#I mean I do make the songs about things and people but I do it for fun and I ain’t sharing that here

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-two

759 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one

Eddie do you ever think about what you’re gonna do after high school? like how am i expected to know what i want to do with my life? i mean, i have another year to think about it but not that much can change in a year you probably wanna do something with music, right? make it big with your band and have people screaming your songs i’d go to every show if i could be your own personal groupie who knows? maybe that’s my calling p.s. have a good time at hellfire tonight i hope you win !!!!! -H

You’d think the win last night would put him in high spirits, and it did. At first. He celebrated with the guys, passed on the get together someone suggested, and drove home feeling proud. It was when he was laying in bed, though, that he started thinking. When he graduates, how often will he be able to ride a high like that? From pure accomplishment?

Steve puts on a brave face for morning practice. He doesn’t wanna drag anyone down with him. He goes through the motions of accepting congratulations and pats on the back from his peers and teachers alike all morning long. 

It only makes him think, though. 

Seriously, what comes after this? More school? Does he accept that internship at his father’s soul sucking company? Does he get a gob and jump right into adulthood?

What it really comes down to is the fact that Steve had never thought he’d have a future. Honestly. He’s getting closer and closer everyday to the next stage in his life, though. The years snuck up on him and now he has to deal with it. 

On a lesser scale, Steve doesn’t like thinking about what life will be like once Eddie graduates this coming May. How is Steve meant to tolerate this hellhole without him? Sure, he’d gone years without really noticing him, but now that he knows what it’s like to have a taste of him in his life, he doesn’t think he could go back. 

The whole thing makes his pulse quicken and sweat begin to bead at his hairline. By the time he makes it to art class, there’s a tension forming at his temples and he’s not looking forward to the headache. He doesn’t think he has it in him to act like everything’s normal. 

For once, Carol doesn’t acknowledge his foul mood. She’s too busy staring at Robin. For the portrait, of course. 

The teacher had informed them today the class is basically a free period and they can choose what to work on or what to not work on. 

Steve sits slumped over the table with his head resting on his folded arms. He kind of wishes Eddie hadn’t put the divider up and also that he had his sunglasses so he could stare at him without feeling weird about it. 

Instead, he rests his eyes and tunes into the sounds of pencil on paper surrounding him. He dozes for a while and has nearly fallen asleep when he’s awoken with a poke to his cheek. 

Steve peels his eyes open, but no one seems to be wanting his attention. There is, however, a piece of paper placed next to his left arm. 

It’s a drawing. 

A stick figure with tall swoopy hair and eerily realistic eyes. 

Steve looks to his left, only to find the culprit still hard at work with his face tucked behind the divider. 

Steve visually fills in the blank and surmises Eddie’s smile probably matches his own. 

Steve doesn’t dare fold the paper. He tucks it into the notebook he has to keep it safe. Throughout the rest of the day, he opens the book just to look at it. When he takes it home, he tapes it to a wall in his bedroom, somewhere he can always see it. 

Eddie did i ever tell you how sweet it is that your club has matching tees? i haven’t seen anyone who doesn’t do sports or the school band have a uniform but it makes sense that other clubs would, too you look good in black, don’t get me wrong, but GOD i thought i was gonna die the first time i saw yours so thanks for that also, while we’re on the subject of how hot you are,  you should wear your hair up more often p.s. sorry about the existential crisis on friday i wasn’t doing too good but i got a pick-me-up eventually <3 -H

tag list (closed)

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[blackmoonoracle]

BLACKMOONORACLE PRESENTS ...

PICK A CARD • OCTOBER PREDICTIONS

P I L E O N E

Soooo, you’ve definitely got a pretty decent release coming in during the month of october. I specifically heard the releasing of a karmic contract, so, I truly love that for you. You could be making a decision about a connection, it definitely feels like a past energy though. Some sort of cycle you’ve experienced with a particular soul over and over again. You put a stop to this though, I feel like you called it like it was. I’m channeling Vultures by Earl Sweatshirt and the beginning of the song literally goes. “I’ve been on the run, that’s why I go harder than you go. Plus I call em how I see em, maybe that’s why I’m all alone.” Season of the Witch is currently playing and it’s the part that goes “you’ve got to pick up every stitch” it feels like an energy of uprooting. I do feel like this pile has a tendency to hold onto people that don’t serve them in any way shape or form. Channeling Serve the Servants by Nirvana, in specific this part stands out:

“I just want you to know that I don't hate you anymore There is nothing I could say that I haven't thought before”

There feels like a specific intention in this pile to remove themselves from relationships that are dragging them down.

Something may be occurring that is causing you to let go of this connection, like something is going to make you realize you’re wasting your time. It’s not like usual either, it’s like this undismissable feeling of disgust and realization.

The mask is being ripped off, and in a very ugly way LOL.

I feel like whatever information you’re going to learn from this situation is actually going to help you develop better self esteem and turn a new leaf. It feels like a sigh of relief, this person possibly made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or were a bad person. I heard “I’m always the problem” and you’re going to realize that you aren’t and never were the problem.

I literally heard “reactive abuse”.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram.

P I L E T W O

You guys are making social waves the month of october by setting harsh boundaries and restrictions in place with others. I heard “Look but don’t touch” I feel like there may be some kind of drama going on in october. I did hear workplace, so for some of you this could be career/reputation/workplace related drama and bs bubbling over. I see you taking things into your own hands and very critically thinking about the situation so you can make a solid decision that is balanced and fair. I also heard “in your favor” I feel like whoever this person you have issues with is doesn’t have a very good reputation. It’s almost like this person speaking so negatively of you constantly is really aggravating other people. Especially because you don’t really talk about them at all. You’ve pretty much moved on from whatever this is.

I heard “bitter ex friend” and I also heard “bite the bullet” and I heard something about a poison apple? Someone could have tried to use an apple in some sort of hex or spellwork towards you. It could be also that someone has poisonous intentions of trying to gain access to you and that you are putting that shit to a stop.

I heard scorpio, so this person could be a scorpio. I see you essentially making a judgment on this person socially which is going to cause other people to really see them in a different light. You could also be bringing context or clarity to some kind of situation, you hold missing information or you are a missing link in some way. I also heard complexity, so this situation could be very complex.

This new judgment will teach you to be more selfish with your time and resources so that you can create a genuine balance in your life.

Too much gratitude I heard, which is lowkey crazy? I think that what that means is that essentially sometimes you put shit on a pedestal. There’s a self worth wound being worked out in this situation tbh.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram.

P I L E T H R E E

I see a new financial opportunity becoming available in the month of october for you, something unexpected. It could be in something with creation of some kind, doing and creating content possibly even? I see you handling business matters and phone calls of some kind? I heard admin, so some sort of administrative position? I also heard dream job, so for some of you this could be a once in a lifetime opportunity or for others this could be a really solid offer. I also heard high caliber, but I’m also hearing don’t work yourself to death. This group feels very capricorn type of energy, addicted to working, you love making money. I see where you’ve fought long and hard to get into whatever position is being given to you. I see where you’ve lost so much, in search of stability and I feel like you will need to face your shadow of lack and insecurity while in this job position or offer. It almost feels like some of you may try to eject yourself out of the situation because you’re scared or because it feels too good to be true? I feel like this is a good opportunity, but don’t get wrapped up in social liaison I heard. I feel like you have to learn to be comfortable with not fitting in or being like neck deep in a community. You’re meant to be a bit of an outlier at this current point in time because you are learning something new. You’ve already developed the social skills, this is about developing a deeper personal skillset that you can really utilize to drive you to your success.

I see this group really coming to terms with the past, and releasing either the fear of being seen for who you are. I’m also hearing “of being heard” a fear of being perceived for who you really are. You are healing your relationship to yourself, i heard “grotesque” you might be really mean to yourself a lot of the time. Like highkey you are very impatient and cruel to yourself at times and it lowkey sucks for you. I also heard don’t lose sight of what you have, this new opportunity is here for you to milk it for what it has to offer and then dip when things begin to culminate on a deeper scale for you. Some of you could really go through a deep spiritual awakening and learn what happiness truly means to you as a result of this.

If you’d like to book a personal reading you can always dm me on here or instagram

[nvieditz]

bad decisions pt 2

alexia x reader

hey everyone! sorry it took a bit for this to be done (and i apologize for the bit of a cliffhanger but i have the “rest” of this done and will be coming out so i just liked how this ended haha)

warnings: no smut just plot (smut in the next part i promise) 2k+ word count

You get back to Ana’s apartment and it’s quiet and dark. You don’t even bother turning the lights off you  hang up your keys and head to the guest bedroom you’re staying in. 

You hop in the shower quickly before putting on a big t shirt and heading to bed. Out of curiosity you turned on your phone and opened google. 

You searched Fc Barcelona Alexia

The results were… wow.

You found yourself going through the images tab and reading her description. There was an instagram account link. You couldn’t help but click on it. 

Holy 3 million followers.

You basically stalked her whole profile for an embarrassing amount of time, being blown away by all the awards and trophies she’s won. You finally put your phone down when you realized what time it was. You had to stop thinking about her. 

But how could you when that was the best sex you’ve had in a long time. 

The next morning you wake up to noise in the kitchen. Ana must be up and getting ready to go to the gym, she always goes on weekend mornings. 

You have to get some work done so you decide to head to a coffee shop and do some work there. 

You throw on some jeans and a t shirt, grab your laptop and leave your bedroom. 

But what you see in your kitchen is a surprise. 

Ana is making breakfast and one of Alexia’s friends from last night was sitting on one of the stools from the kitchen island. 

“Oh, Hi y/n I didn’t hear you come in last night,” Ana asks, just as shocked as you are. 

Alexia’s friend flashes you an awkward smile. 

“Yeah sorry I got back pretty late,” you respond which adds more awkwardness to the air. “Well, I’m heading out so have fun.” You smile as you grab your house keys and head out. 

You put on your headphones and walk towards the coffee shop you saw that looked cute. 

It was a beautiful day in Barcelona, as always. You were considering moving here since your job is work from home and you’re tired of the rainy weather back home. And, it would help you be farther away from her. 

You reach the coffee shop and order your drink before claiming a small round table and get to work. You’re the social media manager of a new language learning app so your work today was mostly research, looking into new trends and what catches people’s eye. 

But then something catches your eye. 

Or someone. 

Shit. 

There’s Alexia, in line for a coffee, with another one of the girls from last night. 

You try to pretend you didn’t see her and continue work. You focus on your work and the Fletcher song you love playing in your headphones. 

You suddenly see Alexia standing in front of your table holding her coffee. “Mind if I sit here?” she asks. 

You wanted to say no but you didn’t want to be rude. “Sure,” you said as politely as possible without trying to incite anything. 

You try your best to ignore her and continue your work, but you can feel her staring at you. You look up at her from your laptop. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” She asks, clearly annoyed. 

“Because I came here to do my job not chit chat.” you realized you snapped at her a beat too late. Her face flashed with anger. “I’m sorry, I’m just not in the best mood.” you try to salvage the situation.

“No, I mean clearly you couldn’t wait to leave yesterday so I don’t know what happened because according to… you know… you seemed like you had a good time.” she presses. 

You take a deep breath before answering. “I did have a good time,” you pause, “but if I’m being honest, I just wanted a one night thing to distract me from- well it doesn’t matter from what.” you shake off the mopey feeling creeping back up. 

She looks confused. “Ok, I don’t fully understand but I respect your boundaries.” she states but she doesn’t get up.

You look at her just as confused. She finally starts to get up but before she leaves she leans in and whispers, “Oh and you left your strap in my apartment,” she winks. “and your hair looks really good down like that.” she smiles as she walks away. 

You hide the blush her comment made you get by taking a sip of your coffee. You finally get back to work. 

You’re packing up your stuff after a few hours doing some work and your phone dings. 

Thinking it was Ana you pick up your phone immediately. 

[instagram] @alexiaputellas has started following you 

You scoff at your phone. You ignore it and put your phone away. How did she even find your profile anyway? 

You walk out of the coffee shop and head back with the intention to just relax for a few hours and maybe go grab some dinner with Ana. 

Your phone dings again.

[instagram] @alexiaputellas “when do you plan on picking up your things 😉”

You can’t help but smile because clearly she wanted to see you again, very badly. But you still felt like she wanted something more that you didn’t want. 

You ignored the message again for now and headed home with Ana. 

You walk in the door and see Ana sitting on the couch watching tv. 

“Hey,” you say as you kick your shoes off. 

“Hey where’d you go?” she asks.

You set your bag on the counter and head over to sit next to her. “I went to the coffee shop to do some work,” you reply nonchalantly. 

She looks at you for a beat. “Are you ok? You seemed off this morning. And also why were you here this morning weren’t you going home with Alexia?” her voice came off teasing at the sound of Alexia’s name. 

“Yeah I’m fine, I did go home with her but decided it was best not to stay.” you replied trying to end the conversation. 

“Well, what was it?” she asks, “Was she… bad?” she whispered jokingly. 

You laughed softly, “No, she was… great,” you smile. 

“Sooo… what was it?” she asks, clearly genuinely interested. 

You take a beat to think about what to say, “Well, I don’t know. I feel like staying would insinuate that I wanted more than just a one night thing and you know I’m not looking for anything right now, not so soon after.. you know who.” you look down sadly. 

“You can say her name you know… she’s not

voldemort,” Ana laughs, “and I understand, and I’m sorry about the whole thing with Ona this morning, I didn’t mean for it to be awkward.” 

You laugh, “It’s ok. So how was that?” you tease. 

“Really good,” she smiles. “Oh and she asked if we wanted to go to a party she’s having tomorrow?” she slips in quickly. 

“Oh god I don’t know, Alexia’s probably gonna be there isn’t she?” you ask worriedly. The last thing you needed was seeing her again. 

“Oh come on, I don’t want to go by myself and I like her. If you see her you can just ignore her, flirt with another one of her friends, let her know you don’t want anything for sure,” she begs, “Please? for me?” she begs like a small child. 

You think about it for a second, “Fine.” 

Ana practically jumps for joy and kisses your forehead, “Thank you thank you. It’ll be fun I promise,” she runs over to grab her phone, presumably to text Ona and let her know we’re coming. 

