#and she herself admitted that it's one of her flaws that she always has to be right & she's being petty & yet she didn't stop 🤡

[cheekblush]

i'd rather be friendless than to constantly have my boundaries disrespected

[hella1975]

choked up in my room rn bc i was sat in the car with my mum completely lost in thought and she out of nowhere went 'are you okay?' and i was like 'yeah? why?' bc i was totally fine i was literally just thinking and she let it go and then five entire minutes later she goes 'are you sure? have i done something?' and she sounded so genuinely anxious and i could tell she'd been thinking about it the entire 5 minutes while id been completely oblivious and i spent so many years as a child letting everything bottle up until it all burst out in a messy and ugly breakdown that took her down with me and despite that she never hated me she only ever blamed herself for not seeing the signs and she's never been able to see my signs because i keep everything to myself and it terrifies her that she might miss something and she handles things poorly when she's scared and she gets too angry but fundamentally she's trying her absolute hardest to be a good mother and it wasn't always enough and i know i have to hold her at least partially accountable but also she's my mum and im her daughter and she always just wants to know if im okay and most of the time im not and somehow that feels like ive betrayed her

[gffa]

The Jedi are flawed. Obi-Wan has an entire movie when he's 25 where he's a snarky asshole sometimes, he hurts his friends sometimes. Qui-Gon is hypocritical in that he says, oh, I don't presume anything when he very much is presuming things and also treats his current Padawan roughly in favor of a new one. Jocasta is a little full of herself and her archive. Ahsoka takes 30+ years to get her shit together about what Anakin did, she routinely snaps at people for things that aren't their fault. Mace has a tense day and is brusque about it. Shaak doesn't immediately believe Fives. Kit can't get through to Nahdar about how he's handling the war. These are all flaws! They come from incredibly sympathetic places and I bet half of you are thinking of reasons why these actions aren't so bad, hell I've written essays in the past about why these are sympathetic places to be coming from, that it's entirely understandable why they act why they do! That's not the point I'm making here. The point is: they're still flaws and they make for more interesting characters, but that I don't believe they should be condemned for them. So many times "flawed" is meant as the same thing as "so we must think they're corrupt, arrogant people who everyone should be shaking their finger at" (often with a side bonus of "and that's why they fell" as if you can separate out that Sidious was going for genocide from the beginning, as if that wasn't always the shape of the story we're seeing). So many times, "You just can't admit your faves are flawed." When, no, I think the Jedi are flawed like I think Luke is flawed, like Leia is flawed, like Han is flawed, like Padme is flawed, like Bail is flawed. They all get to make mistakes, to miss things, to stumble, to have a frustrating day, to snap at someone out of turn, etc. I just don't think those flaws are worthy of condemnation and I don't think the Jedi's flaws are worthy of condemnation either.

[aphroditesmoon]

'cause I love this curse on our house

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: !THIS WAS A REQUEST THAT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED! the requester wanted a fic about clarisse and reader breaking up after an argument, and after months apart from eachother, reader appears at the ares cabin at 3am because she couldn't sleep without clarisse.

warnings: sparring violence, angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, fluff at the end.

a/n: im sooo sorry I accidentally deleted ur request😭🙏 but I hope this is to your liking, and thank you for your kind words🩷🎀

wc: 3.1k

"I never learned to lose a fight, I never learned to grow upright. this is who we are."

-back to you, flowerface

----

Clarisse wondered to herself, on whether or not you'd come running to her if she were to stake this spear through her chest.

Surely, you would? Sensible, independant and stubborn you.

She knew it'd take more than some flowers and half assed apology to get you to speak to her again, and with that knowledge in her head, she isn't sure what that would mean for your relationship.

Clarisse La Rue would rather die than be caught begging for your forgiveness. She would also consider maiming herself as a last resort for any problem she's ever had.

But it has been 3 months, and everyone knows about the 3 months rule.

3 months into dating, 3 months after a breakup. And yet so far, neither of you have tried to "happy new years" your way into eachother's life again.

It is a painful observation for the girl to make. And it's more painful for her to admit that she is at least 40% in the wrong.

That is the thing about the two of you, you become abrasive everytime you're upset, and Clarisse becomes confrontational everytime she is upset. On a normal day, those traits are opposite.

The truth was, Clarisse knew deep down how flawed she is as a person, and as a lover. She is a fighter at heart.

And though she'll admit, she's one of the best out there, being the daughter of a literal war god, but sometimes it feels like that's all she's good for. Does she want to love? Yes. Does she know how to? Not really.

She loves the early hours with you before everybody wakes up, trying to convince you to stay longer in her bed before you sneak out to avoid being noticed.

She loves the intimacy of your hands instinctively intertwining in a cabin party where the music is too loud and people are brushing against you in almost every corner as they try to dance or make their way out, and no one is paying attention to how her thumb caresses your knuckles.

She loves your lips, and how they feel around her neck as you bury your head in the crook of it from behind.

And at one point in the past, she loved how easy it was to be with you. Not the deep connection or understanding, but the way you wouldn't hold it against her if she were to pretend she didn't hear say hi as you walked past her. And how you didn't mind sneaking into her bed after midnight and the darkness becomes the only witness of your loving glances and tight embraces.

But Clarisse was quick to realize later on. that she might want more than that with you. It all felt impossible. Her reputation, her need to always look the toughest and never having a visible weakspot that might be used against her in the future.

And exposing you as her Achilles' heel, would mean that everything she's worked so hard for would break down into pieces the moment the news is out.

Her father already views her as a mistake. Something that could never be his. And for that she's had to work twice as hard as any of her siblings, and still be the least worthy in his eyes.

Were you worth risking all of that? She doesn't know. She doesn't think she ever will, now that it's all over.

And what about you?

What part did you play in cutting down the fragile line of rope the two of you had stood on?

Well, you were strong, opiniated, and rational. So fucking rational that it pissed her off. While she was losing her mind watching you laughing and giggling in the corner by a tree with some random dude that looked like he was birthed by a rat hybrid during the end of year party being held in camp. You were completely fine with not being with her.

Of course she knew that whatever going on between you two was a secret, but why were you so fine with it? Are you not affected by her the way she is with you?

"I'm playing the game by your rules, this is what you wanted." You had snapped at her after she dragged you away from your boring date into a secluded part into the forest. "This isn't a game." She had blurted out in frustration.

"Isn't it? Whenever you want me, I'm there. Whenever you don't, it's like I've never existed." And you were right. This was what she wanted. Despite herself and her feelings, this was how she treated you.

"We know we're together, why does anyone else needs to know that?" Clarisse asked instead of telling you what she really wanted to.

"Are you ashamed of me, Clarisse?" She could not answer your question. I'm ashamed of myself. She thought.

Can't you see? You are the only person who's been patient enough to wait for me, to stay with me. But then I'm looking for you in every crowd just to see that you don't even notice my absence.

Oh fuck it, in the end of the day, it would've never worked. Her thoughts countered againts one another.

Clarisse La Rue was born angry, all she ever knew to be, is angry. Her shortcomings is her inability to be gentle with those she loves the most, her need to break and rip every sensitive soul that has ever pitied her enough to try and pull out that ancient rage holed up in her chest.

"You were nothing without me. I found you, I gave you something to care about, something to anchor yourself to. Cause gods, you act like you don't give a shit, but you care so much that you make yourself believe that you don't care about being tossed aside, like it doesn't hurt you when I don't look twice on your way in front of other people."

The way she looked at you as she spat each and every word onto your face, was worse than the things she had actually said.

You scoffed at her, even with tears in your eyes, you glared at her and laughed out bitterly, refusing to sob or break under her stare.

"You know what your problem is, Clarisse?" You asked, even with the cracks in your voice, her spine shivered. "Indulge me." She forced out.

"You are so miserable, that you can't stand to see anyone else that isn't. You just need me to be pissed and devestated so you could feel better about yourself. Cause Gods forbid if you don't view your self worth on how less everyone else is." Clarisse says nothing, she knew you weren't finished.

"But I don't need to fuck over anyone else's life to know that I'm good. I'm perfectly fucking fine. I was fine before you, and I'll- I'll be fine after you." And there it was. That was where it all came crashing down.

Clarisse bad one second to say fuck all, to cut down all the bullshit. To admit that for once in her life, she was tired of fighting, and she had no clue what she's doing.

But as she opened her mouth to say it all, something in the shadow of her ego had restrained her tongue from speaking at all.

And so you watched her close her lips tight, and grieved then apology she never gave, the girl she couldn’t be for you. And then you left.

Everyone steered clear from Clarisse's way, unsure of what was getting on her nerves, and not caring enough to want to know.

And that night became the last time the two of you have ever spoke to eachother.

"Clarisse." Her brother's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He was in position with his spear.

"Aim for my chest, remember to move your feet like taught you." She instruced him, fixing her own stance. "Go."

The boy moves quickly, and just like she envisioned in her head for ten thousand times in the just a few minutes ago, her feet drags.and her hand slows down for a second- because all it took is a second for the spear to slash her chest, and slams her down on her back.

---

Growing up, you had always earned the title of the "easy" one. Compared to your step-siblings, you had caused the least problem, required the least attention, asked the least questions.

You always knew what to do. You took care of your siblings when your parent couldn't, you knew how to take care of them the way your parent would. You knew when to get things done before you were told to, you knew where the pills were whenever you weren't feeling where. And you knew which secrets were better kept to yourself.

That one doesn't need watching over, they'd say about you. Even as you're being sent over to camp quick enough before the monsters acended, you were still not worth being worried over.

Someone who takes care of others so well, sure knows how to take care of themselves, right? Right.

Of course you're self sufficient, of course even know, you know where to find medication before your sickness gets worse. Or course even now, you know just the right things to tell people so you'd be left alone.

That was the bright side of raising yourself and growing up in an environment that made you feel so alone, you get used to the silence as the company gets smaller and smaller.

But no one ever said that loneliness felt good, even as a person who's found comfort in it. Because the truth of it, is that it's the sinking feeling in your stomach that you get addicted to. It is the repetitive cycle of breaking down that feels like home, because that's the only constant thing that have prevailed in your life.

What Clarisse had given you, with her presence, her rare tenderness and welcoming touches, was something new that had altered your entire defense system. Hope. She had given you hope.

And as you stood in the house that fell all over you, surviving the damage just like you always do. You realised just how stupid you were to even think that this time it would be different.

The news of Clarisse's injury spread like wildfire. And after repressing your emotions for the longest time, you felt your chest tightening from a familiar feeling.

