#been wanting to do this quote since his bio came out... god a year and a half ago?

[raayllum]

I am beholden to my inner circle, not some silly kingdom. —Callum's Tales of Xadia Bio / Shadow and Bone, Leigh Bardugo

[chaotic-history]

Outside of V and Emile/Fritz what’s your fav relationship V has?

Ok I warned you that this was going to be a long answer, and idk if you meant specifically a romantic relationship, but I'm going to pretend that you didn't so that I can yap about my absolute favorite V relationship, which was with Claude Philippe Fyot de la Marche. And I have to yap about it extra since only one bio I've read has ever mentioned him, and even then, it was only to get facts wrong about him :/ (thanks Pearson).

V and la Marche were students together at Louis le Grand, and we have five letters from 17yo V to la Marche after la Marche had left the school early. There's.. a lot in those letters: (italics are originally in Latin)

"Please disabuse me of your perversity [la Marche had evidently called himself an Epicurean, and V wasn't having it] as I disabuse you of the opinion you have of my virtue, and make me a confession as sincere as the one I make to you. I know that it will cost you more than me, but I don't believe you want to hide your true feelings from me; this will be for me a lesson which perhaps I will not benefit from and will content myself with admiring; I see and I desire the better, I follow the worse. I finish with this line for fear that in continuing the picture I will make it so true that you'll believe me as insincere as you are when you speak of yourself."

And here's the context for the quote V said he couldn't finish w/o la Marche thinking him insincere:

(From Metamorphoses):  "Medea, you struggle in vain: some god, I do not know which, opposes you. I wonder if this, or something, like this, is what people indeed call love? Or why would the tasks my father demands of Jason seem so hard? They are more than hard! Why am I afraid of his death, when I have scarcely seen him? What is the cause of all this fear? Quench, if you can, unhappy girl, these flames that you feel in your virgin heart! If I could, I would be wiser! But a strange power draws me to him against my will. Love urges one thing: reason another. I see, and I desire the better: I follow the worse. Why do you burn for a stranger, royal virgin, and dream of marriage in an alien land? This earth can also give you what you can love. Whether he lives or dies, is in the hands of the gods. Let him live! I can pray for this even if I may not love him: what is Jason guilty of? Who, but the heartless, would not be touched by Jason’s youth, and birth, and courage? Who, though the other qualities were absent, could not be stirred by his beauty?"

There are multiple ways you could interpret this ofc, but also... gay

The rest of the letters are a combo of similar to the above and just depressing; V was super broken-up about la Marche's leaving. He also keeps trying to set up a time for them to meet in Paris, but there's no record of anything ever coming from that.

And then, in 1761, a monk murdered someone in Ferney and V wrote to la Marche's son about it since he thought it wasn't being investigated thoroughly enough and Marche fils was a magistrate at one of the parlements, and through that he and la Marche got back in touch and it's so 🥺🥺🥺

"M. de Ruffey, sir, made me shed tears of joy when he told me that you wanted to remember me, and that you resume the exchange of letters in which you have always been charming. My heart is still moved in writing to you. To think that it's been almost sixty years that I've been attached to you! My hair has gone white, my teeth have fallen out; but my heart is young: I am tempted to cross the mountains and the snow that separate us, and to come embrace you. I'm ashamed to admit to you that I consider myself in my retirement as one of the happiest men in the world; but you deserve to be so more than I do, and I warn you that I shall cease to be if you are not. You are honoured, loved, I know you have a very beautiful soul; a charming, fair, enlightened, sensitive soul ..."

And then eventually la Marche came to visit V at Ferney, and helped supervise the printing of the engravings for V's Corneille book that he was raising subscriptions for Mlle Corneille with

I think la Marche is my favorite just because all the letters are so sweet, and for the longest time I thought it was just the five early ones and then I was legitimately so fucking happy to find out that they did meet again in person. I also really wish there was more written about him, cause even if he's not super important historically when writing about V, V clearly cared about him a lot and la Marche was important to him

[saventhhaven]

Jealousy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Tags: jealous!Dean, flirting, irritated!Dean, frustrated!reader, awkward!Sam

Word Count: 1,340

(Gif not mine)

Dean pushed the door open enough for you to get in behind him but didn't bother to hold it for you. You sighed agitatedly, making sure it was locked before following him down the staircase. His stiff body language told you that he didn't want to talk about it anymore, but the way he almost hesitated in his quick strides made you believe otherwise.

"Dean, I already apologized like four times!" you exclaimed. "Even though I did nothing wrong!" you added as an afterthought. Sam looked up from his laptop in the library as the two of you came in, eyebrows raised in question.

"What's going on?" he asked. Dean shook his head as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

"Nothing." You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course. Leave it to Dean to take something that's bothering him, and shove it down so deep that it never sees the light of day again.

"I was getting information for a case, and your brother didn't like my methods, so now he's mad at me," you explained. Dean plastered on a half-smile, shaking his head for emphasis as he spoke.

"It's okay! I'm not mad!" The smile would have almost been convincing, to his credit, had it not been for the slight twitch developing under his right eye. You glanced over at Sam surreptitiously before leaning over ever so slightly.

"Is it just me, or does he seem mad to you?" you asked under your breath.

"Goddammit, I just said I'm not mad!" Dean snapped, causing you to jolt in surprise. Damn. It wasn't like you had been putting all of your efforts into keeping your voice down, but damn. Sam sighed, shutting his laptop and getting to his feet.

"Run me through what happened." God bless him. He was always trying to find some even ground. Dean cast a warning glance in your direction, again, wordlessly telling you that he didn't want to talk about it, but you ignored him, crossing your arms over your chest as you blew a strand of hair out of your face

"Dean got all upset," you started to explain, "because I was flirting with some guy to get information-"

"No, no, no, he wasn't just 'some guy,' okay?" Dean cut you off. "He was a total douchebag! I mean, what the hell was he wearing, anyway? Danny Zuko called, and he wants his outfit back." You shot Sam an incredulous look, who merely shrugged weakly back at you. He was actively trying to excuse himself from the room by taking small, hesitant steps away from the two of you. Apparently, even he sensed that Dean was being unreasonably... Dean about all of this.

"Did... did you just reference Grease?" Dean went red, a stark contrast to his bright green eyes, which were filled with a bit of embarrassment.

"No!" he exclaimed before sighing heavily. "Maybe! Look, all I'm sayin' is that no girl buys into that stupid playboy leather jacket look."

"Ha!" The laugh came from your mouth before you even realized it was you that had made the sound. That was rich, especially coming from Dean Winchester himself. You had vivid memories of him wearing a "stupid playboy leather jacket" when you first met him. "You mean like the one you wore for some three years back in '05?"

"Hey, I'm an exception! And I didn't act like a playboy!" Even Sam let out a snort at that one, and he was halfway across the room.

"Oh, really?" you fired back. "Because I seem to recall you profusely hitting on me when we first met." He spluttered a bit, and you used his temporary inability to summon comprehensible words to your advantage. "I really don't get why you're so upset! I was just looking for a lead like I always do. The person I was asking just happened to be a guy, and as a woman, I know what gets guys talking! There's nothing to be mad about here!" When Dean set his jaw in his telltale way, you braced yourself for whatever he was going to say next.

"I'm not mad, Y/N, I just brought it up as a general concern, and you're the one who started blowing it all out of proportion." And there it was.

"I’m the one blowing it out of proportion?" you nearly screeched. "When he offered to buy me a drink, you threatened to, and I'm quoting you here, 'turn his face inside-out.' What the hell does that even mean?" You glanced over your shoulder to get Sam's two cents on the situation, but he was gone. He must've finally slipped out when you weren't paying attention. With an exasperated huff of air, you turned your attention back to the older Winchester, whose lips had formed something between his signature delicious pout and a frown, the skin between his eyebrows slightly creased. "It was just for a case, Dean! That's all! It didn't mean anything!" He crossed his arms over his army green cotton t-shirt, taught over his freckle-sprinkled skin.

"Oh, I get it," Dean finally said with a wry look in his eyes. "You've got a thing for me." You felt your eyes go wide as saucers as you began to reel, taking a physical step back.

"What?" Where the hell did that come from?

"No, I get it," he repeated. "That's why you've spent the last half hour explaining yourself." You felt your lip curl back involuntarily.

"I don't owe you anything," you practically snarled. Dean nodded.

"I know that," he agreed innocently, all traces of his frustration suddenly gone. "I never said you did. So, if you don't mind my askin', why have you been so hell-bent on telling me that it didn't mean anything?" Now it was your turn to be trapped in stunned silence. "I'll tell you why," he continued, "you've got a thing for me."

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it. How could you not? After years of constantly being around him, it was practically impossible not to. Hell, you had even found yourself thinking of Sam a couple of times, but that was only when you had first met him, and it was never to the extent of how you used to think of Dean. Correction: how you still thought of Dean.

Chewing on your lip to the point that you were afraid it would start to bleed, you shook your head, acutely aware of the way your face had started to heat up.

"You're an ass," you informed him. As you went to leave him in the dust, his hand was on your wrist, whirling you back around and pulling you to him, making your heart stutter wildly in your chest.

Not even the most lucid of your daydreams could have compared to how it felt to have his perfect lips on yours. Dean kissed you with a softness that you had never seen from him before, a warmth that made your entire body tingle, and with a depth that no one had ever achieved before, and you immediately began to feel dizzy with it. One of his hands served to steady you, stationed on the small of your lower back, and the other rested against your face as his thumb brushed tenderly over the apple of your cheek. When his tongue brushed against your lower lip, you gasped softly, parting your lips to allow him access. Dean gave a soft growl that made butterflies erupt in your stomach, and he pulled you closer. If it was actually possible to get drunk on a kiss, you were certainly getting there.

When you were finally forced apart by the need to breathe, you kept your eyes closed, unwilling to let the moment come to an end.

"Don't worry, gorgeous," Dean murmured into your ear. 'The feeling's mutual." Much to your disappointment, he released you, giving your hand a small squeeze before he was out of your reach. Totally frozen in place, you watched him go. He paused in the archway of the library. "And by the way," he said over his shoulder. "I used to flirt with you so much because I've wanted to do that since the day that I met you."

Thanks for reading!

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio! <3

My Everythings:

@cole-winchester​ @alexwinchester23​ @1-am-made-of-stardust​ @thorukindig​ @fiftyshadesoffandom6783​ @hobby27​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @organicpurplepants​ @odysseyofasiren​ @defenderrosetyler​ @crystal-lilac​ @youshrimpdickfucknugget​

Dean Darlings:

@calaofnoldor​ @transparentfestivaltiger

[spikeisawesome456]

I posted 7,111 times in 2021

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For every post I created, I reblogged 887.9 posts.

I added 100 tags in 2021

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My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Your dog who licks his feet: 

3 notes • Posted 2021-07-21 02:26:22 GMT

#4

I got rid of this one because of #Reasons

#3

Hey guys!! 

So, I’m currently doing a scavenger hunt and one of the items was to create a mask our of skittles. I was wondering if y’all could head to Twitter and like my post to give it a boost in attention? The top 5 entries win a prize, so if y’all didn’t mind, I’d appreciate it!! 

You can find my post here, and if you could like or retweet it, I’d appreciate it! :-D 

Also, here's the prompt, if y'all are curious/wanted to try it yourself:

YOUR FRIGHT'EM: Image. Halloween can make everyone a little Skittish; and we don’t mean afraid, we mean filled with the boundless love that GISH has for Skittles. Make a DIY Halloween mask using Skittles & whatever other craft materials you need, & post it on social media, tagging # GISH, # Halloweird and @ Skittles.

Thanks guys!! 

(Also, here’s the link in case you can’t click the hyperlink.  https://twitter.com/DracotheCupcake/status/1451981737102217218)

4 notes • Posted 2021-10-24 00:01:34 GMT

#2

Tumblr, what the f*ck.

9 notes • Posted 2021-11-18 04:25:40 GMT

#1

Y’all!!!!! I graduated today!!!! 

(Well, technically I graduated last May, but because of Covid, they had to postpone commencement until today. But still!!!!!!)