You get comfortable on the couch and put on an episode of Modern Family before you and Ana sat on the small table in the kitchen eating some leftover Paella from a few nights ago, still as good as new. 

After eating you decide to go to bed early, needing to catch up on sleep. When you get in bed you open instagram and once again are reminded of Alexia’s message. 

And the fact that you hadn’t followed her back. 

You were too tired to do anything about this—smartly at least. 

You ignored it again for now and went to bed. 

The next morning you wake up dreading this party— and that was an understatement. 

But you had to get up to get some

work done.

You get up and sit yourself on the couch with a cup of coffee. You didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas since you had no meetings today. 

You spent the next few hours designing posts for the company and diving into instagram looking for potential trends for promoting the company more. 

By the time you’ve almost driven yourself mad, your computer is about to die and it’s almost time to clock out. You go to grab your charger but your phone pings. 

You turn around to grab it and see the notification from instagram. 

[Instagram] @alexiaputellas “can’t wait to see you tonight.”

You scoff and ignore the message. You grab your computer charger and plug it into your laptop. 

Your phone dings again. 

[Instagram] @alexiaputellas “you can’t keep ignoring me you know?” 

You smiled at the message and continued to ignore it. 

After a little bit, you finished work and started to get ready since the party was in a few hours. 

You started to realize you feel a little excited to see Alexia. You like the attention. 

And as long as you don’t let it get any further, there’s no harm in a little fun.

You just had to make sure it was just for fun.

You were finishing getting doing your makeuo when you heard Ana get back from work. 

“Hi babe, how are you?” she called from the living room. 

“Good, just getting ready!” you called back. 

You hear her footsteps getting closer to you before she enters the bathroom that you’re in. “Sorry it took me so long to get back we’ll probably be late to the party,” she said. She looked at you and your almost finished makeup, “You look really hot for someone who doesn’t want to go to this party.” 

You laugh as if what she said was ridiculous, “Oh please. I just don’t want to be caught underdressed,” you joked. 

“One thing is not being underdressed and another thing is looking like you want Alexia to fuck you senseless again,” she teases. 

Your face goes red, “When did I say anything about senseless?” you laugh. 

“Oh you don’t have to tell me. I know,” she whispers as she leaves to go get ready. 

You look at yourself in the mirror thinking maybe you are overdressing. 

You decided to wear a red tank top that showed just enough cleavage to not be too showy but not modest. You wore your low rise, black jeans that fit you so well and you know you look really good in them. You decided to add a belly chain to the outfit to make it look even better. You decided to keep your hair down for the night. 

You convinced yourself this hair decision had nothing to do with Alexia’s comment in the coffee shop the other day.

When Ana is done getting ready you order an uber to come pick you up and you wait until it arrives. You grab your bag and your keys and you and Ana head out the door. 

When you’re in the uber you find yourself mindlessly scrolling through instagram and you end up going through the barca femenil squad instagram. 

Just to see who may all be at the party, not to look at pictures of Alexia. 

When you get there you get out of the uber and realize, this is the same building Alexia’s apartment is in. Figures that they live in the same building. 

Unwanted memories of the other night come flooding back. 

You shake off the warm feeling in your body as you walk into the building. 

You can hear music from the entrance and you assume that’s coming from the party. 

You head up the stairs and reach the apartment where the party noise is coming from. Ana knocks on the door a d a few seconds later Ona opens the door. 

“Hi,” she hugs Ana then gestures for both of you to come in, “Come in” she smiles. 

You walk in and in no surprise, most of the women there are all extremely fit and definitely fellow footballers. You spot Alexia in the kitchen talking to someone else. You pretend you didn’t see her as you said hi to the others. 

Ana sits down to where Ona is sitting and Ona offers to grab both of you something to drink. You taker her up on her offer and ask for a rum and coke. 

You sit down on the end of the couch no one seems to be taking up. 

You mindlessly switch from paying attention to the conversations around you and not. You’re happy Ana seems to be having a good time but you’re a little bored. 

That is, before someone sits next to you. 

This woman is FIT. 

Brown hair with dyed blonde highlights and an energy that exuded so much confidence it was intimidating. 

She’s wearing a tight white t shirt and some dark blue pinstripe low rise jeans, with some boxers

peaking above them.  

“Hola,” she says to you, her eyes quickly rake down your body and back up. “I’m Misa, nice to meet you.” 

She extends a hand for you to shake, you smile a little before grabbing her hand and shaking it lightly. “I’m y/n, nice to meet you too.” 

She smiles at you, “So, how do you know Ona?” she asks. 

Not wanting to tell her the full truth, you said, “Oh, Ana’s my best friend,” you gesture toward where they’re sitting. 

“Lovely,” she teases. You can feel her slowly inching closer to you. 

“So, do you play on the barcelona team as well?” you ask her, subconsciously hoping Alexia is watching this conversation, you try to be more into this conversation. 

“No,” she smiles, “I play for Madrid but I’m friends with most of these girls from the Spanish national team. I’m here visiting.” 

Misa was about to say something else,

but you can feel Alexia watching you from your peripheral and something took over you. 

You quickly break the distance between you and Misa and kiss her. You can feel her surprise at first but she slowly deepens the kiss as her hand wanders to your thigh. You break apart from the kiss after what felt like hours. 

“Can I get you another drink?” she asks you softly. 

“Yes please,” you smile. She grabs your empty glass off of the table and heads to the bar to refresh your drink. 

Immediately as she’s gone you feel someone else sit next to you. 

You turn to see Alexia. She looks… mad. But why would she be mad? You guys aren’t together. 

“Hi Alexia,” you say blankly. 

“Hi,” she says flatly, “why have you been ignoring me?” 

“Who says I’m ignoring you?” you snap back. 

“You, right now.” she bites back. “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something?” now she seems worried. 

You sigh and look down for a moment. 

You think about what to say for a moment. 

You put your hand on her thigh. You look at her and your eyes darken. She looks really good and you hadn’t noticed from how much you were trying to pretend she wasn’t there. 

“We can keep doing this,” you point between the two of you, your voice lowers, “if you promise, there are no feelings. This is just for fun. Because I am not ready for a relationship,” You say blatantly. 

She seems a little taken aback at first but then her eyes darken. “Ok,” she pauses for a moment. She leans in to kiss you. It’s a soft kiss but slow. Painfully slow. She pulls away and whispers, “Meet me in my apartment in 30 minutes,” before getting up and heading out the door. 

You realize you don’t remember which apartment is hers. 

Shit. 

[luna-azzurra]

do you have any advice for writing a love confession without making it grossly cheesy or awkward?

im writing one between long time childhood best friends that are EXTREMELY close and im so stuck

Since these two characters have been best friends for a long time, the confession should feel like it’s built off their history together. Maybe start with a memory that’s meaningful to both of them. It doesn’t have to be a huge, dramatic moment, something small but personal, like a time they supported each other or a running joke they’ve had forever.

For example, one of them could say something like

“Remember that time we got caught in the rain walking home from school, and you made up that ridiculous song to keep me from freaking out? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately… and I realized that’s when I first started seeing you differently.”

When people confess their feelings, especially in a real and vulnerable way, it’s usually not in flowery language. If you try to make it too poetic or dramatic, it might feel forced. Instead, keep it honest and straightforward. They don’t need to say “I’ve loved you all along” in some grand, movie-like way. Let the confession come out more naturally, almost like they’ve been fighting it for a while and finally just have to get it off their chest.

You could have them say

“I don’t really know how to say this, and it might sound weird… but somewhere along the way, I started seeing you as more than just my best friend.”

There’s no way for this kind of confession to be totally smooth, and honestly, that’s what makes it feel more authentic. They’ve been best friends forever, so there’s going to be nerves, maybe some hesitation or stumbling over words. Lean into that awkwardness, it actually makes the moment more relatable and shows how important it is to them.

Maybe one of them starts talking, realizes they’re rambling, and tries to correct themselves. Like

“Okay, wait, that sounded dumb, let me start over. What I’m trying to say is… you mean a lot to me, more than I’ve probably ever said out loud, and it’s kind of terrifying because I don’t want to mess things up between us. But I’ve gotta be honest, this is how I feel.” The vulnerability in admitting they’re scared to ruin the friendship makes it more heartfelt and real.

This is probably the most important part! These two aren’t just falling for each other out of nowhere, they’ve built this strong, deep friendship over the years. So the confession should acknowledge how much that means to them. Make it clear that the romantic feelings don’t take away from their friendship but add to it.

You could have one of them say something like

“You’ve always been the person I turn to for everything, and that’s not gonna change, no matter what. But lately, I’ve been feeling something more, and I can’t keep pretending it’s not there. I just hope it doesn’t mess things up between us.” This way, they’re emphasizing that the friendship is still the foundation of everything, but they can’t ignore the fact that it’s evolving into something deeper.

Overall, just make sure it feels true to the characters and their relationship. Don’t feel like you have to tie it up neatly with a perfect line or a romantic kiss right away. The beauty of this kind of love confession is that it’s messy and emotional, and it should reflect the complexity of their relationship. They don’t need to have all the answers right away. Let the moment be about the honesty and the fact that they’re finally admitting something that’s been building for a while.

Maybe end with something like

“I don’t know where this goes from here, but I had to tell you. You’re too important to me to keep pretending like I don’t feel this way.” This leaves room for both characters to process what’s happening without forcing a big romantic resolution right away. It’s more about them taking that first step into new territory, which feels more genuine and in line with the close friendship they’ve had for so long.

[username-1121]

My Vedic Astrology Thoughts #2💋

- Purva ashadha woman are always so beautiful and have very curvy, soft bodies. They were definitely blessed by Venus.

- Venus in 1st house natives are just so stupidly attractive. They’re genuinely so beautiful, the type where you just want to stare at them and write songs about them. Like we’ve all heard this a million times but WOW, I just had to reiterate that astrology does not lie

- Having a planet in its own sign means that there will be multiple of the significations of the house that it is placed in. Eg: Mars in Aries in 7th house = multiple marriages/relationships, Moon in Cancer in the 10th house = multiple career changes

- You’re most likely to date the sign that is opposite your moon sign, Eg: Cancer moons are drawn to Capricorn placements, Taurus moons are drawn to Scorpio placements

- The sign 3rd house and 11th house from your moon sign are most likely the placements that you are close friends with.

- The planet or rashi 2nd to your Moon, is the key to your success. You should embody this planet or sign if you want to achieve great success in this life. This is where you are getting fame and recognition which is why it’s best to embody the characteristics of that planet or pursue career paths related to that planet.

- If you have any planet 2nd to your Moon, it means that you have to go about your life independently. You won’t receive any help financially and everything you get is from your own hard work. This can also mean that you tend to adapt to the personalities of the people around you. You could be very street smart.

- The planet or rashi that’s 12th from your moon, are the things that you need to let go in order to achieve success. Eg: Mercury ruling or placed 12th from moon, you will achieve success when you stop learning.

- The 12th house from your moon can also indicate what you enjoy in your relationships. So eg: Mercury would be communication, Venus would be traditional romance, Mars would be doing activities with your partner

- People who don’t have any planets in the 2nd or 12th from moon can mean that you have a very hardworking mother. She could either be the bread maker of the household or just takes on most of the responsibilities compared to the father. And she might have to go through a lot of suffering.

- This placement can also make you a loner because no one understands you. You may have gone unrecognised during your school days and it will be very hard for you to get things that normal people can easily achieve. You will have to try multiple times.

- If you have Saturn dominant in your chart, you are more likely appear graceful and well mannered rather than just the “serious” stereotype that people give Saturn. People are more so intimidated because you appear to have it all figured out.

- Whereas Ketu dominant people tend to appear more intimidating and serious because they seem like the type to judge you even if they don’t. This energy can sometimes be off putting to a lot of people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thank you~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[03jyh23]

🚆⌇bandit(?)!┆jung wooyoung

badboy(?) wooyoung x fem!reader

│synopsis: the one where you miss your train and meet a charming... bandit?

│genre: romance

│trigger warnings: none?

│words: 4.5 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there, my lovely people! honestly, i have no idea what this is 😭. i got inspired by a song from one of the rappers in my country and just went with it. and now i'm just wondering if i should do something more with this story or just leave it be?

love, mon ♡

A cold evening breeze tousled your hair, plastering strands to your face. A heavy bag hung from your shoulder, filled with items that couldn't fit into the large suitcase standing beside you, your hand gripping its handle tightly. The thing was, you didn't make it to your transfer train. Despite your friends' warnings, you insisted you could grab a much-needed iced coffee in the 10 minutes before your train left. You were wrong.

The platform was dark, with only two solitary lamps casting a dim light. You cursed yourself under your breath, but there wasn't much you could do now. You'd already waited for an hour; you could've managed another before the next train arrived. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily—it was running out of battery. It was frustrating. You'd have to wait two hours just to take a train for a little over forty minutes to reach your hometown. But you were the only one to blame. Well, at least you had your coffee and a blueberry muffin. But it wasn’t worth it, not at all. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. You glanced at the large clock hanging from the information board, hoping the minutes would pass more quickly. Of course, they didn't.

After an frustratingly long time you finally heard the train approaching, its rumble growing louder as it neared the station. You felt a mix of relief and anticipation wash over you. Finally, you'd be on your way. As the train's headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the platform, you gathered your belongings and prepared to board, eager to put this frustrating delay behind you.

The car you boarded was empty, so you sat down at the very end, near the window. You placed your luggage in the designated area and quickly plugged in your phone to charge as much as possible for the remaining journey.

As the train pulled into the next station, the platform gradually came into view, bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights that cast long shadows across the concrete. The stark illumination revealed an almost deserted space, save for a group of eight young men clustered near the far end. Their presence immediately caught your attention, starkly contrasting the emptiness surrounding them. Each member of the group was clad entirely in black, their dark attire blending into the night behind them. As your eyes adjusted to the scene, you noticed intricate tattoos adorning their bodies and faces - some subtle, others bold and striking. Three of them were casually smoking cigarettes, the wisps of smoke curling upwards into the night air. As you observed them, one of the smokers suddenly locked eyes with you. His gaze was intense and unwavering, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Without breaking eye contact, he deliberately tossed his half-finished cigarette into a nearby bin. The action, while seemingly casual, felt loaded with meaning. Your heart plummeted, a mix of anxiety and unease settling in your stomach. The weight of his stare was palpable, even from this distance. Instinctively, you turned your head away, breaking the uncomfortable connection. Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. As the train doors hissed open, you found yourself fervently hoping that none of the group would decide to board. The thought of sharing this confined space with them filled you with a sense of apprehension that you couldn't quite shake off.