Clarisse have taken blows before, but never this bad, never this serious. You know that she'd heal in time, but it doesn't stop you from worrying.

How could she be so stupid and careless? Being slammed down by a younger sibling nonetheless. Even if she has no regard for her physical safety, she must have one for her pride.

She's never so easily distracted or foolish, this injury and including her little spear incident has been looked upon by others as a moment of weakness for her. They are starting to wonder if Clarisse was ever that competent in the first place, or if she has just been making it look like she is.

You tossed and turned on your bed. The sheets don't feel right against your skin. It must be the heat, you tell yourself. It must be the heat because it cannot be the deprivation of Clarisse's cold skin from yours.

Demigods do not medicate the same way mortals do, and yet without anyone knowing, you've been swallowing down melatonin almost every night to be able to fall asleep.

It's not easy to get, the last hidden stock of it from the medical room finished 3 nights ago. And if no one had noticed your sleeping problems before, they do now because of your visible under eye bags.

Your hands have been shaking, a side effect of mortal drugs. It has also been making you more jumpy, anxious.

The worst of it all is how all those symptoms only worsens your sleeping problems now. As if seasonal depression itself isn't bad enough, now you're capable of staying up all night revisiting old haunting memories.

It's easy to distract yourself in the day with all the training and learning to do.

But no one survives the cruel coldness that the night presents itself with. When your only friend is the empty ceiling staring back down at you, and the only kind of blanket you want are the ones that feels like her arms.

It was ironic, you still wanted her the way a kicked dog would still roll over if asked to.

You had left her with your head held up high. But only the gods know how low to the ground you'd kneel down to for her to look at you again the way she used to.

If she had wanted you more lenient, then she could've just asked. If she had needed you to need her more then you would've begged for her if she would've just told you.

Pushing aside the soft material of your blanket off of you, your feet barely makes a sound as you tiptoed to the door to exit your cabin.

You told yourself you don't really know where you're going. But you moved in the same way you had 3 months ago, the road is memorized, the pace is as similar, and the yearning is twice as strong.

The moom followed you from above, lightimg the way as you walked on the ground from the pavements to patches of grass.

When you found yourself in front of the Ares cabin, you truly asked yourself if you have even an ounce of shame or sense left in your head. The answer was none, all that lived inside of you was dread, ever growing. The last straw before the breaking.

The last chance that looks a little too late to be taking for.

And yet as you pull open the door ever so slightly the way you used to, you feel it being held static before a creaking noise could be made. And like memories you've seen flashing in your mind multiple times before, your eyes meet Clarisse's.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing up?"

You spoke at the same time as her. Both of you looked as surprised as the other.

As you took in eachother's appearance, Clarisse looks at you expectedly, considering that you are the one who isn't at your cabin. "I...wanted to see you."

Her expression changes slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Weird hour to visit." She noted. "Weird hour to be up by the door after you're slashed on the chest by a spear."

The two of you stared at eachother in silence before you notice Clarisse's chest heaving as she breathed out a low sigh. "Do you want to come in?" She whispered out to you. You nod your head once and waited for her to move aside so you could be let in.

Naturally, your hand found hers. She clasped her fingers over yours without a question as the two of you walked towards her bed.

Sitting dowm side by side, you eye the outline of her face closely in the dark, some sort of relief is released in your chest. "How bad is the damage?" You asked slowly. You almost reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, but caught yourself.

"Could've been worse." Was her response.

"Does it hurt right now?" You inquired again. You hear her inhale sharply and wondered if breathing was hard for her. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure what else to tell her. To know that she was in pain had hurt you as well, but a larger part of you did not really care for her injury. Only now do you realise how much being away from her have affected you.

Now, in much closer proximity, your breathing fans her skin, the back of her hand touching yours, and her eyes unmoving from yours, do you realise just how much you needed Clarisse La Rue.

"It doesn't hurt as much as having to watch you leave." She spoke those words in a hushed whisper, meant only for your ears. If only dhe has been a little louder. You would've been able to hear the halt in the back of her throat. "No?" You whispered back to her. "No."

"I wouldn't have left, if you would've just asked me to stay."

"I know. I know you would." She mutters it affectionately, the cold shoulder already gone. "I know you would...you've always been good to me."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and held your tears in. "Then why didn't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "I'm never good to you."

You frowned at her reply, feeling a jolt of anger striking through you. "But you could be. Why won't you be good to me, Clarisse?" Water gathered in your eyes, your primise yo refrain from crying broken.

"I would give you anything. I would give you my life. Could you just be good to me, Clarisse?" You told yourself that you wouldn't ask this question again, no matter how much of a dog you feel like, you won't force her to give you a bone.

And so with a tear running down your cheek, you looked up at her pleadingly and thought, please, see me, want me, love me. Need me the way I need you.

Her forehead softly rests againts yours, and you hear her then, mumbling."I could be good. I could be good to you."

Her thumb finds the wet streak on your face and wipes it off. "I want to be good to you."

"Then do that. It's that easy." She shakes her head lightly, making your frown deepens. "I've had to be this person that everyone expects me to be, because of my father, and my siblings. Sometimes giving in, feels like it could be death itself. Sweet dreams before you wake up in hell. That's what it feels like trying to be the person you want me to be. Punishment worthy."

"But it isn't death, Clarisse. Not just because someone else thinks it should be.

- Not just because your father thinks so."

"I know." She answers with a more reassuring tone.

"I haven't been able to sleep without you." You tell her out of obligation. "I can tell." She joked, the both of you chuckled lightly.

Clarisse then crawled over her bed to lie down and tugged you by your sleeve to find your place in her embrace again.

Laying your head above the area her chest was struck on, her beating heart becomes your lullaby. You fell asleep soon after, with your legs tangled together under the covers. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Because the worst was over.

[vendetta-if]

So, question about Yvette. Did she ever want to be a mother? It's definitely implied that the pregnancy was unplanned.

I'm curious if she went through with the pregnancy because Viktor was willing/wanted to raise MC, or if Yvette got cold feet after their birth.

I'm always mixed about Yvette, her choice to not be involved in MC's life was certainly selfish, but no one should be forced to become a parent, especially if the child in question will be taken care of.

From what I’ve seen so far, I think a lot of readers also didn’t really have a problem with her not wanting to be a mother because she didn’t want to, but they seemed to mostly dislike her after she humiliated MC in the store 😔 Anyway, I’ll take the chance to kind of explain more about Yvette’s line of thoughts when she found out that she was pregnant, so it’ll be a bit long.

At that time, she was not ready to become a mother and wanted to focus fully on her career. She did decide to go through with the pregnancy because Viktor begged her to keep the baby and promised that he would take care and raise the baby all by himself—he wouldn’t try to pester or get her to get involved whatsoever in the baby’s life.

And Yvette agreed to it because she loved him a lot… and she was also aware that this hidden relationship between her and Viktor was already coming to an end, especially now that she got pregnant. She knew she couldn’t keep stringing Viktor along like that, and as painful as it was for the two of them, the relationship had to come to an end.

To her, agreeing to giving birth to MC was one last grand gesture of love for Viktor before they went on their separate ways in life.

Selfishly enough—and this is not something that she would admit even to herself—she was also hoping that raising MC would kind of make it harder for Viktor to try start another serious relationship and fully move on as she already established herself as the mother of his child, and that MC would also be something for Viktor to remember her by.

Deep down, she’s still in love with Viktor and she kind of secretly held out hope that Viktor would keep waiting for her, for when her superhero career was finally at its peak and fully stable so she could potentially return to him.

I’ve touched upon this before, but I feel one of Yvette’s biggest flaws is that she just couldn’t choose and wanted to eat her cake and have it too. She kept her relationship with Viktor a secret because she didn’t want to jeopardize her career. And when that failed and she was forced to choose, she still tried to think of a way to get that back in the future.

Yes, young her was selfish and only thought of what’s best for her and what she wanted. Maybe it’s a product of her upbringing. She was born an only child to a wealthy family and if her charisma and beauty alone were not enough to charm people around her growing up, she has her Empathy power.

But I do believe that she did quite a lot of growing up and self-introspection since then, especially after the bookstore incident with MC and Viktor’s death. She is still far from perfect but she’s also not the person she was 20 years ago.

Also, ironically enough, her hope of Viktor having a hard time moving on from her because of MC turned out to be the opposite. Viktor actually moved on and got over most of his feelings for her because he was so focused and happy raising MC, making them his number one priority in life.

During the first few years after MC was born, Viktor still kept contact with her, meeting her every couple of weeks or so and during these meetings, Viktor would tell stories about MC and even showed her some baby pics. Eventually, that became less and less frequent until it finally stopped altogether as Viktor became more preoccupied with raising MC, and Yvette with her career.

[blues-valentine]

The thing is, Paxton was a great first boyfriend for Devi but it was never meant to be. He represents a different Devi, the high school part of her that wanted to fulfill dreams for external validation. Dreams that she has simply outgrow and she can allow herself to admit that now because her dreams have evolved. In another life, one in which Devi didn’t idealize him, maybe they could’ve worked but Devi was not in love with Paxton. She was attracted to a romanticized idea of him. That’s always been the problem with their relationship, the fact she always saw him as a symbolic dream, her rise to popularity — a thing she thought would give her the self love and normalcy she craved. Once she dated him, lost him, got over him, got to do some evolving herself, and was able to date outside of her bubble, her feelings for him weren’t there anymore simply because they were not longer under those rose colored lenses. She was able to recognize what has been there the whole time. Devi wasn’t longing for Paxton. Not in the ways she has longed for Ben, because the Paxton she wanted was someone she made up in her head. And Ben has always been the real deal for her. Her nemesis, her academic rival, her friend, her ex, her boyfriend. Devi, just like Paxton, deserve someone that makes you feel all the emotions, all the stomach knots and that crazy passion.

As Devi said, Paxton was a good boyfriend, but a much better friend to her. I like their closure. I like that they were able to cherish the influence in each other's lives while moving into new things for them. Things that are better suited for what they want from life. Not all relationships are meant to be and that doesn't diminish it.

Then there’s Ben. If anything showed this season is that she loves him irrevocably, with all his good thing and bad qualities too. And Ben despite all his dumbness this season, he loves Devi. There's no one else for him. He could date all the cool girls and Devi would still be the one for him. They’re the type of love Trent described on Season 3. “We rile each other up and then we love each other.” Ben and Devi are soulmates. They fit in a way that they appreciate each other's drive, weirdness and unattractive qualities. Devi is so herself with him and Ben was never a fantasy, he was a very tangible person that has a lot of flaws and a lot of that grow (for her and Ben) had to be individual before coming together. And they'll continue growing together.