I spent wayyyy too much on the lei and the black and red shell thingy (don’t even ask, college pricing is hell) but I like how they added more color to my outfit. The all black one was one I got at my brother’s college graduation, back in 2016, ha. It was hotter than heck outside, I was in the direct sunlight, and despite literally being RIGHT NEXT TO THE STAGE ENTRANCE, my department (Psychology) was supposed to go last. I said F THAT and cut in line (with permission from the people behind me, saying I was feeling sick, which was true), going with the Bio students. Shhh, I’m sneaky. But it was cool graduating on my local baseball stadium’s field!!! Usually commencement is in the basketball stadium on my collage campus, but since that’s indoors, we used the MLB baseball stadium instead. So, I was on the big screen for a good 5 seconds! Heck yeah!!! My childhood dreams finally came true. 

Anyway!!! While it was hot and a bit stressful to find parking and being in a crowd (I’m vaccinated and wore a mask for most of it, but still), I was glad I was able to graduate in person!! :-D I graduated Summa Cum Laude, too, which means highest honors, which means I got above a 3.8 out of 4.0 GPA. My final GPA had been 3.9, so I firmly made it, ha. 

(Also, my hat says Never Give Up, Never Surrender, which is my favorite quote. It’s from Galaxy Quest. :-D ) 

19 notes • Posted 2021-05-26 00:13:14 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x06)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 06: Mrs Silvertongue

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: one of those tropes. one of those hnnghh tropes

Word Count: I was supposed to post this four hours ago but my colleague called me to play and that dumb dork was drunk while I was laughing throughout. So, here it is. Also...I’m hot. No, I am actually hot. The temperatures are going up! I need some cool breeze.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Everybody stay together. Do not make eye contact with strangers. Do not buy stuff you don't know about and definitely do not leave your eatables unattended."

The camera switched from Loki's barely composed face to your stuffed one strapping the backpack securely behind you before looking at Loki and the sandwich sitting on the seat between the two of you.

"Wha," you stated, still not swallowing, "iss wight hea. Sop bein a wowwie wat."

The camera in Javi's hand caught the bustle on the 'station' where you all were supposed to board shuttles to be on your way to another galaxy before travelling to Knowhere. The area was thousands of square feet wide made in a dome shape outside a planet currently under the supervision of the soldiers form Andromeda. After the War, the security had been tightened around galaxy travel to monitor any remains of the Radicals who had supported Thanos and were currently the most wanted criminals in the universe. Screens everywhere showed the flights and timings along with various commercials for products all around the galaxy. Some you were able to read thank to the translation glasses the Hardy boys provided you, others were a jumbled mess of strokes and illegible patterns. Creatures from all around the wonderful black expanse moved about in this station while soldiers who looked like they had been overly tanned scanned them and their belongings before sending them on their designated shuttles. It all worked as an airport. Except for one thing.

"Well, at least there's no random selection here that is not based on some 'racist profiling'," you quoted, getting a nod of agreement from Javi.

"Oh, there is racist profiling here," Loki interrupted your blissful thoughts, "but ever since the war, it has just been bent towards the ones who helped Thanos."

"Huh, even space isn't free from such mindsets then."

An announcement on the screens caught Loki's attention. "That's our shuttle. Come on. Lulu, up."

Lulu jumped and settled on Loki's shoulder and the camera caught a full grin on your lips.

You: *smirk* And he was the one who didn't want me to take Lulu from the desert *tilt your head* you know what... he is exactly like a choco lava cake. Sturdy looking outside but soft, mushy and melting aaaaall on the inside *giggles*

 Loki: she was talking about me, wasn't she? *narrows eyes at the camera* What was she saying? Javi, tell me. Javi, we're good friends. Come on, Javi. You're stuck with me. Javi. Javi. Hey. I'm the only one who can get you out of this hell hole. Javi. *looks at Javi's figure walking away* Javi. Javi! Come on! Javi!!

The creature scanning your line seemed to come out of some American writer's stereotypical description of a green alien except for the part where her huge beady black eyes had slits, just like a cat. She was stoic as a feline too, going about her job without any emotion on her face. And when it came your turn to stand underneath the scanner, her ignorance of your greetings did not help your nerves.

"You are a...terran," she stated more than she asked.

"Yes, ma'am." You blinked like a dumb animal and tried to remember to smile.

"Your business in the galaxy?" Her slow and positively raspy voice interrogated.

"Just travelling with my-" you blinked again while trying to innocently shrug with a hint of shy, looking like a questionable human-"boys. You know, sight seeing."

Those silver slits stared at you for solid five seconds, not even breathing apparently, before stamping a token and handing it to you and diverting her attention to the next passenger- Loki.

You and your bags moved to the other side of the scanner, waiting for Loki and Lulu while Javier made it next to you from the scanner next to yours. The creature looked at the information the scan brought on her screen in a language neither you nor the camera understood. But one thing that was catching the camera's focus was this text blinking in red next to Loki's picture.

"You are Loki," she stated to the God, scrutinising him from head to toe in those black scruffed jeans and t-shirt underneath a deep maroon long jacket.

"Hm," you forced out a light chuckle, "guess Tony and Clint are not the only ones who are weirded out by seeing him in anything other than his New York attire."

"Of Asgard," Loki added with an 'at your pleasure’ smirk.

"A Frost Giant," the lady acknowledged in her raspy voice. "Have you travelled to the Andromeda before?"

"I have, yes. But not in the recent years."

"State your purpose for the visit to the galaxy."

"I am-" he paused to throw a quick look in your direction before going back to his interrogator- "going there on some unfinished business with an old friend."

The lady, stoic like a rock, looked at Loki for the next ten seconds before pressing a button underneath her screen. Somewhere behind you, you and the camera could hear synchronised footsteps. The camera turned to catch seven aliens- five bulky, one bulkier than all the others, and the last one a leaner and less appeasing version of the lady- walk past you towards Loki.

Lulu, who could feel the change in the atmosphere around him, felt himself shifting on Loki's shoulders while his fur stood up like a frightened cat. But never once did that little fluffy boy leave Loki's side.

"Loki, of Asgard," the leaner one announced, "you are to come with us. Please carry your belongings with you. Please refrain from using any means to resist for you will be charged against the law of the peace fleet. Please put your hands forward so we may put diluters on your wri-I see you already have some version of them on your wrist. Very well. Please follow me."

The camera caught you, mouth gaping open and eyes out in refrained horror, looking at Loki while trying to keep your breaths as calm as possible.

"Oh fuck," your breaths forced out, "what the fuck is happening? Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-"

Loki was already moving behind the lean one, the parade of bulky Captain Gantu’s following him with their synchronised boot work. One of them looked down at the camera, sending a glare of yellow through those hollow eyes before turning back, entering what seemed like an elevator. Loki stood right in the middle, his eyes shifting from the lean alien to you for a few seconds before white doors closed and he disappeared from your view.

The camera now came back to your face, which was still staring in that direction, the colour from your skin a little faded, the pupils contracted to their limit, the breaths paused since God knows when. "Oh fuck we're gonna die."

.

There was a rhythmic pulse beating four times a second while the camera kept shifting- and vibrating a little- between two windows. Out of one window one could see those bulky dudes in attention standing at one door each, not shifting even a muscle while other aliens went about their business. The other window showed the lean guy standing with another alien that was bulkier in the middle. The lean one turned to the window at the rigorous tapping coming from the window.

"Calm down, Lulu," a soothing but tired voice came from out of the frame, making the little one turn towards Loki's figure sitting in what looked like a white chair beside an oval-shaped white table floating in the air, "they're not going to let us out. Not yet at least."

Lulu, who had paused to listen to the God suddenly found himself whimpering till its outright wails were catching everyone's attention outside the room.

"No, n-Lulu stop crying, Lu-" Loki got up from the chair and came to stand beside Lulu in two strides, picking the furry lump in both his hands while keeping his head away from those deafening wails. Slowly but surely, Loki brought the hysterical little lump to his chest, mostly to suppress the noise and wave uncomfortably at the judgmental eyes in his direction. At one point the fly camera-that had sneaked in with events yet unknown- caught an expression on Loki's face that reflected nothing but murder in his eyes. But the very next moment he sighed and brought his hands to stroke the frightened ball of fluff. "Hey, hey, hey," he shushed him, his hands being gentle and his expressions turning soft, "it's okay. It's completely fine. You're fine," he hummed, almost singing it while bouncing the little sobbing and hiccuping floof in his arms, "I'm in here too, aren't I? Right? You are not alone. You are not alone. We'll get out of here together as soon as we know who is behind all this mess, okay?"

The little furball sniffed and wiped his snot off on Loki's shirt. "You didn't have to do that," Loki pointed out with no real purpose to the already made mess. But Lulu was quiet now, possibly looking up at Loki and chirping something only the God understood and chuckled. "Yes-" he stroked Lulu's head- "she'll be fine without us. Once she stops panicking. Yes, yes, you're with me."

Lulu, chirped again, protruding his paw to carefully touch Loki's cheek and chirp some more. Whatever the little one had said, brought the God to a standstill, that tiny smile on his face frozen while his eyes seemed to have travelled somewhere far. "I wish that was true a few years in the past. How different some things would have been."

Lulu tilted his head in confusion while Loki seemed to be visiting certain memories that the camera on Lulu and others around them was not aware of. And all emotion in both these loveable creatures seemed to have been broken by a recognisable voice- so low and seemingly far away- somewhere in their vicinity. Lulu was the first to turn towards the window to the view of the lean guy, jumping at the sight.

And then Loki saw you standing right next to the alien who had arrested him, all colour from his face draining as he watched you flail your hands in some untethered rage right into the expressionless alien standing in front of you out of courtesy.

"Oh...oh no." Loki's face was completely opposite to whatever it is you were going through. Lulu was shifting his gaze between him and you, bouncing in Loki's arms with unadulterated joy. Javier was standing between the two of you with his camera- filming even in the midst of all the chaos.

Before he could compose himself, you were already walking towards him, the alien opening the door for you, letting you inside the room and closing it.

"Hey," your delighted and relieved face greeted Loki, "you guys okay?"

Lulu squirmed and chirped with joy, jumping straight into your arms to bonk his head with your face and rub himself all over you. Loki, on the other hand, stood there like he was seeing a ghost. "What are you doing here? You are not supposed to be here. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh neither did you, Loki," you were quick to point out.

Loki: *inhales* *put his palms together and brings them close to his face* *bends his hands towards the camera* Woman!

"You don't know what I or have not done so don't act like you know what you're doing, kitten," Loki pointed out rather harshly, forcing an offended gasp out of you, "you were supposed to be out there."

Your delight slowly seemed to be turning to an ember of rage. "Oh, I am sorry that tried to use my working brain to help you out in any way I can, your highness! If you wanted to spend more time in this weird jail you should have let me know when these big butts carried you off!"

"This does not concern you so stop," Loki did not let you finish. "Undo whatever it is you did. This is far more dangerous than you can stomach so off you go."

You scoffed and mocked him. "This is fir mir dingiris- well bad news it can't be undone because they think I'm your ride or die."

Loki was basically slapping himself on his face when trying to rub off the tension- along with his skin. "Wh-ha-hyy would they think that?! WHY?"

A whistle blew from behind the camera and Loki instantly caught it; along with catching your arms going across your chest while you tried to look anywhere but in the God's direction.

"Y/N," that soft but threatening growl was enough to crumble all the restraint you came undone faster than a horny teenage boy. "It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

The camera timed the perfect zoom on that face that lost a couple of hundred years as it heard that sentence.

 On Earth

"It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

A shrill 'Oh my Gaaaahd' left Scott's lungs while the soda bottle in his hand crushed and burst everywhere. A shriller wail left Peter as he threw his hands at his face in the utter disbelief and fell on the ground. A cushion blew up in the tight grasp of Bucky's hands, making feathers fly everywhere, and Sam stood up with one fist on his mouth and the other pointing at the screen, howling like a mad fan. Pepper watched with insane delight in her eyes while slapping the thighs next to hers that belonged to her husband who sat there looking at the screen with narrowed eyes as if he had seen something wrong- like a glitch maybe. Natasha was the only one maintaining her composure while sipping on her margarita and looking at the camera form under her lashes.

Scott & Peter: *do a whole routine with their hands in unison* I sayyyy Y/N and Loki sittin' in a tree!!! Fake M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E!!!!!

 Tony: *confused* Wife?

 Vision: I don't get why Scott and Peter are so excited. *looks to his right* Why are they...