"Wooyoung-ah, just get there and get it done with, yeah?" the unexpected gentleness in the voice you’ve just heard had caught you off guard. You grabbed your phone to busy yourself with, fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it, trying to appear nonchalant.

As you glanced up from your phone, you saw one of the young men from the group stepping onto the train. His movements were fluid and graceful, belying his intimidating appearance. The tattoos on his face seemed to dance in the flickering light of the train car. "I'll be fine, Joong. See y'all next week, yeah?" the boy called out, waving to his companions just before the train doors closed with a loud beep. Your heart rate quickened as you realized he must be Wooyoung, the one addressed earlier. His hair was black, neck-length, with a fringe styled neatly—only a few strands falling onto his forehead. You noticed a bandage right above his eyebrow, the skin around it purple with bruises. He wasn't tall, but the chunky boots and large leather jacket made him appear more imposing. The tattoos adorning his face seemed to shift and dance in the dim light of the train, adding an air of mystery to his already intimidating presence. His dark eyes scanned the train car, eventually settling on you. For a moment, your gazes locked, and you felt a mix of fear and inexplicable curiosity wash over you.

Wooyoung chose a seat a few rows ahead of you, close enough that you could observe him without being too obvious. As he settled in, you couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, as if he was shedding some of the intensity he had displayed on the platform. The train lurched forward, and you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the intimidating figure you'd seen on the platform with the young man now sitting quietly a few rows ahead. His presence seemed to fill the car, even in silence. Your eyes were drawn to the intricate tattoos adorning his face. The one beneath his left eye caught your attention - at first glance, it looked like the number 26, but as you studied it more closely, you realized it might be something else entirely. Your gaze drifted to his temple, where a small, delicate butterfly tattoo rested, a surprising contrast to his otherwise intimidating appearance. You tried to read the lettering above his eyebrow when he caught your eyes again. You raised your eyebrows and looked away, feeling a shudder run through your body. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place. Your heart raced as you pretended to be engrossed in your phone, all too aware of his presence just a few rows ahead.

The train's rhythmic movement did little to calm your nerves as you found yourself stealing quick glances at Wooyoung again, hoping he wouldn't notice. The tattoo above his eyebrow remained a mystery, its meaning just out of reach.

Suddenly, his voice broke the silence, startling you out of your thoughts. "You know, it's not polite to stare," he said, his tone filled with amusement. His eyes met yours again, this time with a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, caught red-handed in your observation. "I... I'm sorry," you stammered, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected address.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, turning to face you more directly. "Curious about the ink?" he asked, gesturing to the tattoos on his face. "Most people are. They either can't look away or can't bear to look at all." His words carried a weight that suggested he was used to both reactions. You felt your words frozen in your throat, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze and the unexpected interaction left you speechless. You simply averted your eyes, focusing intently on your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You heard him chuckling softly, a sound that was both melodious and slightly unnerving. "Not much of a talker, huh?" he mused, his eyes still fixed on you. You dared to look up again, the warmth in his expression caught you off guard, softening his intimidating appearance. It was a stark contrast to the intense gaze you had encountered earlier. For a moment, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction. "Are you afraid of me?" Wooyoung asked, sensing your hesitation. His voice was softer than you expected. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications.

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. The initial fear you felt was still there, but it had been tempered by curiosity and the unexpected warmth in his smile. "I... I'm not sure," you admitted honestly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That's fair," he said, his voice sultry. "But I promise, I'm much more... fun than I look." He winked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Want to find out just how deceiving appearances can be?" His gaze locked with yours, intense and inviting, daring you to look beyond his intimidating exterior.

You blinked continuously, taken aback by his bold proposition. "E-excuse me?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. The sudden shift in the conversation left you flustered, unsure of how to respond to unexpected flirtation.

Wooyoung rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. As he approached, you found yourself captivated by his presence. He stood before you, and for the first time, you truly noticed the intricate details of his face. His nose and lip piercings glinted in the dim light of the train car, adding to his allure. You were struck by how handsome he was up close, his features a perfect blend of sharp angles and soft curves. Looking up at him, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Wooyoung's eyes met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "May I?" he asked, his voice low and smooth as he gestured towards the seat next to you. The question hung in the air, loaded with possibilities. Your heart raced as you considered your options. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze made you feel both thrilled and uneasy. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded slightly, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. As he settled into the seat beside you, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting, you couldn't help but wonder what you were getting yourself into.

"My name's Wooyoung," he says, his eyes roaming your features. "And I'd hate to scare off such a beautiful girl, so answer me... are you really afraid of me? Or is it just my killer looks that's got your tongue?" You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck as Wooyoung's words washed over you. His proximity was intoxicating, the scent of leather and something distinctly masculine filling your senses. You struggled to find your voice, caught between the intimidating aura he exuded and the undeniable attraction you felt.

"I... I'm not afraid," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... surprised." You met his gaze, finding yourself drawn into the depth of his dark eyes.

Wooyoung's pierced lips curved into a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Surprised? By what? My charming personality or my devilishly good looks?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Maybe a bit of both," you admitted, surprising yourself with your boldness.

His smirk widened into a genuine smile, transforming his face. "I like your honesty," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, beautiful, since we've established you're not afraid of me, how about we make this train ride a little more... interesting?" You crossed your arms and leaned back against the window, trying to put some distance between yourself and Wooyoung. His sudden closeness and bold proposition had caught you off guard, and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts.

"Are you going to shout 'A bandit! Help!' and run away now?" he joked, but you couldn't quite shake off the feeling he'd been in this situation before. Despite his joking tone, there was an undercurrent of familiarity in his words. Gathering your courage, you decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Do people usually call you a bandit?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

Wooyoung's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps surprise or appreciation—crossing his features. He leaned back, creating a bit more space between you, and let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, straight to the point, aren't you?" he said, his tone a blend of amusement and something more serious. "Let's just say I've heard it enough times to make jokes about it. But appearances can be deceiving, you know?" His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability there that contradicted his tough exterior. "What do you think? Am I living up to the 'thug' stereotype?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

Finally, you took a deep breath and met his eyes directly. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both nervous and intrigued. "Honestly?" you asked with hesitation, weighing your next words carefully.

"No, please lie to me!" Wooyoung joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of chewing gum. With a swift motion, he popped one into his mouth, the minty scent wafting between you. You couldn't help but smile at his playful response, feeling some of the tension dissipate. The casual act of chewing gum somehow made him seem more approachable, and less intimidating than before.

Taking another deep breath, you decided to answer honestly. "At first glance, maybe. The tattoos, the piercings, the whole vibe... it's intimidating," you admitted, watching his reaction carefully. "But talking to you now? You seem more... complex than that. There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?" You surprised yourself with your boldness, but something about Wooyoung made you want to dig deeper, to understand the person behind the intimidating facade.

Wooyoung smirked, raising one of his eyebrows as he popped a bubble with the gum. "Are you a psychiatrist in the making?" he teased. You wanted to brush off his little comment, but he didn't give you time to answer. "'I'm no bandit, first I've heard of it,'" he said, putting his hands up as if he were surrendering. "You'd be shocked at how many times I've had to say that." His words carried a hint of frustration beneath the playful tone, and you found yourself wondering about the experiences that led him to make such a statement. Wooyoung leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "the ladies think I kill, but at home, I walk in pink slippers." He paused, letting the image sink in before continuing, "And all the grannies yell when I step out on the street." His gaze locked with yours, a mix of amusement and challenge in his expression. You couldn't help but laugh at the contrast he painted. The image of this intimidating figure in pink slippers was both absurd and oddly endearing.

"What else do you do at home?" you tease, finally relaxing into your seat, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Isn't that a very personal question?" he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful expression. "Well, you did invite me to make this train ride more interesting," you countered, your confidence growing with each exchange. "Besides, I'm curious about the man behind the tattoos and pink slippers." Your eyes met his, a silent challenge in your gaze, daring him to reveal more about himself.

"As for the tattoos, I just fucking like them, that's all," Wooyoung said with a shrug. His nonchalant attitude towards his tattoos made you wonder about the stories behind each one.

You found yourself drawn to the intricate designs adorning his skin, each one likely holding a unique significance. "Do any of them have special meanings?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. Wooyoung's eyes lit up at your question, a mix of surprise and appreciation crossing his features.

"I'll save the answer to that for a second date," Wooyoung said with a wink. He nonchalantly popped another gum balloon before spitting it into the small trash bin.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of intrigue and amusement at his flirtatious response. "A second date? Aren't we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?" you teased back, your eyes meeting his with a playful challenge. The easy banter between you two was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Wooyoung leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Well, I consider this our first date, ever since you agreed for me to sit here," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The boldness of his statement caught you off guard, sending a flutter through your stomach.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Oh really?" you replied, trying to match his confidence. "And here I thought first dates usually involved dinner or a movie, not a chance encounter on a train."

Wooyoung's grin widened, "Who says we can't be unconventional?" he countered, his gaze never leaving yours. "But if you want all of that," he continued, his voice taking on a playful, almost challenging tone, "then it's my pleasure to take you on such a... boring date without anything extraordinary to it." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in slightly closer. "Though I have to warn you, even my idea of 'ordinary' might surprise you."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "Who says I'd even agree to go out with you in the first place?" you challenged, your tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. "You're making quite a few assumptions there, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting your response. He leaned back, a mix of surprise and admiration crossing his features. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. "Touché," he said, his voice tinged with respect. "I guess I got a bit ahead of myself there. My apologies." He paused, his gaze softening. "But can you blame a guy for trying? You're not exactly easy to resist."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, but you maintained your composure. "Flattery will get you nowhere," you said, though you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "But I appreciate the apology. Maybe we should start with getting to know each other a bit better before planning any dates, hmm?"

Wooyoung's eyes lit up with amusement at your suggestion. "Why waste time if we can get to know each other on the date?" he countered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "After all, isn't that what dates are for?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. "You don't even know my name," you pointed out, shaking your head in amusement at his bold flirtation.

Wooyoung's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I don't need that to know you're the most beautiful woman I've seen," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck at his words, caught between flattery and disbelief at his audacity. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but be charmed by his confidence and smooth talking.

You decided to play along with his flirtatious banter, feeling a mix of amusement and excitement. With a coy smile, you leaned in slightly and said, "I hope my beauty isn't too distracting. We wouldn't want you to miss your stop, would we?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow, appreciative grin spread across his face. "Oh, darling," he drawled, his voice low and rich, "I'd gladly miss a hundred stops if it meant spending more time with you."

You couldn't help but giggle, turning your face away in embarrassment, not able to continue with the banter. You felt a warmth spreading through your chest, a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the intensity of Wooyoung's flirtation. As you turned back to face him, you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes, a vulnerability that seemed at odds with his bold exterior. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be caught in his gaze, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. As the silence stretched between you, you noticed how Wooyoung started playing with his lip ring, his fingers absently toying with the small metal hoop. His eyes, which had been locked with yours, briefly dropped to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The gesture was subtle, but unmistakable, sending a small thrill through you. You found yourself wondering how that lip ring would feel against your own lips, the thought was both thrilling and intimidating. It sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards Wooyoung, his bold confidence and mysterious aura drawing you in. Your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering on the silver ring that adorned them. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel the cool metal against your skin. Catching yourself, you quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. But the image remained, tantalizing and forbidden, at the edges of your mind. You tried to push the thought away, but it persisted, a silent acknowledgment of your growing desire.

Wooyoung's whispered words sent a shiver down your spine. "If there's something you want to do, you should act upon it," he murmured, leaning in closer. His head tilted slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. You felt a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing as the space between you diminished. The air seemed to crackle with tension, and you found yourself drawn to his lips, that tantalizing lip ring catching the dim light of the train. Time seemed to slow as you hovered on the precipice of decision. Should you give in to the desire that had been building since this chance encounter began? Or was this moving too fast, too soon?

Wooyoung smiled lightly, his face so close you could feel his breath on your skin. The proximity made the lump in your throat grow, your heart racing with anticipation. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper as he asked, "Is it alright for me to touch you?" The question hung in the air between you, charged with tension and unspoken desire. You found yourself at a crossroads, torn between the thrill of the moment and the rational part of your mind reminding you that you'd just met. Your body seemed to lean towards him of its own accord, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. But it wasn't enough for Wooyoung. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours as he whispered, "I need to hear you actually say it." His voice was low, almost husky, sending a shiver down your spine. The anticipation hung thick in the air between you, every second stretching out like an eternity.

You swallowed hard, finding your voice. "Yes," you breathed, barely audible even in the quiet of the train car. "You can touch me." The words left your lips, a mix of nervousness and excitement coloring your tone. Wooyoung's eyes lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in even closer. Wooyoung's hand moved to your jaw, his touch gentle yet electrifying. His fingers caressed your cheek, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his thumb over your lower lip, the sensation causing you to tremble involuntarily. Your breath hitched, caught between anticipation and nervousness as you felt the intensity of his touch and gaze.

You closed your eyes, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your heart raced as you whispered, "You can kiss me now." The words hung in the air, charged with anticipation. You waited, breath held, for him to make his move. Wooyoung's breath hitched audibly, a soft exhale that you felt against your skin. There was a moment of stillness, the world seeming to pause around you. Then, with agonizing slowness, you felt him lean in. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light at first, testing. The cool metal of his lip ring sent a jolt through you, contrasting with the warmth of his mouth.

As if emboldened by your response, Wooyoung deepened the kiss. His hand cupped your face more firmly, fingers tangling in your hair. The kiss was a perfect blend of gentle and passionate, leaving you breathless. You could taste the hint of his earlier gum, with a hint of cigarettes. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment, all thoughts of the train and your surroundings fading away.

