carol is the opportunity for AMC and co. to deliver on their "promise" to Caryl fans by giving them explicit, undeniable, canon. Again, when you make them wait over a decade, that Finally! moment has to be well worth it.

#anon ask #caryl #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #daryl dixon #norman reedus #mcreedus #the book of carol #twd caryl

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yournameloveskpop · 4 months

Text

She Is Everything

Paring: Beomgyu x Reader

Style: smut, romance, friendship, fluff

Word count: 2881

Summery: Y/N always has people’s heads turning where ever she goes and whatever she wears. She takes her confidence in stride and Beomgyu loves that for her, even if he is a bit protective of her.

In the bustling streets of New York, Beomgyu walked hand-in-hand with his girlfriend, Y/N. Despite his usual cool demeanor, today he felt a flutter of nerves. It wasn't just because Y/N was stunning – which she was, effortlessly drawing attention no matter her attire – but today, her choice of a skater skirt and cute crop top seemed to magnify that effect.

"Hey, you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with concern as she noticed Beomgyu's grip tightening.

"Yeah, just..." Beomgyu's voice trailed off as he noticed a group of guys at a nearby McDonald's, their eyes fixated on Y/N. He gave them a sharp look, a silent warning.

Y/N, blissfully unaware of their stares, chattered excitedly about their day ahead. "I can't wait to explore more of the city! There's just so much energy here, don't you think?"

As they entered McDonald's, the group of young men exited, their American accents audible as they commented on Y/N's beauty. Beomgyu felt a surge of protectiveness, but Y/N was oblivious, her attention focused on their day together.

Inside, the rest of TXT huddled around, discussing the situation. Beomgyu, however, was distracted as Y/N leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She tiptoed to plant a quick peck on his lips, leaving him momentarily stunned.

"What was that for?" Beomgyu stammered, his heart racing.

"Just felt like it," Y/N replied with a mischievous smile, sauntering off to collect their order.

Beomgyu watched her, his eyes tracing her movements. She was more than just beautiful; she was a whirlwind of energy, matching his own enthusiasm for life. Her confidence and independence shone through, making him feel like the luckiest guy alive.

"You're staring," teased Soobin, nudging Beomgyu playfully.

"I can't help it," Beomgyu confessed, his eyes still on Y/N. "She's amazing, isn't she?"

The rest of the group exchanged knowing smiles. "Totally smitten," Hueningkai chimed in.

As Y/N returned, Beomgyu couldn't help but admire her once more. Her presence was magnetic, and in the heart of New York, amidst the chaos and the crowds, she was his unwavering constant. Her presence was intensely captivating, stirring a mix of emotions in him. He swallowed hard, feeling a dryness in his mouth, and instinctively licked his lips, a sign of his growing nervousness and excitement.

They found a quiet corner on the second floor, away from the bustle. Nearby, a group of young adults, both males and females, sat at a table, their attention drawn to Beomgyu's group. They were clearly awestruck by the attractiveness of the strangers, but especially by Y/N, whispering among themselves in awe.

Y/N took her seat between Beomgyu and Hueningkai. Across from them, Taehyun, Soobin, and Yeonjun joined in. Yeonjun noticed the group's eager stares and, with a playful grin, waved at them, causing the girls in the group to giggle and wave back. The guys were more focused on Y/N.

Sensing their admiration, Beomgyu casually yet protectively placed an arm over the back of Y/N's chair, marking his presence subtly.

Oblivious to the stares, Y/N was lively, chatting with the TXT boys. "So, I was thinking, after lunch, we could hit that disco we talked about! I heard it's amazing," she said excitedly.

"Yeah, that sounds like a blast!" Hueningkai responded with enthusiasm.

Yeonjun leaned in, adding, "I'm definitely ready to show off some dance moves. What do you think, Beomgyu?"

Beomgyu, his attention briefly shifting from Y/N, replied, "Absolutely. It's going to be epic!"

Y/N, still buzzing with excitement, continued, "And I've got the perfect outfit for tonight. Wait till you see it!"

The conversation shifted to their plans for the evening, the excitement palpable. After their meal at McDonald's, Beomgyu, Y/N, and the rest of TXT spent the afternoon immersed in the vibrant streets of New York. They explored landmarks, popped into quirky shops, and snapped photos, creating memories at every turn.

As the day transitioned into evening, the group decided to head back to their hotel to prepare for the night ahead. Each member retreated to their own room, with Beomgyu and Y/N sharing one.

Inside their room, Y/N immediately pulled out the dress and shoes she had purchased earlier. She laid them out on the bed, her excitement for the evening evident. Beomgyu, watching her, felt a warm sense of contentment. He excused himself for a quick shower, leaving Y/N to start her makeup routine.

When Beomgyu emerged from the shower, the sight that greeted him made his heart race. Y/N was in her matching lingerie, prepping for the night. He couldn't help but admire her, feeling that familiar tingling sensation again.

He approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You look stunning," he whispered, pressing his bare chest against her back and planting soft kisses on her shoulder and neck. Y/N shivered and giggled under his touch, her skin tingling where his lips met her flesh.

"Thank you, Beomgyu. I can't wait for tonight," Y/N said, her voice filled with excitement as she continued applying her makeup.

Once she was done, she looked up at Beomgyu and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met in a tender, longing embrace, but the moment was fleeting as Y/N, brimming with anticipation, pulled away to slip into her dress.

The midnight blue dress hugged her figure perfectly, sparkling subtly under the room's lights, and ending enticingly at her thighs. The matching heels added to her elegance, making her look both glamorous and alluring. Her hair, styled in soft waves, framed her face beautifully. Beomgyu's heart skipped a beat as she twirled in front of him, looking absolutely breathtaking.

Realizing he had the perfect shirt to match her dress, Beomgyu quickly got dressed in a midnight blue shirt. It wasn't planned, but it felt serendipitous, and now they looked like a perfectly coordinated couple.

Stepping out of their room, they made their way to the lobby where the rest of TXT were waiting. Yeonjun whistled appreciatively as he saw Y/N, and the others chuckled, noticing how Beomgyu and Y/N were matching.

"You two look like you're ready for a magazine cover," Hueningkai joked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Yeah, we might steal the spotlight at the disco," Taehyun added with a grin.

Soobin, always the observant one, added, "It's not just about the looks. You two have this amazing vibe together. It's really cool."

Beomgyu felt a rush of pride and happiness. Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with happiness and love. They exchanged a knowing glance, their connection deeper than just their matching outfits.

After a few more exchanges and laughs, the group headed out to the disco, the excitement of the night palpable in the air. As they walked, they talked about their plans, the music they hoped to hear, and the dance moves they were eager to show off.

The vibrant lights of New York City set the backdrop as Beomgyu, Y/N, and the rest of TXT approached the disco. The pulsing music could be felt even from the street, adding to their growing anticipation.

As they entered the bustling venue, the cacophony of conversations, laughter, and clinking glasses enveloped them. Y/N clung to Beomgyu's arm, her eyes shining with excitement. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed.

"I know, right? The energy here is incredible!" Beomgyu responded, equally thrilled.

They were ushered to their reserved table amidst the lively crowd. Soobin, ever the caretaker of the group, stood up. "I'll get the first round of drinks. What's everyone having?"

"Surprise us, Soobin!" Y/N said with a playful grin. Her dress glittered under the disco lights, drawing admiring glances.

With Soobin off to the bar, Yeonjun turned to Y/N, "Fancy some dancing?"

Y/N looked at Beomgyu, who nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead, you'll be great!"

Yeonjun led Y/N to the dance floor, blending into the rhythm of the music. They danced effortlessly, their movements in perfect harmony with the beat.

From the bar, Soobin watched them, drinks in hand, a wide smile on his face. He joined them on the dance floor, followed by Hueningkai and Taehyun, their group growing.

Y/N, still close to Yeonjun, glanced back at Beomgyu. She smirked mischievously and beckoned him with a curl of her finger. "Come on, Beomgyu! Your turn!"

Beomgyu, with a mix of eagerness and hesitation, made his way through the crowd. As he reached Y/N, her arms looped around his neck, drawing him close. "I was waiting for you," she whispered.

Their dance was intimate, Y/N's hips swaying against Beomgyu's, their chemistry palpable. She then did something unexpected and thrilling, her hand gliding up to his neck, the other resting on his hip as she swayed down. Beomgyu's heart raced with every move.

The others watched, amused and impressed. "Wow, Y/N's got moves!" Hueningkai exclaimed.

Yeonjun whistled, "That's some serious chemistry there!"

Beomgyu, red-faced and exhilarated, hid his face in Y/N's neck, whispering something that made her shiver and giggle.

As the night wore on, their laughter and chatter blended with the music, creating an atmosphere of pure joy. They exchanged stories, shared jokes, and danced without a care.

"This is the best night ever!" Taehyun shouted over the music.

"We should do this more often," Soobin added, raising his glass in a toast.

The group danced tirelessly, each song bringing a new wave of excitement. They were in their own world, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the disco and the city that never sleeps.

As the night drew to a close, Beomgyu wrapped his arm around Y/N. "Tonight was unforgettable," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

"Absolutely," Y/N agreed, leaning into him. "With you, every moment is special."