*camera pans out to show Wanda barely containing her excitement in her pressed lips*

Wanda: beeeecause they might have a ship, Vis. *looks at the camera and smile a wide toothy smile*

Vision: *tilts his head* but there's no way they could ride a ship in this facility Wanda

 Tony: *still confused but in a different position* Wife??

 Steve: *blinks* I guess....that's a good...strategy? *frowns* I mean...sure. *hears a sniff from outside the frame*

*camera pans out to show stone-faced Bucky sitting next to him*

Bucky: *barely hides his breaking voice* Goo-*clears his throat*-good infiltration strategy.

Steve: *stares worriedly at him* You okay buddy?

Bucky: *crumbles* no~

 Tony: *lying flat on the sofa, face down* *raises his head* His wife??!!!

 Sam: *hollering* wife wife baby!! *turns to his side and nudges the person sitting next to him* come on get in on the fun!

Clint: *nearly saves his coffee pot from spilling all over him with Sam's nudge*

Sam: *keeps nudging and dancing in his seat* somebody's having some space fun!

Clint: *moves the pot into his other hand to drink it with hollow eyes looking at nothing, in particular,* somebody's gonna die of some fun

Sam: *all smiles for the camera* huh?

Clint: nothin' *looks at the camera zooming in on his stone face*

Tony: *wheeling out from under his car with tools in his hands* HIS WIFE??!!

Rhodey: *guffaws while clapping his hands over his head till he's wheezing* oh-oh my-oh Jesus! Poor Tony. *wipes the tears from his face* I told him karma is a bitch but I never thought it would come to bite him right in his ass!!! *continues to chortle*

Tony: *stops making his green smoothie to topple the jar into the sink and walk out of the screen screaming in groans* HIS WIFE?!! OH MY GOD!!!

 Space PD HQ

You haven't felt Loki breathing since you broke the news to him. He has just been standing there staring at you with faint confusion and curiosity, still as a statue.

"Loki-" you poke him- "Loki, say something! Don't just stand there like that! You're scaring me!"

"Y/N," he finally breathed out, his brows still creased, "do you know how many people I've killed?"

You shrugged. "I don't know? A couple? Do you know how many teenage girls I deceived when I was in high school?"

"How many?" He asks with keen interest before snapping himself back to reality. "Wait, what? No. Why would I need to know that?"

You shook your head casually while leaning on the floating table. "I don't know, I thought we were sharing our darkest numbers; like couples need to know these details. Right?"

"By the Norns," Loki groaned into his palms, rubbing his face hard. "Listen-"

The door hissed open and Mr Lean Alien walked in.

"Well, we haven't been introduced properly. My name is Tsuloche."

"Hi, Tsuloche. I'm Y/N," introduced yourself, closing the distance between you and Loki, your arms rubbing on each other.

"Listen, Tsulcohe, there has been a misunderstanding here. She-"

"Yeah, there's been a misunderstanding," your stressed and scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest, "like taking my husband prisoner for no reason at all?"

Tsuloche brought his nimble green- almost as thin and long as twigs- hands together. "Mrs....uhh...Miss Y/N, Loki has killed a lot of people in the past."

You groaned. "Now you sound just like my husband. I know he's killed a lot. And he's clearly suffering for it right now." You turned your head towards Loki, bringing your fingers to softly pinch his cheeks. "My poor baby."

Loki jerked away from your fingers slightly, whispering, "stop."

You didn't. Your fingers still reaching for those cheeks. "Stop it!"

You smiled as he grabbed your hand with his and held it in a good grip. "Okay, now you're just doing it to embarrass me in front of him."

Tsuloche tilted his head at this scene, blinking those translucent eyelids before his cat-like pupils dilated a little. "Do you know he supported Thanos' cause?"

You tried to yank your hand from his grip but Loki wasn't having it. So you turned back to Tsuloche. "Huh? Yeah, I know. He was undercover there to know his plans and stop him when the time came. What else you got?"

Tsuloche stood there blankly, shifting his gaze between you and the God for a good minute, his scarcely dilated pupils going back. "Why would you marry a criminal?! That too the one who tried to destroy your home?!"

You hummed and tried once again to slip your hands from Loki's death grip but failed- though that did not stir the seriousness away from your face at the alien's question. "Well, for the home invasion part, you'll understand if you ever had spiders, lizards and flies in your home."

Now, this confused the alien further but Loki forced out a laugh at your statement.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Well, Tsuloche. The first time you see a spider or a lizard in your home, you scream and cry and want that monstrosity to be gone from your place. It's worse if they bring their friends over. At one point you form a plan of attack to get those sons of bitches out of your home because they don't pay the rent, do they? But it is later on that you realise that these spiders or lizards were actually what were keeping the flies away. You know, the flies that were contaminating your food and making you sick. The flies that were bringing disease from all corners. The only thing standing between you and death by flies was this one stubborn spider-" you squished Loki's face with your free hand, making him jerk and grab that other hand too- "who nearly killed all my people but didn't."

"As for the getting married part, Tsuloche, if you're married, you know very well the crimes you forgive when you love someone. I mean, have you seen this guy do anything bad since the War? No. That's 'cause he's been enjoying some downtime with me and my fam, getting to know me, marrying me, and now taking me and our little cuddly alien cat on a honeymoon! Ain't that right Lulu?!"

Lulu chirped.

By now those judgmental pupils were a full-blown dilated dorks looking at the two of you.

"Oh and that guy recording us outside is...is...our...videographer. Yes! That's who he is. There's a whole trend on Earth to put your life on the internet and stuff like that. So, he's here to...record everything we do on our honeymoon. Not everything, of course," you concluded a little loud with pressed lips and a nod as you realised the mistake.

"Nice save, dear," Loki chirped with a smirk.

"Shut up."

Those blown out pupils came back to disclose any emotions that last bit might have given away. Tsuloche cleared his throat. "Well, as...good as it all sounds, I am afraid I cannot let the Silvertongue go."

"Silvertongue?" you mentioned under your breath and looked at Loki's lips in amusement.

Loki caught your eyes darting to his tongue wetting his lips, sighing in a faint sense of defeat. "You know it's not silver. Why are you even looking at me like that?"

The camera caught your brow arch with some suggestions best kept to yourself. "Oh. I know," you sang, still looking at those lips, "I was wondering about what all would be...different if it were."

Wanda: *sits wide-eyed and flushed red* Uhh *clears throat* *presses her lips to suppress her smile* *talks softly with a shakey voice* I don't know what *puts one leg over another* *adjusts herself in the seat* what she meant by cat-that! What she meant by that. *turns red*

Loki just furrowed his brows at you uncomfortably before turning back to Tsuloche.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere without my husband, so..." You sat down on the lone chair in the room.

Tsuloche was already composing his wrinkled raisin face. "Very well then. I hope you find this interrogation room to your liking, Miss Y/N because he is not walking out of here for another seventy-two hours-"

The door hissed open to let in one of his subordinates who handed the alien a tiny cuboid-shaped device. One look at the tiny thing and Tsuloche looked back up with his sharp pupils dilating to the max. "Mrs and Mr Loki, you are free to go. The inconvenience is regretted and the department will provide you safe passage on the next shuttle to your destination."

A little surprised by the sudden turn of events neither of you wanted to let go of this opportunity. "And by our destination you mean anywhere we want?" You are eager to know; something that makes Loki's eyes turn to you and carry an expression barely recognisable on that perfect pale face. Some would even say it was a butt-hurt disappointment. 

"Destination means the place you were previously travelling to. Your bags have been transported. Now all you need to do is get on it and enjoy the rest of your honeymoon."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Loki let go of your hands but still smacked away the one coming for his cheek again, making you chuckle. "I have very limited knowledge on the feline species but it almost looks like you're happy to set us free, Tsuloche." Loki quirked his brow in agreement with your statement.

"What?!" Tsuloche was a little taken aback, continuously blinking his translucent eyelids to make those starry eyes contract to their predator like gaze. But he couldn't. "Highly mistaken you are, madam. I am definitely not happy to let you resume your honeymoon with your beloved. I am enraged that you will be going away with a criminal and your monstrous little pet somewhere to spend time together. I am-I am definitely offended by the idea of this hardened criminal getting a second chance at life with someone so beautiful as you!"

You squeaked. "Aw! He thinks I'm beautiful!" Loki rolled his eyes and looked at the camera.

Tsuloche: *highly conscious* you want me to say something in that camera? Is this for their honeymoon album? *Eyes dilate* oooh! *looks at the lens* uhh ahem, do not do anything unlawful you two. Space is a dangerous place. And...and *eyes dilate to their maximum capacity* take care. *Exhales* *wipes something off his face* oh dear! That was really hard.

 Space Shuttle

The entire shuttle was empty save for your little group. The seats were comfortable and the legroom quite spacious. Securing Lulu in a seat by the window, you sat down next to him, directly facing Loki. Javier sat next to him, recording the view out of the window.

“So, you sent in one of Javi’s camera flies, found a set of rules that said spouses are allowed to meet their other half and just...went with it?”

“I also used the uninet- the universal network- to find out about Tsuloche’s species and intimidated him with a little show of power. So, yeah. I read the rules of Space and this is the second time I saved your ass, Silvertongue," you state matter-of-factly, stretching your legs as much as possible.

"Don't get so cocky, kitten," Loki purred, fastening his seatbelt, "we still have a lot of places to go. You are lucky some people like your cute face."

Your brows went up and head tilted before Loki realised what he had done. "Aw! You think I'm cute!"

Lulu's camera caught Javier signing something to the two of you. "Keep having such petty arguments and aliens will actually believe you're married," you spoke his words out loud.

Both you and Loki looked at each other. "Married? To him?"

"Married? To her?"

The unison was too much on point. But the cackle eroding into the space out of the two of you made it better.

"You're funny," Loki chortled in Javi's direction.

"In your dreams, weirdo," you added. "Can you imagine? Mr and Mrs Silvertongue?" The laughs came out again while it was Javi's turn to look at Lulu's camera.

 Avengers Facility

"No, Nat, I don't think he'll go that way. He doesn't belong there, like, mentally speaking," Scott gesticulated with a lot of hand movements.

"I think Scott's right," Wanda added.

"No, come on. He knows it's his birthright. So that would be the most obvious thing to go for. And we know he wasn't really seen as much once all hell broke loose back home, right?" Nat put forward her point of view while sitting on the sofa in her jammies.

"But if it wasn't that way then?" Pietro asked with keen interest. Nat thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"Then it definitely would have been the latter. I mean, you were practically raised as one. He was raised as one, right?" Bucky asked Steve. The latter nodded.

"But still," Steve contributed, " there was something wrong there, right? Which is why all of those incidents happened. Are we sure he would still go for it even if he wasn't just another kid?"

Now the lounge went silent, thinking all of it through while the camera showed a very disinterested Clint sitting on the dining table to clean his guns, bows and arrows. The expression in his eyes felt like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

The camera swerved to another person standing by the lounge entrance, looking at the whole scene with utmost disorientation. "What's going on?"

Everyone looked up at Tony standing at the door.

"Oh, we were discussing what surname would Loki choose if he and Y/N got married?" Nat casually answered.

"Like, would he go for Loki Odinson or Loki Laufeyson," Peter explained.

The camera zoomed in on Tony's face, which was trying to do it's best to understand what was going on before giving up and just tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at everybody.

"They have been at it for two hours," a defeated voice comes from Clint's corner, who was looking at some distant void while cleaning his weapons.

"This...is a hypothetical situation, right?" Tony made sure. He had to make sure.

It took a second before everyone shrugged, nodded and hummed in agreement. None- except one camera- caught Scott and Peter crossed his fingers behind their back.

"Oh my God, I just got it!" Scott exclaimed out of nowhere with a new realisation on his face. "He doesn't have to think about the surname. It's Y/N who'll be making the choice."

And just like that, the seriousness in the air changed into a shared epiphany and everyone agreed without any vote against that thought.

"You guys are having a lot of fun with this," Tony sang sarcastically with judgement filled in his tone.

"Yeah, what about it?" Pepper called out from her comfy armchair while eating cheeseburgers and sipping soda, looking at Tony for an answer.

Tony, on the other hand, shifted his weight between his legs. "No. Nothing. You have fun, sweetie. Kisses! Muah! Muah! Muah! Please don't kill me in my sleep tonight."