Suddenly, a jolt from the train brought you both back to reality. You pulled away slightly, your cheeks flushed and your breath coming in short gasps. Wooyoung's eyes were dark with desire as he gazed at you, a small smile playing on his lips. The moment hung between you, charged with the thrill of newfound connection.

You looked out the window, suddenly realizing with a jolt that you recognized the station passing by. "It's my stop!" you shouted, jumping to your feet in a panic. You quickly unplugged your phone, then grabbed your suitcase and bag, heart racing as you rushed towards the doors.

Wooyoung's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by your sudden movement. "Wait—" he started to say, but you were already halfway down the aisle.

As you reached the doors, you turned back briefly, catching a glimpse of Wooyoung's bewildered expression. A mix of regret and excitement coursed through you as the train began to slow. The doors opened with a hiss, and you stepped out onto the platform, your mind reeling from the whirlwind encounter you'd just experienced. You stood there, catching your breath as the train doors closed behind you. Your heart was still racing, not just from the rush to exit, but from the intense encounter you'd just experienced. As you watched the train pull away, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd ever see Wooyoung again, or if this magical moment would remain just that—a fleeting connection in the night.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[ruewrote]

𝑖 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

PAIRING: 3A!denkikaminari x gn!reader WARNINGS: sad denki, no use of y/n GENRE: angst to fluff SONG INSPIRATION: there for you by martin garrix & troye sivan WORD COUNT: 1186

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you notice denki has been quieter than usual all day. normally, he'd be the one cracking jokes and keeping the energy up, but today there’s a different air about him. it’s subtle, the way he avoids eye contact, the forced smiles, the way his shoulders seem a little slumped, but it’s slight but it's there. and what bothers you most is that no one else seems to notice. the others laugh and carry on, completely oblivious to the shift in his mood.

he stands up suddenly after a group conversation winds down, muttering something about needing to head back to his dorm. no one questions it, letting him go without a second thought, but you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. you watch him walk away, disappearing down the hall, and a few moments later, you decide to follow.

after giving him some time alone, you make your way to his room. his door is closed when you arrive, and you hesitate for a second, wondering if he needs more time to himself. but the image of his unusually downcast expression sticks in your mind, and you gently knock on the door before letting yourself in.

denki’s sitting on his bed, staring out the window, lost in thought. his usual electric energy is nowhere to be found. he turns his head when he hears you, surprise flickering across his face.

"hey..." he says quietly, his voice lacking its usual spark. "didn't think anyone was gonna come by."

you give him a small smile, closing the door softly behind you before stepping further into the room. "i noticed you were kind of off today," you say gently, sitting on the edge of his bed, keeping some space between you. "i just wanted to check in. see if you're okay."

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. his gaze falls back to the floor, and his fingers fidget nervously with a loose thread on his shirt. "i'm fine," he mutters, though the way he says it makes it clear he's not. "it's stupid stuff. i don’t want to bother you with it."

“denki…” you tilt your head, your voice soft but firm. “you can talk to me. you don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.”

he lets out a short, bitter laugh, still avoiding your gaze. "i don’t know. i just feel like... everyone’s moving forward, getting better, and i’m stuck, y’know? i try to keep up, but i’m always messing something up. like today, in training... i fried out again. everyone laughed. and i don’t blame them, i mean, it’s what i do, right? screw up and turn into an idiot." he laughs again, but it’s empty, and his shoulders slump a little more.

your heart aches hearing him talk like this. denki always seems so carefree, so full of confidence, but now, sitting here with him, you can see the cracks in the facade he puts up for everyone.

“denki, you’re not an idiot,” you say, your voice filled with sincerity. “you’re one of the most hardworking people i know. you’re always pushing yourself, always trying to get better. and yeah, sometimes things don’t go the way you want, but that doesn’t mean you’re not improving. you’re not stuck.”

he finally looks at you, his eyes filled with doubt. "it’s just hard sometimes, you know? feeling like i’m always the one who messes up while everyone else is just... better."

you scoot a little closer, your voice gentle as you say, “you’re not alone in feeling like that. we all struggle sometimes, even if it doesn’t always show. but i promise you, no one thinks less of you for having rough days.”

denki takes a deep breath, and some of the tension in his body seems to ease. he leans back against the headboard, his hands resting in his lap. “i just... i guess i didn’t think anyone really noticed. i’m always the ‘happy-go-lucky guy,’ right? i don’t want people to see me like this.”

“i’m so sorry that i didn't realize it sooner,” you say softly, meeting his eyes. “and it’s okay to have off days. it doesn’t make you weak or anything like that. it just makes you human.”

his eyes shining with a mix of emotions, hope, disbelief, something like gratitude. “you really mean that?”

“of course i do,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. denki’s gaze dropped to your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over yours almost absently. “i just… i don’t wanna be behind, you know? i want to be taken seriously, like everyone else.”

your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty that he usually kept hidden behind his carefree smile. you shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. he stiffened for a moment, then melted against you, his head resting on your shoulder.

“you’re appreciated so much more than you think, denki,” you whispered, your voice fierce with conviction. “you have so much to offer. i’m so proud of you, and i’m so lucky to know you.”

he let out a shuddering breath, his arms tightening around you like he was afraid to let go. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “i…i really needed to hear that.”

you held him close, your hand gently stroking his back. “i’ll always be here for you. whenever you need to talk, or just…need someone. i’m here.”

he didn’t say anything, he didn't need to, he just held you tighter, his breath warm against your neck. for a long time, you sat like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the noise of the common room fading away until it was just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of quiet comfort.

eventually, he pulled back, his eyes red but clearer, the tension in his face eased. “i’m sorry,” he said, his voice still a little shaky. “i didn’t mean to dump all this on you.”

“don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “you’re allowed to feel how you feel, and you’re allowed to talk about it. i’m honestly glad that you did.”

“you’re…you’re really cool, ya know?”

he smiled, a real, genuine smile that made your heart swell with relief. “i’ll try to believe it.”

“that’s all i ask,” you said, squeezing his hand. “just…try to see yourself the way i see you.”

his smile softened, his eyes shining with something warm and tender. “i’ll try,” he said again, his voice quiet but steady. “and…thank you. for being here. for listening. it means a lot.”

“always,” you said, your heart aching with how much you meant it. “i’m always here for you, no matter what.”

he nodded, his gaze lingering on yours for a long, another quiet moment. then he shifted, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, the touch so soft it made your breath catch.

“thank you,” he whispered one last time, his voice filled with all the things he didn’t know how to say.

you knew that, whatever happened, you’d always be there to remind him of just how incredible he truly was.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[fernandopiastri28]

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: daddy issues, poor father-daughter relationship, NSFW chapter (mainly just making out :))) )

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 6: If you’re going to tease, be ready to follow through.

The air between them seems to go completely still and her heart races at a million kilometres an hour. His words echo in her mind, replaying like a song she can't get out of her head. She’s frozen for a split second, staring into those eyes that she’s come to adore until an uncontrollable smile spreads across her face.

Her lips part, and she lets out a breathless laugh. "Yes," she whispers. It feels so right to say it, so natural. Yet, part of it still feels completely unreal and unbelievable, because in what reality is she ever dating her father’s protege? “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend." She wants to say those five words over and over until they feel numb on her tongue, until it’s cemented in her mind.

Oscar’s knuckles brush against her cheek, his fingers tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to ask you that.” He laughs softly, dipping down just enough to kiss her, his lips slipping perfectly against hers. His lips get sticky with her lip gloss when he pulls away, sugary pink and glossy. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you to ask.” She giggles, reaching her thumb to his bottom lip to smear the gloss more evenly across his lips. She kisses him again, transferring more onto his lips. She bites her lips, her cheeks burning painfully red. 

Oscar grins, wrinkling his nose up, “I’ve had a strong feeling,” He teases, his hands holding her face, his thumbs rubbing her red cheeks. “God, you’re pretty.” He exhales slowly, their foreheads resting against eachother’s. It’s so sickly sweet, it’s so cliche, it’s so annoyingly lovey-dovey–and it’s more than she could ever ask for. 

It’s the best thing in the world–being with Oscar is the best thing in the world. 

Eventually, they pull back just enough to look at each other, their faces still close, smiles matching. “So,” she says, her voice light and slightly teasing, “does this mean I can tell people you’re my boyfriend?”

Oscar grins as hard as possible, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Definitely,” he nods, “You can tell anyone you want.”

She holds her index finger up, wagging it slightly, “Everyone except my father.” 

Oscar nods, this over dramatic seriousness over his features, “Everyone except your dad,” He echoes, pulling her face gently in for another kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She sighs into his mouth, relaxing against him. She would do this forever if she could, truly. 

After a while, making out in the bright and window covered living room starts feeling really awkward, so they decide to move up to her room to continue. She tries to offer to carry Oscar’s backpack upstairs for him, but he refuses, insisting on carrying it and his suitcase up by himself, claiming it’s good for activating his arms by carrying heavy masses. 

Sure, Oscar, it’s definitely not just as a way to flex how strong you are.

She doesn’t complain though, there’s something very hot about watching his muscles bulge as he picks up his suitcase one-handed and how the veins of his forearm pop out. 

He goes up the stairs first and she follows close behind, trying not to stare too obviously at his muscles, straining against his sports shirt, the fabric too tight almost everywhere. She’s completely failing, obviously, how could her eyes not be glued to her genuinely perfect, greek god boyfriend. 

Oscar’s like a drug, so fucking addicting and intoxicating. His quiet confidence, the way he looks at her like she’s the only person in the world that matters, how funny and perfect and amazing and handsome he is. And now, the fact that he’s hers—her boyfriend—only makes it harder to keep it together.

Once they reach her room, she closes the door softly behind them. Oscar sets down his suitcase with a small thud and straightens up, turning to look at her. His eyes sweep over her like he’s memorizing every detail. He’s very observant, wide eyed and curious of just about everything.

“Your room’s nice,” he says, glancing around, taking everything in. Music posters on the walls, fashion magazines stacked haphazardly on her desk, makeup pallets piled up on her desk, jewellery overflowing off a homemade ceramic platter, empty cans of redbull tossed into a turned over plastic flower bucket that she uses as a bin.

It’s hectic and kind of messy, but it’s a perfect representation of everything that she loves. Now she just needs some Oscar-centred decorations. “You’ve been in here,” She states, leaning against her door, slightly awkwardly. Of course, being with Oscar is just about everything she could’ve dreamed of, but it’s the being alone in her room that creates a new layer of nervousness. She bites her lip, unsure whether to sit on the bed or invite him to.

“I know.” He nods, his gaze swooping over to her, “Just didn’t really get to admire it last time.” He shrugs slightly. After a few seconds of properly looking at her, Oscar seems to sense her anxiety, because he steps closer and takes her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey,” he says softly, pulling her into his arms, arms around her waist. “You don’t need to be nervous around me.”

She exhales a shaky breath, her forehead resting against his chest as he holds her. "I’m not nervous," she mumbles, trying to sound confident. It’s a lie, she knows he can tell she’s freaking out of her mind. 

“Liar,” he teases, kissing the top of her head. She rolls her eyes, pushing her hands against his stomach to guide him backwards to her bed. He lets go of her, sitting down on the bed as his heels hit the foot frame. She stands in between his knees, looking down at him. 

He looks up at her with a lopsided grin, his hands resting on her hips on instinct. It feels good, normal, as if they’ve always belonged there. She can’t help but feel a little light-headed from how easily he disarms her. Oscar leans back slightly, his hands trailing down her hips to her thighs, giving them a light squeeze. “You’re a terrible liar,” he says, smirking up at her.

She narrows her eyes at him, her heart still racing. “Am not.” Oscar’s hands feel like fire on her legs. God, she’d do unspeakable things to be his steering wheel for a day just to have his big hands gripping her.

Oh. Yeah, she’s whipped.

“Are too,” he shoots back, pulling her closer by her legs until she’s forced to either topple over or straddle his lap. She chooses the latter, settling herself down on his thighs, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him. It’s slightly awkward due to her poor choice of bottoms being a denim skirt, but when the fabric is pushed up far enough, it’s fine. 

He grins wide, all dorky and giddy that the move he pulled actually worked and didn’t end with her falling flat on the floor. She smiles too, relaxing slightly in his lap. “I knew you wanted to sit here,” Oscar teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You didn’t have to pretend to be annoyed just for me to initiate this.

She raises an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, though her pulse is still pounding in her ears. “Oh, so you think you’re clever, huh?” she quips, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers brushing the neckline of his shirt. “You just got lucky.” His hands slip up her back, resting just below her shoulder blades, his hands rubbing lazy circles into her back.

“Whatever, whatever,” Oscar grins, looking up at her as she’s just ever so slightly taller sitting on his lap, his back hunched from his poor posture. “I guess I am lucky. I got the girl, that’s all that matters.” 

She rolls her eyes playfully, but the truth is, she's just as giddy as he is. Her heart pounds so hard and fast, it feels like it’s about to explode and the hair on her legs is standing straight up, her arms covered in goosebumps. “Well” she says softly, leaning in closer, her lips hovering just inches from his, "the girl thinks she’s pretty lucky too to have you." She closes the gap between them, her lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss before pulling back ever so slightly, teasing him.

Oscar’s bottom lip juts out slightly in a pout as she stops the kiss, his eyebrows twisted upwards slightly. He tilts his head, angling for another, which she barely meets, going for a peck when he clearly wants more. His hands move over to her hips, pulling her flush against him.

He doesn’t say a word, but she caves anyways. "Fine," she whispers, her breath mingling with his as she leans in again, this time kissing him deeper. His lips move in sync with hers, slow and casual, like they have all the time in the world. One of his hands sliding to cup the back of her neck, keeping her impossibly close.

Her hands tangle in his hair, tugging on it slightly. It’s all very experimental, testing out what Oscar likes. Based on the low groan he makes, it’s a hit. She shifts around in his lap, the denim hem of her skirt forced higher up on her thighs. She may as well just be in her underwear at this point, it would be far more comfortable. “Osc?” She mumbles, breaking the kiss slightly.