After an eventful evening at the disco, txt and y/n returned to the hotel, each heading to their separate rooms. Beomgyu and y/n going to their shared room, quietly entered their space. The energy from the night was still palpable, buzzing through them as they removed their shoes.

Y/N hummed to the tunes that still echoed in her mind, and Beomgyu watched her with an affectionate smile. "Can you believe how amazing tonight was?"

Beomgyu smiled widened. "Every moment was unforgettable, especially with you."

He walked over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tender kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, deepening the kiss. "I've been wanting to do that all night," she whispered.

Their shared warmth from dancing lingered as they slowly undressed each other. Beomgyu's hands were gentle yet eager. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

Amidst the quiet ambiance, Y/N began to unbutton Beomgyu's shirt, while he gently slid her dress off her shoulders. Beomgyu lifted Y/N effortlessly, moving together onto the king-sized bed. He leaned against the headboard, positioning Y/N on his lap, their kisses growing more fervent.

Y/N's movements against Beomgyu elicited shared hums of delight. He skillfully removed her bra, whispering words of adoration and love. Y/N responded with tender kisses along his neck, leaving soft marks on his skin, before continuing her affectionate journey down his body.

"And you're incredible," she replied, her voice soft and affectionate.

As they continued to explore each other, Beomgyu whispered encouraging words, his fingers gently running through her hair. "Don't stop," he breathed, caught in the moment.

Just as Beomgyu neared the peak of his excitement, Y/N shifted, returning to sit on his lap. "You're such a tease, you know that?" Beomgyu playfully chided, eliciting a giggle and a soft peck on his lips from Y/N.

Y/N paused, her eyes meeting his. "I love teasing you," she said with a mischievous grin, sitting back on his lap.

With the last barriers removed, Y/N slid down onto him and rhythmically moved against Beomgyu. His hands fell on her waist, guiding and steadying her.

Their movements synchronized, Beomgyu's grip tightened, a low growl escaping him as he neared his climax.

As the room filled with the sounds of their love, Beomgyu held Y/N close, his voice low and full of need. "I'm almost there... just a little longer."

Y/N, nearing her own climax, moved faster as her moans filled the room, "Beomgyu, I'm..."

her cry mingling with Beomgyu's as they reached their peak together. Beomgyu, sensing the moment, adjusted their rhythm, slowing down to extend their shared bliss. In the aftermath, they shared a soft, loving kiss.

"Stay with me, just like this," Beomgyu said softly.

Afterward, they shared another deep, affectionate kiss. Beomgyu gently laid Y/N down, cuddling her close, and together they drifted into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in the warmth of their love and the memories of a night filled with joy and connection. The morning light gently caressed the room as Beomgyu and y/n slowly awoke, nestled in each other's arms. Y/N, feeling the warmth of the new day, leaned over to Beomgyu, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and then finding his lips for a more tender one.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice a sweet melody in the quiet room.

Beomgyu's eyes fluttered open, a content smile spreading across his face. "Morning. How did you sleep?" he asked, his hand gently caressing her hair.

"Like a dream, especially after last night," Y/N replied with a playful nudge.

Beomgyu chuckled, pulling her closer. "Yeah, about that... I feel like we might need a shower."

Laughing, Y/N nodded. "Definitely. A nice, long shower."

They took their time waking up, basking in the morning's tranquility before finally leaving the bed's embrace. Hand in hand, they made their way to the bathroom. The shower was warm and soothing, washing away the remnants of their passionate night. As the water cascaded over them, their playfulness soon turned into a heated embrace, rekindling the previous night's fervor.

After enjoying their intimate 'round two', they finally stepped out, refreshed and invigorated. Y/N picked out a cute, comfortable outfit, while Beomgyu opted for something equally relaxed yet stylish.

Entering the hotel restaurant for breakfast, they found their group already assembled. Everyone greeted them with smiles, but Y/N couldn't help noticing Hueningkai's faint blush.

"Soobin, Taehyun, how's the morning treating you?" Beomgyu asked, casually joining the table with Y/N.

Soobin grinned. "Good, but seems like you two had a better start to the day."

Y/N felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Just a regular morning," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Beomgyu added with a wink, "A very refreshing morning indeed."

Taehyun laughed. "I bet. The walls here aren't the best for keeping secrets, you know."

Hueningkai, still blushing, avoided eye contact. "Yeah, about that... I hope the bed's okay. Sounded like it had a tough night."

The table erupted in laughter, with Beomgyu and Y/N joining in good humor. "Sorry about that, Hueningkai. We'll try to keep it down next time," Beomgyu said with a chuckle.

Breakfast was a lively affair, filled with teasing and laughter. After they finished, the group discussed their schedule for the day. They had a busy agenda, including filming for their music video and other work for their YouTube channel. Yeonjun was particularly excited about doing his own vlog with his camera.

"Yeonjun, what's the theme for your vlog today?" Y/N asked, sipping her coffee.

Yeonjun, holding his camera, replied with enthusiasm, "I'm thinking of doing a behind-the-scenes of our music video shoot. Show the fans what goes on in a day in the life of txt."

"That sounds awesome," Beomgyu said. "Make sure you capture my good side."

The group broke off to start their day, with Beomgyu and Y/N walking side by side. "Looks like a busy day ahead," Y/N commented.

Beomgyu nodded. "Yeah, but it's always fun with you around. Makes everything feel lighter."

As the day progressed, they immersed themselves in their work. The music video shoot was intense but fulfilling. Beomgyu and Y/N often stole glances at each other, their shared smiles a secret language of their newfound connection.

During a break, Y/N sat beside Beomgyu. "How are you holding up?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

Beomgyu, wiping sweat from his brow, replied, "I'm good. These shoots are always a bit tiring, but I'm excited to see the final product."

Y/N smiled. "Me too. You're doing great, by the way."

As the sun began to set, the group wrapped up their day's work. Exhausted but satisfied, they decided to have a quiet dinner at the hotel.

Sitting around the dinner table, the conversation was light and filled with reflections on the day's achievements. Y/N leaned closer to Beomgyu. "Today was amazing, wasn't it?"

Beomgyu, taking her hand under the table, replied softly, "Every moment is amazing with you."

They shared a knowing look, their hearts full of unspoken words and feelings. As the night drew to a close, they retreated to their room, the memories of the day and the promise of tomorrow lingering in their minds.

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt x reader #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu x female reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #txt beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #txt smut #txt x y/n #txt x you

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balkanradfem · 1 year

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Holy practices and tradition that are okay and universally good:

making trees, forests, mountains, rivers, seas and springs holy places

protecting them and going there for special occasions

planting holy trees as a religious practice

making animals sacred and protected

promoting the communal instinct to help others who need help

solving the housing and starvation crisis

promoting peace

promoting the freedom of choice, human rights, healthy boundaries, freedom of thought, and survival resources and safety for everyone

meeting up to listen to stories and legends of the past, which come with wisdom and promote healthy morals and community

meeting up to sing together

celebrating life, freedom and happiness

creating art in celebration of life and happiness

connecting with cycles in nature, celebrating natural occurrences

acknowledging that women are the source of human life and that they have the sole right to make decisions over that sphere

rituals and decorations to cheer people up when the seasonal depression is up due to the lack of sunlight

Holy practices and traditions that are absolutely unacceptable:

promoting suffering, subservience, poverty, starvation, sacrifice and endless servitude as the only ‘correct’ and moral way to exist

rituals where everyone has to listen to a man speaking for an hour or longer

repeating stories where the moral is to submit, to give away your personality, identity, even friends and family, in order to serve ‘the greater good’, promotion of ‘don’t think, don’t doubt, don’t ask questions’, or, stories talking about the horrors that would happen to non-believers, where the goal is to terrorize children who ‘don’t believe enough’

promoting the depictions, statues and art, of suffering, body harm, slow and torturous death, glorifying such images as ‘holy’, celebrating torture and death in essence

promoting an idea that the only humans who are ‘pure and saint’ earned their sainthood by being brutally murdered or tortured

limiting what women can and cannot do, punishing and shaming women’s bodily functions, or telling them that certain body functions must be used for the sake of ‘god’ or cannot be intervened with because of ‘god’

shaming women’s normal and healthy feelings, emotions, urges, desires, sexuality and appearance

telling women that their rightful place is to be ‘property’ or ‘servants’ to the other half of population

suppressing women’s freedom of thought, women’s freedom of mind, women’s bodily autonomy, and the important decisions of her life

joining a man and a woman to live in an isolated private space where the man is in control of all major decisions, and the path of her life, while she gets to be in control of nothing

putting women’s sexuality under men’s control, allowing men to violate it or ignore it at their own will

telling women they’re responsible for male’s predatory and perverse urges, telling women to take steps to ‘prevent it’, in which the goal is to make men not accountable for their own actions, and women ashamed for being unable to control something beyond their control

making rape of women mandatory, or normal, or acceptable, or permitted or something that should in any world be going on

threatening women and children that god can ‘hear their thoughts’ and that they are to be punished if it goes against god’s ideals

encouraging people to bond and communicate with an imaginary ‘father figure’ who takes credit for the creation of human population (which women actually did), who then argues that women should suppress themselves and be convenient and pleasing to men if they want to reach the imaginary afterlife

promoting the beliefs of any book that men wrote

claiming to promote peace while having a history of religious wars and spreading the idea that people of all other religions are ‘less’ or ‘sinful’ or ‘needing to be saved (converted)’

putting men in charge of anything

equating male desires to god’s desires while female desires are condemned and punished

equating purity, innocence and value in women with inexperience with physical intimacy

punishing and shaming women both for accepting and refusing physical intimacy (if they accept they lose value and are seen as tainted, if they refuse they displeased the man who wanted it, she doesn’t get any agency and whether she wants it or not is irrelevant to religion, except if she does she’s sinful)

failing to promote well-being, satisfaction, health, freedom, human rights, bodily autonomy, natural rights to administrate or refuse to administrate a human life, and overall safety and happiness of women

#radical feminism #radfem analysis #christianity #paganism #holy rituals #religion #anti patriarchal religion #spirituality #religious traditions #radfem #religious oppression of women #spiritual oppression of women #cultish bullshit #religious abuse #spiritual abuse

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kisilinramblings · 10 months

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After the Wish - Adrien's side

Hi, everyone! Are you ready for some scene analysis? Like the title says, this post will focus on Adrien's scenes following the Wish.