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 14 OF 22

... I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry. I could have devoured anything and still have been starving. In one version of our story the fruit is in your chest. David, I eat it anyway. O, I know nothing but to take & keep taking. 

- Belovéd, Yves Olade

--

Something in their world shifts.

She hadn’t exactly formally talked it out with Vincent, but it’s somehow settled that she would be there for him to talk to whenever he had something about his exhibit that he wanted to discuss. It was different to have someone on “neutral ground”—someone who wasn’t Theo, who wasn’t carrying the weight of having to bear everything else for the exhibit to happen. And Theo doesn’t mind sharing the space with Vincent with her, either. ‘

It starts simple. A little group chat with Theo (although he rarely responds to the messages) and Vincent to toss ideas, throw little inspirational things. On Friday afternoons, when her schedule is a little more open, she sometimes visits the van Gogh house to check on Vincent and what he’s done so far. She helps him with the expressions on his models, gives him insight into what a viewer would think of the painting. Having been born and raised in this place, she gives the best advice on what places would have the best views to paint, where it would be possible to go outside and sketch and draw.

The exhibit slowly comes into shape.

Theo helps Vincent with the technicals: looking for a place to set it up, preparing the documents for the panel, buying the art materials, providing some comments for half-finished works. She helps Vincent with the storyline: drawing out his story of the little boy with paint seeping out of her hands, leaving a trail of art wherever he goes. How the world changes with every bit of it he touches.

But most importantly, they make sure they are there for Vincent, constantly nudging him in the direction he wants to go but is sometimes too hesitant to.

The final exams roll in with the same kind of raucousness as the midterms did, but there is a quiet kind of understanding between her and Theo that is different from the last time. The gang—she, Theo, Arthur, and Dazai—gathers to study together that pre-finals week, but it’s as if it’s only her and Theo around.

She peers up from what she’s writing on her notebook and when she finds Theo staring, she smiles up at him and he turns away with a grumble at being caught even if he knew he would. When he has his glasses on and is busy reviewing something on his computer, his eyes running left and right over pages of notes, she observes the way the feeble sun shines weak gold over his deep honey-colored hair, soft and likely gentle to the touch—and he lets her.

Arthur, of course, has something he wants to say, but this time he’s smart enough to hold it in, Dazai nudging him gently with his elbow, knowing it would be the worst shame to interrupt the little world she and Theo are in.

It is only once final exams have finished that the preparation for the exhibit rolls into full force for the brothers. Both Theo’s hours at the bookshop and Vincent’s hours at the café lessens as the university rolls into holiday mode, and now more than ever is Vincent working non-stop at his paintings, like they’re burning to get out of him.

Vincent now has time to get out his art.

And Theo—Theo has time to dream about the future.

And dreaming about the future.

Just in time for Christmas.

--

“Hey Arthur, what should I get Theo?”

She and Arthur are sitting at the Little Owl, waiting for Dazai to arrive. The two lovebirds were having their Christmas date early, because this year, Arthur is coming home to his family, likely to mooch for money. She intended to say no at first—after all, this is their date, regardless of whatever label they had for whatever was going on between the two of them—but upon the realization that Dazai was not only picky with food (and also had great taste) but also footing the bill, ‘yes’ was the only possible option.

Besides, Arthur wasn’t taking no for an answer, and she had to wrestle herself out of his original condition that she could only come if she was bringing Theo along, like a double date.

Arthur looks up from the little crossword puzzle he was solving on the café’s shared newspaper. “A kiss,” he answers without missing a beat. “Twenty, maybe. That might soften him.”

“Arthur.”

“Oh, he uses that exact tone on me too, little miss. Very uncanny.”

“I’m not giving him a kiss,” she sighs, turning her head back to her notebook, with the scribbled list of people and items next to their names. “You’re the worst person to ask.”

Arthur puts on a faux-offended face. “I’m only telling you what he’d appreciate the most.”

“Okay, smarty,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m just trying to get everyone Christmas presents.”

“You’re getting him something for Christmas?” Arthur’s eyes are wide in genuine surprise.

“I’m getting you something too!”

He hums. “Is that so. Entirely normal, platonic gifts.”

“Arthur!” she pouts. “I swear, there’s no bigger meaning to it. I like giving gifts for Christmas. It’s kind of routine at this point.”

“So you’re getting Vincent a gift too.”

“Of course.”

“And I, Dazai, and Isaac.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “What, I have to give you a full list of who I’m giving gifts to for Christmas?”

“Yes,” Arthur says, tapping her nose with a pen. She scrunches up her nose in response. “Checking for fairness.”

“Fairness?!” she looks at him pointedly. “Look, you’re just fishing for clues that I’ll get Theo something—” she raises her fingers to make air quotes, “—‘more meaningful’ and ‘more valuable’ than the rest of you guys as a clue to whatever the hell your theory is.”

“It’s not a theory, little bird, it’s an observation,” Arthur says, with a laugh. “The fact that you still refuse to say what my theory is out loud is really telling, you know?”

“No, it’s because it’s not true.”

“What is not true?”

“Your theory.”

“Which is?”

Which is that I’ve entirely fallen in love with Theo and I don’t want to admit it because I’m afraid of what happens after that and if I own up to it. It’s not true at all. Not even the littlest bit.

Why would she be afraid of something she loves?

Not her, no. She’s the kind of person who runs toward what she wants.

This doesn’t make any sense.

She sighs. “Why did I even ask you. This is pointless. I’ll ask Vincent instead.”

“Oh, but he wouldn’t know what our dearest Theo would want,” Arthur hums. “He’s hard to give gifts to.”

“Wait, ‘our’?” she begins to argue, but then shakes her head. “Never mind. How are you claiming more knowledge than Vincent? Theo hates your guts.”

“Because he knows I know him.”

“That means he hates my guts too.”

“He does.”

She sighs. There’s not much point arguing with Arthur oftentimes—the best way is to surrender and then just try and figure out a way out of the mess one had walked into afterward. “Okay, fine. What is it that he’d appreciate getting for Christmas?”

Arthur grins. “You owe me one?”

She groans. She knows she will regret this deeply like she did the last time, but—“I do! Now ‘fess up!”

--

The holiday season in their university town is quiet. Much quieter, at least, than on regular school season. Most of the students go back to their hometowns after the exams, and the streets get quieter and quieter the closer it is to Christmas. Stores that used to be open most of the day open later and close earlier; cafés and libraries and emptier; the streets are less crowded. The hustle and bustle become muted and more peaceful.

Theo likes being on campus around this time of year because it’s different from the usual. Before Theo attended the university, when Vincent was the only one out here, his brother used to come home for the holidays. But ever since Theo came here, and the entire incident with Vincent’s graduation and his project came into light, they hadn’t gone home—mostly to save the money, but also because it doesn’t… feel right to go home back yet.

That’s alright. It’s not as if it’s lonely out here in late December.

Not all students go home. Arthur goes home—he says it’s for a sweetheart who has “long been missing him”, but they all know better. Dazai and Isaac stay a little longer than the other students do, but they go home as well. But Vincent and Theo stay.

And so does she.

It’s a beautiful city to spend the winter in, after all.

Like most places, there’s a little holiday culture of its own in the town as well. A student representative council gathers early in December to arrange a gigantic potluck-slash-party at around noon on the 24th, where students who have stayed get to hang out with everyone else who is still there to share some Christmas cheer. The event is usually held at the Grove, which means there’s also space to ice skate. Some vendors are invited to sell their wares of Christmas food as well—and of course, alcohol is included. Speakers are installed and Christmas music, both lively and more romantic, play throughout the course of the party. Those who sign in earlier get to join in an exchange gift affair at the latter part of it too. There’s also a raffle for little gifts and prizes. And of course, there’s the snowball fight. It’s a small, homey event, and many students actually decide to stay on campus for this particular party.

Every year, Theo is pretty neutral about the potluck.

Every year, Vincent wants to go. So Theo always comes with him.

And this year… Vincent is inviting her too.

--

He considers getting her a pack of highlighters.

He doesn’t know much about the world of stationery and fancy studying materials, but there’s a certain brand of fancy highlighters he sees a lot around campus. They’re not the easiest brand to get, according to his research, but if he orders it soon it might just make it on time.

Or maybe a fountain pen?

Fountain pens are classy. And thoughts have been given on them, so he knows it’s not a bad shot. He isn’t quite sure what kind, though, what brand, and maybe he could get one that’s the exact same model and brand as his, but isn’t that a little too obvious? He doesn’t want to be too obvious. He doesn’t want it to be obvious at all, or even known.

A book, perhaps, might be the best option, then.

Books have been an integral part of their… relationship, anyway. No other meaning to that. If there is anything to be read about that, then that’s not on him, is it? That makes this entire process simpler. He’ll just need to drop by the bookstore, check the stocks, pick up the most mundane and boring poetry book—the lamest, the worst, why would he give something meaningful—and then get a gift bag, maybe some wrapping paper—

Theo is so deep in his thoughts he doesn’t catch Vincent entering the room, even as the door behind his older brother closes with a click. The look on Theo’s face—furrowed brows, tense shoulders, the light in his eyes—makes Vincent smile just the tiniest bit.

The sound of his voice shakes Theo out of his reverie.

“Have you chosen what to get her?” Vincent asks, providing no context. He doesn’t need to. He knows his brother well, and he even turns away from Theo to lessen the blow, pretending to look for something in his bedside drawer.

 “I’m not getting her anything,” Theo scoffs weakly, his frown deepening as the tips of his ears turn bright red.

--

Sometime around noon of the 24th, the three of them meet at the plaza to join the potluck. The brothers bring cupcakes—“I didn’t know you baked, Vincent!” “It wasn’t me, it was Theo.” “Oh?”—and she brings some spaghetti, and the rest of the table is overflowing with food to eat. Everyone is dressed in shades of gold, red, green, and white. Music plays through the speakers attached to the streetlights.

Her face kind of hurts with how big she’s smiling.

She doesn’t hate life on the campus, no, but it’s become monotone, a little too uninteresting that leaves her on edge. It’s exactly why she was so eager to get on with Arthur’s dare and get to know Theo in the first place—she had that sense that maybe it would bring her somewhere new, somewhere fascinating. The only exception to the otherwise boring campus life is on big events like this holiday party, and the feeling is something she can’t get enough of.

The party goes just about as one would expect—her, pulling Vincent around by the elbow getting him to try all the different kinds of food laid out (“No, no, I couldn’t possibly eat anymore—” “Just one more bite! Just one!”); her, pulling Theo by the wrist to join her and Vincent in ice-skating (“I’m not interested.” “You have no say in the matter!”); and then, of course, Theo, pelting her right in the face with a snowball (the most annoyed pout she can muster, together with “Oh you want war, then you’re getting it!”)

It is already four in the afternoon when the three of them make it out of the hubbub. Theo is walking with his hands in his pockets, humming along to one of the Christmas songs now aggressively stuck in his head after having heard it at least 60 times in the past four hours. She teases him about it and he frowns about it, but he’s still humming.

“I ate too much!” she whines, clutching her stomach pitifully as they walked. “Absolutely no regrets though. I love Christmas potluck, but this year was just crazy.”

Vincent laughs. “You really shouldn’t have gotten that last pretzel,” he chides.

“But it was so good! I don’t know where they sourced that cinnamon, but it made me cry.”

Theo snorts. “You cried?”

“I did, I don’t understand how one wouldn’t,” she sighs. “Theo, you were just too into your chocolate-topped-with-caramel-topped-with-strawberries-topped-with—” she takes a breath, “—diabetes cake thing. Why was that even allowed to exist.”

“You just have no taste,” Theo says, but it has no venom in it.

She grins. “Neither do you.”

“That makes us even.”

She should be going home by now—the sun will be setting soon, and she’d rather not be walking home in the dark in the snow—but her little apartment building is rather empty for the holidays, and it can get quite lonely when the rest of the campus is still celebrating. It’s a good thing she doesn’t need to tell the brothers for them to understand, and they let her walk with them all the way back to their little house, the one she’s been in so often in the past few months, it kind of feels like a second home too.

“Hot chocolates?” Vincent asks once they’ve made it through the threshold with matched sighs, hanging his coat by the rack. She whoops and cheers.

“Yes please!” she says, “I’ll choose a movie!”