The romantic themes of the show have always been very clear. It's about what Devi thinks she needs to be normal vs the things she will realize she wants and fullfills her. She got all of the things she wanted in the pilot, the difference is that pilot Devi asked for those things to satisfy an external filter but she not longer craves that because she has grown. Devi ended the show happy and fulfilled with her life, in her dream school, comfortable with herself, her culture. Devi could've perfectly ended up alone and that would have been totally okay too but Devi loves love and I'm happy she got exactly that.

[spadesolace]

drag me down: adore you

synopsis: pham hanni hates park y/n. that's the story, that's where your relationship is based off. she doesn't hate you - she never did and coming to terms with those feelings have been challenging as she tries to catch up to you.

words: 2.1k

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When Hanni first met you, it felt as if her life was being sucked out by your presence. A face that makes anyone swoon over, along with the brains that Hanni envies – who wouldn’t be if the new student is academically gifted. It didn’t help that your teacher seems to know everything about your background as a student let alone how little information you had given.

She never thought of you as a threat before, but with such name and title, the possibility of taking her spot that she has worked so hard for. She despised you from there on out.

Not a single day came where she had to do better, work harder, as she watches you do your own thing. Everything you did made her feel a slow burning sensation in her body. It became hard once you showed interest that was deemed playful, rather than the typical shouting at each other and getting the other mad. You were playfully flirting with her.

Hanni doesn’t remember when it started or how it started but the burning sensation was slowly turning into butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to hate you, the need to hate you and not the idea that whatever she was feeling to take control. That was why she agreed to Jungwon courting her, maybe she just likes the attention you’re giving her and not the possibility of actually taking a liking to you.

She never truly hated you – it was all an act to make sure to not fall for you.

With parents like Hanni’s, everything she is given must be taken with precaution. One that showcases fake smiles, laughter that has been practised to perfection, and the ability to blend in at any given scenario. She simply can’t be reckless, do the things she loves without thinking of the possible consequences, and run straight on to any given scenario.

She can’t risk it.

Then you came.

Everything that was little Ms. Perfect, that was Pham Hanni, was thrown out of the window. She became reckless with starting petty fights with you, annoying you by singing her favourite songs just so she could see your reaction, and just being herself whenever she’s with you. There was something about the little rivalry between the pair that made her believe that she could let loose – she saw perfection in your entire being only to realise there are flaws that she chose to ignore. Still, she always corrects you.

The most reckless thing she has done always involved you. Accusing you of cheating as Sunoo made sure that either one of your reputations would be ruined for his own personal reasons or how she’s become more and more unsure of whether she should act as if she hates you or admit her feelings.

Hanni avoids the kitchen at home as much as possible or a specific area by the parking lot. The scene keeps playing in her head whenever she goes to the kitchen and she stands by the sink. How she’ll stand by that same spot as she watches you walk away from her every time for the past two weeks.

Remembering the way you wrapped your arm around her waist, how soft and smooth your face is, and how your perfume makes her feel intoxicated. It’s just a memory now, one she replays on repeat as if it's a broken track. What if she had kissed you? What if she wasn’t afraid to admit that you occupy her mind so much that it became the reason why she hates you? What if she never said yes to Jungwon courting her?

Would you be dating by now?

Would things change for the better?

Pham Hanni never hated you – she likes you.

That was where Hanni landed as you continue to avoid her, she’s just glad to have you back in your old spot as Chaewon fought you to make sure that her crush would sit next to her rather than hearing you wallow about missing Hanni. It started slow, something about her changed as she became more like the Hanni you grew to adore in private.

Hanni made sure that you would feel loved or that she doesn’t hate you. From the little gifts of sweets on your desk as you always arrive late, or the little notes in your notebook after lunch, or how Hanni has slowly sat closer to you. It has become harder to avoid the girl.

“Does anyone want candies?” Chaewon looked at you as if you’re crazy, handing her a piece of candy that Hanni had given you in front of her. Watching as you gave your friends the sweets you had gotten that day as if you were truly insane.

To them it was Hanni’s attempt to make things better, avoid any bad blood before college but things have become difficult on your end. Chaewon admitted that you weren’t even talking to Hanni in your clubs together, debate club became boring without rebuttals coming from the pair, or how the student council doesn’t have their honorary member that would mess with Hanni to keep things light.

Even her little attempts of talking to you or trying to be more open such as trying to intertwine your pinkies as you fidget with your ring. Slowly showing signs in your interests and even cheering you on during practice as you question why she’s not in the student council office finalising the paperwork needed for the ball.

“Didn’t know Hanni is your girlfriend?” In the bleachers was Hanni waving at you with the biggest smile on her face as you looked confused at her and questioned why she suddenly acts like she doesn’t hate your guts and wanted to kick you on multiple occasions.

“Yunjin, what the actual fuck?”

“What? You can’t keep avoiding her.”

That was the problem, at any given opportunity you’re running away from Hanni. Even after she left an energy drink in your locker with a note that makes you cringe and run away because this is not the same Pham Hanni from years ago that accused you of cheating and annoys you whenever and however. She hates how you’re slowly fixing your uniform so as to not let her fix it or be near her in any way despite being seatmates and partners in your project. Even when she visits the cafe, you act like you’re taking a break as you hide in the storage room where you’re freezing to death and hope that she leaves once you come out. She doesn’t.

Hanni is now frustrated at you as if everything that had happened was thrown out the window and she doesn’t understand why you’re like that. She just watches you from afar and even if you’re close it still feels so far from reach that you keep on running away and avoiding the issue that

Hanni likes you. You like her.

It didn’t help that Jungwon took this opportunity to talk to her more. Hanni could only observe the way your hands would close tightly, scoffing at every single pick up line Jungwon would say and how he’s too close to your liking. She doesn’t understand why you’re giving such reactions like that when you’ve been avoiding her all this time.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Hanni.” Hanni was zoning out as she watches you clearly within earshot slowly tensing by Jungwon that was too close to comfort and there was nothing you could do.

“Will you go to the grad ball with me?” Everything moved fast, Hanni rejecting Jungwon’s offer as Y/N merely sat there processing what she had heard. Silence, you could only hear your heart racing as you turn around to face the two, hoping it isn’t a dream.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said no. This whole courting thing? I'm done. I’m sorry but I just don’t see a future with you.” Hanni was free, Jungwon is no longer in the picture of their so-called relationship. Your heart could only beat faster as you watched Hanni walk away.

Everything moved fast as Hanni packed her stuff and left Jungwon standing like an idiot and Y/N running after her as everyone watched it unfold. Chaewon could only smile at her friend who finally is doing something with her feelings and not avoiding the girl who has been occupying her heart since they had first met.

Running away seemed like the only option you had once in front of Hanni – funny how you ran to talk to her only to keep running and avoiding her.

You hate how your heart beats faster when she’s near.

She hates that you’re making her insane by deflecting the issue.

She chases you. Slowly reaching for your hoodie as you run away and towards somewhere that she couldn’t find you. The perks of being a soccer player was that you’re fast but you learned never to underestimate Hanni, not when you’ve reached a dead end and she’s in front of you.

Standing close to you, holding your hoodie and pulling on it harshly just so you won’t run away from her. When was the last time you were this close to her? When was the last time you smelled her perfume and looked at her eyes without looking away and thinking you don’t deserve to be in the same proximity as her? When did Pham Hanni start to look at you the same way you’ve been looking at her for years?

“I’m tired of your games, Park.” Frustrated. She’s frustrated at you and who wouldn’t when her efforts are being thrown out of the window. Looking at her eyes that are on the brink of letting the tears fall as her hold on your hoodie slowly loosens. Weeks of avoiding each other and there you simply stand.

Hanni caresses your cheek, you don’t know when the tears start to flow as her hands slowly turn into fist and hit you as she lets her frustration out. You simply let her as she progressively hits you harder only to stop and cry onto your hoodie. Holding her at an abandoned hallway where she cries in your arms whispering profanities your way and letting everything out.

“I miss your stupid little banters. I miss your messed up uniform. I miss how you would correct me in the debate club. I miss how you would subtly let me borrow your hoodie without me asking. I miss your scent or how soft your hand is and how you hold onto me like what you’re doing right now. I hate that I miss you.”

“I missed you too, Pham.” The thing with Hanni, she’s perfect – ask anyone and they’ll agree. It’s different if they ask you, knowing her flaws and accepting her as she is despite the fact that she has been acting all these years as the Ms. Perfect student.

Pham Hanni is just like you – in a world where everyone’s eyes are on you, there is no choice but to act like someone you aren’t.

“I hate you, Y/N.”

“I hate you too, Hanni.”

At the end of the hallway where you two stood, Hanni doesn’t remember how it came to this. She’s holding onto you as you caress her back to calm her down and whispering sweet nothings as things settle between you two.

“I hate that I’m starting to fall for you, Park.” Hanni hears you laughing and how she missed being the reason for that. She snuggles deeper onto you as hold onto her tightly letting your actions do the talking.

“I’m here to catch you, Pham.”

You made sure that Hanni heard you clearly as you stood there in silence. Even teasing you as she tucked your hair behind your ear to see how red they were.

“Your ears are so red.”

“Shut up.”

Even when the bell rang all you could do was walk back together and act as if Hanni didn’t pour her heart out to you. She finally sits closer to you as the rebuttals start coming back with a smile on your face as you compare scores and discuss lessons as if you didn’t avoid her for an entire month.

“Hm.. any music recommendation?” You looked at Hanni while she finalised the paperwork at the student council office. 

“You’re gonna hate me for recommending Harry Styles.”

“I won’t. I never did.”

As you two work together in your own things, with the comfort of the student council office with Adore You playing softly in the background. Hanni looks at you as she sings the chorus without you knowing it’s directed at you.

“Just let me adore you.”

[hunny-beann]

Hi! I love love love your first fic and your portrayal of dream!

Could I request two prompts from your hurt/comfort prompts? Specifically number 11 and number 52?

No Greater Patience

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! tysm for the request, I hope you enjoy the fic!

synopsis:

Prior to his century long captivity, Morpheus and his wife have an argument so disastrous that even after regaining his freedom over one hundred years later, he still questions whether or not he has the right to seek her out.

And yet, the yearning of an Endless is not so easily ignored by the mind, and he soon finds that regardless of his conscious thoughts, all roads lead back to her.

To you.