Before I start though, I am very well aware the ending bring a lot of very passionnated and very opinated minds. This is why I am asking to please keep an open mind and keep things civil. I won't tolerate any bashing or rude comments. Both on this post and in my inbox. Keep in mind this analysis in my own interpretation of the shots and scenes based on my cinematographic knowledge as well as my viewing experience and memory of the 5 seasons of Miraculous.

I am sharing this analysis because I love the show and because analysing helps me better understand what I see.

Also, this is a leak free analysis. I only analyze and make conclusions based on what it is shown to us on-screen.

So, if you are ok with staying respectful and open to see the episode through my lens, you are more than welcome to continue reading.

Without further ado, let's go!

After the whole universe was engulfed by the light of Gabriel's Wish, the white screen fade to a close up of Adrien sleeping. Marinette's head then block the shot temporarily before Adrien awaken, smiling. We can guess she kissed him.

This shot personally reminds me of the fairy tales in which the knight kisses the princess to awake her from her curse. And it isn't coincidental if the very first image we see after Gabriel made the Wish is Adrien. There is meaning in that. In fact, I want to point out the shot choice itself because I find it unusual.

We are facing a tight close up facing directly Adrien while he is sleeping and then awakes. Normally, we are more used to a medium shot which allow to see the character is lying down and frame both characters. The camera is also normally placed on the side and not directly facing one particular character. Again in order to see both actors at the same time. Think of Disney Snow White or Sleeping Beauty for example.

And even in more modern ones.

You know which other character in the show who had their eyes closed, often shown in a frontal angle and who we were anticipating to wake up? Émilie.

Except this isn't Émilie who awakes, but Adrien.

Not only this tight close up gives a lot of importance and relevance to him, but Adrien is so in our face that it feels like nothing around him mattered, not even the kiss Adrien received. What matters is Adrien. Solely him. And Adrien is smiling.

Then the camera starts to expand little to little to unveil Adrien's "new world". In cinema, we are quite used to start a scene is with help of wide shot before cuting to closer shots. Here, it is the other way around. Which confers a sense of mystery to the scene.

The first thing Adrien sees is Marinette, the girl he is in love with, at his side, bathed by the summer sunlight. The light choice hints we got a time ellipse between this moment and the previous scene.

As Adrien rises up we see their friends having fun in what we guess is the Agreste Mansion Garden.

The artists are painting a mural inspired by Delacroix's famous painting Liberty Leading the People where the characters are remplaced by La Résistance members and led by Ms Bustier depicted as Liberty herself. She is leading the youth to freedom, to a better future.

The rest of the class and their allies are playing in the pool or chilling together.

This series of shots show us the Agreste Mansion garden flourishing with life. In the background, the flowers are all in full bloom, the plants cover most of the gray stones of the mansion, garnishing those with vibrant green tones. On-screen people laughing and having fun.

Hawkmoth (Party Crasher) : I don't feel any negative emotions. There's only... Joy? What is going on in my house?!

This series of shots shows how we are at the opposite at how life used to be for Adrien. His friends can come over and party with him. We see members of both his family and found family. Adrien isn't trapped inside his home-prison anymore. He isn't isolated anymore. He is surrounded by people who love and care about him. And Gabriel is absent from the picture.

Like Bug Noire said earlier during this episode, Adrien already had all of that before the Wish. Adrien went to school and made friends on his own. He wanted to have a birthday party at his home (Bubbler). He wanted to hang and have fun with his friends on multiple occasions. But Gabriel was always the biggest obstacle for Adrien to have those moments, those memories.

It is Gabriel who kept his son isolated. Because Gabriel was living in the past and was unable to move on with life while Adrien decided he wanted more in life than being stuck inside a cocoon. And at the end of Revolution, Adrien knew what he wanted :

Adrien : Father, please, I know what I want. Let me live my life here in Paris with Marinette and my friends. Gabriel : You must go through with this like an Agreste. That's what your mother would have wanted. Adrien : No, I'm sure that Mom would have just wanted me to be happy.

And, in the end, Adrien's wish is fulfilled.

One last sidenote before I continue concerns that one shot.

Despite not being in the center of the shot, Nathalie seems to be doing better than the last time we saw her. She has a least more colors and has gained her red streak of hair back. Her pose however seems... limited. Maybe her body is still weak from the illness afflicting her. Maybe it is due to budget constraint. Or maybe it is both. And remember what Bug Noire said to Gabriel at the end of their fight : she estimated Nathalie had only a few hours left. And we are weeks from now. Either Bug Noire was wrong in her prognostic or Nathalie survived.

Émilie : Adrien will be well surrounded. He'll have you Nathalie, and he'll have his father, if Gabriel agrees to give up on his madness... and on me. Adrien will have all the love he needs to be happy.

Anyway, the group pauses their activities to watch a new show called "Monde Nouveau" (litteraly "New World") and hosted by Alec.

Alec as we know, has changed to become an icon about being yourself and making your dream come true. And him being the host of that new show instead of a character like Nadja, means that we are looking at an happy and positive vision of things.

He interviews Caline Bustier, now both Mayor of Paris and mother of a girl named Harmonie. She shares her program for a better future to us, the audience.

As she talks about her eco-rules, we see sketches supporting her vision. At the bottom right, we recognize the Tsurugi company logo, but next to it there is a new one we haven't seen before.

Next, we see an unveiling of the statue of Gabriel Agreste, which confirms that Gabriel has died. His statue is made of recycled Alliances put out of commission after Monarch's last attack.

Gabriel's statue is his entire height. Gabriel was already a tall character when he was living and his statue is even taller than him. His chin is up, proud. It is almost like he is superior, looking up like that. The camera slight low angle also contributes to this impression I have. Also, he holds a pencil like the designer he is.

Tomoe : Beyond the visionary entrepreneur and the genius creator, it's the hero we celebrate today.

This is how the Parisians in-universe see him. They are unaware of Gabriel's secret identity. They are unaware of the truth. They only know of the image the professional him gave away and they believed he died in an attempt to stop Monarch.

I want to point out the fact Gabriel's statue is made of Alliances. The very tool he uses to try and defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir. He turned Adrien and Kagami's image into avatar for this product against their will to sell both the Alliances and an illusion. He deformed the truth with their avatars by presenting them as a couple (Revelation), or make deepfakes out of them (Representation and Conformation). Now, Gabriel's statue, his image, is made of the very same tool he used. And the Alliances, despite being put out of commission, still contribute to blur the line of what is truth and what is false in regards of his character to the masses.

With this statue made of Alliances, the parisians are honoring the "perfect" and "pure" image they have of Gabriel. I cannot help but think that this huge statue is bound to create great shadows. And even if the real Gabriel is gone, something of him remains and will continue to have an impact.

Tomoe then talks about continuing Gabriel's legacy. To us, the audience, those words have an ominous double meaning as Tomoe was Gabriel's ally until the end and helped him in many of his schemes. And she confirms she will continue that work.

Caline then gets to talk about her new school model which pleases very much everybody as they cheer all together. It will allows Marinette, Adrien and all their friends to remain together while allowing them to explore and grow in the field that please them respectfully.

Then we cut the the sun setting as the cheers are fading away. It is the end of the day and everyone has gone home.

Adrien is now alone in the garden where his mother's statue used to be. White butterflies are flying around. Marinette joins him as he is fidgeting with his parents' twin ring.

Marinette : You are not wearing it? Adrien : When Ladybug gave it to me, she told me how my father helped her defeat Monarch. At the risk of his life.

With this, we know that Ladybug granted Gabriel's dying wish.

Gabriel : Marinette. Make sure that Adrien never knows about the villain that I was, but instead, that he remembers the times I tried to be a good father.

Was it Marinette's place to accept that burden to cover the truth? To acquiesce to her archenemy's demand? Of course not, but that is how kind she is and how flawed she can be. For Adrien's happiness, Maribug is willing to do so. We, as the audience, know it can only last so long the secret is sealed. And no one among Gabriel, Marinette, Nathalie, Félix, Kagami nor Plagg is aware the secret was already breached outside the family circle.

But for the time being, everyone who knows will keep the fact that Gabriel was Monarch a secret.