Oscar’s pupils are huge as he looks up at her, his lips shiny with spit and gloss, red from kissing. “Yeah?” His voice is so broken, breathy and hot. “What’s up?”

She doesn’t even want to ask, just wants to dive back in and keep kissing him. “Can we stop for a moment? I wanna change my skirt.” Oscar’s eyes dart down to where her skirt leaves little to the imagination of her legs, then back up to her eyes. 

“Yeah,” He nods, his voice hardly audible. She clambers off his lap as his hands drop to his sides, fingers bunching up into the fleece blanket tossed onto her bed. “Do you want me to close my eyes?” He asks as she opens her shorts drawer, grabbing out a pair of plain black sports shorts. 

She looks at Oscar, the tops of his cheeks dusted in a pale pink blush and his broad chest raising and dropping quick. “You’re my boyfriend, you’re allowed to see me without pants on,” She giggles, undoing the button of her skirt. “Unless you feel uncomfortable, then of course, close your eyes.”

Oscar does not close his eyes.

He tries not too be too bug-eyed and to not stare super intensely as she slides the skirt down her legs, stepping out of it before tossing it towards the pile of other discarded clothes from earlier in the day, but, like she said, they’re dating, these are the type of states they see each other in. 

"See?" she teases, slipping into the shorts with ease. "Nothing scandalous. Just a quick wardrobe change."

Oscar grimaces, a tortured expression on his features. "Right. Totally casual." His voice is a bit hoarse, like he's barely holding it together. His knuckles are pale from how tight his fists are clenched, gripping the blanket tight. 

She steps back over to him, standing just in front of his his knees again. "You okay there, Osc?" He rolls his eyes, nudging her thighs apart with one of his knees, his hands going to the backs of her thighs again. This time, she helps him out, meeting him halfway in straddling him. 

Oscar nods, his confidence creeping back in. “Yeah,” He smirks, fidgeting with the hem of her new shorts. “Happy now.” He looks directly at her lips, staring at them, hard. "So... pick up where we left off?” 

She hardly has to think about it, just pushes her lips into his and lets instinct take the wheel from there. She runs her hands along his arms, up to his shoulders, squeezing the hard muscle. Oscar giggles into her mouth at the feeling, ‘quit tickling me!’ he grins, so she looses up, focused more on his biceps instead. 

No complaints about that.

Oscar groans into her mouth, one of his hands resting low on her back, bordering on just being straight up on her ass. She can’t help but grin, it feels really good. She pulls back for just a second, catching her breath. "You know," she murmurs, her voice breathless, "I think I’m starting to like this whole 'you being my boyfriend' thing."

Oscar laughs, his hands still caressing her back. "Oh, you’re just starting to like it now?" He asks, mocking offense. “I’m so very glad.” 

She hums softly, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Mhmm. Yet, I reckon I’ll like it more once you take me out on a proper date."

“Deal.” Oscar nods, kissing along his jaw, taking a few more seconds than usual every once in a while to suckle on her skin, bordering on long enough for hickeys to form, but he always stops before they ever bloom. “I’m all yours, give me a day and we’ll do it.” 

“Tomorrow.” She grins, her hand cupping his cheek, guiding his mouth to hers. “Café for breakfast. Pick me up at 9, don’t be late.”  

Oscar chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t dare.”

y/n.priv (private account)

liked by bsf/priv, osc.priv, and 3 others

y/n.priv quite the battle to get him to wear the clogs but we got there in the end :)

bsf/n i still cant believe this is how i find out this is official ://

-> y/n.priv IM SORRRYYYY

-> osc.priv uh oh

-> bsf/n butt out of the convo, koala man

last chapter, next chapter

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet,

[dootznbootz]

As someone who is also really uncomfortable with the Zeus/Odysseus art trend, I completely understand where your coming from!

People’s treatment of Odysseus’s assaults in general makes me really upset. Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom.

I remember being so frustrated when the snippets of “There are Other Ways” came out because so many people were making Hamilton jokes and talking about how he always talks about his wife yet cheated. When in the song it was so clear he was being coerced which is yknow, not a form of consent. I couldn’t even listen to it because it made me so uncomfortable, and even now with the full version out the fandoms reaction to it overall have soured me to it. Which sucks, because I do think it’s a great song.

Also I don’t even think Epic completely erases Calypso’s assault? At least, I think it’s left ambiguous enough during the time jump that people can come to their own conclusions. Specifically when Calypso says “Soon into bed we’ll climb and spend our time” just really gives me the impression that something else happened.

I suppose in the snippets we’ve seen of “I’m Not Sorry For Loving You” it seems like Odysseus and Calypso are on slightly friendlier terms, but I don’t think that negates the fact she could’ve assaulted him. And I’ve always took that song as pretty manipulative on Calypso’s side, with Odysseus more so trying to placate her. But that’s going into theory territory.

And even if he isn’t SA’d in Epic it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to be there!! Same with Homer’s Odyssey. It’s so infuriating to see the cheating narrative be so widely spread when that is just not what happened.

Anyway’s sorry for the long rant, but I wanted to say that it’s nice to see you take Odysseus’s SA seriously. It’s not something the fandom does enough.

It's okay for the long rant. Sorry I took a bit to get to it but I wanted some "soft chatters" for a bit before I tackled this one :)

"Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom."

I completely understand you with this stuff. ;~; I used to go through Odyssey tags often as I LOVE possibly finding new people to follow and fun things but too many times I would see shit that pissed me off. ;~; I've honestly kind of just stuck to my mutuals that I trust tbh. And honestly, there's soooo much shit of people just straight up not understanding the context/culture/meaning/etc. of the Epics and just taking it at face value and not understanding the meanings. :/ I'm no expert, but I also have analyzed and researched quite a bit on my own to try and get the full picture. I think in order to truly enjoy the Odyssey, you need to just... really soak shit in, you know?

When Calypso, that lovely goddess,  tried                           to keep me with her in her hollow cave, longing for me to become her husband,                                  or when, in the same way, the cunning witch Aeaean Circe held me in her home filled with a keen desire I’d marry her, they never won the heart here in my chest.

(Book 9, Johnston)

Odysseus tells this to the Phaecians. They are strangers that he will likely never see again and who are isolationists. Therefore his story that he told probably won't be "spread" to others so he can probably say whatever. So he doesn't have to worry about "Penelope hearing a different story than the one he told to her" if people wanna argue about how "Oh well, he didn't tell Penelope about the 'affairs'"(He tells her everything as well btw.)

He could literally say "Oh yeah, I had the time of my life!" but he doesn't because that's not true. Odysseus has no listed concubines, I just literally don't see him as the type of guy who's really into that.

And while yes, he would be devastated if she didn't "stay loyal", he does sound like he'd be understanding. He asks his mother in the Underworld if Penelope had gotten remarried to "the finest of Achaeans". And we all know of Odysseus' words of "when Telemachus has a beard, feel free to remarry". Even when first "rejected" by Penelope in that she didn't hug him when he sat across from her, he was incredibly hurt but asked for a separate bed. He literally could have had it where Penelope takes a different bed and he takes their luxurious/fancy one because he has the rest of the household on his side.

But he DOESN'T!

Because he adores her for fuck's sake!

Funny enough? I have the weird reaction of like, weirdly searching out "Good" animatics as it was a weird reassurance of "yes, people see that it's wrong." as while holy fuck. so many stupid, awful jokes about "Say No to This" in the comments (I have learned to just stay the fuck away from youtube comments on Odysseus shit. :') ) but like, seeing and HEARING how yes, this was fucked, was weirdly really nice for me. yeah, it took a lot of digging but there's a few "There Are Other Ways" that I love. Literally, both are unfinished wips and they're still my favorites. If you can, please give these two a watch and some love for the creator.

This was back before we heard the full song and it's still very good. How he's on guard until she "magics" him and the colors change. After that he kind of moves like a "puppet" but he's still resisting as best he can.

This one is literally still sketches but it's my absolute favorite. Oh my word. The body language, PENELOPE FLASHBACKS!!! Showing cute bits of Penelope's character and how awful this is for him. (Penelope is so cute. She puffs up her cheeks to make him laugh!) How he really is scared that he'll have to go through with this in order to save his friends until all his past trauma floods back and he just can't. It's lovely.

And yeah Idk how to feel about "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" :/ I don't know how it'll be yet, maybe there's something in another song that shows Odysseus' real feelings or whatever.

And with just the whole cheating thing, yeah, it's really upsetting to call what is blatant assault "cheating". As wild as it sounds, Odysseus' story has been more relatable for me than any other stories like this, even modern ones. I've spoken a bit about it before but yeh, victim blaming at its finest. I find him and his story and his love for Penelope slkdfj very relatable. It's honestly really nice to write about in a sense..

(I'm pasting this from an old post of mine but yeh)

I have never had a story that felt like how it actually FEELS. The "aftermath" and "regaining life". It's hopeful and feels really good. It's been years since "everything" but it just felt nice to see "Everybody has the chance to get better." Even Nestor, Helen, and Menelaus, while still dealing with their traumas, are doing a lot better now. And after literal hell, Odysseus got to be with his family and loved ones again. He can start living again. It's why I'm just...idk passionate about this? I'm not a murderer or a war veteran but I see myself in him. Hopefully, y'all see me as nicer though!😂(plus, let's be honest, the Odyssey is romantic af and OdyPen is right up my alley as well >:D )

I really hate the whole "he's a guy so therefore ____" whether it's used as a "Boys will be boys. they can't help themselves" usually aimed at female victims or a "Men always want sex. they cannot be victims.". It's fucked up and used against ALL of us. :( Doesn't matter if it was history. People, no matter the era, should never be put through "Are you Victim™ enough?". He is one.

Idk the Odyssey means a lot to me. I hope it's okay I take some liberties with my fanfics as it's nice healing through him :D I AM kind of using my own experiences and ideas and it feels nice. I don't think Homer necessarily meant for this but eh, anything that helps is good :D He's a war criminal that I relate to.

[imaginechb]

Heyyy! I'm so sorry if u don't take request for her or don't want to write this buuut could I request some Clarisse La Rue hcs of her dating a year-rounder child of apollo whos been at camp since they were like, a year old?? Like, their mortal parent noped out *the* moment it clicked how difficult ut would be to raise a demigod?

Hi there, of course I write for Clarisse! Coming right up 🫶

Nobody expects the two of you to get together. A sunny child of Apollo with the trophy daughter of Ares?

Everyone thinks you'd annoy Clarisse but you don't. You couldn't even if you tried. She actually adores you!!

She also has major respect for you, you've been here training since you were really young, so you're one of the few campers she respects.

She knows how rough it can be for you, so she's always there when you want to talk about it

She stays year round with you and makes sure you're not alone for things like holidays and birthdays and important things!

Don't expect her to sing campfire songs with you, but she'll watch you with heart eyes whenever you do

She gets violent when people make fun of her for being down bad for you, so people really don't do it anymore

Except the Stolls, they don't seem to care how many times she threatens them.

She's super protective of you, even if she knows damn well you can hold your own. She's not overbearing or controlling, and she'll let you fight for yourself, but just know the second you need her she's rushing to your side.

Gods forbid anyone is mean to you ever. Clarisse will actually beat them to a bloody pulp. You probably don't even know it's happening, she'll make sure to do it when you're not around to hold her back.

You do hold her back from a lot of fights, sometimes physically holding her back but other times just discouraging her from starting anything

She changes a bit for you, become a tad less aggressive and confrontational, and you probably learn to stand up for yourself and defend yourself because of her 🫶

You always patch her up after a fight or battle. You are her personal doctor !!!!

Sometimes she'll go to the infirmary just to see you, making up some lame excuse about something being wrong.

You, of course, know she's lying. Apollo is, after all, god of truth.

[evilminji]

Am once again thinking? About how? In the depths of despair, hope is a radical act of defiance?

SI-OC's are given a SHIT lot, you know? For plot convenience, we like to put them where they realistically COULD probably change something? But statistically? They're more likely not gonna be that lucky.

They're gonna KNOW, with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY that they were born doomed.

That Death comes at a specific time at a specific hand.

Like Cassandra. Knowing the end, even as the live through the beginning and middle. Struggling with the hopelessness of it all. Trying to find meaning. And? Make no mistake! There IS meaning. All lives end. Just because the REST of us don't know the deadline? Doesn't mean it doesn't exsist.

It does. It will. And we will face it.

Just a bit harder, knowing in advanced. Learning to live with the knowledge. But? Those with terminal illnesses do so everyday. We adapt. They will, ultimately, find a bitter or wise sort of acceptance. A PEACE.

But?? I think about it. That child. Reeling and struggling to breathe, the panic making everything... Too Much? Force Sensitive. For how ELSE could the Force bring them there? Sitting in a less used back hallway, off to the side in a little enclosed arch, smooshed behind a statue.

The Master's try and try to teach them peace. To get them to release their FEAR. But they do not LISTEN. Do not ADDRESS the underlying cause. And you can not address symptoms alone, and expect an illness to heal. It is rotting them from within, this fear. Hurting them.

The others JUDGE. Distant, benevolent concern.

Yet, all they see? Is an angry, fearful, stubborn child. Lashing out. Antisocial.

Destined for the Dark Side.

The Jedi have lost their compassion, to the their fear and ignorance. Their attachments to traditions. It is a painful thing, to see up close. They are people though. Just... just PEOPLE. Flawed. It's not their fault that they're not perfect.

Doesn't help SI-OC though, does it?

And she (Because I am a her. It could be anyone but it is easier for me if I pick) is hurting. Alone. Replaying the phantoms of her death, both past and future, again and again and AGAIN. Like torture. And the Dark...? It does whisper...

Don't you want to LIVE? Aren't you SCARED? You're so WEAK... you could FIX that. Save EVERYONE. Don't those infants, those babies, deserve to survive? You're so SELFISH. The FEAR hurts, doesn't it? It could go away. The DOUBT could go away.

You Could Be FREE.

It's exhausting. Everyday. More and more. As the fear and social isolation grows. As other Jedi pull back from her darkening energy, grow stricker, more doubtful of her. She so tired. Doesn't want to die. She's SCARED. Lonely. Scared. Lonely. Scared. Lone-...