Christmas has never really been a special holiday to her in the past. Sure, it’s enjoyable, and involves a lot of food and gifts, the questionable-if-enjoyable company of a lot of family members, sometimes even distantly extended ones, and most of the sense of the holiday is about its commercialized form instead of the actual religious holiday, giving it an alienating feeling, but—

This year it’s a little different.

Feels a little different.

Not quite like the usual.

Not when she’s snuggled under a blanket, Theo in between her and Vincent, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, Klaus on the TV. Not when it’s been a long semester of burning the midnight oil studying and working so hard, and then suddenly it feels like it’s okay to rest.

Rest in this place that lets her curl up warmly in its softness.

And sure, maybe some things feel the same, familiar, like Theo’s nose, scrunched up because he’s taking the movie a little too seriously, or Vincent’s sunny smile, or Arthur’s text message in her phone of [ no mistletoe? 🎄 ]—but it’s different.

The longing tearing at her heart, she begins to be sure that she’ll miss this.

It’s not home but she’s sure if one day she will ever find it, it will probably feel like this.

They sit around the living room talking to each other even after the movie ends, and by the time it truly feels like the day has settled down around them, the sun is long out of the sky. Slowly, the sinking feeling that she had overstayed her welcome begins to crawl over her, once Vincent brings their now-empty mugs onto the kitchen sink. She straightens up at her seat, nervously fidgeting next to the mountain of blankets separating her and Theo on the couch.

And then suddenly, she remembers.

“Oh, but before the night ends—”

She digs into her bag and pulls out a small gift, wrapped with a yellow ribbon. Vincent returns to the living area just at the right moment, so she hands the present to Vincent. “Merry Christmas, Vincent! It’s not much, but I hope it proves helpful for your current project.”

He doesn’t know it yet, but it’s a box of fresh paints, the brand he uses. Not in as wide an array of colors of what he does have, but still a good number. She made sure to check which ones he used the most.

“You didn’t have to!” he says, summer sun in his smile. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, Vincent, of course,” she says. And then, she pulls out another thing—turning towards Theo as she hands him a box, neatly held together with starry wrapping paper and a sheer white ribbon. “Merry Christmas, Theo. Thanks for everything this year.”

Vincent chuckles at the look of surprise on Theo’s face. Theo looks back at his brother, betrayed.

But he doesn’t have much time for that, because the gift is hovering in between him and her awkwardly. He takes it and mumbles a soft, “Um, thanks.”

She blinks. “Do you not want it?”

“I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Surprises are good this time of year,” she says. Grins when she catches the tips of Theo’s ears already pink. Vincent spots it too and laughs, as he reaches out from underneath their little Christmas tree to hand them some gifts as well.

By the heft of it, she guesses what’s inside her wrapped present is a small painting; she beams at Vincent and throws him an embrace in thanks. Vincent gifts Theo a gray sweater with a reindeer on it, the kind of gift one would receive from their grandmother instead of their brother, but Theo quickly puts it over his shirt excitedly anyway.

She wonders why Theo hasn’t opened her gift to him yet.

Vincent manages to say up to half of “And what about you, Theo?” when Theo quickly gets up on his feet, saying, “I should walk you home,” pointing at the clock on the wall. Solidly eight at night. Not that late, really, but—there’s no good overstaying. Her heart drops a little but she nods anyway.

“Yeah, I should,” she agrees. “Thank you for today, Vincent.”

He beams. “Of course. Come join us anytime.”

Theo holds the gift box she had given him under his arm and turns to her. “Ready in 5?”

“Yup, I just need to go to the restroom,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

She clears her head quickly in the bathroom. She doesn’t know when she started to get so riled up whenever Theo walked her home—late evenings at the van Goghs on Fridays spent talking about the exhibit has made it a common affair—but tonight, her heart is hammering in her chest somehow. It’s been a normal day. Nothing’s different, she convinces herself, so there’s no need for all these theatrics and heart acrobatics.

When she gets out to the foyer, she catches Theo leaning against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his coat, and—

The deep blue scarf around his neck.

The one she chose for him.

Arthur said the best gift to give Theo is one he will be able to use, but—

She hadn’t imagined seeing it in use would leave her dry of words, too.

“Let’s go?”

She pretends the flush in her face is due to the sudden cold. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The walk home isn’t entirely quiet. She checks her phone and shows him the photos of Christmas eve the rest of their friends have sent them, in the group chat Theo never checks because he’s just not that kind of guy. Then they talk about the party, her profusely accusing Theo of attempted murder for having hit her right on target at the face pretty hard with that snowball. And then, they turn toward talking about the exhibit, and Vincent, and the upcoming year and—

Talk like this, about the little things, like they usually do.

The comforting usuals of their friendship.

Nothing different. Nothing new.

Just the usual.

Finally, after 20 minutes she wanted to last forever, they make it to her apartment complex. They bid goodbye at the entrance. She’s just about turned around to leave when she feels the warmth of his fingers around her wrist, pulling her back.

“Theo?” “Hondje," they call to each other at the same time.

He hands a small, wrapped box he’s kept underneath his coat towards her.

“For you.”

She blinks. Oh, if Arthur could have seen their mirrored expressions from their exchange of gifts, he would have laughed so loudly. “What is this?”

He narrows her eyes at her, as if she said something stupid. “A gift.”

“I mean—” she begins, but then just chuckles. “I mean thanks. This means a lot.”

“Don’t think about it too hard. Rest well,” he says, the following syllables of her name just light on his lips. The sound of it makes her nerves flutter. She holds onto the gift box in her hand tightly instead, as if making sure it’s there. That this is real. Theo gives her a look like she’s transparent. “You’re always welcome at the house. No matter how long you stay. Merry Christmas.”

A smile creeps up on her face uncontrollably. “Merry Christmas too, Theo.”

She waves goodbye to him and watches him disappear off the corner before she runs upstairs to go to her room—to shut the door behind her and take a deep breath. She shrugs her coat off, tucks the mittens inside the pockets.

Puts the little box she’d been holding so carefully, still warm from Theo’s coat, along with her little wrapped painting from Vincent, underneath the small makeshift Christmas tree sitting on her kitchen counter.

Earlier that day, Theo had slipped a note in between the pages of a poetry book—on an old receipt he’d scribbled on at the back, which said: thanks for helping my brother out. thought our little miss ‘love is the answer to all of the world’s problems’ would enjoy a bit of e.e. cummings.

And tomorrow, first thing on Christmas morning, sipping on hot chocolate with sugar marshmallows on top, she will open the box and find the note and grin widely. And, in a reversal of her usual, she will make herself comfortable on the couch, overlooking the window, the falling snow, and read the book slowly, investing her heart in each syllable. Listening to every sound in her head. Carrying each word gently, taking her time.

Dipping her feet lightly into the book. Relishing in the curve of the words on her lips as she reads—words Theo chose and wrapped into a gift, then given to her.

[wxlawson]

[ WAGNER ‘WOODY’ LAWSON. 42. CISMALE. HE/HIM] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ THREE YEARS ] and are originally from [ TENESEE]. They are a [ MANAGER AT A DUDE RANCH ] and in their downtime love [ COLT STARTING ] and [ TAKING NAPS IN THE HAYLOFT ]. They look a lot like [ MILO VENTIMIGLIA] and live [ IN OASIS APTS ]

Name: Wagner ‘Woody’ Lawson

Age: Forty-Two

Birthday: January 25, 1979

Sign: Aquarius

Home: Quaint two-bedroom home with a small yard

Occupation: Manager at a dude ranch

Character Quote: “Sometimes I feel like Jesse James / Still tryin’ to make a name / Knowing nothing’s gonna change what I am” ~Troubadour by George Strait

Pos. Traits: Hard-Working, Steady, Humble

Neg. Traits: Blunt, Firm, Dissonant

Likes: farm work, aged whiskey, loping through the open country

Dislikes: people who push around others, well-done steak, warm beer

Aesthetic: tennessee whiskey, the smell of fresh hay, roping

~bio~

Born in Tennessee Wagner Lawson was raised along the banks of Mississippi mud, never given a chance to be anything but the down-home country boy, which had always suited Wagner just fine. His daddy was a colt starter and former rodeo champion, having won national titles for roping and reining. From the moment Wagner could waddle he was following his daddy around everywhere, at first just watching as his father worked and as he got older helping with the chores himself. He found that spending time tending to the many horses cathartic and volunteered for just about any chore that would get him around them. Never once did he need to be asked to pitch in to do what was needed at the family ranch, from picking vegetables in the garden for his mama to helping his daddy check the cattle fences. As far as most childhoods go, his was pretty perfect. Sure, sometimes his dad drank too much and sometimes his mom just would not stop fussing over him, but he had no cause to complain.

His father, seeing his boy take an interest in horses at such a young age decided to help Wagner begin to follow in his footsteps. As a kid he enrolled Wagner in the pee-wee portion of rodeos where his wife would take pictures of the young boy struggling to stay on the back of a wildly running sheep, but in the end, he stayed on. He almost always did. With natural talent like that his father was quick to get his son started on the path to becoming a bull-rider. His mama threw fits and got into fights with his daddy, it was too dangerous, he could be hurt, killed even, but as he got older and started to have a mind of his own there was nothing that he wanted to do more. So he practiced, and practiced. By sixteen he was competing on broncs, a safer alternative to the bull, and was cleaning up at junior rodeos, his room becoming full of belt buckles, the tack room full of all the special made trophy tack he had won. But being bucked was far from his only talent. At age ten he had broke his very first colt and at twelve he was winning local roping competitions. He even became adept at helping his dad sort and catch cattle, something he was never fond of but did anyways as it was expected of him. Despite how it sounds, his childhood wasn’t all work. While never the best in school he managed to get passing marks and had a group of boys he roughhoused and fucked around with who were constantly getting him into trouble as a teenager.

Fast forward a few years and he was one of the hottest young bull riders to hit the circuit. But his career as a rider didn’t last as long as anyone would have hoped. The reason? He fell in love. Some would have called the pretty woman he fell in love with a buckle bunny, what with her affinity of dating all the big rodeo stars, but when him and her spent one night together the rest was history. Now twenty-two and married with a baby on the way, Wagner knew he could not be as hell mell as he had been for the past few years. He now had a family to think about; and so, he quit bull riding and switched exclusively to broncs. It was still dangerous, but the risks less than if he was on the back of a bull. Life went on and for the most part the little family was happy, until tragedy struck. On the night of his twenty-eighth birthday, with his wife and little girl in the stands, he overtightened the strap around his hand. At first everything seemed to be going well, he had one of his best times, but as he threw himself off the bucking bronco his hand caught. It was an instant disaster. The animal began to panic, bucking harder and higher, with Wagner hanging on for dear life. His only blessing was that the first hoof to his head knocked him out cold. He was rammed into the side of the fence and drug for minutes before those in charge of wrangling the horse were finally able to calm it down. In the midst of the chaos, his wife, fretting over her husband, had not noticed her daughter slip down through the stands calling out for her daddy. No one noticed her presence in the ring until it was too late. All it took was one wrong move from the frightened animal and the sunshine of Wagner’s life was no more.

The blow to Wagner’s own head had been so severe that he was kept in a medically induced coma for two-weeks, giving the wounded flesh time to heal. When he awoke, his whole world was shattered. He grieved, and as he did his grief turned to anger. Anger at the situation, anger at the long arduous healing process, and anger at himself. But all that anger had to go somewhere, and with the only person around during his recovery being his wife, she took the brunt of it. It took him a little over a year to fully heal physically, and during that time he began to develop a dependency on his pain medication. He spent his days sitting in front of the tv drinking beer after beer on top of the opiates as his wife worked in a small diner to try and keep the roof over their heads. One day, a year and half after the tragic accident, the woman had decided that she had had enough. She gave Wagner an ultimatum, get help or she was gone. It led to largest fight yet, a massive blowout that made it clear where Wagner stood.

At that point he was nearing thirty and with nowhere else to go moved back in with his parents. His father though older now was still tough as nails and no patience for his son’s pansiness as he called it. He put Wagner to work. Sober or not he was expected to help, and if he didn’t, God help him. At first he railed, his rage boiling over and eclipsing everything. Rather than argue with his son, the elder Lawson simply gave him a new task. It would be his only job- start the colts. It was something Wagner had used to excel at, but his anger and rage at the horse’s mis compliance made things difficult. The gentle animals became scared of him and began to lash out. One colt in particular, a beautiful bay, resented Wagner more than any of the others, and he let him know it. That was Wagner’s wake up call. He ended up forming a bond with that colt that pulled him out of his stupor and set him back on track. His special relationship with that animal also earned him a nickname, Woody, because wherever Woody went, Buzz followed. Buzz and Woody quickly began racking up wins in roping and reining competitions, and for the next years, Woody allowed himself to feel the happiness that had come into his life. The two traveled all over the countryside, with Woody picking up odd jobs such as stable hand or working cowboy. Until one competition where in the middle Buzz came up lame with an injury too bad to fix, leaving Woody the tough choice of having to put his beloved companion down.