But even without the truth, Adrien is conflicted about his feelings towards his father. We see that as Adrien answers Marinette's question, he leans a bit towards her, but there is no contact. His eyes are fixated on the ring. Adrien is distant and inside a bubble of doubt about himself. There is a weight, a legacy, he associates with that family ring that he is not sure if he can bear.

Adrien : I don't know if I'll ever manage to be like him.

It is only when Marinette puts her hands on his, covering the ring and the expectations that come with it, that Adrien finally look at her, brought back to here and now. Marinette reassures Adrien he doesn't need to be like his father. Adrien can just be himself, without having to live up to any expectations placed upon him.

Marinette then proceeds in slips the ring on his finger. Adrien is free and in control of who he wants to be, of what he wants to do, no matter his background. The past doesn't matter anymore. He can just focus on what is ahead of him.

In this short shot reverse shot, we see a bit of Marinette's head in Adrien's shot, however in Marinette's reverse shot, she is framed alone.

This bit has of a shift in the discussion. Marinette made contact with Adrien, entering his "bubble". She has established a connection in their discussion. Her words are reaching him and moving him.

Adrien : You always find the right words, Marinette. When I'm with you, I feel so... free!

And now they are in synch. Both say "I love you" to the other at the same time, which make them laugh. And Adrien wraps Marinette's hand as if he never wants to let her go. As if he will protect and cherish her with all his might. She makes him that happy.

As the white butterflies illustrate, there is no negative emotions around. Only pure hapiness. Only love. And they are kissing where Émilie's statue used to be.

Émilie's message in Collusion : Adrien shouldn't have to suffer the consequences of our mistakes. Our little prince has the right to create his own vision of happiness.

In other words, Monarch did not win. Émilie won. Gabriel has used the Wish, yes, but his wish was different than the one he wanted to make for 5 seasons. And it is not unusual for Gabriel to do everything in his power to grant any of Émilie's wishes. And her final wishes were : for Gabriel to let go of his madness, to not bring her back, and for Adrien to be happy.

And the ghost of Émilie can now rest in peace and stop haunting these walls. And Adrien can fully love Marinette the way he wants without any obstacle in the way anymore.

And all points to the Power of Love has ultimately won. Even the most important characters in those scene all have a link related to love.

Adrien was created by love. Ms Bustier promotes love as one of her teachings and she was akumatized twice out of that very emotion (spread love, protect the children's future). And she got elected as Mayor. Alec who interviews Ms Bustier is also another character who is now full of love and care. And Marinette fought for love. Even the Agreste Mansion Garden is associated to love. Gabriel and Émilie got a scene there during Evolution. Marinette and Adrien got a romantic date there as well. Heck, this is even where Nathalie shares she was ready to help Gabriel out of love.

Love may falter or even fades away for a time, but right now, in Adrien's scenes, love is fully blooming.

Back to the scene, as Marinette and Adrien kiss, the camera zoom out at the shot crossfades, giving the impression their kiss is everlasting. And ultimately fades to white...

... before the white suddenly cut to Nadja Chamack's news report where she interviews Professor Du Bocquale about the international event that had happened.

Using both the news reporter and the scientific, we transitioned to Marinette's Guardian of the Miraculous pov. The sentimentality and dream life is over, it is time to get back to the facts and reality. The Happy Ever After is not quite accomplish yet.

And that will be developped in second eventual part because I am reaching the limit of images allowed in one single Tumblr post ^^;

Anyway, thank you for reading this far and stay tuned!

#miraculous ladybug #ml season 5 #ml s5 spoilers #ml spoilers #ml s5 finale #ml s5 finale spoilers #ml the last day #ml re-creation #ml s5ep26 #ml analysis

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gamerbearmira · 23 days

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More resident evil 8 Au! I don't think I will ever run out of things to talk about for this AU!

First I'm glad you like my idea for julieta's mutation and I 100% agree that Miranda was trying to get rid of Alma's voice but she didn't directly go for her voice box she was just kind of hoping that it would be a side effect of the experiment so it didn't happen.

The Dimitrescu family does need to chill. They try their best but given their mutation and what I feel like is an ingrained primal/animalistic instincts they have a very hard time reeling in their emotions and with self-control in general. They've gotten a lot better over the years but it is something they still struggle with.

I just realized that we haven't got the families opinion on the other Lords or their first interaction with them besides the Dimitrescu family. As you know with Alcina and her family things were very tense and it took them a little while to be able to get along with each other but they managed The family doesn't have very high opinion of them because of their diet and their overall attitude but they are grateful for the fact that they took Mirabel in and took care of her when she was young. None of them like Monroe mostly because of the smell and the disgust that they feel being near him but also because of the fact that he is constantly trying to trick them into doing things to help him look better in the eyes of Miranda. All of them were creeped out by Donna at first, most of them still are, but Donna and Isabela built an odd little friendship over their special interest in gardening/plants. None of them like karl because of his abrasiveness and the attitude that he takes with Mirabel Plus the fact that his solution to the Miranda problem is to experiment on people and create these horrible monsters although camilo does like/appreciates the chaos that karl brings to certain things.

I feel like when Ethan is in Mirabel's creepy Casita he could go to different sections of the house and find different things. Like when his in the kitchen which is Julieta's area he could find healing items that would randomly regenerate more and could probably buy cheaper food items from Julieta, for weapons and ammo I'm torn about who he could get that from I feel like Luisa would be a good person to get that from because of how much she wants to protect her family. But I also feel like Pepa and Felix would be a better choice because in this Au they go crazy protective over the family plus I just get that type of vibe from them better than I do Luisa because at the end of the day Luisa is a cinnamon-roll sweetheart and I can't really imagine her hurting anyone or dealing with weapons.

Yes Ethan lives! I don't trust the B.S.A.A especially after seeing how they treat Rose. She literally didn't have a childhood in their care, and they were going to shoot her because she had a very reasonable reaction to what that one guard dude said, plus the fact the guy even felt comfortable to say something like that to her when she's visiting her father's grave is just gross. In my version The Madrigal family goes back to their encanto with Ethan and Rose, it's the place they all love and they all miss it very much, There are a couple villagers that are still alive and remember the family but not that many. Casita is still standing. Nobody lives inside because Casita refuses to allow anybody to live in her pushing away anyone who tries to get inside. When they get to Casita they were all basically pushed inside Casita was so happy to see them again! Casita had added a room for Mirabel while they were gone, the family doesn't know why or when. They make Ethan a house near Casita so he can have his own privacy and raise Rose the way he wants to. They of course help him whenever he needs it and spend a lot of time with him and Rose!

But I've been thinking. By the time Ethan happens Mirabel would be fully grown and would have been fully grown for a while before Ethan/Rose happens (all the Lords/experiments seem to stop aging after they reach adulthood) and with how much Miranda likes to experiment do you think it's possible that in between that time Miranda would try and experiment on Mirabel to create a vessel for Eva? In this Au Mirabel is considered the favorite and Miranda does have an unhealthy obsession with her so I wouldn't put it past her to try it but I don't know I would really like your opinion on that.

Any art you would like to make is always appreciated!

PLEASE DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE I LOVE IT❗❗ Honestly, Resident Evil by far like my favorite Video Game Media, and in the top five of my favorite media of all time 😭😭 like if you want my attention just mention resident evil

ANYWAYYYYY yeah, I think it's cool for Julieta <333 makes me also think that since her hands leak mold and infect the food, if someone did eat it to heal, it would more effectively heal people who had some form of black mold or any mutation like that; an idea, maybe Ethan, if he goes to her kitchen for healing items, he can take food (if she offers it to him), and he can use it to help regenerate or repair stuff; it can’t regenerate whole limbs though, not unless he has them, hence why Ethan is still missing fingers <\3333 And anyone without mold or mutations have to eat more in order to heal properly. Or maybe ut doesn't heal at all. Idk 🌚

The opinions are so real 😭😭 like I can see why they don’t like Karl (and even Camilo probably only barely tolerates him), and Moreau, for obvious reasons is disliked. Like I know bro is a victim, all of them are, but he SO manipulative it’s not even funny, and he’s just trying to make himself look better in the end. Alcina and the daughters…yeah. By far, if they had to choose one for Mirabel to be around, they prefer Donna, like yeah, she’s creepy, and yeah her weird dolls are creepy, but she’s otherwise pretty chill, and Angie is really just a vessel for her to speak through. I like how Donna and Isa bond over gardening, that’s cool <333

ALSO ETHAN IN CASITA 💪💪💪 he finds the house and family creepy at first, but honestly, with how much he’s been through, he gets over it when he realizes that they only want to help him. Him raiding Julieta's kitchen is so funny, and like she doesn’t care 💀 also I think Pepa and Félix fit for weapons; maybe Luisa can still have a role, since she’s still strong, she can and will defend herself, especially against Lycans. If she’s not at Casita, she will roam the villages and knows her way around, so maybe Ethan can go to Luisa when he needs to know where to go next or where to find certain items (not the flasks though)??

AND THE B.S.A.A…I haven’t watched gameplay of the Rose DLC yet (I need to lmao), so I was going off the B.S.A.A in previous games like 3/5/6. I’m glad they went back to the encanto, and I’m glad Casita is still standing and was so excited that the family came back 🦈🦈 The Madriagls pretty regularly check on the Winters. No Mia. We don’t talk about Mia 👹👹

As for Miranda trying that, yeah, I think so too. Even with her, and the family getting older, Miranda still treats her like a child, like her child. Arguably, her obsession gets worse, and it affects her both Mirabel and even her family to some extent. Mirabel wants to be herself and live as herself, but Miranda essentially ends up viewing her as nothing but a vessel for her daughter, and treats her as such. She either treats her as she would Eva, or she would treat her like the experiment Miranda will ultimately try and turn her into. Mirabel fully believes she won’t fail this time. She refuses to listen to Mirabel, much less her family.