Prompts:

(hurt/comfort list here)

#11: Please don’t go. #52: I kept this for you while you were away // It’s been two years // I know

Warnings: A once unhappy marriage(?), is Dream himself a warning? Because he still should be.

Word Count: 4,014

Having the opportunity to visit with Death again had been nice.

Far nicer in fact, than the Lord of Dreams would ever willingly admit aloud.

She had always understood him in a way that none of his other siblings ever seemed to manage, and she was far too aware of his flaws and his past to allow him to continue his typical path of avoidance without a bit of a challenge.

Of course, there had been many a time where that had been less than ideal, particularly when Dream had little interest in dealing with those things, big and large, that always seemed to haunt him so.

Still, it was nice to be reminded of the topics and people that he had neglected to consider throughout his time held captive, like Hob Gadling for example, who Dream was now almost eagerly planning to visit at his earliest convenience.

And perhaps he would have headed off sooner, had it not been for Death's one lingering question regarding her brother's personal relationships...

"Dream?"

She had asked just after he had stepped away upon making his intentions of setting off to visit Hob clear.

Slowly, hesitantly, the individual in question turned to face his sister in response, one brow cocked in question to make up for his persistent silence.

Death sighed a bit, almost looking a little unsure before she finally continued upon realizing how little time she truly had for this particular conversation.

She had a rather important deadline to make, after all.

"Have you seen her?"

She asked gently, a sort of pity in her gaze that immediately made the being standing in front of her bristle in response, forcing down the slowly increasing feeling of anger within him as he closed his eyes and took a single deep breath before opening them once more to find her still standing there, waiting.

He shook his head.

"No. Our last conversation was... less than amicable, and was several weeks prior to my disappearance."

Death took a few steps closer, and placed a hand upon Dream's shoulder, watching him fight off the urge to step away, clearly trying his best not to end their interaction on a negative note.

"Then maybe you should consider seeing her as well. Last we spoke she wanted to ask about you, I could feel it, I just didn't want to push-"

"Sister."

Dream interrupted her, his voice not unkind, but still rather stern, at least as much so as politeness would allow.

"She made it quite clear during our last conversation how little interest she had in seeing me again. I would not think it appropriate for me to seek her out in spite of that."

Death sighed, but removed her hand from her brother's shoulder, watching as he nodded toward her in farewell before beginning to move away once more.

Still, no matter how gently she had attempted to address the tense topic, Death was still an older sister, and how could she possibly call herself by such a title if she didn't do some teasing from time to time?

"You cannot avoid the wife forever, dear brother! Do not forget, you are bound to her until I come to collect!"

Dream rolled his eyes, and though Death could not see that particular movement, she could see the way that his shoulders shifted slightly as he chuckled to himself, his head shaking from side to side as he walked off to attend to his own personal duties.

Except several hours and a visit with Hob later, he found that he could do no such thing, as his mind was far too wrapped up with thoughts of his wife.

Thoughts of you.

He had always loved you after all, hadn't he?

You, a deity worshiped into existence by humans, meant to embody nourishment and nurturing, as that found in the relationship between a mother and child, or an owner and their pet.

You were unending and fierce loyalty, the fire in the pit of the stomach, and the gentle hand clutching that of a child during an afternoon walk in the woods, setting them on the right path while never disallowing an opportunity for adventure.

You were beautiful.

And so very deserving of a type of love that Dream had simply been unable to give you.

Sure, he had always been polite, and at times even kind, but considerate was not an adjective that any would have used to describe him, nor his relationship that he shared with you.

Still, you had found it within yourself to love him anyway.

He was cold, calculating, blunt, quiet, and scrutinizing. Dream saw all, every flaw and every weakness, and though it was a rarity that he would point them out aloud without prompting, it was difficult to know just how much he truly saw whenever he looked at you.

That said, none of that had ever seemed to bother you beyond what you could manage.

You enjoyed his company, particularly back when the Dreaming had been slightly less complex, and he had been able to provide you with conversations and time, both things that he would eventually cease to have very much of as the waking world began to shift and change, thus requiring the evolution of the Dreaming as well.

More people meant more dreaming, and more dreaming meant more of the Dream Lord's attention.

And what he had neglected to realize at the time, was that you were the very first thing to lose his affections, his thoughts, and his actions.

It was as if you had always been expendable without ever truly knowing it until he was long gone, a slight indent in the bed that was only ever filled after you went to sleep and before you woke up, leaving you the possessor of both of your rings as day after day he forgot his on the bedside table until it was nothing more than a habit long forgotten.

Where you had once been the love of The Dream Lord, it now appeared that you were his wife in name and nothing more, and though it stung, you had stuck to your duties for far longer than Dream ever would have allowed you to now.

You had always deserved better, even before the being had shifted his attention's elsewhere, and even if he had not known that then, he could so clearly understand it now.

You had never given up on him, not even when nearly all of your interactions seemed to end in dismissals on his part, or arguments due to his seemingly constant exasperation in general. You wanted your husband back, but he wanted to be the Dream Lord far more than he ever wanted to be a husband at that time.

And maybe he had felt that way, sure, but he never should have said it, at least not in the way that he did.

Because he had seen the way that your face fell and your eyes grew teary. Of course he had, he saw all.

But in spite of that fact, he did not go after you when you rushed off to be alone for the one thousandth time.

And the next time that he saw you, you had approached him at his throne in the evening, and quietly, meekly, in a voice he had never heard you use before, asked for a divorce.

You had looked defeated in a way that Dream had found himself surprised by, eyes shadowed, gaze cast downward, and skin slightly paler than usual in spite of how impossible it would be for you to have taken ill due to your godly status.

And any husband, or at least any good one, would have asked you what was wrong, or what had driven you to wanting to leave so suddenly.

But Dream had not been a good husband, so he had simply grown frustrated with you.

He had accused you of being attention seeking for your "childish behaviors", called your attempts at appealing to his emotions laughable, and had all but sneered in the face of your desires.

You were, after all, the Lady of Dreams, everyone knew you as such, and the idea that you could abandon such a title? It was nearly as unthinkable as him leaving his.

His creations, nightmares and dreams alike, adored you, his siblings, (or rather those of whom that cared), seemed to enjoy or at least tolerate your presence when necessary, and most importantly of all, the Dream Lord could not imagine a world within which you were no longer his wife.

It had been centuries since your marriage, and over a thousand years of knowing you prior to that, after all.

It was almost as if he thought of you as his after all of the time of you living within his shadow as nothing more than a figurehead, the wife of a powerful being who was seldom paid any attention to by the very "man" that she had married.

But to Dream's surprise, if your actions had been for attention, you were all too keen on taking things even further, because when he made these accusations in his usual uncaring and borderline insulting tone, you had shouted at him for the very first time that he could recollect.

"It hurts!"

You had cried, eyes brimming with unexpected tears of both anger and sadness,

"It hurts to know that you see me each day without ever truly seeing me, that you call me your wife while scarcely knowing who I am anymore. If me donning the title of Lady of Dreams is so important to you Lord Morpheus, then fine, call me what you will, but know that I do not consider myself your spouse anymore, and have no intentions of staying here in this suffocating realm with you any longer."

And with that, you had gone, and The Lord of Dreams had not seen you since.

Though he had thought about you plenty, as unwilling as he was to admit it.

Your words had gotten to him, though most primarily when he had been trapped for so very long, forced to consider his past actions and mull over all that he had endured throughout the passage of time in spite of how little it was meant to impact him.

You were his wife still, sure, but now only in name, and over a century had passed since he had last heard your voice or seen your face.

Were you still worshiped as you had once been? Did his nightmares and his dreams know where you were? Had you thought of him or thought to visit the Dreaming in his absence? Had you even known that he had vanished in the manner that he did?

All of these questions coursed through his mind, and thoughtlessly, without even realizing it, he brought himself back to where he subconsciously knew that you would be.

Your home.

Nestled deep within the woods of the waking world, in a rural town within a country rather sparsely inhabited, you still resided, unsurprisingly, to this day, and as Dream approached your door for the first time in centuries, he stopped himself before he could raise a fist to knock on the sturdy old wood.

What was he doing here, bothering you after so very long of giving you the space that you so desired?

Had he not made a promise to himself that he would leave you be now that he understood all that he had done to you? All that he had deprived you of by trapping a being such as yourself in a marriage as loveless as yours had been?

At that line of internal questioning, Dream sighed, and turned to leave, only to hear the door swing open behind him just as he did so, a gasp filling the air behind his back before he quickly spun to face the source of the sound.

There you were, a giggling and bouncing baby at your hip, with a bottle in your hand, staring at the personification of dreams with eyes that were beginning to brim ever so slightly with tears.

"Please, don't go."

You whispered, causing the Dream Lord's eyes to widen ever so slightly,

"I need to talk to you."

And much to his surprise, Dream was quick to oblige, stepping into your abode in only a few simple strides, taking in the familiar yet so very changed space and atmosphere found within the walls of your home.

This was where he had met you well over a thousand years ago by happenstance, though he knew all too well deep down that all things happened for a reason, and that his meeting with you had been preordained by his eldest sibling and the stars long before the humans that had created you had even existed.

It was peaceful here, in the deeper woods with you, in your fire-heated home so hidden from view.

Or maybe, it was you who brought on that familiar peace, you who made his physical form relax in spite of how tireless it was meant to be.

He did not linger on such a thought for very long, for fear of what he might come to realize.

"You look well."

He said almost timidly, eyes cast downward and body language tense as he tried not to consider how similarly you looked even still to the last time that he'd seen you.

Beautiful, as always.

You sighed in response, wrestling a lightly chiming metal pendant out of the hand of the child in your grasp before tucking it into your shirt and away from view.

"With all due respect, my lord, I have absolutely no interest in small talk."

You said quietly, watching as Dream raised his gaze to look at you once more, eyes following intently as you shifted the child at your hip slightly, eyes still not entirely rid of the tears that had so clearly threatened to fall upon the sight of him.

"You disappeared."

You stated in a whisper, sounding almost defeated even as Dream nodded in reply,

"I did."

He said.

You sighed again, and looked down at the child, gaze softening slightly as you raised the prepared bottle to it's lips, watching as it started to suckle with delight, chubby limbs wiggling within your grasp, though you notably did not falter.

You never did, you were far too good with children, a fact that Dream had always felt unsettled by.

He was discernibly not a family man, particularly back when he had married you, and the idea that you were meant for something outside of what he could comfortably provide you with...

"And now you're back."

You said matter of factly, using that same tone as before as the being in front of you was snapped out of his reverie at the familiar sound of your voice, his reaction instantaneous.

"I am."