The loss of his friend sent Wagner ass-first back into the destructive patterns of his life, drugs and alcohol once more waging war inside his body. Only this time he wasn’t a young man, and the substances were taking a heavy toll on his health, not that he cared. His parents, unable to reach him, packed his things and kicked him out. Woody’s father, unable to completely give up on his son, reached out to an old friend who owned a dude ranch an hour outside of LA. For over a year Woody lived there, forced to claw his way back to sobriety through back-breaking labor. The option was always there for him to quit the job, fend for himself, but the company of the horses and being the source of looking after their well-being brought him back from the brink much like it had the last time. A year and a half later he was completely back on the wagon, though he can be known to slip with the drinking whenever the subject of his daughter is brought to the forefront of his mind, mainly around birthdays, his and hers, as well as holidays. 

Wanting more independence Woody turned in his resignation, thanking his father’s friend for getting him back on his feet. Much to his surprise, rather than accept his two weeks notice, he offered Woody a promotion: to oversee the entire running of the dude ranch. It is a big job and one he takes very seriously, knowing that the overall welfare of the horses depends on him, even if he is no longer responsible for their day to day care. That was three years ago.

Since then he’s moved into an apartment at Oasis Apartments in Silver Lake, a place where he could have his freedom yet still manage his responsibilities. Anyone who’s ever been inside his apartment will say it looks like a country movie blew up, with saddles scattered on stands throughout the place and rodeo memorabilia hung up throughout, but for him, it’s the closet thing to home.

[pompcoco]

Harold Mews Character Analysis

(Authors note: This essay was made for fun and to educate people more on Mews and my analysis on him. I will be stating and summarizing many facts that some people might not know about Mews because the website I will be mentioning in this essay can only be found from a link in Mews’ page in the Poptropica Wiki. He has lots of information and character to him that the team and creators of Poptropica probably might’ve given without realizing, but honestly, it was good that they did. This will be a long read, so it’s ok to skim through or just read the conclusion and TLDR at the end. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!)

              Harold Mews is the eccentric millionaire that hosts the contests on Cryptids Island and aids you during your quests to find the cryptids. But during the time on the island, you don’t get to know Mews unless if you pay attention to his dialogue or what other NPCs say about him. There are multiple things you can learn about him from his wiki, an archived website of the Mews Foundation that was created to promote Cryptids Island in the times of its release, and the Cryptids Island Book. In this essay, I will go in-depth on Mew’s character and how he is one of the most developed characters in the Poptropica universe.

           (What we learn from the game)

Mews is the first main character of Cryptids the player first hear about in the game. The player also learns that he is giving one million dollars to get proof of four very well-known cryptids. And before his introduction, you learn from NPCs from the rest of the island that he hides in his mansion, and the public has not seen him in years. He saves you from Gretchen after she nearly drowns you, and comments on how she is a cheater and will do anything to get the prize money. He mentions that he’s always had a fascination for cryptids ever since he was young and wants to prove that their there. When you give him invalid evidence, he doesn’t get angry at you and still believes in you. He provides the helicopter, the motorcycle in New Jersey, and the lab for the contest. And in the end, he wants to create a shelter for Bigfoot but won’t have enough money and will be broke until the player in the script gives up the money prize. From this, we can see that he is a kind man who has a passion for monsters and the unknown to the point of trying to prove their existence, but at the same time is considerate of their safety and does not try to put them in a zoo, unlike Grimlock.

           (From the Website)

           Mews has a biography that can be found in his wiki, sourced from the archived Mews Foundation website. This article explains he was well raised and came from a humble, hardworking family, inherited his family company, and turned it into a big success, Mews Corporation. He had always been adventurous and spent his free time in nature and on adventures. Examples include him riding the Great Booga Shark from Shark Tooth island and challenging Hermes, a literal god, in a ski race, in which he won. Mews, in the Poptropica universe, could’ve been one of the first people to climb Mt. Everest, but left the climber party to follow tracks he believed belonged to the Yeti. He did not find anything, but it made him realize his passion for discovering and researching cryptids. This dream of his was set in mind as years after this event; he retires from Mews Corp to creating the Mews Foundation. Their goal is going beyond scientific boundaries and show proof of cryptids.

From the website itself, it gives more detail of what the Foundation does from the News section. The Foundation does not just do research and expeditions, but they also provide and help the public. They showcase this by supporting and giving hair growth products for the people who turned bald in Spy Island. Despite their charitable acts and innocent goal, Mews and his Foundation have mixed publicity. For example, Mews was accused of helping build Dr. Hare’s Rabbot because Hare had used a navigational device that was developed by Mews Corp. Despite the accusation, a spokesperson of Mews, Cheerful Spinner, defends him and his company by mentioning that they defiantly did not have any involvement with Dr. Hare as well as the fact that adventurers use Mews tech and devices in a daily bases with their blimps. And when the announcement came up for the contest, Spinner comments that it is to stop the negative publicity that the Foundation has.

  (From the Book)

           In the book, it shares more characteristics of Mews. He has the habit of rambling about his adventures, which the main character in the placement of the player, Anne, notes that he is known to do. At the beginning of the story, Anne’s mom adds the fact that Mews does have a negative reputation for others by mentioning he is a “reclusive nut.” More on people’s opinions of him are in the book, but he does still has the humbleness and dislike of Grimlock from the game. For example, he’s sympathy for Anne when Grimlock steals their proof of the cryptids and also tells Anne that Grimlock is the only actual monster that actions should be put in a museum and should be long extinct. (Dang he really roasted her there it’s such a good quote) He also shares his story of seeing Bigfoot at a young age that either adds or is an alternative event to the Yeti search that stricken Mews interest for cryptids.  

           (Analysis)

           From what has been given here, Mews is a man with the lifetime passion of proving the existence of cryptids, and despite being an old eccentric millionaire, he is still very to others and is very grounded and still has an adventurous spirit. A question that still is not answered or explained is Mews’ disappearance from the public and becoming more reclusive and private. There are multiple reasons that could explain his actions. One, he could just be working from home for the Foundation and wants to keep some of his research there, for example, the Cryptid Museum that is set up in his own home, private. Or two, he’s just tired. He’s had a busy life and wants more privacy and rest, especially with his status. And to why he created the contest all of a sudden after years of not being public is unknown. It could be because of the idea of him not proving the existence of cryptids as his life goes by broke him because he had been searching for years, and he was so sure that they existed. He might’ve been scared that everything he had worked for could be for nothing, so he began the contest without hesitation because he wanted all the help he could get to prove his dream to come true, but that wouldn’t go without consequences.

Despite his good intentions and character, he does have flaws. One flaw is that he has is that he is impulsive. He created the contest without any set rules or guidelines that could’ve made the contest safer and less messy. Mews also seemed to know Grimlock before this and knew her means to get what she wanted and could’ve prevented her from getting involved with the contest and hurting the other contestants. Mews is generous, but that is a flaw of his as well. His Foundation was funded from his pocket. He is a millionaire, but there is a limit to spending even with the amount he had. The Foundation website bio stated that they had been around for more than ten years, and they don’t take donations, meaning he had been providing the Foundation for years. Still, he would eventually become almost broke also as well as the Foundation because they did not earn money from their discoveries and expeditions. The inevitability of the Foundation’s lose in money is shown in a News article on the website, where it is briefly mentioned that the expedition leader of the failed Mongolian Death Worm search, Cuddly Fly, was told he would not be paid for the trip due to legal reasons. And as we all know at the end of the contest, Mews tells the player that he’d love to make a sanctuary for Bigfoot, but once he gives away the million, he’s broke due to spending everything on the contest and it being the last drop of money he has from the years of funding his Foundation.  

 Harold Mews is probably one of the most thought out characters in Poptropica. Even if the website was promotional for Cryptids Island, it gives a lot of details and information about Mews and his Foundation, their reputation, and slowly lose money. The book is also very good at showing his personality with his kindness, persistence, quirkiness, and rambles. Many Poptropica NPCs, especially if their not villains, are overlooked because they don’t have much lore or depth given to them due to the storyline of islands and how the player is usually given quests by NPCs and does most of the work. But Mews proves to be not just a normal NPC that makes you do all the work; he is an actual friend to the player by showing them much gratitude, patience, and really helps throughout this island.

 TLDR; Mews is a cool character, and there’s a lot of things about him. He did a lot of things adventurous things in his life and threw away his life in business to go to his true calling and passion for Cryptids. He is kind and generous, but he has flaws since he started the contest without rules that led it to be pretty chaotic if you think about it as well as he ends up broke by the end because of the contest as well as the years of funding his Foundation by himself with no donations and no profit from it.

(Sourses)

Mews wiki

Mews Foundation Website on Wayback Machine (if this link doesn’t work its on the Mews wiki)

Crytpids Island Book you can get on Amazon!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, CAS! You’ve been accepted for the role of TYBALT. Admin Minnie: I HAVE WAITED A MILLION YEARS FOR EXACTLY YOU, CAS. Please do not think that I am, for one second, exaggerating. You expect every Tiberius application to have a force of will and dynamic quality behind it, but you gave us nuance. You gave us depth. Reading your application left me feeling like I was walking on a tightrope, in the very best way possible, with danger and urgency and FUN. I have no doubt that you will keep all of us on the edge of our seats with our heart in our throats with your Tiberius! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias |  Cas.

Age |  Twenty-two.

Preferred Pronouns |  She/her.

Activity Level |  I’m finishing up my MLit, but I tend to work in the day and then write in the night, so I don’t think it would affect my activity much. Lockdown means that I’m pretty much always around, always have access to a laptop and, therefore, will probably alwaysbe writing. To give it a numerical scale, I’d give it 8/9.

Timezone | GMT.

How did you find the rp? |  Honestly? I’ve been following this roleplay since it opened, more or less. I kinda forgot about it for a while, but I was writing a paper on Shakespeare and that reminded me I should take another look.

IN CHARACTER

Character |  Tybalt, Tiberius Capulet.

What drew you to this character? |  While I was reading the open bios, I was pulled between a few different characters. I actually started writing up an application for Hero, but honestly, when I read Tiberius’ bio? I was totally enthralled. I’m used to playing sharp, wily, morally ambiguous characters, so Tiberius is new ground for me. He’s a gun with a mouth, a bomb always teetering on the edge of explosion, he’s a blade, he’s a weapon, and he builds a shrine to himself. He is unapologetically the villain of his own story, and nobody can take that away from him. He’s the sort of person who makes you utter his name out in full: Tiberius Capulet. He likes the sound of that. It’s harsh and guttural; it sticks to the roof of your mouth and chokes you. You don’t forget a name like that — and anyway, he doesn’t let you. Tiberius is a god made flesh, and he makes sure you know it. But he’s hungry, ravenous, really, and nothing sates that appetite. There’s a quote by Ruth Awad which I think puts what I’m trying to say quite nicely: ‘God who ate everything, did this world feed you?’ What really draws me towards Tiberius is the fact that he seems to vacillate between two extremes: he is at once cavernous and filled with every damask feeling in the world. He feels nothing and he feels everything; he looks at the world with two brutal, voracious eyes and decides he’ll devour it someday, he’ll eat it raw. That much is owed to him. If the god Ares lives among them, he lives in Tiberius: he is an ancient storm bated beneath skin. If he is given a choice between love and fear, he chooses fear, every time, until he burns so bright the world ends.