Mirabel might even be a little happy Miranda doesn't really like her family, becayse at least that way, her family is safe from Miranda's obsession with getting her daughter back. Miranda tolerates them but you know. She's not above brutality and LITERAL ASSAULT AND MURDER 🌚)

ALSO ART❗❗ so fun to draw. Honestly, I'll draw a lot for this au 🤭🤭 LIKE...its insane. I had this idea, but it doesn't work with the timeline of RE8 and Encanto 😭 Anyway, I want to do a snippet, so if you have any ideas or more lore 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

#my asks #my asks are open #encanto au #encanto #au #encanto mirabel #encanto julieta #encanto luisa #encanto pepa #encanto Felix #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil au #resident evil ethan winters #resident evil rose winters

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respectthepetty · 2 months

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Hi! First off all, brain praise: I LOVE THE WAY YOU SEE I LOVE THE WAY YOU ANALYZE I LOVE THE WAY YOU THINK

*clears throat and shifts feet *

How much do you think the colors apply to people in real life? How far are someone's true colors (hah) identifiable through the colors and accessories they wear? And does your brain highlight those for you in real life too? (If yes please elaborate please)

Do people choose the colors they like consciously and then over time the qualities/traits get magnified/infused (?) or do the qualities make you subconsciously choose those colors as silent representation of the inner self?

Like if a red rascal consistently and consciously is trying to be a green guy or blue boy, will wearing those colors change his red rascal-ness over time?

Thank you in advance for taking the time to read through this

Anon, go look at your closet. What does it say about you? Is it an accurate representation of who you are as a person.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But I KNOW colors apply to people in real life, and I've written about this in other posts:

Why the colors?

Color-coding groups

Cultural color coding

Real-life color coding

Real-life color coding Part 2

Visual Rhetoric

But I'm going to be more scientific in my answer here since you want specifics.

TLWR: The colors mean things in real life, but we cannot color code the same as in visual media.

Most of these research studies are hidden behind a paywall, but the links will show you the abstracts.

A 2013 study found that people who were ovulating wore more red and pink clothing. It was a subconscious decision to highlight they were fertile [x]. However, when the study was conducted again in 2021, the results were not significant. The researchers suggested this change was due to a shift in unwanted attention (e.g. MeToo Movement). [x]

But women who wear red in the service industry receive more tips from men. [x]

Sports psychologist have long noted that players who wear red are deemed more aggressive than those who wear blue. Players who wear green are judged more fairly. [x] [x]

Several studies have found that people who wear black are seen as more attractive, specifically men [x]. There is an entire book about the historical context of Men in Black. [x]

During times of global competitions (World Cup, Olympics, etc.) color association is the strongest for national identities. For example, this study showed that orange was consistently associated with The Netherlands regardless if the person wearing it was Dutch. [x]

Research in educational design, interior design, and architecture concludes that colors affect the space in terms of emotions and production. [x]

Plants react differently depending on the color of the lighting they receive [x]. Animals as well. [x]

Colors mean things.

However, when you ask how colors affect people in "real life" I always have to give a tiny lecture because the term "real life" is broad. I know what you are asking, but art is real life. What colors we see on our screens have a real-world connection; therefore, they have real life implications. Barbie being pink is real life because pink in Eurocentric ideals is a feminine color, and Barbie is the epitome of femininity. We see this carry over into other pieces of visual media like Power Rangers where for thirty years, the Pink Ranger has been a woman.

The Japanese equivalent of Power Rangers finally had a male Pink Ranger in 2022, but culturally, Japan isn't tied to feminine pink the way the United States is. We use these colors in media because they mean something in real life.

But most people do not consciously go around choosing colors. People have favored colors, and they gravitate towards them more. People also have favored prints and styles such as florals or hoodies. So trying to categorize people based on the colors they wear in their everyday lives could quickly fall into dangerous territory, especially because a lot more goes into “real life” choices.

Neutral colors are more accessible in clothing – black and white. Blue can be found in nature; therefore, it has been easier to duplicate in dyes using natural resources. The red dye we typically use today comes from squishing a bug. When inventing new colors that weren’t seen in nature or that could not be duplicated through natural means, we used dangerous ingredients that could not and should not have been produced on a large scale.

All of this is to say that it is difficult for us to color code in real life because we do not have unlimited closets to pick items from like production teams. Most of us are not rich, so we must purchase what is available on the public market, and we must wear what we have available on the public market. Looking briefly at any clothing store, we can see how limiting those options can be:

This man cannot be a Red Rascal nor a Pink Person because the options do not exist for him at this store, and this is true of most men’s clothing. Because we live in a binary society, we get binary options. Men can’t be colorful unless it's blue (standard boy color), but women can. Prime example - The Met Gala.

And yet science tells me that we will find the man in the clothing ad more attractive in black. We will find him more approachable in white. We will deem him nonthreatening in blue-ish grey. We will see him as more of a worker in the tan/brown.

So, yes, I notice colors . . . because we assign meaning to colors.

If I see someone in a red suit in a crowd of black, I’m going to think that person is bold and wants to stand out, but that might not be true of his everyday nature.

People make subconscious decisions based on the society they live in, so if someone is feeling down or wants to appear more attractive, they might wear more black, but if someone wants to stand out or appear Dutch, they could wear orange.

But because it’s real life, we can’t always pick colors to match our emotions or personality. But we CAN do that in visual media, which is why we do. We can be more intentional about everything in visual media, so we are. Visual media is a more extravagant version of real life. So we can get the boy in the blue and the girl in the pink and when they come together, it makes purple.

I could write about this all day, but I have to work for a living and actually get to teach about this ALL SEMESTER because there is a lot to unpack. This is art, biology, psychology, anthropology, sociology, marketing, and so much more because this is life.

Colors are real life.

And they mean things.

#the colors mean things #color coding in real life #color coding is real life #color association #color symbolism #color psychology #color theory #it's everything #because colors are everything!

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radiosummons · 1 year

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Even though Wolfwood is very much not an actual Catholic priest, I do find it compelling that Vash--someone without any religious beliefs and minimal exposure to "Christianity," courtesy of Rem (OG Trigun)--is the most faithful of the two.

And by "faithful," I don't mean so much in a religious or Christian sort of sense. More that Vash holds onto his faith that there is good in people and that everyone is worth saving. That the taking of a life is something so unspeakable to him that it will literally cause him immense mental, emotional and physical pain when he is forced to do so. His unshakeable belief, i.e. his faith that every life is precious and no one is beyond redepmtion irregardless of how morally corrupt an individual may be is so foundational to who he is as a character.

While I've only really experienced this through anime and various other Japanese based video games, I do enjoy seeing depictions of Christian iconography and concepts form non-Western creators. I love the art and memes of Vash being a "biblically accurate angel" (even though Plants aren't angels, I am so fucking happy that people are picking up on the unintentional symbolism) and I do enjoy the amount of, again, art and memes of Wolfwood being a cringefail Catholic priest.

But I also love the non-Western depiction of Christianity in Trigun, or rather the apocalyptic remnants of it. Despite the fact I have lost my ability to have faith in a higher being (and my own personal beef/distate with the Catholic Church/conservative Christianity as a whole), I find the worldbuilding of Trigun fascinating in this aspect as it provides its audience an alternative form of a global religion that's very relevant to our daily lives.

In Trigun, Christianity is very much a shadow of its former self, a leftover remnant of humanity--more specifically, a remnant of an old forgotten belief system--that has been essentialy been lost. Save for a few remaining Bibles and some memories of particular Catholic iconography/symbolism.

But overall, that's all that remains. Just familiar symbols and various rituals that some people are able to recall from their former lives.

So the decision to pair Vash up with someone like Wolfwood, someone who has lost his faith in humanity as a whole but has resolved himself to protect those that he can (or rather, deems worthy of saving) ... I find that relationship absolutely fascinating. Because I'd argue that in most Western depictions of a holy man (typically Christian and typically Catholic, let's be real), it's usually the holy man that is doing the saving. Or at the very least, is usually helping guide the other characters on their own paths towards redemption.

Despite the fact Wolfwood isn't an actual priest but instead an assassin trained by a mercenary group using the guise of an old religion (again, that most of humanity has clearly forgotten about), I find it to be a wonderful storywriting choice to make Vash the "holy man."

They're both incredibly tragic characters that burden themselves with crippling destinies. Destinies that ultimately lead to their own destruction, but hopefully all for the greater good. Vash holds faith that maybe, just maybe, he can make Nai realize the error of his ways and turn over a new leaf.

Understandably, Wolfwood finds this way of thinking horribly childish and naive. He even takes it as a personal insult when Vash continues to insist that killing people, even if it's for the sake of protecting someone else, is wrong.

But Vash isn't wrong for wanting to see the good in people. To borrow a quote from Everything Everywhere All At Once: "You tell me it's a cruel world, and we're all running around in circles. I know that. I've been on this earth just as many days as you. When I choose to see the good side of things, I'm not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It's how I've learned to survive through everything. I know you see yourself as a fighter. Well, I see myself as one too. This is how I fight."