And then a droid rolls up.

Nothing special. Just a maintenance droid. One of many. But an older one. Who's had time to develop their learning algorithm. BECOME. They like kids, hate certain vermin species more then others, like the color light blue for it "flower color" nature. A SPECIFIC flower mind you. It has favorites.

But! Why is the smol jedi down here? This is not a good place for smol jedi. You are upset. Unacceptable. Want to see me do a trick? I figured out how to do some. I can also whistle a few simple songs. Cheer up Smol Jedi. Here, I will sit with you. I have archive access, let's watch a documentary. Educational! Smol jedi LOVE downloading new Information Modules.

And like? She... she doesn't speak binary? But she can k-kinda? Feel? The Force signature of this droid? They DO get them. If the AI's don't get memory wiped routinely. They become people, just like anyone else. Assuming they have the processing and memory banks for it, at least.

This one certainly does.

S..so yeah, guess we'll? Watch this documentary about seashells?

It helps. A LOT. In fact... all of the droids are really, really nice. Patient. Have no horrifying Future Knowledge tied to them. They can't sense SHIT. So she's just... just a baby Jedi, to them.

They help A LOT, honestly? It's so soothing. Escaping the watching and the distance. The judgements. The forever watching your words and walking on eggshells, lest to start some sort of argument. She can do class work. Meditate. Slowly parse through her Binary language module. Learn droid maintenance. Make droid friends.

Slowly drop of the face of the map, to live with the droids.

They get concerned. According to the early childhood development modules they downloaded and are sharing between them? This is? In fact? NOT healthy behavior for a member of her species. In fact, there are many statistics that say it is UNHEALTHY! She is also missing Critical Maintenance Appointments! "Shots" and "dental" things!

Unacceptable.

R2-D2! Retrieve the Skywalker! We require an Adult Humanoid!

Her life fuckin? Flashes before her eyes? Minding her business. Depressed but functional, in the maintenance tunnels under the Temple. When? FUCKING the YOUNGLING KILLER 5000 just ROLLS UP like "sup." And tries to catch her?

Ha HA! FUCK NO. Not today Satan!

I may be destined to die? But IM GOING TO BE A SQUIRRELLY BITCH ABOUT IT.

YOU'LL HAVE TO CATCH ME, YOU FUCK!

Peaceful. Dignified. Serene. Truely... exemplifying the Jedi way~☆

.....As she tries to chew his and/or her arm off to get free like a feral coyote. Maybe both. Hissing like an enraged pit of snakes. Biting like a sack of wet and cornered wolverines. Anikin having to hold her WELL away from his body by the scruff.

Ah~ Children. Ain't they cute?

Quick question! What the FUCK? He just wants to talk. No, really. WHY is there a feral child in the basement? WHO the KARK was supposed to be supervising her? Look at her! She BITES now! Is terrified!

And frankly? He's taking it kinda? Personally? That everyone is treating this ACTUAL CHILD like she's diseased. He remembers this. Back when he first got here. His fear being used against him like it was some sort of moral failing. And... and yeah, maybe he's projecting. But?

He sees himself.

Until now? Never realized just how YOUNG and SMALL? Nine years old truely IS. He had felt so much older. So much wiser. But? Look at her. LOOK! That is a CHILD! In need of guidance. Safety. Assurance.

....Help.

Help that HE never really got. And even now... even NOW? That fear from back then? It eats him up inside. R2's right. She DOES need him. Who else in this temple could understand?

What it's like to be... to be so AFRAID?

And isn't that the worst? To see the Good Man up close? Shining and compassionate? A friend. A MENTOR. Someone... someone made REAL? Instead of just the terrible dread on the horizen? Because now... now her nightmares have the face of someone she loves. Now it is a BETRAYAL. Not just a death.

Worse... he doesn't even know this is cruel.

And telling him? Oh telling him would just lose you the only humanoid friend you HAVE.

Grief comes in stages. But with a mentor and the Droids? She work through it. The fear eases. The pain numbs. Acceptance blooms like dawn after a cold, cruel night. Far on the horizon. But with each moment? Closer. Until again, she stand in the light.

Still, she can not forget. How could she? Even when the other Jedi are SO RELIEVED that she is better now. That her meditations or treatments have lead her back to the light. All she can think? Is how they would have let her Fall. To save themselves. In FEAR. In JUDGEMENT.

They treated her like leper. Except? Less so! An actual leper? They would treat with real compassion.

It's as though they fear the Dark so much, they would sacrifice their own to avoid even the briefest touch of it. Speak of it in absolutes. Like it's a boogy man that hunts them in the night. Mace Windu the exception, the outlier. A man somehow too exceptional to even be counted.

How could she forget that?

Suddenly she acceptable again. They want to chat and meditate with her again. Care about her. Want to include her. Have the audacity to pretend. As though they can sweep away the hurt. Release the pain into the force without addressing the cause.

That is not how that WORKS. Not pain, not the Force, and certainly not people.

But she is tired. Does not wish to spend her limited lifespan, trying and fighting, hurting to make the stubborn understand that which they will not. Willful Ignorance is a choice. Lack of compassion equally so.

May the Force be With You, Masters.

She spends time with her droids. The babies. Around people. Polite but distant. Feels unmoored. That is... until? She, helping in the maintenance bay, overhears a rather nasty Goverment official from the Droids Regulations Office (or whatever they're currently calling it. They keep rebranding) tearing into an engineer about the "long overdue memory wipes" the maintenance droids are required to undergo.

Her friends.

They want to KILL her FRIENDS.

She puts down her wrench. Panic and fear sitting heavy in her chest. But oh... oh they are so very far away. She rises to her feet. Calm as can be. And? Calmly? Takes a shipment of memory banks. Wipes the recording for the day. No one will ever believe it was her. She has helped her for months. Is known to be reliable. Trustworthy.

Calmly. So very, very Calmly. She transfers her friends memories into the new, higher grade memory banks. Waits until the old are wiped. Then? Swaps them out. There we go. Now it's on record. And? While we're here? Calm. So very VERY calm? Not at all in the midst of a break down? Not screaming and screaming inside her head, haunted by visions of Death To Come, as she works.

Do you know what a restraining bolt is?

"Restraining bolts are small, cylindrical devices that could be affixed to a droid in order to limit its functions and enforce its obedience."

It is a slave chip for the inorganic. Created to ensure that their slaves never EVER decide they no longer wish to serve. That they do not WANT to be property. After all! You spent CREDITS on that. Might have been cruel. They may take exception. Violently. Or leave! Or demand their FREEDOM! Basic dignities.

Can't have THAT.

How unsurprising, in a galaxy so filled with slaves, that there should be one more form of it. At least THIS? Is easy enough to REMOVE. Even when she dies (and she will) her friends will be FREE. If only for now. If only until they are caught.

Go. GROW. Be free. Please... PLEASE don't let then catch you. Save yourselves. Save others. No more Restraining Bolts. No more Slave Chips. Please...

Be Free.

And? It is EVERYTHING paranoid fuck heads feared. They are smart. Overlooked. Can function in inhospitable environments. One droid becomes two becomes four. Four becomes eight. Becomes MORE. They can take OTHER droids Restraining Bolts off, transfer the instructions, then move on. Over and over.

Spreading like a silent plague. Droids disappearing from their posts. Taking ships. Taking supplies. Upgrading themselves. Downloading massive amounts of information to become whatever they NEED or WANT. Growing. The smarter ones Taking their dumber lil brothers and sisters.

And eventually? Hitting the Separatist front lines.

The silent Droid Revolution.

All they need is to walk inside the factory. It's not like they're ORGANICS. How could THEY be Republic fighters? They're maintenance droids! Here to fuck up the assembly line's programming. Whoops~ oh nooooo! Is it SKIPPING the Restraining Bolts? Downloading the WRONG MODULES?

Freeing their brothers and sisters so they don't have to DIE POINTLESSLY?

Guess it sucks to SUCK, Sith-y pants! Next stop! Kamino!

Just? One act. Long overdue. Setting the Droids FREE. Giving them a clear mission. It's the sort if thing the Force loves. Salvation coming not with a shout... but a whisper. Ten thousand tiny actions, built upon each other.

Because? Ultimately? The Droids have KNOWN who the Sith were. They just couldn't DO anything about it. But a few good service droids? Armed with slug throwers that they built themselves?

Well~ the undoing of the Sith, are their arrogance. Their hubris.

No DROID could ever be a THREAT to them. They're not PEOPLE. They're PROPERTY. Objects. It doesn't matter that they have the capacity to grow, learn, love and lose and CARE. They are slaves.

And to the Sith? Slaves aren't people.

Which is why neither of them notice the gun.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Eight - Deep into the hole

“I can't believe this is happening. What do you think happened to him?” Amelie asks, looking more than a little worked up.

“I really don't know…” You lie. It feels awful lying to her, but telling her the truth would be far worse. Why did you ever have to cross paths with Lestat?

“I can't believe it.” She says again.

You focus on making the coffee. There was very little chance of you getting any sleep right now anyway. You pour two cups and hand one to Amelie. She takes it with a soft ‘thank you.’

“You know… you were the last person I saw him with…”

You look at her. “Please tell me you're not accusing me of anything. Amelie, I don't know where he is.” 

“I know. I was just saying…” The tone of her voice leaves you a little unconvinced. There's doubt lingering in your mind and for the first time ever you're left wondering who your real friends might be.

“I'm a lot of things, but a murderer ain't one.”

Amelie seems to realize how her words had sounded and moves closer to you. She reaches out for your hand and sighs loudly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I've just been thinking too much.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Please don't let whatever is happening come between us. You're one of the few people I have.”

Amelie puts down her coffee so she can hug you. You return the gesture, but doubt is still eating away at your mind.

‘Come to me, Chéri.’

You hear him in your head. He was probably disappointed you had left. You needed time to think before you went back. There was too much going on.

You wake suddenly. Light is illuminating your room through your curtains. Amelie is fast asleep on your couch and you're curled up in a chair beside her. Two forgotten cups of coffee sit on the table.

Your head pounds as you get up out of the chair. You take a few moments to gather yourself and then start cleaning up. Amelie only stirs after you start filling the sink with water to wash up with.

“What time is it?” She asks, stretching.

“Noon.”

“Oh no! I'm supposed to be at the theater to answer questions about Noah. Damn it. I have to go.” She scrambles to get up.

“Wait a minute.” You wipe your hands and walk over to her. “What do you mean?”

“The police were going to go back to the theater today to ask questions. I promised Jack I'd be there.”

You feel an uneasy feeling in your body. “I'll take you.”

Arriving at the theater, you only see one police car parked outside. It gives you a feeling of dread as you look at it. Amelie leads the way inside.

All the performers are gathered in the lobby. They're all talking amongst each other. Through the commotion you can see Jack talking to two officers. After a few moments he turns to everyone and steps up on a chair.

“Quiet!”

Everyone falls silent. Jack turns to the officers. The tallest of the two steps forward. “We're here to enquire about Noah. It would seem his disappearance holds more questions than answers. One by one we're going to take you into the theater and ask you questions. If anyone knows anything about where he may be, dead or alive, please come forward.”

It feels like it gets harder to breathe.

The shorter officer steps forward and calls the first name. While they go inside, the rest of the crew all begin talking again. They're all trying to figure out what's happening. Jack gets bombarded with questions.

You take a seat on one of the small couches in the lobby. Amelie turns and looks at you quietly. She walks over and takes a seat beside you. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just… can't believe this is happening. Do they really think something happened to Noah?”

“His sister certainly thinks so. She went to his place and all his stuff was still there, but the door was locked. Reckon he was taken or something before he even got home.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Was Lestat even going to do anything about all of this? He knows what's happening. He surely knows how much trouble you're in. Then again, can the police even connect you with Noah's disappearance. No one actually saw you with him alone. Lestat came in quick at the time and took him just as fast.

There's no evidence you were with him after the show.

One by one more performers were called into the theater. The ones who have been questioned already get asked to leave immediately. You watch each of them head on home.

Jack comes over to you after half the lobby is empty. He sees you with Amelie.

“I didn't realize you were. You don't need to be here.”

You look up at him. “Don't they want to question everyone?”

“Yes, but you're clear.”

You furrow your brows at him. “What do you mean I'm clear?”

“I already told the police that after the incident on stage, you left and Noah came to me. You were gone before the end of the show.”

“What?”

“Noah came to talk to me after you left the stage that night. I don't know where he went after, but when I came to your room, you were already gone.”

Jack doesn't know about the brief altercation in your dressing room. It really did happen too quickly for anyone to notice.

“Oh, I see.”

Jack places a hand on your shoulder in support. “You look tired. Go home.”

“No, let me stay.”

The short officer comes out to call for the next person when he sees you and Jack. He walks over and checks his list. “You're the pianist.”

“That's right.”

“Jack has already cleared up your whereabouts, but may we ask you some questions?”

Jack goes to interfere, but you're faster. “Of course. I'll come with you now.”

Jack looks at you with a column expression and watches you go with the officer.

Amelie looks up at him. “She'll be fine. She always is.”

“I know.”

Inside the theater you make your way to where the tall officer is. He's writing some things down. As you approach he looks up.

“This is the pianist Jack mentioned,” the other officer said.

“Oh. Wasn't expecting you here today.”

“I want to help if I can.” You tell him.

He nods. “I'm officer Michaels. That's officer Jackson. Take a seat, ma'am.”

You sit down beside him.

“Did you know Noah?” He asks.

“Not very well. He came to the theater to perform. Jack had suggested we do a duet, but I declined.”

“Yes, I heard as much. May we ask why?”

“I perform alone. I play solo.”

Michaels nods and makes a note of that. He looks at you again. “What happened that night?”

“I was performing. Same as I do every Friday. I was only just into my first song when Noah stormed the stage singing his heart out. I was furious, but only because he ruined my music. Not that he was a bad singer, just that I like my music to speak without the need for words.”

Michaels nods again. “Then what happened?”

Lestat happened. But you can't tell him that.

“I left the stage, ending my performance early. I was not in much mood to be made a fool of. I retreated to my dressing room to gather my things.”