He said simply, watching as you looked up at him once more, tears spilling slightly in a way that for a moment, caused him to freeze up entirely.

You had never been one for crying, not even throughout the many years where he had harmed you through his lack of attention and desire. What could it have been, here and now that would bring you to such tears upon his simple words?

He moved after a moment, almost instinctively, to stand before you, some longing once believed to be long lost within him bubbling to the surface as he raised both hands to your face, cupping your cheeks in order to wipe your tears away with almost trembling thumbs that had nearly forgotten the once worshiped feeling of your skin beneath their pads.

You sighed shakily, looking him in the eyes for one of the very first times that day as you shook your head slightly,

"How could you do such a thing to me, Dream? How could you vanish so entirely without a word to me or anyone that you knew would be worried for you? How could you turn up here so casually and think to turn away and leave without letting me see the realness of you for myself?"

The Lord of Dreams looked down at you with sadness in his eyes, and moved to shake his own head in response, his hands still soft and warm against your skin.

Alive.

"I did not choose to leave, my dear."

He all but murmured, the familiar nickname he had once used for you finding his lips as naturally as water did a spring,

"And I did not think you desired to see me again after our last interaction. Coming here, it was not something I thought to do. I simply did."

You gazed up at him incredulously still stuck on that first part of his statement,

"What do you mean you did not choose to leave, Morpheus?"

You whispered, horror seeping into your tone as the being in front of you faltered, before finally speaking, shame present in every word that he spoke.

"I was captured by a human, and held against my will for over a century. My freedom, as it stands currently, is new. I did not choose to leave and stay away from my duties, I assure you."

You let out a choked and humorless sounding laugh, shaking your head even further,

"And what you consider upon your exit from such a hell is not of who you want to see, but who may wish to see you? Where has my selfish King of Dream's gone?"

You asked, voice slight and smile lopsided as Morpheus sighed and thoughtlessly traced the curves of your lips with his thumb, finding much to his surprise that the shape remained familiar even to this day.

"I was not fair to you, dear wife, not for a very long time. If nothing else, I wanted to know that I had at least respected your wishes for space, though even that may have been self serving."

You adjusted the child on your hip, before you raised your hand up to your husband's, ignoring the slight way that he shivered beneath your touch.

"Whatever do you mean, King of Dreams?"

You whispered, watching as Morpheus gave a humorless sounding chuckle of his own.

"I mean that even today, I could not bear to call you anything besides my wife. I mean that by avoiding you entirely, and calling that your wish, I am able to ignore the fact that I am still not strong enough to give you the end to our union that you so justly requested. I do not wish to lose you in that way, even if I have lost you in all others."

You hummed softly in response, smile growing gently as you removed his hand from your face, giving him a glance that had him dropping the other to his side before you guided him to your sofa, where you sat the two of you down, you with a child upon your lap, and him with nothing but his most bare self, vulnerable in a way he had not felt since he had been so plainly naked behind glass for what had felt like all of man to see.

Seeking out a distraction, Dream looked down toward the child sitting upon your lap, before moving his gaze back up to yours again.

"The child..."

He began, and immediately, you shook your head,

"He is not mine. I found him roaming the woods a few days back, and have yet to find his mother, even after stopping by the nearest town. I'm hoping to hear word of someone searching for him soon."

You said casually, watching with gleaming eyes as the child took your finger and clasped it within his chubby little fist, his grin revealing his few teeth, just barely poking out from beneath his gums.

Dream could not help but smile softly along with him, though his was merely a shadow compared to that of the child sitting atop your legs.

"I see..."

He replied, and you gazed toward him with noted amusement,

"Were you worried that I had stepped outside of our marriage, Lord Morpheus?"

You teased, watching as the man in front of you rolled his eyes before responding.

"No, I was more hoping than anything else. If you had moved on, then I might find it easier now to do the same."

You looked up at him upon hearing those words, before reaching down to place the small child on the floor in front of you with a sigh, thus allowing you to better face the being sitting at your side.

"And why is it that you are so eager to move past me, dear husband?"

You watched as Dream cast his gaze downward, eyes trained on the child playing nearby in spite of the fact that you could tell his mind was far away indeed, off somewhere that you could not follow, deeply considering every event he'd ever endured in search of an answer to your question.

How nice it must have been, to be so knowledgeable.

"If I were to move past you, wife, then I might finally be able to let you go, and if I managed to do such a thing, it would be far more feasible that you could truly hope to be rid of me someday."

You sighed, and reached for the hands of the individual that you had once known so well, and perhaps even did still, causing him to look up at you in surprise at the sudden contact.

"And if I do not want to be rid of you, dear Morpheus? If I said that after a century I have found it within myself to forgive you for the husband you once were in favor of learning what husband you could be now?"

You watched as the being sitting in front of you stared for a moment, as if in complete and utter disbelief, before he slowly began shaking his head, the corner of his lips raising ever so slightly as he leaned in to press his forehead against your own,

"Then I would say that I have known no greater patience than that of my dear wife."

He murmured, causing you to laugh quietly with a subtle roll of your eyes before you reached upward, pulling a pendant on a chain out from where it had been hidden beneath the collar of your shirt.

Dream watched curiously, not entirely sure of what you were doing, until suddenly you yanked at the chain with such force that it snapped in the back, causing either end of it to come tumbling forward into your palm.

Dream raised a brow in response to your actions, but remained silent, seeing in your eyes that you were all too eager to explain, the glint there unsubtle in a way that he was immensely familiar with.

"I kept this for you while you were away"

You stated casually as you pulled one of two clinking pieces of metal off of the chain, revealing to Dream a sight he had never anticipated having the privilege of viewing again.

There, between two of your fingertips and presented to him with such normalcy, was his wedding ring, and he could see from the subtle glint still remaining in your palm that the other metal piece on the chain had been yours.

He stared in shock, reaching for the familiar symbol of his union to you in utter disbelief, even as the coolness of it's structure wrapped itself around his ring finger as he took it and slid it on to its rightful place upon his hand.

"It’s been more than a century..."

He murmured, his tone betraying his surprise in spite of how little emotion he typically showed, even in vulnerable moments like this one.

You smiled at him, shrugging slightly as you slid your own ring onto your finger again, sighing as if having arrived home after a long day of work,

"I know."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 22

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: So Tuesday was a mess.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Dr. Kemp leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches you. Patient, intent, he listens without distraction to every word you say. His attention is almost eerie but only because you’re not used to it. He hangs off of every word.

“I don’t hate Amber,” you frown and hug your legs, only then realising how small you’ve made yourself in the chair, “I love her… I just don’t know if she ever loved me.”

He nods and sits up, dragging his fingers down his chin as he props an elbow on the armrest. He presses his finger against his mouth as he hums thoughtfully. He drops his hand and smiles.

“Are you worried about if she loves you or… are you afraid that you don’t deserve her love? Or anyone’s?” He prompts gently.

You bit down on your tongue. You lower your chin as you think. Your heart plummets deep as your skin tingles hotly.

“Both,” you admit.

“It’s like I said, sweetheart, you have to love yourself first. Then you will see how others can love you,” he drapes one leg over the other, “but we should unpack your relationship with your sister a bit further. We can’t do all that today, but we can start.”

You nod and cup your chin. You make yourself sit up and look at him. You push your feet over the edge and straighten your back.

“Codependency. It’s very toxic. Amber has her flaws, as we all do. What you’ve pointed out about her isn’t out of the question but I don’t know her, I can’t diagnose her. But I can help you draw boundaries and make sense of things,” he explains, “you feel that you were a burden, that you were entirely helpless without her. Did you ever consider she felt the same way? That she attached herself to you because otherwise, she felt useless.”

You look above him and examine the curtain. That’s easier than looking him in the face. You put your hands in your lap and wring them tightly. No, you never thought of it that way because that can’t be true.

“Why… why would she feel like that? I give her nothing. I’m…”

“Now, let’s stop right there,” he raises a thick finger, “what did I say about talking about yourself? Be kind.”

“Yes, Doctor,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, you owe yourself one.”

You bow your head guiltily. The more you talk to him, the more aware you are of all your bad habits. Isn’t this supposed to help you feel better? Not feel worse?

“It’s work, it hurts and then it feels good,” he says, “but the important thing is that you keep going. You keep the progress up, even if some days we don’t take a step forward, he have to keep looking ahead.” He lowers his hand over the end of the armrest, “I think this week you should write about Amber, try to get your thoughts out. Along with your other homework which is…”

You blink at him and give a dumb look. He smiles, “be nice to you. I want you to write down everything you do all week to that end. Baths, moisturising, reading a book, sketching something, anything that makes you happy.”

“Okay,” you grip your knees, slowly trailing your hands up to tug down the pleats of your skirt. You’re not used to it, you almost forgot you were wearing the thing, “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do great,” he encourages, “you already have done so much.”

🕊️

You're exhausted after the session. Almost despondent on the drive to Andy's as everything Steve said swirls in your mind. A thousand thoughts to add to your already overcrowded head. 

"Honey," Andy's voice cuts through your trance, "are you okay?"

"Uh, I'm sorry," you say, stunned to find the car parked in front of his house, his eyes boring into you with concern, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Oh, you haven't said a word," he slides the keys free of the ignition, "and you weren't responding."

"No, no, it's... I was thinking."

"Ah," he nods, hesitating to get out of the car as he hovers his hand against the door, "about... did Steve say something?"

"Um, just about stuff," you reply evasively, "nothing big."

"Well, you now I'm always here for you, right? That you can talk to me too?"

You nod and fake a smile. He's nice and all but you can't tell him everything. You can't even tell Steve everything you put in your journal. Somethings are meant just for you.

"I know," you murmur, "is it alright if I lay down for a bit. I'm really tired out."

"Sure you can, dove," he reaches over you caress the crease of your skirt, "just for a little. You don't want to waste the day."

"I won't," you promise and pull the handle on your door.

You turn and hide your face from him. He's right but it still irks you. Sometimes he can be so bossy. You've done what he wants. You're doing the therapy, so why can't you have one day to just burrow away.

🕊️

You spend your time alone staring at the ceiling, all tied up with Andy’s suggestion. Don’t sleep the day away. Sigh, now you can’t even close your eyes. You’re too worried about doing just that.

After a few hours, you give up, hoping to find some solace in a cup of tea. You can pop out and assure Andy that you’re awake. Maybe you should work on the painting. He must be getting impatient for that as well.

You pull on a loose wooly cardigan, the one with the patch sewn into it, and hide your clingy t-shirt beneath it.  You come downstairs and pass the archway of the living room. The TV is lit up with the menu but Andy’s nowhere to be found.