Granted, Vash doesn't express his beliefs as eloquently as this. But that doesn't really matter, though. Because Wolfwood doesn't need Vash to make express himself this way for Wolfwood to finally understand him. Vash, by the simple of virtue of being himself, is a good person who chooses to see the good in others.

And Wolfwood ... Wolfwood is someone who chooses to see the bad.

Wolfwood cannot quite bring himself to view the world the way Vash does. And Vash will never be able to share Wolfwood's opinions regarding who is worthy of living, either. But they respect each other and understand where the other person is coming from.

It does take Wolfwood a lot longer to understand Vash as a person, let alone his faith in humanity. But when he does, it's so satisfying to watch Vash become someone important to him. Someone that he wants to protects. Because if Vash won't defend himself, Wolfwood resolves to be the one to protect Vash.

Even if Vash doesn't really want that.

It's so fucking amazing to see these two clash over their ideals, whether it's in the form of playful teasing or straight up beating the shit out of each other. But they stay together and hold each other in such high regard despite their conflicting beliefs.

To me, one of the most beautiful aspescts of Trigun is that Wolfwood--a man of faith but only in name--gets to have such a close connection with Vash--a man of faith through and through--and that because of their relationship, they both inspire a existential AND spiritual crisis within one another.

Because in a world that makes no sense, they both find faith in each other. And if that isn't the most beautiful shit you've ever seen, then I don't know what is.

#trigun #trigun meta #og trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #vash #trigun vash #trigun wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #wolfwood #vashwood #i've got a LOT of feelings about these two #yes i quoted #everything everywhere all at once #it just fits okay?#i haven't posted any trigun shit in a while #here's my way of making up for that

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nanomooselet · 2 months

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Little but Fierce VIII

Knives is totally dismissive of Meryl. He acknowledges she exists all of three times.

Once in Vash's memories, to delete her from them; once as he's piercing the Core, to call her a parasite and dismiss her attempts to get Vash to wake up; and once to try and violently kill her because... she succeeded in waking Vash up.

Whoops.

I listed all those statements that Knives claimed to be the truth; now here's everything that I believe proves them false.

Vash is pretty, but he's useless without his brother.

Vash does not need his brother. He loves him - of course he does. He wants to save him. But he's never needed him. Rem was the one he relied on for support, and after her death, Vash was too afraid of Nai to give him that kind of trust. He's spent decades surviving away from him, something Knives simply will not acknowledge. He tries to remove Vash's autonomy because as long as he has it, Vash is at risk of abandoning him again, just as Rem did.

Remember that once Knives initiated the memory retrieval process, Dr. Conrad warned Meryl that breaking that connection would kill Vash? Knives made Vash need him, made him dependent. That's his idea of making Vash perfect.

He's a powerless, weak, pathetically naïve, blubberingly sentimental little baby who doesn't care about the Plants, too busy enabling humanity's abuse via performing his cringing, grasping abasement before them to notice how his brethren suffer.

Knives developed his powers first. But Vash's powers are greater. He can do everything a normal Plant can do; he can also do much more, and he's such a wonderful, kind and compassionate man, with amazing reserves of emotional strength. Knives wouldn't have had to try and subjugate him otherwise.

Vash personally talks to the Plants, cares for them, soothes their pain. And he's been doing that not just to help them, but to help the humans panicking because if the Plants died, so too would they. He spent years travelling between crash sites helping Plants and teaching humans to take care of them, assuming an authoritative role even as a little boy, and if he hadn't figured out he could do that, he would almost certainly have killed himself. Remember he finally made the choice to live in order to save a dying Plant, not a human - dying because the environment was incompatible. You know, because they'd all been crashed on a desert planet. Certainly many Plants are still suffering. Because Vash is the only one doing this. He can't rest or delegate. It has to be him alone; it all depends upon him.

And Knives has been too busy playing his stupid piano to take any notice. And having other people do things for him. Oh, and making it damn near impossible for Vash to do what he does, partly because Vash has been convinced he bears all the responsibility and accepts the punishment himself. It's incredible he's held up even as well as he has.

If Knives is even aware Vash can heal Plants, he likely wouldn't care, because he views Plants in dependent form as imperfect, the same way he has contempt for Vash's fondness for eating. When Vash tried to talk to him about the needs of the other Plants based on his own direct experience, Knives didn't just shut him down by calling what Rem said a lie, he started mocking Vash's grief over her death, complaining that she inconvenienced him. He isn't interested in an alternative. His is the only way. It always has to be his way; that's been reflected in all his abuse.

Knives himself is the more powerful (and much less human-like) of the twins; the strongest and most righteous activist for necessary change now that, sadly despite all good faith attempts at communication, non-violent solutions have failed.

Remember Zazie, Elendira and Vash himself all have said don't judge by appearances. Yeah, Knives's colouration makes him look a bit more like the dependents than Vash does. That doesn't mean he's less human.

When he first started using his chosen name, Knives was doing nothing to help his brethren in the wake of the Fall. All he did was retaliate against humans and obsess over Vash. He bet everything on being able to carry out his plans using his brother's power. He didn't bother to communicate with any human other than Dr. Conrad. Seriously, count how many humans he addresses directly in the series. The total shrinks to one if you leave out those he doesn't immediately try to kill.

As for the "less human-like" part...

Dr. Conrad and Knives believe a soul is what gives a Plant free will, makes an Independent. Knives is referred to as an angel, and as perfect.

But angels don't have souls, so much as they are souls - they're beings of spirit, not matter. Humans are the ones who have both souls and material bodies. The dependents are in their tanks because their bodies can't survive outside of them. What makes Vash and Knives what they are isn't a soul. It's their humanity.

Thus I simply can't take the idea that Knives is "perfect" at face value. I stand by the assertion that Knives, in defining all humanity as selfish and greedy parasites, inadvertently exposes how human he is himself.

He truly has only the best and most altruistic intentions: the freedom of his people, and the happiness of his brother.

Look at what he did to Vash. The only other member of his kind he knows to be a person, and he chained and silenced him. Look at how often Knives is around dying Plants, dying because of the situation he forced them into. Do you believe it?

I don't. I find no truth in his words. I can count on one hand the moments I think he's being honest about anything. And I'd like this to be kept in mind as I continue.

I said before that the series seems mostly to take on Knives's point of view, and it's worth also keeping that in mind - especially when you remember the Punisher was Knives's chosen, custom-tailored agent. A gift. He was the one Knives obviously expected would become Vash's chief emotional support; all the better to kick it out from under him. After all, his brother is the one Vash truly loves; the brother who is a weapon, a punisher of human sin, who's done all he's done for his family. Who better to bring Vash home than an imperfect replacement, reminding him of what it was in his life that's been absent for so long? His human inadequacy would add strength to Knives's argument. And so focus goes to Wolfwood, showing how being forced to take on this role has made him suffer. He is, literally, pivotal; his backstory and conflict is revealed and resolved in 6/7, the midpoint of the series.

Naturally, it just demonstrates all the ways Wolfwood isn't like Knives, and that Vash never needed his help. Wolfwood is the one saved by Vash, not the other way round.

So… because Knives was so focused on Wolfwood and what he would mean to Vash, he never once thought Meryl mattered, not to Vash and not to the Plants and not to the world at large. She's a parasite, nothing more. There's no way some silly officious little womanchild with no weapons or powers could mean anything.

Right up until the moment she did, and he promotes her instantly, all the way from insignificant to tango primary.

Meryl in his mind goes from insect he can't be bothered to swat to an ideological threat on the level of Rem Saverem, and he starts shrieking denials that she's beaten him. And remember that I said you should believe the opposite of whatever he says?

She has.

Because she loves Vash. (Platonic or romantic as usual doesn't matter.) She's chosen to follow him even to the edge of reality. Though she found Vash frustrating, she didn't try to change him, nor does she need or want anything from him. She saw how much strength he had, what he could do if someone just had faith. When Vash declares I won't stop until they believe in me, he can draw hope from the assurance that Meryl already does. And unlike Rem, Luida, Rosa - Knives can't do jack-shit about it.

And Vash, in turn, has deep appreciation for her support. She tied him up all the way back in ep 1 - which I called "laying a claim" - and here Vash reciprocates, binding them together. She's lent him her agency, her independence, and she didn't have to resort to anything like the grotesque extremes Knives did. It required no more or less from her than unyielding love - an ordinary human's love. Just like Rem. Thank you, Meryl. I heard her voice through you.

Her love is rooted in seeking and embracing the hard truth rather than shoring up a comforting lie. When Vash starts to break free of Knives's illusion, it's by holding to the truth - it was Rem who promised to protect him, not Nai. Nai isn't an innocent little boy anymore but monster of metal chains and blades, something Vash has every reason to run from. Rem loves Vash no matter what's been done to him, and Knives cannot kill her as long as she remains alive in him. Knives is too frightened to face the truth, regards it with so much terror he tries to flee back into the ignorance of the childhood before he learned it. In contrast, Meryl's courage and conviction, her dedication to seeking and spreading truth, is so strong in her they steel that which is within those surrounding her; Roberto, Wolfwood, even in Vash. She may be small, but her power is sufficient.