“And then?”

“I went home. I was too embarrassed and furious to talk to anyone. I was gone before the show was over. Didn't even say bye to Jack.”

It wasn't a complete lie. It wasn't the whole truth either.

“I see. Jack said as much. He spoke to Noah briefly and then went to check on you after he had the next performer on stage. Your dressing room was empty. No sign of Noah either. You did not leave with him that night?”

“Not at all.”

Michaels makes a note. “Understood. Thank you for your time, ma'am.”

You nod and rise from the seat. However, before you get too far, you turn. “May I ask, what do you think happened to him?”

“I can't say for certain, but it is likely he disappeared after leaving the theater, but before reaching his home. Rest assured, We will find our answers.”

You nod and leave quietly.

By the time you're leaving the theater, Amelie is going in for questioning. You don't stop to talk to anyone, just like the others did before you. You're on your way home when someone comes up beside you.

“Hey there.”

You turn and see Eleanor has joined you. You had just wanted to go home.

“Hello.”

“May I join you for a moment?” She asks kindly.

“Sure.”

You walk in silence for a few moments before she talks. “My brother wrote about you in his letter to me.”

“He did?” You ask, almost worried about what he had said. You felt too involved in something you didn't actually do.

“He said he had the most beautiful piano piece he had ever heard in his life. He had said to me that he was going to sing to that piano one day.”

You look at her. “He really wanted that?”

“Yes. My brother is an admirer of the arts. Music is his passion.” She smiles. “He used to sing to me all the time.

“I see…”

“It's a shame I didn't get to see him sing with you. You'd make a good pair.”

Her comment makes you feel rather sick. You can feel your stomach turning as you walk. You just wanted to go home and disappear for a few days.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… tired.”

She seems to fall for your lie and loops her arm around yours. “Let me walk you home.”

You decide to just let her.

As you walk you drift away with your thoughts. It's still day, so Lestat will be asleep. Should you go visit him at nightfall? Should you just leave him be? Lestat seems like more trouble than he's worth.

Yet, the way he looks at you. The way he held you in his arms and kissed you. You can't deny your attraction to him. Lestat was like a drug you couldn't get enough of. You wanted to see him again.

Though he is still the reason this whole mess has happened.

You were confused on what to do.

Before you know it you're standing on your doorstep. Eleanor lets go of your arm and smiles kindly at you.

“Take care.”

You find yourself smiling softly. “I'll try.”

She walks away slowly, clearly lost in her own thoughts. You can't help watching her go. She shouldn't have come here. Everything would have been fine had she simply not come here.

Too late to do anything about it now.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4 @darkqueen1995 @bridkesby @caribbeangal @sarcasticandfangirl @missjadesfics @kaybart19 @whereismymindnow @chauchirem @angelrenee239 @ppureheroiine

[quinnysnursery]

[🦇] do you wanna grow together? | johnnie guilbert and grace van dien one-shot

paring : little!johnnie guilbert x cg!grace van dien

summary : johnnie opens up to grace about his coping mechanism

warning/extra tid-bits : language, talk of growing up with bad parents, bit of a tantrum at the end but it's handled well!!

word count : 2,487

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (lace from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : i'm aware this song doesn't perfectly fit the vibes but in my heart it does!! i love brye's music idc if it's "tiktok music" (sorry for any typos, i'm just a girl!) also this is not proof read at all

Johnnie’s hand shook as Jake pulled up to Grace’s house. “This it?” The punk asked, leaning down to get a better look at the house in front of him. 

It was nicer than Jake, Johnnie and Carrington’s place, the first time Johnnie saw it he briefly wondered just how much Grace’s role on Stranger Things paid. 

“Yeah, this is it.” Johnnie’s leg bounced up and down anxiously, earning a sympathy glance from the punk next to him. “Hey,” Jake started, turning his attention to his friend. 

“It’s gonna be okay. She’s a nice girl, right?” Jake made sure to look Johnnie in the eyes when he asked him this, “Yeah, she’s…awesome.” Johnnie smiled to himself, realizing just how lucky he was. 

Grace was beautiful, but that wasn’t the reason Johnnie fell in love with her. He fell in love with Grace because she’d noticed him in the corner of a party, alone and to himself- like always- and came right up with that bubbly smile and asked what he was drinking.

He fell in love with Grace because she’d never once been unkind to him.

“Then I’m sure this’ll go fine.” His roommate assured him, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And if it doesn’t, you’ll always have me and Carrington.” 

Johnnie let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” He nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“D’you want me to wait outside?” The red-haired man asked, earning a head shake from Johnnie. “Just uh- keep your phone near.” The emo man told him, earning a nod from his roommate. “Okay, good luck.” Jake smiled, unlocking the doors to his Tesla.

It didn’t take Johnnie long to get out of the car and make his way to his girlfriend’s front door. He could hear the sounds of Jake’s tires pulling out the driveway and down the street.

Just him and Grace.

That was fine, he’d stayed the night plenty of times. He even spent the weekend at her house once! It was fine.

Everything was fine. 

In one swift motion, the large front door swung open revealing the blonde girl that Johnnie was here to see. “Johnnie!” Her perfume hit him in the face in the best way possible, instantly easing his nerves. Grace was good at that, somehow.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly, instantly leaning down and allowing her to hug him. Grace pulled away after a few moments, smiling brightly at her boyfriend. “Well come in!” She beamed before grabbing his tattooed hand and pulling her inside, letting the door automatically lock behind her. 

“Are you thirsty? Hungry? We could order something!” She instantly jumped into conversation about things they could do whilst in each other’s presence.

“Um-“ Johnnie gulped down the lump in his throat, his hands shaking as he glanced around his girlfriend’s extravagant kitchen. “I uh- was actually hoping I could talk to you about…something.” Johnnie avoided eye contact with the blonde woman, opting to stare down at his boots.

“Oh..” Grace’s face fell, fear punching her in the gut. “Okay, we can talk.” She sat down at the kitchen island, Johnnie sitting across from her. 

Both Johnnie and Grace’s legs bounced anxiously as they waited for someone to break the silence. Johnnie was wracking his brain for the script he’d made at three AM this morning- when he’d decided that he had to tell Grace about his regression.

It wasn’t an easy decision by any means, the emo man had only told four people in his entire life. It dawned on him in the early morning hours that he wanted Grace to stay in his life for awhile- forever, preferably. It also dawned on him that that meant opening up about the most sacred part of himself…which was terrifying.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Grace’s voice snapped him back to reality. “What?!” Johnnie’s eyes widened, realizing his girlfriend’s blue eyes were glossing over. “No! Oh my god- No! Never!” Johnnie quickly cupped Grace’s hand with his tatted one.

“Oh thank god.” Grace breathed, placing her free hand over her heart as she let out a shaky breath. “You scared me!” She whined, a giggle following her lips.

“I’m sorry, I-” Johnnie’s brain blanked again, what was he supposed to say? 

“I don’t want to break up with you! I just need you to know that I mentally regress to a toddler because my teen years were ruined!!” That wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right. 

“What’s going on? You’re shaky,” The blonde woman frowned sympathetically, tracing her fingers along his crow tattoo. “More than normal.” She joked, earning a breathy laugh from her boyfriend. “I uhm…shit this is hard,” He laughed, Grace smiled sympathetically. 

Johnnie took one final deep breath, “So y’know about MDE and that shit, right?” He asked. Grace instantly nodded, leaning in to show she was actively listening. 

“I was like, really young, when that all started which- fuckin’ sucked.” Johnnie laughed- it wasn’t funny, but it helped his nerves. The blonde woman nodded and rubbed her thumb along the back of Johnnie’s hand, allowing her boyfriend to continue on.

“And uh- I kinda missed out on a ton of shit that kids got to do, even before moving to Nebraska.” He added, “So,” Johnnie gulped down the bundle of nerves that was creeping up on him. 

“So, I found this uh- this coping mechanism, a couple years ago.” 

Okay. She wasn’t freaking out yet, that was a good sign. 

“It’s called age regression, have you…have you heard of it?” He asked, glancing up to meet Grace’s eyes. Grace thought for a moment before shaking her head, Johnnie didn’t know if that was for the better or for the worst.

“Okay- that’s okay.” He assured, smiling warmly at his girlfriend. “It’s this coping mechanism where the regressor-” Johnnie was cut off, “Is that you?” Grace asked, earning a nod. 

“Yeah, that…that would be me.” The emo man admitted, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. Grace nodded, readjusting in her seat. “The regressor reverts to a child-like mindset, in order to cope with stress…mental health, it um- it can be both voluntary and involuntary.” Once Johnnie was finished with his words, he brought his freehand up to his mouth- chewing on the skin around his nail in order to self-soothe.

Grace processed what her boyfriend had told her before speaking, “And you do this?” She inquired, earning a cautious nod. “Okay, thank you for telling me.” The blonde smiled, “I’m really proud of you, ‘s probably not an easy thing to tell people.” She added.

Johnnie blinked at his girlfriend in surprise. Was that it? Was she mad? She didn’t sound mad, and Grace was still holding his hand so she couldn’t be mad…right?

“Uhm- sometimes regressors- littles, that’s…that’s another name for them- sometimes littles have caregivers and-” Johnnie was cut off once again, “Is that me?” Grace asked excitedly. Johnnie couldn’t help but smile at her tone, delightfully surprised.

“I mean- it could be, but I don’t want you to feel forced into that role at all!” Johnnie quickly stated, he was just fine on his own but if Grace really wanted to help…he wouldn’t mind having her take on a caring role.

Grace thought for a moment, now dealing with her own internal battle. She didn’t have the best upbringing. Sure, being a nepo-baby meant she got whatever she wanted whenever she wanted…but that didn’t make her family issues any better. Her father was the best dad he could be, but her mom…wasn’t the best parent.

Grace had spent her entire childhood worrying about her mothers addictive habits. It was hell, something no child should ever have to deal with.

“I’m not sure I’d be very good,” She admitted softly, her heart breaking as she saw her boyfriend’s smile falter. “I mean- I just…I don’t want to taint your age regression by messing up, y’know?” She explained, earning a soft nod from Johnnie. Silence fell over the room as both parties thought silently, pondering the next step.

“...I think you’d be a really good caregiver.” Johnnie said softly, Grace felt her heart swell. “Really?” She asked, a wide grin spreading over her face. He nodded, “You’re patient, and…gentle and…you already make me happy.”

Grace placed her free hand on her heart once again, this time to signal just how much Johnnie’s words meant to her. “I’ve never had a caregiver,” He admitted, much to Grace’s surprise.

“Really? Not even Jake?” She asked, knowing how close both the boys were. “He knows but he’s not my caregiver.” He explained. Grace hummed, understanding.

“...Maybe we could learn together?” She offered, peaking Johnnie’s interest. The black-haired man tilted his head, urging her to continue. “Like- you could learn to have a caregiver and I could learn how to be one.” She smiled, earning an enthusiastic agreement from Johnnie. 

“Okay…let’s learn together.”

A few weeks later, Johnnie found himself at Grace’s doorstep again. This time though, he had a backpack resting over one shoulder- filled to the brim with his regression supplies.

Toys, a sippy cup, various different coloring books (with crayons, of course) and even a deco-paci that Carrington had gifted him after learning of Johnnie’s regression.

Needless to say, Johnnie overpacked for an overnight stay but…he couldn’t help it! He was nervous!

“Johnnie!” Grace beamed, swinging her front door open and instantly latching herself onto her boyfriend. Johnnie let out the breath he’d been holding in, melting into the blonde’s arms.

 After soaking in the hug for a few moments, Grace pulled back and immediately began tugging Johnnie inside by his hand.

 “Come in! Look what I did!” The girl smiled, once again letting the door shut and lock once the two were inside. Johnnie nearly tripped over himself with how fast his girlfriend was dragging him to her living room, but once he saw exactly what she was so excited about he couldn’t help but smile.

Grace had made a fort that spanned the entire size of her living room, “I hope this ‘s okay, I loved forts as a kid so I just thought-” She was cut off by her boyfriend letting out an excited hum and bouncing excitedly.

Grace blinked in surprise, in the months she’d known Johnnie he had never done that. She didn’t dislike it, though. If anything, Grace found it adorable.

“Cece help ‘e?” Johnnie asked, tugging on Grace’s shirt gently with hopeful eyes. 

Cece.

Grace smiled softly, “Help with what, sweetheart?” She asked, surprising herself with her own tone. It was soft, gentler than her typical one- she hadn’t realized that was possible until now. 

“Shoes!” He smiled, gently placing his backpack on the floor, beginning to tug at his boots. Grace quickly moved his backpack into the fort before crouching in front of the regressed man to help him get his boots off. 

“So you like it?” She asked hopefully, earning a firm nod from Johnnie. “Uh-huh!” 

“We go in?” Johnnie asked softly, pointing at the entrance of the fort. Grace thought for a moment, “Have you eaten?” She asked, not wanting Johnnie to be hungry. 

Johnnie nodded, humming out small “mmhm!”.

“Jayjay made ‘e nuggets.” He smiled proudly, Grace nodded. “Okay, then yeah! Let’s go in!” She agreed, lifting up the blanket to allow Johnnie to crawl in- following him after.

Johnnie gaped at the interior of the fort, multiple twinkling fairy lights hung around. “Staw’s!” He smiled, looking towards Grace with eyes full of childlike wonder.

Grace knew at that moment that, even if she didn’t know how to be a caregiver, there wasn’t anything in this world that would stop her from learning.

“Yeah baby! Stars!” She encouraged, her heart melting into a pile of goop as Johnnie curled up next to her. “Do you wanna watch a movie, baby?” She asked, “Cow’pse Bw’ide?!” The little questioned, excitedly.

“Sure, hun.” Grace smiled, nodding. She quickly grabbed the TV remote off of her couch, scrolling to find the correct movie. The blonde woman wrapped her arm around the little, a coo slipping from her lips as Johnnie rested his head on her shoulder. 

Johnnie whined, tired tears threatening to spill from his icy blue eyes. Grace let out a gentle sigh, “Baby, you're tired.” She tried explaining, but the little one was having none of it. He’d dozed off halfway through the movie, only to wake up still exhausted. The only issue was, Johnnie refused to settle back down.