You hear him. You go further down and peek into the kitchen. Something tinkles against porcelain as you watch him pour the contents of a bag into a bowl. There are several set out already, on a neat wooden tray with two glass bottles of soda.

“Um…” you step into the doorway. “I… was going to put the kettle on.”

He looks over at you and smiles. It’s only then you notice his clothing. A pair of thin plaid pajamas and a navy blue sweatshirt. He looks cozy. You’re not used to that. He’s all buttoned-up and tidy.

“Oh, sure,” he says, “I can get some tea out… but er,” he sets the bowl with the rest, “you kinda walked in on my surprise.”

“Surprise?” You wonder.

“Yeah, uh, I was thinking we could do a movie night. Your choice,” he presses closed the seal of the M&Ms bag and puts it at the back of the counter. “I got all these snacks and some soda if you like, but if you want tea instead–”

“Oh,” you bat your lashes.

“Oh?” He sounds nervous as he echoes your syllable.

“I… I wasn’t expecting this. I…” you fold your arms over your stomach, “you really… did all this?”

You tiptoe forward and raise your chin to see onto the tray. He grins proudly as you near and see the assortment of snacks; trail mix, chips, gummies, chocolate…

“Pretty simple but I figured maybe it would be fun.”

You suck your lower lip in and look up at him. His eyes are shining, almost hopeful. He did all this for you. He actually wants to spend time with you. He was even excited about it.

“It’s wonderful,” you say, “I hope… I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful. Only surprised.”

“Of course, honey,” he slides the tray off the counter, “let me get this.”

He carries the spread across the kitchen and you trail him into the front room. You linger at the threshold as he sets down the snacks on the low coffee table. The room smells of raspberry. You hum at the scent and notice the candle already lit on the table. The lights are dim as the flame lends a flicker to the space.

“Like it?” Andy looks up at your audible sniff. 

“Smells nice,” you assure him.

“Well? You gonna just stand there or find something to watch?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you scurry over as he holds out the remote.

You sit on the couch and he drops down beside you. As you sit forward, he leans back, his arm stretched out behind you carelessly. You flick through the title cards of all the movies, intimidated by the endless selection.

“What kind of movies do you like?” You ask, almost embarrassed to choose one yourself.

“Whatever you like, dove,” he says.

It feels like the back of your shirt is moving, just along the bottom. The sensation is so light and you’re too nervous to look at Andy. You put your elbow on your knee and cup your chin. You guess it doesn’t really matter. You choose a title your recognise, not recalling what the movie is about.

“Don’t forget to dig in,” Andy sits up.

“Er, okay,” you put the remote down and take the bottle of soda. You read the label in the low light. It looks fancy. You try to twist the metal cap off but it threatens to cut into your hand. “Ow.”

“Here,” Andy reaches over, “let me.”

He grips the neck and pops off the metal lid with ease. He hands it back to you and takes his own. You thank him under your breath and hover your mouth over the top. You take a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.

“Mmm,” you hide a cough at the carbonation, “ooh, pretzels.”

You reach for one of the twisted treats. He chuckles as the credits play and he takes a rippled chip. You bite into a pretzel and focus on the screen. He’s sitting so close. You glance over, there’s lots of couch free.

You nibble nervously as the opening scene plays. You focus on the dialogue, not quite picking up on everything. The movie’s much more serious than you expected. You finish a handful of the dry food and wash it down with soda before flopping back.

You squint at the screen and try to untangle the furling plot. It’s kind of boring. You hide a yawn in your cuff and keep your hand to your mouth. The scene shifts and suddenly a bed frame rocks, knocking against the wall as the camera pans down to reveal the two bodies writhing on the mattress.

Oh my! There’s always one of these scenes.

You fight not to close your eyes. You’re mortified as you stare wide-eyed, the room hotly silent except for the activity on screen. You can hear Andy’s breaths and your own. His foot moves as he adjusts his leg and you flinch, almost expecting him to move closer. No, why would he do that?

The scene finally ends. That was torture. Amber always lets you fast forward through those ones. You lean forward to hide your discomfort with another swig of soda. Andy clears his throat but doesn’t comment.

You munch on a mixture of sweet and salty, your stomach squirming. You’re just going to make yourself sick. You recline again, eyes burning and itchy as they threaten to close. No, you don’t want to upset Andy. You can’t fall asleep.

The man and woman argue in the street. You don’t know who would ever do that. Those sorts of conversations are better behind closed doors. You don’t really get relationships; they seem confusing and stressful.

You arch your back, stretching out a kink in your side and a snort from beside you makes you flinch. You don’t look over, not until it comes again. Andy’s shadow sits with its head back, nose to the ceiling as he snores. Oh no, he fell asleep first!

You’re almost happy it’s him. You were so afraid of doing so, fearing at how he might react. You just think it’s funny. This movie really is boring.

You giggle and call his name. He doesn’t react. You call again, “wake up.”

Still nothing. You chew your lip and raise a shaky hand. You touch his arm, poking him with two fingers. You repeat his name. He’s now waking up. You nudge him hard and he slips, first one way then back towards you. Before you can react, he folds over onto your lap.

His weight hits your legs and you squeak. You don’t think as you grab onto his shoulder and try to shake him. He’s so heavy! And big. The difference between you is obvious but even more in that moment. He is immovable, like a boulder crushing you.

“Andy,” you say, “please, wake up.”

He bends his arm and grips your knee, nestling in as he snorts deeper. He must be exhausted. He drove you all the way to therapy and then got all these snacks together for movie night. And now, he can’t even enjoy it. All for you. All his effort spoiled because of you.

You deflate and sink back into the cushions. You kick your legs and try to wiggle free of him. You can’t seem to get out. You surrender and look at the screen. You guess you’ll finish this darn movie.

[buuchiu]

Sweet or kiss

Bada Lee x Fem!reader

Summary: You spend your Halloween night watching horror movies and eating sweets with your girlfriend.

Warnings/notes: short fic, just Bada being cute, fluffy and kisses.

Pd: English is not my language, I'm sorry if there are spelling problems.

Halloween is usually one of the most anticipated celebrations for people, whether they are adults or kids. Costumes, parties, alcohol, etc, that definitely wasn't your shit, not when you could spend your night in the comfort of your bed with candy and most importantly, in the soft arms of your sweetheart.

The room is almost in total darkness only being illuminated by the TV screen, on which "Carrie" is playing, one of your arms is around Bada's waist, your head in the crook of her neck and her legs intertwined, while she wraps around your shoulders, you keep your eyes closed for a moment enjoying the scent of her perfume, it was almost as if you were sniffing her with a slight smile on your face of satisfaction, how can someone smell so good?

Bada lets out a small laugh looking down, "Are you even smelling me?" She asks with fake mockery, she actually thought it was cute, thinking you look so soft in her arms, you were like a little puppy.

You look at her with your eyes wide open as you try to hide your smile, "No, of course not", Bada squints her eyes in your direction with distrust, you let out a laugh and hide your face in her neck, "Maybe, just a little" you confess softly.

"I knew it" the older girl slides one of her fingers through some hair that fell on your face admiring you, she has such a deep look that you become small under her, you feel your cheeks become hot and nervousness fills you, after a while together she still managed to get you like this, you were madly in love, it would be impossible not to be, wouldn't it?

You raise your hands to cover your flushed face "Oh, stop looking at me like that, please" your voice is shy causing Bada to turn you around so they are face to face, "Then stop being so pretty, you can't blame me" she murmurs so close to you that you feel her sweet breath crashing against your lips after she says each word.

You gasp in annoyance, you hate that she makes you feel so vulnerable, you hate how she leaves you speechless, not knowing what to answer when you were always a person with answers, "Stop it" you whisper.

Bada laughs subtly without wanting to sound mocking, sometimes it was fun to tease you but now she didn't feel in that mood "My baby got shy, mh" her velvety and pretty voice makes you blush, although the way she said baby to you was what broke the camel's back.

You look into her chocolate eyes, they look so sincere and cute when they look at you, you go down and get to her pink lips between open, so fluffy and shiny, kissable, really. Bada was the most beautiful girl you've ever seen in your life, in every possible way, you couldn't think of any flaw to be honest, which leads you to question... "I don't understand how I'm lucky to be your girlfriend, you're so perfect" you admit almost as a sigh, without taking your eyes off her.

Bada stands slightly transfixed, she opens her eyes at your words and feels her face get so hot it almost burns, she didn't know how to really react, she was always the one to leave you not knowing what to say and she enjoyed it but she never thought she felt like this, her stomach tingling and her mouth babbling.

On the other hand, you knew her too well to understand that she was nervous, which makes you laugh out loud "It was your turn, now you feel what I feel". Your girlfriend quickly pulls herself together, she wouldn't let you win at this, without changing her expression or letting you react, though it's not like you would refuse, she simply takes your cheeks in her palms and kisses you, a little lip smacking that fills both your hearts, it felt so familiar and comfortable that you relax against her, letting yourself sink into her hands, she holds you tightly, entwining her fingers in your hair, breaths tense and quicken, your grip on her waist aggravates, digging your fingers into her skin, Bada sucks on your bottom lip which makes your mouth open a little and unconscious you let out a moan, if they weren't this close no one could hear it from how low it was but you know she did when a smile appears on her lips, now, reddened.

You know she wants to tease you, so before she can say anything you turn and sink your face into the pillows, "I really hate you" growling to yourself. You feel her warm fingers touch your hip as she shamelessly pulls her body closer to yours, shuddering against her as her breath touches your ear, "Even you couldn't believe those words, honey" you whine falsely agreeing with her.

How could you hate her?

[ystrike1]

I Took Away the Tyrant's Chastity - By 백단 (5.5/10)

It's rough out there for puppy yandere lovers. It's rare to find one that isn't presented in a comedic way. Finding one that comes with a good plot is even rarer. Don't get your hopes up for this one. It's not a proper story. It's all empty wish fulfillment.

Judith was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. The real Judith wasted that spoon. She acted selfishly until her own family gave up on her, and her fiance wasn't even criticized for executing her. She was that awful. Judith reincarnates with a different soul. It's a Korean college student, who knows the ideal world she exists in is a book. She's sad for a bit, but she quickly notices that all the building blocks for the perfect life are there. A loving family. Wealth. Guaranteed good marriage...if she doesn't act like a sociopath. So, she doesn't. She becomes a beloved daughter.