Never ever overlook Meryl motherfucking Stryfe. That's a mistake so great it can see a man go from the threshold of victory to on fire.

And I'm still not done talking about her. One more instalment.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part IX

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #meryl stryfe #millions knives #meta: little but fierce #tw sui ideation #computer still being fsssjhfa dumb #why must i have no money for repair

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madstronaut · 1 month

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prepareth thineselves for another doozy of a ramblecommentating

obligatory alphalist link:

the pining. THE MOTHERFUCKING PINING IN THIS STORY is enough to power a standard size nuclear plant imo and madstronaut is here to do her civic duty as a staunch supporter of the environment and fighting fossil fuels, yes, truly the main reason i read smutty/yearny fic-

Reading: Christian Woman by @kneelingshadowsalome

“You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.”

this is basically reverse tinder iykyk

“You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe.”

this very aptly desscribes how this story makes me feel. i cried the first time i read it through fully; just made me feel so many emotions 🥹🥹🥹

Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

i hope everyone experiences the happy accident of a spontaneous deep conversation with a stranger - feels like God/the universe just gifting you a random act of kindness

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.” girl you about to do a lot more than that very soon

You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue.

*when God sings with his creations, will not König's ass be part of the choir*

You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little.

just speaking personally quite a heady experience to have someone attempt to better themselves for you but way too easy for this dynamic go from sexy/flattering to emotionally off-kilter - how does the phrase go? with great pus-power comes great responsibility

Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet.

🥰🥺🥰🥺

He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. fucking LOVE THIS LINE

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his.

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking.

this is such a great description of how a good ole crush feels - “you feel both safe and in danger with him”

It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

total sidenote but since I was just recently there - you wanna talk bright bubbly cafe next to dim cellar cafe - bedford cheese shop next to irving farm coffeeshop on irving place off union square in nyc fits these descriptions exactly lol

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way.

why did the following description make me think of john cena peacemaker, who does indeed own a fleshlight in the show 😂😂😂

And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve. a whole moooooood

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

we all need a friend like this 😂

If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else.

omg it me????

You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him.

recalling all those worship songs nicknamed “Jesus is my boyfriend” songs in youth group growing up😂😂😂😂

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

I want to banghang out with this Jesus tbh amigoingtohellfortypingthatmaybesavemeJesus😉

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are.

i knew she was a goner when she started talking about his hands

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. like i said WE ALL NEED A FRIEND LIKE THIS 😂

There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends.

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

WHY NOT BOTH?

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

i appreciate how fleshed out our nun reader is <3 i found myself in a weird limbo of wanting her to remain true to herself while still navigating her faith (as someone also on a post(idk tbh?)-faith journey i find her spiritual self-wrestling very relatable and familiar)

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

probs goin to hell for this (but im on tumblr so im already here??? lmao) but S i r if u invented the whole concept u can at least watch and give me pointers/tips

And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

truly the absolute dirtiest sluttiest thing you can do fr fr let me say it once again with my whole chest 👏HOLDING👏HANDS👏IS👏FOR👏 SLUTSSSSSS👏 (it's me, the slut, im the slut)

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

i remember my first innocent hand holdings/cheek kisses and they felt EXACTLY like this, reading this felt like salome went digging into my brainfolds and pulled the sensations out and put them in writing 🤯

The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake. omg nun reader your innocence is adorable all the better when watching it break

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. holy self-sabotage, batman - NUNREADER DONT DO THISSSSS

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…” excuse me while i mop myself off the floor; melted right off my chair

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

nun reader can i interest you in an alternate, similarly unpaid career trajectory of…*drumroll* SMUTTY FIC WRITING???? pls i will send u an ao3 invite and comment on every 5th syllable of your stories and be your 2nd-biggest personal hypebae (first one being her own bff who would be over the moon ofc)

The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers.

im deeefinitely picturing nun!aubrey plaza from the little hours below

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. spit my fuckin tea out at this, fucking hilarious

the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it. 🥺🥺🥺reminds me of old crushes/lovers who broke my heart. did u know how much you held when you had a piece of it? steadfastly not thinking of the ones i broke too🤪

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone.

i have often heard it said both in a spiritual and practical context that when your peace leaves a place, you should pay attention and leave with it and it’s still a very relevant and wise piece of advice imho

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

tw for churchish talk so pls skip if its not your cup of tea but without getting into all the fucked up stuff that is the monstrosity of evangelical churchianity, personally speaking one of the earliest places (and most constant sources) i learned about self-worth and compassion and love and extending it to myself and others was through people of faith (i know this might be ironic/offensive to some because believe me i have also been there in being traumatized/antagonized by ppl of faith as well but trying my best to hold all our different experiences and perspectives in hand to be able to see listen and understand the good the bad and grey and everything in between in a nuanced way, anyway story of my life); i wish i could offer similar encouragement i heard to nunreader - omg, can we instead focus on the verses/stuff in bible like Christ coming to set us free, not keep us chained to laws, God is love, loving God and others are apparently the two most important things in the faith and everything else rests on these two, also there is a shitttttton of smut in the bible coughsong of songs, the book no one ever preaches aboutcough and also i dont think the supposed inventor of sex hates sex, anyway ending my shittylittle fauxsermon/rant here but end of tw, back to the fic~

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. i know reader is deep in the cups of churchthought but this is honestly one of the most beautiful things ive read; i want to (and imho i do) ‘see God’ - see something divine, beautiful wondrous heavenly full of love and joy and peace and gentleness and kindness and all that other stuff from that galatians bit i dont recall now- in the people I love too

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. cough once again trawling through some old memories resurfacing from my churchish days but apparently one of the meanings of the original hebrew word for to know in the bible also meant to have sex with, i am 1000% serious👀👀👀

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over.

recalling an old convo with a guyfriend when we were discussing/joking about modesty and clothing and i joked that the ultimate level was a nun habit/outfit - in complete seriousness though he turned to me and said to a man in lust/love, the right woman has nothing she could wear that wouldn’t tempt him - including a nun outfit - and ive never forgotten what he said lol. I joked about ankles sticking out and then of course we dove into a deep discussion on the existential nature of feet fetishes. in hindsight, apologies to anyone nearby we may have traumatized/offended that june afternoon in washington square park

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home.

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

peak yearning right here. also i think salome captures thoughtprocess of nunreader so well in her eventually assauging her Intense Catholic Guilt™️ by basically equating König to Jesus/God, the only man nuns are allowed to simp for (if anyone is offended by the near-constant blasphemous shit in this post - tbh my whole blog - pls say a prayer for me lol)

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.” my SISTER in CHRIST, you just gave away your whole escape plan LMAO

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

nunreader i am cheering you on with little party hats and confetti bombs in spirit-

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

very into how nunreader is feeling herself here. yes my queen get ready to fucking get ittttttt

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

i am restraining the urge to dive into the screen into this story with my makeup kit to Give Reader A Mini-Makeover (i fucking LOVE those scenes in stories/shows/movies and also for me makeup is art and the canvas is my face/body and i enjoy perfecting my art on the daily- totally forget over the pandemic how much i enjoyed putting on makeup before going to work)

“Here, kitty, kitty…” why is this extremely goofy and sexy at the same time? peak König vibes tbh

Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

why not both, my sister, why not both? something something love is a many splendored thing - shakespeare probably

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. this is the cutest fucking thing ive ever read so far i am biting my pillow to shreds~ also König handfeeding strawberries to sis at the restaurant?? someone call 911 for public indecency???? hot damn and you were worried bout HOLDING HANDS???

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you. every girls dream 🥰🥰🥰

instantly getting hard from a first kiss does feel very könig-coded, do not @ me

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. not me also joining in-

The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain. not me getting together a petition.org straight to Jesus to cut our sister some slack-

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

on this note i remember being briefly fascinated by nuns/priests as a young madstronaut - mostly fascinated by these women living sans men in such a male-dominated world/space and foregoing sex/marriage (anyway little did i know of religious patriarchy and such then) but knowing what i know now, that under all the collars and habits and wimples are still regular people/human beings - i wonder how many IRL Christian Women fics are being lived out right now somewhere 👀coughBEFREEMYSISTERScough

He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.

smellsandbells are my bread butter and jam! research has also shown the sense of smell is strongly linked with memory too and i can attest to this

The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves.

do not resist dear sister, no one can when COD men deck themselves out in full gear, its simply not physically spiritually mentally emotionally chemically possible, cold scientific fact, biblical gospel, incontrovertible truth, in this annotated research paper i will-

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. okay König fucking would say something like this lmao READ THE ROOM SIR but also sister has it d o w n b a d if shes able to recognize him just by the way he moves and “hear him smiling” iykyk

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place. sir i see right through your schemes and i am giving my 100% certified stamp of approval tbh i wouldn’t have even put it past him in this fic if he stabbed himself in a nonlethal area so sister can see some skin without ICG in teh way (Intense Catholic Guilt™️)

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

you and me both sister, you and me both

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “ pay no mind? my brother in christ you are giving free handouts (trying not to let my brain rot away thinking of double entendres here)

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.” sir sir if i can guess at the contents of some (most?) of these letters…may I ALSO interest you in an alternate albeit unpaid career trajectory of smutty fic writing-

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart.

damn this is peak writing right here. this rivals published writing ive read, all my standing ovations, slow claps, and hats off to you salome~ i go through tons and tons of fic in hopes to read sentences like these and stories like yours ❤️❤️❤️honestly their whole exchange with sis kneeling by him as he falls asleep is peak yearning/tenderness

also nunreader’s “why exactly does König like me so much, is it because of any other possible reason other than myself” is peak relatability - once again restraining myself from grabbing reader through the screen and giving them white-board scrawled peptalks breaking down why they are amazing and worthy

He must be getting better if he’s behaving like this... The man’s insufferable enough when he’s uninjured, but now that he’s getting pampered, he’s somehow even worse. 😂😂😂 sis finally gettin the memo

Your only summer dress resides at your parent’s house as a relic from the past, a token from your life before sisterhood. this is true, i recall reading that once someone enters the convent/monastery they basically get given one nun/priest outfit and like maybe a backup one when the main one gets washed? my new yorker fashionloving ass could never

“No, I’m not. I’m just some woman you bumped into in the street.”