And yet, that’s only a slice of him. After all, how do you burn without a fire? Tiberius casts himself as the antagonist, but layered beneath that surface are chapters upon chapters of unfinished stories, untold tales, a whole mythology just sitting there, boiling under the skin. He’s brutal, but he’s not without feeling; quite the opposite, he feels things more deeply than most. Sure, he’s not a man of many attachments, but those he has, he holds onto for dear life. He is at once the beast and the man; the villain and the anti-villain. I think what drew me to Tiberius more than anything is the opportunity to unfurl all this rage, all this villainy in him, and to really determine where it comes from. He covets the crown of Verona, but he is first and last a Capulet — that is something that both propels him into greatness and holds him back. He will set this city ablaze and simultaneously shield his cousins from the fires of his own making. They’re a name, they’re a dynasty, and, sure, he wants the crown, but he’ll stop at nothing to preserve that. He loves them, in his own savage, infernal way. Their strategies will never be the same—Juliet is the Heart, Rafaella the Brain, Tiberius the Brute Force—but they forge a formidable trifecta. So, I suppose what makes Tiberius most interesting as a character is this oscillation between morality and amorality: he wants to feel the weight of the world in his hands and have them bruised by it, but what is he willing to sacrifice to achieve that? He is a mere prince, not a king, and while he knows that power is wielded by those who carve it out in stone and not those who are simply born into it, at night he dreams of sitting on a throne, ruling high above them all.

Anyway, sorry, I rambled — but! Essentially, I’m drawn to Tiberius not merely because he’s a wildfire as much as he is flesh and blood, but also because he has this impossible task of navigating and determining his own loyalties. He has one goal, plain and simple: Tiberius wants to rule. He has felt a strange magnetic pull to the throne ever since he was born; it has been calling his name for as long as he can remember. And he doesn’t care for much, but for those who make the cut, he’ll do anything, stop at nothing; he would pulverise this city into dust if it meant the Capulets emerged from the rubble on top. If feeling deeply makes you a monster, well, then, is the man a monster?

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

‘I, too, wanted to set Rome on fire, but never became an emperor due to unforeseen circumstances.’  Anonymous.

He’s a non-playable character, I know, but I’d love to explore Tiberius’ relationship with Cosimo a little more. I can’t help but feel that from the moment the boy know what power was, felt the weight of it in his bones, Tiberius has made himself accessible, always, to the man he hopes to replace. He was raised in the boss’ household, at all times hemmed in with wealth and warfare but always tempered by that culture of respect Cosimo has cultivated, and all he has ever known is bloodshed, scheming and the ruthless folklore of the Montague/Capulet feud. It’s not really a war anymore. More a lifestyle; simply how things are. Every single thing he knows about the world has been callously seized from the pages of history this mighty house has rewritten, and everything he can see, everything the dark touches, has Cosimo at the helm of it all. For two years, it was him, only him, before Juliana came along. That’s something I’d like to explore down the line: the scorn of his parentage which he finds so unfortunate, coalesced with his rearing, those years gleaning from Cosimo’s words lessons of war and honour, and the way in which Juliana’s birth cut through that blissful acrimony. Like a fine blade cutting through cardinal silk. What were those first two years like for him? Tiberius wears irascible warfare like a second skin — Juliana does not. And that is what makes one a worthy General, no? I’d love to delve a little deeper into the upbringing of the two—Cosimo’s subtly different dealings with them both—and how they have each flourished as a consequence of that. After all, it all goes hand-in-hand with his status as a Captain. Juliana the Heiress, Rafaella the Advisor — but him? Tiberius is a Capulet, but he is severed from the same power, prestige and influence afforded to his cousins; he is relegated and forced to run with the wolves, avid and hungry, with no history or name to bolster them. He may not be Cosimo’s son, but he is Capulet by name and by nature — ought he not dwell amongst other Capulets? It’s an insult, plain and true, and I’d love to explore how that affects Tiberius’ relationship with the other Captains. He views himself above them, their superior in all but status; but how do they view him?

‘Hades is relentless and untamed; so mortals hate him most of all the gods.’  Homer, from The Iliad.

Every action is purposeful, every swing of the blade with a goal in mind. He is no haphazard architect of chaos; the chaos is marked, always deliberate. More than anything, I would love to see Tiberius achieve everything he’s ever dreamed of. To become, once and for all, emperor; the General. But for that to happen, he has to cast Juliana and Rafaella aside. Juliana should be easy enough, he thinks, she has too much heart and too much soul to resort to artillery, blood, firepower—complacency is cowardice—but Rafaella is a more arduous obstacle. She smart enough for the crown, Tiberius is certain of it. Rafaella is not a Capulet by blood, but she is a Capulet by nature, and her wit is a force to be reckoned with. She is Tiberius’ real competition, primogeniture be damned, and, one day, he will have to fight her for the crown. The Capulets are a powerful little triad, to be sure: what with the empathy of Juliana, the sharp gumption of Rafaella, and the brute strength of Tiberius, they are unstoppable, impregnable. They yield to no-one, and that is the beauty of it all. But Tiberius is a dangerous sort of beast; he is blinded by rage and, for as long as he can remember, he has seen all things in red. I’d love to see a plot where Tiberius is at last granted everything he’s ever wanted—the heiress is cast aside as well as the polymath—and Verona suffers for it. After all, history has had its say on bloody men: Herod, Caligula, where are they now? They are dead. Their hands are marred with executions, with the blood of innocents. War is easy, isn’t it? But ruling is harder. Tiberius would not be a good ruler. Not now, not without identifying the seat of all that anger in him; not without Juliana and Rafaella at his side. There’s too much rage in him, too much cruelty. He lacks the heart and wit of his cousins. He is a man of war, a harbinger of violence and blood; what man like that knows the first thing about politics? He was born savage and he will die savage, plain and simple. Tiberius’ rule is not one, I don’t think, that Verona would take to easily. It’s this strange cesspool of moral degradation which thrives in duplicity: Verona is much too familiar with that thin, gauzy film it casts over people’s eyes. And when the body politic suffers, people tend to do something about it.

+  Equally, he might come to terms with the idea that Juliana, Rafaella and Tiberius need each other to rule. Not merely does Tiberius need them, but they need him. He’s prepared to get his hands dirty — in fact, he revels in it. As I mentioned, there is something in each of them which is necessary for ruling. Tiberius may groan at the softness of Juliana’s heart and he might resent the wit which permits Rafaella to rule over him, but he needs them both. If the Capulets want to rule, they must learn to do it together. They are a coin with three faces, and together, they engender a divinity for the modern age.

‘I’ve exhausted all my cruelty. I’ve arrived at myself again.’  Jenny George, from The Dream of Reason.

For most people, cruelty is a fickle thing: it comes and goes when necessity demands of it. Tiberius is not like most people. Through his eyes, the world crumbles to dust, and he stands, menacing and cruel, high above the wreckage. He has always expected that of himself and, as a result, so have those around him. He’s no Machiavelli, but the harshness of his heart strikes fear into his soldiers, his enemies, his underlings. But what happens when that brutality is exhausted? What happens when you take and take and take from that pot of callousness, of inhumanity, and the next time you reach your hand down into it, it comes up empty? A body can only contain so much: it is only a vessel. I would love to see Tiberius come to the end of his thread, to exhaust all the cruelty in him, and for the first time be forced to confront who he really is beneath all that anger. Identify where it all comes from. There’s a line in Tiberius’ bio I love: ‘He would never be satisfied—not until he drew his last breath, and probably not even then.’ He is relentless, utterly relentless, but every man has a breaking point. Nothing is enough for him, nothing sates him, and that is enough to break him. Tiberius is always being pulled between family pride and power; the Capulet name and the Capulet crown. He has always been decisive but, here, he falters. It bends him out of shape. I want to see him question absolutely everything he has ever known: his ambition, his hubris, his selfhood. Who is he, beyond the anger? Beyond the rage? There’s a quote from Antony and Cleopatra just before Antony’s death which I love: ‘Here I am Antony, / Yet I cannot hold this visible shape.’ I want to see that happen to Tiberius. I want to see him question absolutely everything he knows himself, everything he thinks he wants, and completely re-evaluate it. Maybe it makes him vulnerable — or maybe it makes him weak.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |  Oh, for sure.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample: (Full disclaimer, this had a whole story but I ran out of time, so I had to end it randomly! Whoops.)

The man is a gun with a mouth. He is silent until the trigger is pulled, and then he revels in the onslaught.

He smooths his fingers over the dark wood of the pew, splicing them between the ridges as if they were born to them. But that’s blasphemy, no? He’s an unholy, godless thing, and as leather touches to stone, Tiberius swears that his feet are warmed by the flames beneath them. He has always found there to be something quite provoking about the Cathedral of Verona: the ostensible aspect of it, anyway, the guise it projects beyond itself. He watches the way that the crucified martyr glowers down at him from the cross, made definite by golds and rubies and gaudy display. As if he owes him something. Tiberius exhales, inaudible, and leans backwards. A tiger ensconced in wait. He rolls up his sleeve as if he’s wearing a watch. There’s no watch. But he knows Cassian is late.

He catches the words of the believers, pilgrims circling the effigy at the alter, caught up in an aerial whisper: I’ve never found a language to talk about the things that haunt me most, one of them purrs at the idol. He scoffs at that.

The Cathedral is just a history written over another history, Cosimo tells him once. History is always being written—written and unwritten—so, really, history is not history but hearsay, rumour, accepted gospel. Veronans have a short memory, don’t they? They simply accept the image before them without question, without hesitation: they look, but they do not see. They’ve always been like that, he thinks. Why? Why pant after history, he thinks, when we’re rewriting it every day, running rogues through with their own fucking swords and putting words to paper with their blood? But it is no use to justify yourself; no use in explaining. It is weak to be anecdotal. He remembers his Sunday mornings here, dressed up in the right garb, Juliana tugging at his sleeves. Devouts scurry each and every day to grovel at the feet of their God, as if the idol walks among them. He’s a believer, sure, but a profane one. What good Christian boy marches reverently from Sunday morning service straight into the footways of destruction and annihilation, slinging his cleaver over his shoulder? Him, apparently.

Gods walk among them, alright. New, shiny, pestilent gods, with bullets for mouths and their hearts in bronze fetters. God exists, but there are a thousand more to join him, and they’re all made in his image. They’re new stories, new divinities forged out of his own flesh and blood. History is so distracted by the endurances of the past, the days of beggary and hunger. But the Capulets build. Their power coasts along the half-light, savage moments seen in fragments. Tiberius works in the dark, in half-seen expressions and deeds. Light swathes itself around him only when it is too late to escape him. And then he cuts you down. The unknown is a frightening thing, people have decided, and so he opens up that gap and pours fear into it; always fear. Fear and blood, red as their crest.

Some of the rumours about him are true, some of them lies. Still, they are good stories to tell.

Tiberius is growing impatient. His soldiers know not to keep him waiting: when a forest fire burns it smoulders on, indiscriminate. He feels the air shift behind him, chilled, and he knows that Cassian has—at long fucking last—decided to grace him with his presence. He curls his neck over his shoulder, still perched on the pew as if in prayer, and watches Cassian approach him, the sloe of his eyes still and immovable. He doesn’t wait. He rises from the pew and makes towards the sacristy, the movement itself a beckoning to follow. He passes a group of worshippers and nods glassily at them — not worshippers, really, but eyes. Capulet eyes, which are always open.

Tiberius crosses the hall with his shadow lingering a few feet behind him, and when they climb the staircase he runs his fingers across the bannister’s veins of gold. He reaches the second floor and he shoulders himself through a door, slinging himself onto the leather of a sofa. He reposes himself low, all languorous, and a pulls a cigarette from his pockets, lighting it in the cup of his fingers. He does it effortlessly, with ease, like he’s done it a thousand times before — which, of course, he has. He pulls the cigarette to his mouth, inhales, exhales in smoke, resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa. ‘Well?’ he says, impatient.

Cassian is a man of words. Too fucking many words, Tiberius thinks. He prefers action. Still, he gets the job done, he supposes; there’s nothing squeamish about the man and he’s unscrupulous, damn it, and while he wouldn’t trust the man to catch him if he falls, he serves a purpose. He’s a steady little war-dog, always ready to do his bidding.

    ‘No show, apparently,’ he says, his eyes wandering. Buyers of the product who can’t pay up. Won’t, Tiberius had corrected him in their last discussion of the whole affair — won’t pay up. And there’s a price for that, isn’t there? Nobody makes a beggar out of the Capulets; nobody makes a beggar out of him, and lives to tell the tale. Fear’s a funny little thing, isn’t it? It lines one’s pockets with gold, somehow. Gives them the means to pay up, at last. Well, Tiberius is nothing if not efficient. ‘I’ll take care of it, boss.’