Judith is a bit of an idiot, but that is her only character flaw. She has vowed to be a good and filial daughter. She will marry and continue to be a supportive force for her powerful family....but she wants to fool around first. Masquerade balls for unmarried women and men are the norm. Fooling around before marriage seems to be expected for both genders. You have to get your desire for adventure out of your system, before you marry for politics. It's not the worst idea. Judith goes to a state sactioned hook up ball for young adults and...all of the men are ugly. Oh no!

She sees one handsome option just before she gives up. She wants to fool around, but not enough to debase herself for rude men. The stranger is reasonably polite, and we get enthusiastic consent on both sides before the hook up. By the way this is also a way to get married. Lots of couples get formed during these parties, but you're not obligated to stay with your partner...most of the time.

Handsome Guy is the Emperor, Theo, and he's always been a little crazy.

Theo married Past Judith, and he also executed her so he could marry a better woman. Judith was deeply insecure and unpleasant to everyone. She used the title of Empress to stroke her own ego, and she bullied every woman who spoke to Theo. The way she behaved was extra stupid, but it explains alot. Theo is a scary and bloodthirsty husband. Judith was the only woman dumb enough to marry him for power. Theo killed close family members to get his throne, so when Judith stepped out of line...yeah he didn't even hesitate.

New Judith has no interest in him, but she wakes up in his bed.

Theo pressures her to take responsibility and...I admit it. The scene is kind of funny and entertaining. Emperor Theo is tired of being drenched in gore all day. He thinks Judith is adorable, and she's clearly attracted to...his body. That's good enough for him. He wants a bride he can relax around. The spoiled rotten sweet version of Judith is perfect for that. Her powerful family loves her in this timeline too. He's obsessed with creating a happy home with her.

He almost throws his chef in jail for serving food she doesn't like, because he's so obsessed with impressing her. Judith isn't into that. She wanted a normal husband. Theo is too crazy for her. So, what's the plan? How the heck is she planning to get away?

.....

....

.........

Judith is a moron. She sneaks out and she plans to switch places??? With her maid??? So she can leave the country until Theo finds somebody else??? Even though he has already proposed and its clearly too late??? It's also clear that Theo will kill her maid and the people who try to hide her???

He's not threatened by her brain dead plan. He picks her up seconds after she sneaks out of her parent's mansion.

Theo is cold as ice. His mother could not handle court politics. He can handle betrayal and any worst case scenario with ease. Judith not liking him and not wanting to marry him is a minor problem. It's not even close to the level of drama he's used to. Everything she does is cute, compared to what his enemies do. She's moved by his handsome face too, and he finds that endlessly entertaining. The other ladies piss themselves in fear at the sight of him, so Judith being dumb (and lusty) is a huge plus for him.

Serne was the heroine in the original story. She was a serious, smart woman who could match the Emperor in battle. Theo married her after he got rid of Judith. Together they cleaned up the castle and made it more organized, and less corrupt. The thing is...Theo doesn't need someone to fix the castle. It's running just fine. His enemies are too scared of him to do anything serious, and Judith isn't crazy. So nobody is causing cracks on the inside. He is totally free to marry a cute and useless bride.

Judith thinks he will still fall for Serne, but its pretty obvious that he never fell in the first place. He married her because she was good Empress material. He wants current Judith because she makes him happy. The yandere moments are very janky, but they're there.

[themadlu]

Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless. 

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil. 

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all. 

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers. 

In, hold, out. 

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.) 

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen. 

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron. 

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear. 

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple. 

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest. 

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information. 

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.” 

Enough. 

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face. 

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head. 

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.  

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.” 

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city. 

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.” 

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch. 

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger. 

There. Come at me. Prove me right. 

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.” 

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.” 

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire. 

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.” 

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman. 

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time. 

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience. 

Happiness suits you, little leader. 

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange. 

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away? 

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake. 

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is. 

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him. 

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals. 

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!” 

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn. 

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue. 

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now. 

Gods, they must be disgusting. 

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck. 

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open. 

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion. 

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile. 

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible. 

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!” 

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food. 

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form. 

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest. 

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it. 

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions. 

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet. 

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade. 

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier. 

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was. 

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.” 

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike. 

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again. 

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up. 

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again. 

“Thank you.” 

Fuck. 

[storydays]

Hello Rosie! P3

(3rd POV)

*With Charlie*

"Alright, what has you so out of sorts, darlin'?" Rosie asked, letting Charlie into her private room. "You clearly got more on your mind than angels."

"What do you do when someone you love lies to you about who they are?" Charlie sighed, hugging herself. "Romance? My specialty. C'mon, dearie, details, details!" smiled the cannibal. 

"My girlfriend is an exorcist angel...and she never told me." 

"Oh, shit. Quite a secret. How does that make you feel?" 

"Just...angry...because we share everything. Because she always supported me, and my ideas, and now I just don't know whether or not that was more of the lies.." Charlie gasped, eyes wide. "Oh no, that's a horrible thing to think! Do I think that? Yes! N--No? Kinda?" the princess sobbed slightly, feeling overwhelmed in her feelings.

"You said you love this girl?" Rosie asked softly. 

"Yes...or, well, I..yes." Charlie nodded more firmly, knowing she still loves Vaggie. "Aw. Have you ever once doubted that she loves you in return?" Rosie sat next to Charlie, patiently waiting for her repsonse. 

The blonde shook her head no. 

"Well, then what's the problem?" 

"She took part in the very thing we've been working so hard to end. She might've even been the one who killed my brother's ex-fiance!" Charlie's eyes widen at the thought. 

"Well, isn't that silly hotel of yours all about redemption?" 

"Yes?" 

"Perhaps this girl was trying to redeem herself too?" Rosie hummed. "She knows better than anyone that I believe in second chances. Why not tell me?" wondered Charlie.

"It can be difficult to admit to things you're not proud of, especially if those things hurt the ones you love. She fucked up, sure, " Rosie smiled brightly, "She's flawed. But hey, who down here isn't? If there's anything I've learned, it's that words are cheap, but actions, they speak the truth." 

The demoness' shared a smile. "So, what have her actions said?" Rosie asked, with a knowing smile. 

"That she believes in me and what we're doing. Right now, she's off learning how to protect everything we've worked for..and I can't even pitch my hotel right." Charlie smiled, thinking of the ex angel before groaning at her own actions.  

"Well, how do you normally explain your hotel?"

"By singing," Charlie smiled giving jazz hands before deflating, "but that never works." 

"It will work here, trust me." 

With that promise, they walked back out to the crowd, Alastor offering Charlie his microphone staff, he and Rosie sending the princess soft, encouraging smiles.

*Back at the hotel*

Charlie and Vaggie lead their groups back to the hotel approaching each other. "Looks..like you've had a busy day." Vaggie said, looking over Charlie's shoulder, making Charlie do the same. "You too." 

"Charlie, I--" 

"Hold that thought." Charlie dug in her pocket before holding out a key chain to Vaggie. "Ah! I got you a souvenir from Cannibal Town." The Princess smiled hopefully at Vaggie. 

The ex angel smiled, teary eyed before rushing forward into her girlfriend's waiting arms. "Oh, Charlie." 

Charlie smiled, before eyeing the wings on Vaggie's back. "The wings are new. They look nice," purred the princess, sending Vaggie bedroom eyes, before wrapping an arm around her waist, "C'mon, let's go home."

Together they walked into the hotel, gasping at all the noise and chatter. "Come along, let's put some efforts into these fortifications." Sir Pentious called, leading his Egg Bois. "Yeah, fortify that." Angel called, before turning to see the demonesses. 

"Well, look who decided to show up." Angel smirked, pulling Husk and Pentious into his arms, "We thought we were fightin' ourselves." 

"You're..you're still here?" Vaggie asked in awe, Charlie teary eyed next to her. 

"What? Do you think we were a bunch of pusssssies?" scoffed the snake.

"I just got used to you guys, I ain't findin' no new drinking buddies." Husk smirked. 

"I've named all the stains on the carpet, that one's Fred." giggled Niffty. "Well, looks like we have a lot of work to do." Charlie smiled, holding Vaggie's hand. 

"Wait, why are you all covered in bruises? And where's (Y/N)?" Vaggie asked, looking for her future brother in law. 

"Uh, well.." Angel started before smiling seeing (Y/N) land behind the demonesses. 

"Boo! Bitch asses!" yelled (Y/N), making the two women yell in surprise. The Prince cackled in delight, as the two got a good look at him: He was also covered in bruises, mud and what appeared to be a bloody nose? But he was grinning wildly. 

"Oh, did you put them through your training?" Charlie asked, making her brother grin excitedly. "Fuck yes! And now, they are better warriors then they were a few hours ago. But how'd your day go? I see Carmie and Ro-Ro gave you supplies." (Y/N) started talking fast, before Charlie cut him off. 

"Wait, Carmie and Ro-Ro? You mean Carmilla and Rosie?" 

"No, Char, I said what I said." (Y/N) rolled his eyes before giggling to himself, and talking fast again to Vaggie, who looked so confused. "Yeah, he's been like this since we finished training a few hours ago." Angel chuckled, as he made his way over to his excitable lover, as (Y/N)'s wings and tail moved around excitedly. 

"Yeah, it's the adrenaline. Dad says (Y/N)'s always been like that after fighting in general. He'll crash soon, but it'll help if he is given affection. He's like a cat sometimes." Charlie giggled, thinking of all the times she'd messed with her brother when he was like this.

"All right, Prince-y. Let's get you to bed." Angel scooped up the blond demon, who cuddled close to Angel, still talking. 

"IoveCharlieandVaggieandandHuskandMomandVelvetteandCarmieandNifftyandAlastorandDadandArcherbutArcherdoesn'tlovemeanymorebuthat'sokaybecauseIhavethemostsexypowerbottomloverAngelDustwhoserealnameisAnthonyandfuckthat'shotasfuck.Angelcanwefuck?IwannamakeyoucumsohardValentinoisjustamemory...." 

Everyone looked at each other before laughing what the prince was saying. "Please tell me you're recording this?" Angel asked Charlie as he cackled, holding his (Y/N) closer, as he now played with his own tail, eyes wide in amazement.

"Yep." Charlie grinned, sending it in the group chat. 

"Good night, guys." Angel called, chuckling occasionally, walking upstairs. "Oh, my love, what will I do with you?" the spider asked, as (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes. "Marry me?" he asked softly. 

Angel cooed, "Aw, of course I will, bambino."