“That’s exactly what an angel would say.”

😂😂😂

You sigh: it’s useless with König, hopeless, like trying to wrestle with God. No matter what you say or do, he always turns it against you in the sweetest possible way. as someone with the near-useless superpower of getting weird inside baseball bible/sunday school/youth group jokes/references however vague in modern lit/culture when they appear i appreciate the “wrestle with God” reference, peak research vibes

also the last line here really smacks of the nicer interpretation of what the abbess told sis: “God doesn’t test us, he loves us” <3

There’s nothing sexual about it, so why not?

she says “aint nothin sexual bout lyin in a bed, the primary location where people usually have sex, with an almost nude man who is horny/erect 95% of the time he is around you, alone, in what i can only describe as a an ideal small town honeymoon suite while it is moodily raining outside” my sister in christ, do you recall lying (yes even to yourself) is a s i n

also i have never been catholic but hot damn i was also blushing and did think König is fucking s h a m e l e s s reading about him feeling up sis STILL IN HER HABIT 😂

He’s ever so grateful for his saving angel, who he gets to cuddle “as a reward”. You don’t quite know if it's a reward for you or him.

once again my sister in christ w h y n o t b o t h (also im deliriously pleased i can use sister in christ with multi-layered meanings here)

“Perhaps we’ll stay there... Forget all this,” he chatters lazily, clearly in the same sweet bubble as you. ive always found it so sweet and vulnerable and tender hearing bfs/guys muse and daydream about a future together 🥰🥰 just hits different when boys do it, and openly too

the last of your armour, your pride and shame and vows, drift away like they were made of nothing but simple steam.

But there’s nothing to hold on to but him, so you anchor yourself in the dark hunger of his eyes.

That’s all the reply you get: a pleased, filthy stare of someone who’s about to wreck you up.

“Come here,” he says while you’re already locked in an inseparable embrace.

*chefs kiss* these lines are perfection

You start to cry in full, not even knowing why. You just know you’ve wanted this for ages. This connection, this ecstasy, this mutual presence and fulfilment, this sense of belonging to someone.

*nodding along sagely* yes cathartic cries are the best cries

your pussy wakes up after recovering from the initial shock… For some reason, it is vital for you not to let the old receptionist know that a humble sister of Christ is getting licked to ruin in his establishment.

HAHAHA SALOME OMFG ABSOLUTELY SCREECHED READING THIS

You’re going through several stages of ego death and bliss; you’re going through a crisis of faith and multiple rebirths while König is having a field day with your pussy. Honestly completely normal reaction imho

All thoughts of What if he doesn’t enjoy it evaporate when you see the demanding erection between his legs, pointing at you so viciously that you feel pity for the fabric of his pants.

fics that have genital personification have a special place in my heart. also i did not expect to write such a sentence today or in my life but here i am, thank you tumblr

You’re not wearing any bra; you stopped wearing them years ago as useless and immoral. ok hold up one moment why are bras immoral lol girl unless you are small enough to join the free the nip movement without penalities a good support system is vital!!!

“You naughty girl…” he says thickly.

tbh in context of entire fic König calling sis a naughty girl is probably the hottest thing he’s said…sir where did u get all this rizz

“Want to see what I got?”

…forget what I said about the rizz, this is the fucking goofiest follow-up he could say 😂😂😂 salome has König vibes down pat

You’re mesmerized to see him already tensing from the chest up, the tendons on his neck becoming visible as he grits his teeth together. 🥰🥰🥰 an absolute vision

It's riddled with chants of Put it in and Forget about the bloody plastic because even with your zero experience you know it wouldn't feel as good as skin *me, reading, also joining in the chant*

The room must be smelling like a sex cave by now. protip: make sure the smell is gone if you have guests coming over

It makes you smile; him being so happy with simple things such as good food and some kinky sex, a nice cuddle and a nap to top it off. giggling at nunreader thinking humping is kinky UGH WHY ARE YOU SO SWEET AND ADORABLE i just want to take you on a shopping and makeup spree and introduce you to things like bubble tea, dry shampoo, glossier merch, weekend farmer's markets at union square, the hot barista/server at veselka's-

“This is what I call liking someone so much it hurts.” 🥺🥺🥺 couldnt seduce a woman if he tried my ass

König learns your body language; he knows it like a native speaker by the end of the week. EAT YOUR HEART OUT DUOLINGO (please dont kill me i'll fix my streak i promise)

König only smiles on the bed while you treat him; it’s like his master plan finally worked. I FUCKIN CALLED IT

“I would never hurt you….and no one ever will.” their whole conversation here is one of my favorite scenes in the whole story.

Without mentioning König or what you’ve been up to lately, you simply tell her you’ve decided to move on with your life. yes, i am one of those plebs who clap when the plane lands, but for dramatic turning points in fanfic

You receive lots of well wishes, hugs, even tears when you tell others you’re leaving. Embarrassed that you almost got rid of your robes and sneaked out to another secret lover’s meeting without even saying farewell, you meet everyone with full presence until you find yourself crying too.

i love a fic that has lore and a bit of worldbuilding so well-built that you want to look around corners and peek into windows and doorways about what else there is - i found myself wondering about sister’s relationships here with the other nuns - but also loved that last phrase of reader finally feeling whole, “meeting everyone with full presence” after feeling so fractured and divided the first half of the story 👏👏👏we love a good full circle fic 👏👏👏

No wonder men die younger – you’d have to tie this specimen to a sturdy lamp post if you wanted him to stay put... i too think this everytime i see some dumb bullshit, mostly on @drunkpeopledoingthings

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you extend your hands to your sides, knowing you’ve already lost. “You can go back now.” there's something just very delicious watching someone fight a losing battle

desire pools, brims, until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. loooooooove this phrasing

This must be one of the craziest things you’ve done in your life says reader, of having sex for the first time, a near universal experience

To you, he’s all men in one, the sheer mass of him making your thighs tremble from want. 🥰🥰🥰reader in love is so poetic <3

also yes squeaky beds are my kink, ty for including salome 🥰🥰🥰

also sis describing her pussy “hugging” dick has got to be the fluffiest smut ive ever read🥰🥰🥰

Ten times more powerful than the most blissful experiences with your God, you want to come here for worship again and again, to have his body entangled with yours. ah yes to know König is to know God indeed 😏😏😏😏😏

When done, he sinks half his weight on you, thoroughly spent, and you feel fulfilled, some deep-seated joy taking hold of everything that once was hollow. Curiously, all shame is absent. 🥹🥹🥹 i love this line so much. i hope everyone is able to experience this, especially if you like me have had some religious purity culture trauma in your life - there is no shame in love <3

The happiness, the pure joy in his eyes, is heartbreaking. At that moment, you know that all his silly jokes, follies, and babbles about taking you to the mountains and whisking you away have been real. They have been true, honest wishes... There is no lie in him, no jest, no fakeness. Just pure, simple joy from hearing that you finally chose him, too. 🥹🥹🥹

The old man doesn’t even care to look surprised when he sees you clothed in jeans and a simple shirt this time, smiling as you rush upstairs, hand in hand with König. okay but shoutout to this dude, you a real one for being the best unintentional wingman this side of europe

You can’t wait to sleep with him tonight: simply sleep with him, finally, curl up together in safety, do the most basic thing all lovers do. You can’t wait to wake up to a fresh dawn together, lovely, curious, and new. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

You take new vows: promising to yourself to live each day fully and bravely, and never again shut your heart.

The only thing left of you on your old bed is your black and white robe, and on it, a crucifix and a rose, and a note that says:

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love… But the greatest of these is love.

screaming crying i cant even explain how this fic made me feel, some mixture of joy and heartbreak and catharsis and healing all wrapped up in one as i found so many parallels both with reader and König at times and isn’t that just some of the best things about great stories, when it helps us see and feel and know and love ourselves and others in new ways we couldn’t before?

i wanted to do this absolutely lovely fic justice so ive literally been sprinkling comments on this during re-reads for months; i will close with a fitting - and catholic - quote that i love:

“There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves-our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives-large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility, but to a deep trust in those who love us. It is the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born.” - quote by Henri Nouwen, catholic priest

#madstrothought #FaFiCoWriMo #fanfiction #call of duty #König #Christian Woman (fic title - to avoid this going into the general tag lol)#kneelingshadowsalome #DanceofTheSevenVeils

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