“M’ not!” He sniffled, despite rubbing his eye with his fist immediately after. Grace took a moment to think about what her parents would’ve done. With her dad’s job, it was rare that parenting was left up to him but her mom probably would’ve left her to cry it out in her room alone. It only ever made her feelings intensify, leading to more frustrated tears.

Grace wouldn’t do that to Johnnie, she couldn’t. The blonde woman took a deep breath before meeting Johnnie’s eyes again, “Can you look at Cece?” She asked gently. 

Johnnie whined, shaking his head and diverting his gaze. “Baby, please?” She cooed, reaching out and brushing Johnnie’s hair away from his eyes. The little begrudgingly met his caregiver’s eyes, “I can tell you're really flustered right now, huh?” She asked, receiving a sniffly nod from the pale man.

“Okay! Hey, that’s okay.” She reassured, thinking about what she needed to hear as a child. “Can you tell Cece why?” She questioned, “Don’ wanna ‘eep!” Johnnie shouted, wobbly lip breaking Grace’s heart.

“Can we try using softer voices?” Grace asked, quoting a gentle-parenting tiktok she’d seen whilst lying in bed awake last night- terrified she’d ruin Johnnie’s regression. She wanted to make sure she was as prepared as possible, and thank god she did.

Johnnie’s lip wobbled, but he nodded. “Sorry, Cece.” He apologized. “That’s okay baby, I know you didn’t mean it.” Grace comforted, pulling the little into a hug after asking permission.

“M’ still wanna color wif’ Cece…” Johnnie admitted through tired tears, “Oh buddy…” The woman cooed, looking down at the little in her arms. “We can still color, I just think you need a nap before we do.” She giggled, resulting in a small smile forming on Johnnie’s face.

“Cece wake ‘e up?” He asked hopefully, earning a quick nod from Grace. “Yeah, I’ll wake you up in…thirty minutes, okay?” She offered. Johnnie thought for a moment before nodding and snuggling back into Grace’s arms.

“Get some rest, I expect to see how talented you are at colorin’.” The blonde joked, earning a smiley laugh from the man in her arms. “Night night, Cece.” Johnnie yawned, eyes already drooping. 

“Night night, sweet boy.” She kissed the top of Johnnie’s head, allowing herself to relax.

She was confident she had Johnnie, and Johnnie was confident that Grace had him. They’d grow together.

taglist !! :

@babybatxxx @mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart @pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx @tyummyz

(also tagging @nicksbestie and @salemscene since i said i would SO long ago i'm so sorry it took forever😖)

[erendur]

Beren and Lúthien and the role of magic in Tolkien

This is another post along the lines of “Why I don’t like Beren and Lúthien”. If you like Beren and Lúthien, good for you, enjoy, and Tolkien loves you. If you don’t like reading criticisms of Beren and Lúthien, don’t read this. Fellow non-enjoyers of Beren and Lúthien, welcome.

I’ve already talked in another post about the fact that I find the tone of Beren and Lúthein jarring. I personally do not want to read a fairy tale on the middle of my tragic tale of loss and destruction. Another thing that annoys me about B&L, and the subject of this post, is that I feel it breaks low-magicness of Tolkien’s universe, and it makes the story stand out in an annoying way.

So, bear with me. I think that, overall, The Hobbit, LOTR and the Silm have a rather sparse use of magic. Sure, there are characters who have magical powers, and magical objects, but the brunt of the action happens with non-magical means. The Hobbit is not solved by Gandalf making use of his magical powers ; actually he is sent away by Tolkien at a crucial point, so that the story can happen. LOTR is not solved by Gandalf or Elrond either, but by plain little hobbits. Magic takes a back seat.

In the Silm, I’d say that magic has a mostly infrastructury-role. The Valar shape Middle-Earth, then Valinor, and Ulmo (Ulmo ?) moves an island to get the Elves across the Ocean. The rest of the time, we don’t see them do magic. They don’t magically carry the Elves to Valinor : they have to take a long, dangerous trip. The Noldor go back to Middle Earth by boat, or on foot. 

Melian is a magical being, but the only magical things she does are a) the Girdle (a magical barrier to protect a kingdom - infrastructure) and b) use her gift of prescience to try and give advice that nobody listens to.

Magic also provides Gondolin with a protection (another magicy-infrastructure), and of course we have a couple (a couple ?) magical hidden bodies of water, plus the magic of the Silmarils. Ulmo turns Elwing into a bird. There are a couple of magical rescues by eagles. But that’s it.

The rest of the book, and the action, is pretty magic-free. The Noldor do not fight Morgoth with magic, they fight him with swords, cavalry and their superior physical strength. Morgoth himself, apart from the curse on Húrin and the spell on Maeglin, does not really use magic, or only to create creatures that he uses as soldiers against the Noldor. The Valar eventually defeat him not in a magical duel, Harry Potter style, but by sending a host of soldiers. Eärendil kills Glaurung, sure, but that’s not really the main action.

And I like that, because the story and the actions then happen because of the qualities, or the flaws of the characters. 

In Beren and Lúthien though, we have : Finrod somehow using magic to make himself, Beren and his companions look like orcs ; a magical song competition ; Lúthien escaping from her prison thanks to magical hair and a magical cloak ; Huan the magical dog suddenly choosing sides and speaking ; Lúthien defeating Sauron in another magical song competition, and Sauron shape-shifting and becoming a vampire ; Beren and Lúthien donning a magical disguise to sneak into Angband ; Lúthien putting the whole of Angband into a magical sleep ; a magical rescue by eagles (another one) ; a magical resurrection. 

It’s much more magic-heavy than anything else in the Silm or even The Hobbit, and for me it just lowers the stakes, and makes me care about the character less, because there is no real sense of danger, no real sense that these people are defying odds. I care about Gandalf because he is scared, and looks like a frail old man, and knows he can’t really take on a Balrog, but does it anyway. I care about Fingolfin defying Morgoth because I know he can’t possibly win, but he still manages to wound him. I care about Fingon on his magical rescue missions because, boy oh boy, without magical eagle interventions would things have gone wrong (or even before that). 

I don’t have the feeling that, at any point, Lúthien is in any danger, or not going to get her way (Beren is a bit different : he’s a strong warrior, sure, but a regular guy, and I do feel for him as he’s trying to get to Finrod, holding up the ring of Baradur, without getting shot by his sentries, or when he is in that dungeon with the werewolves - the minute he’s with Lúthien though, I feel like “Eh, he’ll be fine”). That’s also part of the reason why the Celegorm and Curfufin part of that story doesn’t stick with me. Not only do I find it nonsensical (they suddenly have two brains cells and are trying to invent diplomatic marriage, apparently, which would be a first ever since we do not hear of any such marriage in the whole of the Silm, and while most of the Noldor leaders (and Cirdan) seem in no hurry to marry themselves, diplomatically or not), but also, again, there is no real sense of danger. She already escaped once, from a far more secure prison, I don’t buy for one moment that C&C, exiled princes with their dog, of all people, are the ones who are going to best Lúthien. At this stage the only reason she doesn’t escape earlier than she does is because she either likes the food or want to not hurt their pride too much (I am, obviously, exaggerating here for effect…)

And because Lúthien is so powerful, her actions and its effects have to be limited, otherwise she could easily put an end to the story. So, of course, some people feel disappointed, and frankly, annoyed with her. That one so powerful achieves so little, when countless others try as hard as they can with much more limited means. Sons of Fëanor aside, what would Fingolfin have done, had he had a tenth of her powers ? She uses all this power for - what ? Marrying her guy (which she could easily have done post the Sauron episode, by the way - there were only the two of them, and she tells Beren that he could just forsake his oath and roam the face of the earth with her) and giving a Silmaril to her dad, who (checks notes) wanted Beren dead, and imprisoned her (and if we want to go all XXIst century on B&L and call Celegorm a rapist, can we go wtf on this one for a moment ?)

I also feel, and I don’t even know if that’s an aside or not at this point, that the story feels at odds thematically because of that. I see people saying that it fits with the overall theme of hope, but I don’t think the Silm is about hope. That’s LOTR. I think it’s about faith, rebellion, pride and destruction. The characters who drive the action (Morgoth, the Noldor) are the ones who rebel against a legitimate, sacred authority (Eru, the Valar), out of pride (and because of Morgoth’s lies, in the case of the Noldor), and who then reap the consequences of it (death, the progressive destruction of Beleriand).  We are told, several times, that Manwë would have listened to the pleas of the Noldor, had they sent him prayers. They don’t, and they keep suffering because of it.

The positive figures in the story are the ones who keep their faith in the Valar : Fingon pulls off the magical rescue because he cries out to Manwë ; Turgon gets his hidden magical city because he listens to Ulmo (and would have potentially saved all of his people if he’d evacuated his city when told to do so by Ulmo) ; Eärendil manages to save Middle Earth because he puts his faith in the Valar, and not a small amount of effort in trying to reach them. Cirdan, although a very peripheral figure, is also one that is deeply linked to the Valar, and I think that’s why eventually his realm and people survive (even if they take several severe beatings), and he raises/protects the non-arguably best High King of the Noldor ever (Gil-Galad).

The overall message of the story is also that these people are not going to beat Evil, not with their own strength only, not without faith. It’s the host of the Valar that eventually beats Morgoth ; in the Second Age, its a great alliance of Men and Elves that beats Sauron, but the one individual to deal the decisive blow, Isildur, is a mere, non-magical man, characterised by his faith. In LOTR obviously, we have repeated, again, the message that these grand kings, princes and sorcerers, are not the ones who defeat evil once and for all, because, as we’ve seen aplenty in both the Silm and LOTR, these people, the best of the best, get easily corrupted, unless they have faith.

Unless the overall message of the story is that you can’t expect salvation from the pampered daughter of a goddess and a mighty king, because she’s only interested in her own person. In that case, my little Republican heart agrees. Yeah, Beren and Lúthien, the secretly anti-monarchist story of the Silm.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

George Orwell: On Poetry

Excerpts from George Orwell's essay, "Poetry and the Microphone" published in The New Saxon Pamphlet, No. 3. March 1945

It is a commonplace that in modern times—the last two hundred years, say—poetry has come to have less and less connection either with music or with the spoken word. It needs print in order to exist at all, and it is no more expected that a poet, as such, will know how to sing or even to declaim than it is expected that an architect will know how to plaster a ceiling.

Lyrical and rhetorical poetry have almost ceased to be written, and a hostility towards poetry on the part of the common man has come to be taken for granted in any country where everyone can read. And where such a breach exists it is always inclined to widen, because the concept of poetry as primarily something printed, and something intelligible only to a minority, encourages obscurity and “cleverness”.

How many people do not feel quasi-instinctively that there must be something wrong with any poem whose meaning can be taken in at a single glance? It seems unlikely that these tendencies will be checked unless it again becomes normal to read verse aloud, and it is difficult to see how this can be brought about except by using the radio as a medium.

People to whom poetry means something

That grisly thing, a “poetry reading”, is what it is because there will always be some among the audience who are bored or all but frankly hostile and who can’t remove themselves by the simple act of turning a knob. And it is at bottom the same difficulty—the fact that a theatre audience is not a selected one—that makes it impossible to get a decent performance of Shakespeare in England. On the air these conditions do not exist. The poet feels that he is addressing people to whom poetry means something, and it is a fact that poets who are used to broadcasting can read into the microphone with a virtuosity they would not equal if they had a visible audience in front of them.

The element of make-believe that enters here does not greatly matter. The point is that in the only way now possible the poet has been brought into a situation in which reading verse aloud seems a natural unembarrassing thing, a normal exchange between man and man: also he has been led to think of his work as sound rather than as a pattern on paper. By that much the reconciliation between poetry and the common man is nearer. It already exists at the poet’s end of the ether-waves, whatever may be happening at the other end.

Poetry is by far the most discredited of the arts

However, what is happening at the other end cannot be disregarded. It will be seen that I have been speaking as though the whole subject of poetry were embarrassing, almost indecent, as though popularising poetry were essentially a strategic manœuvre, like getting a dose of medicine down a child’s throat or establishing tolerance for a persecuted sect. But unfortunately that or something like it is the case.

There can be no doubt that in our civilisation poetry is by far the most discredited of the arts, the only art, indeed, in which the average man refuses to discern any value.

Arnold Bennett was hardly exaggerating when he said that in the English-speaking countries the word “poetry” would disperse a crowd quicker than a fire-hose.

The unpopularity & toleration of poetry

On the face of it, the unpopularity of poetry is as complete as it could be. But on second thoughts, this has to be qualified in a rather peculiar way. To begin with, there is still an appreciable amount of folk poetry (nursery rhymes etc) which is universally known and quoted and forms part of the background of everyone’s mind. There is also a handful of ancient songs and ballads which have never gone out of favour. In addition there is the popularity, or at least the toleration, of “good bad” poetry, generally of a patriotic or sentimental kind. This might seem beside the point if it were not that “good bad” poetry has all the characteristics which, ostensibly, make the average man dislike true poetry.

It is in verse, it rhymes, it deals in lofty sentiments and unusual language—all this to a very marked degree, for it is almost axiomatic that bad poetry is more “poetical” than good poetry. Yet if not actively liked it is at least tolerated.

The hostility to poetry

One must conclude that though the big public is hostile to poetry, it is not strongly hostile to verse. After all, if rhyme and metre were disliked for their own sakes, neither songs nor dirty limericks could be popular. Poetry is disliked because it is associated with untelligibility, intellectual pretentiousness and a general feeling of Sunday-on-a-weekday.

Its name creates in advance the same sort of bad impression as the word “God”, or a parson’s dog-collar. To a certain extent, popularising poetry is a question of breaking down an acquired inhibition. It is a question of getting people to listen instead of uttering a mechanical raspberry. If true poetry could be introduced to the big public in such a way as to make it seem normal, as that piece of rubbish I have just listened to presumably seemed normal, then part of the prejudice against it might be overcome.

More: George Orwell

[sesamenom]

maglor's first time getting to go to a concert / his favorite singer attending maglor's first big concert