*End!*

[strrwbrrryjam]

its funny that i write a post about respecting the female characters of rdr2 then i get recommended a post talking about getting a 'bad feeling' about mary taking advantage of arthur, the exact thing i was talking about

dude she asks you because it's a VIDEOGAME and you're the PROTAGONIST and she's an important character of the PROTAGONISTS PAST that gives him DEPTH - who else is she going to ask, uncle? she's a part of ARTHURS past

and then you're talking about her having some moral high ground when she does? i love arthur so much, but even i can't deny that between the two of them he has no moral high ground, he's an outlaw, a murderer who regularly steals from and beats and kills innocent people, while mary is a society woman

she isn't taking advantage of arthur at all, she comes to arthur for a variety of reasons, one of them being she's a widowed woman with a gambling drunk of a father, a dead mother, a dead husband and her younger brother leaving to join a cult, living in 1899 where women had limited rights and opportunities, especially in matters of finance and property ownership, her options for independence and support were severely contained and another because arthur is actually capable enough to save her brother from a dangerous cult that is planning to kill themselves, to wrangle up her drunk and likely abusive father, to rescue her mothers broach from a moving carriage.

and again, it bears repeating, that this is a videogame and her missions are OPTIONAL

of course, she's going to get mad when you tell her no because you are not only letting her dead mother's broach be sold but also signing her brother's DEATH WARRANT

she is incredibly grateful each time, thanking him profusely for saving her younger brother, she clearly still misses him, still loves him and still very much longs for a relationship with him despite their troubled past and arthur's outlaw status. her saying arthur will never change is more of a way to remind herself that their relationship would not work out, because arthur is still incredibly loyal to the gang that he prioritised over her during their relationship. even when mary asks, no, practically begs for arthur to run away with her from the law, from the gang, from everything, and arthur so clearly wants to, he still prioritised money and the gang over her, when mary doesn't need money, all she wants is arthur.

in the second mission, mary says "if i was fair to you, and a good person, i would have sold you out a long time ago," this is not only acknowledging her own flaws in this relationship, that she hasn't always treated arthur fairly, she's still incredibly loyal to him, as arthur is a wanted man, with a large bounty on his head, she could have him hanged if she truly was unfair to him, but she doesn't. the love she still has for him is still so strong. and arthur even admits to her being right about this.

despite the fact that mary still loves arthur and that the connection they share is still so strong, mary decides to choose herself and gives arthur the engagement ring she had kept in good condition for so long. she's constantly faced with the reality that arthur will never choose her over a life where death is around every corner. she learns that waiting for arthur is futile and damaging to her emotional health, so in the end, she chooses herself. she chooses to stop waiting and sends back the engagement ring (that she's kept for years, in good condition, that she could have sold because it's clear her family is struggling) and sends it back to arthur, a symbol of a relationship that will never find fulfilment. she prioritizes herself, even though it means letting go of the man she loves so dearly.

even though it's incredibly heartbreaking to her, given that she mentions when she's with arthur, the world feels right, she chooses self-respect and empowerment instead. despite the love she still holds for arthur, she decides to value herself and makes a choice that honours her own well-being. highlighting the strength and resilience she has gained throughout the story.

mary is an important character that adds to the depth and richness of the story and to arthur's character. her complexity mirrors arthurs, where she grapples with her own struggles and desires. she is not as one-dimensional as you portray her. dismissing her and portraying her in such a negative light does nothing but show how misogynistic you truly are.

also, the members of the gang don't like her for a variety of reasons, susan suffers from a bad case of internalised misogyny and believes that mary has ideas above her station, dutch sees mary as a threat to arthurs loyalty, only wanting arthur to be loyal to him, john, marybeths and tilly's perception of mary is heavily influenced by the emotional turmoil arthur suffers after interacting with her, because he still deeply loves her and yet the two of them cannot be together due to his loyalty to the gang. it's important to remember that out of all the gang members, abigail thinks fondly of her.

[nelyos-right-hand]

Before I start, this is about toxic and abusive behavior in Rings of Power that is portrayed positively. I will not get any hate for this because I should be allowed to point out problematic views in a show and people should talk about this.

The thing that bothers me most about Rings of Power is not the terrible plot. It's not the unnecessary love-story between Galadriel and Sauron. It's not the bad costumes or the extremely uninteresting side stories not even the RoP fans themselves care about. It's not even the canon that is burning and breaking all around us.

The greatest problem (in my opinion) is Galadriel herself. Because she's just... extremely unlikeable. Through the entire show, there was nothing that made me sympathetic towards her, that in any way inspired me to like her. And you just can't ignore that because she's literally everywhere. The entire show is about her which makes it impossible to watch, even if you are ready to lower your expectations and ignore minor flaws.

The way she treats everyone around her is just... I don't even have words for it. It's extremely disrespectful and impolite and imposing and... you just don't treat other people like that. Ever. It's extremely obvious that she thinks herself better than everyone else and she shows that to everyone.

And the worst part is that the show portrays that as the "right behavior". No matter what, Galadriel is always right, she always makes the right decisions, and those that see that and listen to her, and let her treat them like that are the "good" people, and those who contradict her or disagree are the "stupid" people.

The best example for that is her conversation with Elrond which we already saw in the trailer. You know, the one where's she's like "you have not seen what I have seen". I always disliked that scene because I didn't like how the show downplayed Elrond's own traumatic past, but the more I think about it, the worse it gets. Because think of the situation:

At first, Elrond (her only friend, so you would think she would bother to treat at least him well, but nope) tries to comfort her, at which she gets mad and tells him she had it harder then him. And this already... He's trying to help her, he is listening to her problems and she just immediately starts insulting him. But it gets even worse. Because Elrond defends himself, he says that he has suffered as well and that he knows what he is talking about, and she's just "nope, I suffered more that you did".

And that's just so wrong in so many ways. Because who does that? Even if she was right (which I don't think she is), who compares trauma like it's a competition?

She is suffering because she lost her family and her home, and so did he. They both lost people they loved and she just tells him that his losses weren't as painful as hers???? That she suffered more when she lost her brother than he did when he lost his?! Just- just imagine that for a second. Imagine you lost family members and then your friend tells you that it wasn't that bad because they what? Lost more? Lived longer? Again: It's Not A Competition!!! And Elrond even defends himself and tells Galadriel that she can't say that because he suffered just as much, but instead of admitting her mistake and apologizing, she just goes on.

And the worst thing is that the show makes it look like Galadriel is right. Galadriel is the hero and since she never makes mistakes, they try to somehow make this behavior look "cool" and "strong". Remember, kids are watching this show. Amazon wanted this to be for the whole family. And kids are gonna see her as a role model. They are gonna think her cool, as every twelve year old thinks a strong warrior who doesn't make mistakes cool. Is that what you want jung teenagers to define as "cool" behaviour? To treat everyone else like garbage and to never admit your mistakes?

Now, both Galadriel and Elrond aren't real, but in real life you can seriously hurt a person like that. And if the only way you can make a person appear "strong" is by making them hurt and downgrade others, then you shouldn't be filming TV shows in the first place.

And this was just one example. I could show you ten more scenes where Galadriel is just as condescending, this was just the one that bothered me the most.

And I don't want anyone telling me that "the show doesn't actually support that kind of behaviour". Yes it does. If the protagonist and hero of the show constantly treats others that way and is not once called out or criticised for it, it supports it. If it doesn't mean to, it should be more clear about it. I don't care whether they might still criticize her for it in season two (unlikely), they should have done it the moment Galadriel started comparing her own losses to those of her only friend in the trailer before the show even came out.

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

I feel bad for Starlo. (pt. 3)

Starlo's friend, his BEST FRIEND, the woman who he's been in love with long ago (maybe he still is, we don't know because he's so nice as not to act on his feelings or even show them), the person who was supposed to be there for him, be understanding even tho she doesn't share the same passion, be considerate of the feelings Starlo's always been dealing with (hating being born a farmer, hating himself, hating feeling worthless and unappreciated)... Now, don't get me wrong, there were instances where she did try to understand his obsession and pretend she was into it, but it kinda just... fell flat. Even Ceroba herself admits:

Then there were moments like this:

Yeah, Ceroba's not trying too hard to "roll with his punches" here. It feels like she's constantly trying to figure out whether to be accepting of Star because he's so passionate, or annoyed because they're not on the same wavelength.

Then we get these:

Well, based on all this, you'd think she'd be understanding of him later on, at least on an emotional level (aka understand as to WHY he's been more 'selfish' and 'reckless' ever since Clover arrived,) but...

What now??

You mean how, instead of being miserble like when he was just a farmer who couldn't do much for his community, he now pretends not to be miserable by entertaining you all? Right??? Or do you mean he's changed in a DAY because of Clover?

But what?

huh

So you want to see the farmer who feels worthless, just being the Nice Guy™ he always has been (I decided to check out TV tropes for Star, and found out how he's basically been the "Nice Guy" archetype before Clover came. So I repeat: what's the issue with him stepping out of that for a day? I explained already how the guy's NOT to fully blame here and I really mean it. Yeah he has flaws, yeah Clover's presence brought out the "worst" in him, but we mustn't forget who he's been before that and that his true motivation has always been lifting up everyone's spirits).

The guy made all the sacrifices he could (not only worked hard to make the entire Wild East thing come to fruition, but basically became a rebel, when you remember humans are hated by monsters, and he's basically openly idolizing them) for his loved ones and even strangers. It's always been him relying on outer validation and doing stuff for others in order to feel important. But he never felt truly understood. By training Clover, he actually got to spent time with a human kid who's so much like him and shares not only the same love for westerns but the same "justice" quality. Sure, Ceroba had tried to understand, but ultimately failed and Star himself had to explain to her why he'd been acting the way he did, after Showdown.

You don't want him to have pride in himself and feel cool for a single day, Ceroba? She mentions how he's never been as ecstatic as he was that day. So in other words, Star's always been a wild card when it came to the sheriff business but not THIS wild. Which I'm sure means how other monsters have always been his main focus, and not him acting all arrogant (ties in well with that "Nice Guy" archetype). Even the training didn't feel too crazy to me, tbh. He only locked Martlet up because of the potential of his town being shut down. It's a town that he's been working on for so long, the town that makes him feel like he's more than just a nobody. Plus, he says how locking Martlet up was only a temporary solution:

I feel like I've said this a million times before, but Starlo's not a bad guy or a jerk, he just wants to be appreciated and loved and understood. Yet even his closest friends couldn't put themselves in his shoes and think: Why? What's the true motivation of Star idolizing Clover? Of him apparently acting "out of hand"?

I'll post the last part of this huuuuge rant sometime soon