Tiberius says nothing. Merely inhales another puff of the cigarette, in, out, brings his elbow back down to the arm of leather and glowers. Same as fucking usual, he thinks. If it weren’t for the money, he’d simply fire his pistol, lodge the bullet squarely between the wastrel’s eyes. How’s that for efficiency? He watches the cogs turn behind Cassian’s eyes, marked, purposeful, full of intent — a thousand courses of actions slowly forging a path to escape him. But will Tiberius bite? Tonight, he decides, he’ll play nice. He flicks the cigarette carelessly into the ash tray and rises from the leather, his face still hard — but not heartless.

   ‘Bene,’ he decides upon, his expression still inflexible but apparently in the mood of charity tonight. Fine. ‘Get me a whiskey, then, won’t you? I’m parched.’

Extras: Just a Pinterest board I made for inspiration, which you can find here.I’ll direct you straight to this pin here because, well, is this Juliana talking about Tiberius? Yes. Yes it is.

[zuucc]

I Miss You: William Nylander I SMUT

Words: 6,722

Summary: Their relationship had lasted for seven years, and their friendship for all their lives. But William had a tendency to push people away when he got scared, but pushing her way didn’t just disappoint her, and himself, but every single one of his sisters, his father and especially Alex. And, oh god, his mother.

Author’s note: I haven’t posted a full story in ages! But here it is - even though it’s been months, my obsession with William Nylander is still just as strong. And somehow I managed to mix in my other obsession - Julia Michaels. This imagine is deeply inspired by Julia Michael's’ collaboration with Clean Bandit - “I Miss You”. 

Masterlist linked in bio. 

«I know you didn’t call your parents, and tell that we ended, cause you know that they’d be offended. Did you not wanna tell them it’s the end?»

You frowned when you saw Camilla’s name pop up on your screen. She was calling you. Why? You’d received a couple of snapchats here and there, like you always had, and you’d really appreciated it. When you and William had broken up, you felt like you didn’t just lose him, but his entire family, that you loved deeply. You had known them almost all your life, but now you didn’t know if you could even look his mother in the eyes anymore. Alex was one of your best friends, and you loved hanging out with his younger sisters, having never had younger siblings yourself. 

“Jacquline, don’t you dare!” William yelled as his younger sister ran towards the pool with the water hose in her hands. You squealed and hid in his arms as the cold water hit both of you, where you lounged together on the pool floatie that was definitely not meant for two people. Jacquline ran away, probably to avoid being caught by her eldest brother, that for sure would have run after her if he didn’t have you halfway in his lap. 

“Alex, get her,” William tried to make his brother do his dirty work for him by splashing water in his face, but the thirteen year old just scoffed and pushed your pool floatie away from him. “If you weren’t so busy flirting with your ‘just best friend’, you could do it yourself,” he chirped, making air quotes with his fingers as he referenced the relationship that the two of you claimed was strictly platonic. 

Just best friends. 

But you didn’t have any other friends that liked to lay in each others laps or hold hands underneath the blanket as you watched movies that weren’t even remotely scary. 

You picked up the phone just before it stopped ringing. “Hello,” you said and immediately regretted how you’d made it sound more like a question than an actual greeting. “Hi, sweetie, are you alright?” Camilla immediately sounded concerned. You took a deep breath and tried your absolute best to suck it up and sound more enthusiastic. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m just a bit tired,” you tried to convince her. “Oh, I see, you should try and sleep in now that William’s alarms isn’t waking you up every morning. He’ll be home in a couple of days, you know,” you could hear her smile through her voice. 

What? 

You had seen the pictures on Alex’s insta story. He had taken his older brother to Cabo, so that he could help him party away his sorrows, you guessed. You had seen the posts, and god how you wished it was you that he was holding in his hand, not a half empty bottle of vodka. 

No one had taken you to party away your sorrows. Sure, some of your friends had halfheartedly tried, but you weren’t done being absolutely miserable yet - and they all knew. You weren’t ready to even try to stop thinking about him. 

“He said they were coming back on the thirteenth, right?” she asked, when you didn’t say anything. And then it dawned upon you...

William hadn’t told her.

No wonder she was still snapchatting you, sending you messages here and there, calling. She didn’t know. It had been a full month, since you moved out. A full month, and he didn’t tell his mother that his seven year old relationship had ended. Seven years in a relationship, friends for almost sixteen. You couldn’t believe him. 

It wasn’t your job to tell her, it was his. It wasn’t right for you to tell her. So you sucked it up, once again, blinking away the tears that brimmed your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, Wednesday,” you tried to sound convincing. Truth was, you  had no idea when he was to come back. Camilla was silent for a little while, and you begged and prayed to gods you didn’t even believe in, that she would believe you. It was his job to tell her, and God knew that you didn’t have it in you to tell her that after seven years, you’d ended it. 

You’d known them since you started elementary school. Camilla had been like a second mother to you, always being there for you to talk about whatever it was that you needed to talk about. Wether it was about your parents, or even her own son. The last thing you wanted was to disappoint her.

“You know he’s only pushing you away because he likes you, right?” Camilla sat down next to you on the porch outside their house. You and William had always been close, closer than most best friends - witch you guessed came with growing up together - but this summer you had grown even closer. And you knew you didn’t just want to be his best friend anymore. And you thought he reciprocated those feelings, but as summer came to an end, you weren’t so sure anymore. 

“Do you really think so? I thought he did, but now it doesn’t even feel like we’re best friends anymore,” you mumbled, quickly drying off the tears that escaped your eyes. “Honey, I know he does. He doesn’t tell me anything, but I’ve been pretty sure for a long time. And this summer, it’s been obvious. The way he’s been holding on to you every chance he’s got. Like how he doesn’t let Daniella and Stephanie win the fight over who gets to sit next to you anymore?” You nodded, you hadn’t thought about it before, but it was true. His little sisters always wanted you to sit next to them while you ate dinner, the 5 year old basically attached herself to you as soon as you came through the door, but this summer William hadn’t let her steal you away from him. 

“I’m gonna go upstairs and just tell him to come down here, alright?” You nodded again, not wanting to let your voice break. She gave you a little hug before she disappeared inside to get William. Less than a minute later, William sat down next to you, not super close like he would’ve a few weeks ago, but close enough to have his bare knee touching yours. 

“Why are you pushing me away?” you try to keep your voice strong, but you can’t keep it from breaking at the end of the sentence, letting him know how it affected you. William took a deep breath, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. He sat still and quiet until a sob escaped your lips, and his arm came around your shoulders, pulling you into him. He could never take it when you cried, he’d dried your tears for years, and he wasn’t gonna let his stupid insecurities stop him from being there for you when you needed him.

“I’m scared,” he whispered. You looked up to meet his gaze. Another tear rolled down your cheek, and William reached out to catch it with his thumb. “I’m scared of what’ll happen if I admit to what I’m feeling,” he looked away from you. “what’ll happen to us if you don’t feel the same, and even if you do, what happens if it doesn’t work?” he spoke, and you found yourself reaching up to touch his cheek, turning his head back towards you. 

“Tell me what you feel,” your words came out as a whisper. His lips turned up slightly, before he leant his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “I feel like I want to be next to you all the time, like I want to touch you in some kind of way, any kind of way, at all times. Even if it’s cuddling you, or having my arm around you, or even just having your feet in my lap when we’re sitting on the couch. And I kind of want to kiss you, all the time,” you could barely hear the last part, but you knew what you’d heard. So the hand that you had previously rested on his thigh reached back up to his cheek, and you pressed your lips to his, that were so conveniently close to yours. And they stayed there for a long time.

“Are you sure you’re alright, honey? You can tell me, you know that,” she had put on that soft, motherly voice that always made you want to spill whatever it was that you were feeling. “That’s the problem, Camilla, I can’t tell you this, it’s not up to me to tell you this,” you cried, not able to hold it back anymore. “Willy apparently didn’t tell you, so maybe you should call him,” you added, the sobs taking over your voice. “Honey, what’s going on?” the motherly worry in her voice was unbearable. “Call your son, Camilla,” you hung up, throwing your phone to the end of the sofa, letting the sobs take over your body. 

~

“You can always talk to me, no matter what happens between you and William, we will always love you,” you read the text message from William’s mother about thirty times. It had ticked in a few hours after you ended your phone call. 

You just wished you could still talk to William. After all, he was all that mattered. You’d known him for sixteen years. You didn’t just have to get over a boyfriend of seven years, but a lifelong friendship. You don’t just get over that. It doesn’t work like that. Would’ve been too easy if it had. 

Your mind kept drifting to William and what he was doing, in Cabo. Drunk. You wondered if he was sad-drunk, crying over you. Or if he was hooking-up-with-everyone-drunk, making up for all the experiences he didn’t get to have in his teens, only having ever slept with you. You wondered if the thought of sleeping with somebody else scared him as much as it scared you. You lost your virginity to him when you were sixteen, and he lost his to you. All your experiences, you had with each other. You knew his body like you knew your own, and vice versa. 

“William,” you tried to scold him, but ended up giggling as he caught you on your way back to him and Alex in the down stairs movie room, carrying you towards his bedroom. You’d excused yourself to the bathroom, but William was waiting for you when you came out. “I just want to make out for a bit,” he smiled. The smile that made you want to do anything for him. You managed to roll your eyes before his lips pressed against yours, your body sandwiched between his and the door behind you. His hands firmly placed on your waist, as yours crawled up his chest, eventually finding their way to the back of his neck. 

Soon his tongue slipped inside your mouth and your fingers disappeared into thick blonde locks of hair. He groaned as you arched your body into his, pressing your hips against his already hardening member. He quickly bent down and hooked his hands underneath your thighs, lifting you up, carrying you the few feet to his bed, where he let go of you and positioned himself between your legs, before he continued kissing you. 

His lips started a trail of kisses down your neck, as your hands moved underneath his t-shirt, the shirt bunching up when you moved your hands up his back, causing Willy to make the decision to just remove the garment. The top you wore was short and exposed your midriff, and William took advantage of that, bending down to let his lips meet the soft skin of your waist. His kisses soon reached the fabric of your thin bralette, and he made sure to push your shirt up, over your breasts. Willy looked up to see you smiling down at him, making a giddy smile appear on his face. He winked at you before he dipped back down to kiss all over the tops of your breasts, and you jokingly pushed him into your chest, making him laugh.

“Stop,” he giggled, and you pulled him back up to your face. “You’re paying too much attention to my boobs,” you teased, but quickly pressed your lips back to his, letting your tongue meet his. His hand slipped down your side and back to your butt, pushing you against him as he felt you up. You moved your legs around him and pressed your legs into his backside, and Willy groaned against your lips. You smiled as the sound spilled out of his mouth.

He rolled you both to the side and made an effort to make you moan like you’d just made him. His lips moved back to your neck, where he placed his lips near your ear. The hand that previously had taken up place on your back side, moved down to your thigh, where it not so innocently disappeared between your legs, making the anticipated moan escape your lips.

Your moans always seemed to urge Willy on, and this time he desperately moved his hand to your front, slipping it into your loose shorts and your underwear as well. He pulled back to watch you as his fingers touched your most sensitive parts. His mouth hung slightly open as he watched your reaction to two of his fingers pushing inside you. You pressed your body to his, reaching down to let your hand move over the bulge in his pants. “Mm, babe, I don’t want to cum in my pants,” he whispered against your lips, and the thought struck you that there was just one place you’d like to have him cum today.

You kissed him deeply as you slowly pulled his hand out of your shorts, before you got up from bed. “Babe, come here,” you almost whispered, reaching out for him to take your hand and come stand next to you. You made the effort to pull back the comforter before you turned your attention back to your boyfriend, immediately putting your hands up over your head for him to pull of your shirt, along with your bra. You stood up on your tippy toes to reach his lips, attaching your to his. His arms found their way around your waist and you continued your mission of getting you both naked, starting with letting your hand slowly move over his bulge again, before you dug your fingers into both his shorts and his boxers, pulling them both down and letting his hard member spring free. His hands slipped into your shorts, and with both his hands flat over your butt, he pushed you so close to him, you were sure nothing could come between you.

“Will?” you whispered against his lips. “Yeah?” he breathed, one of his hands moving back to your waist. You didn’t say anything, you just hooked your thumbs into both your shorts and your underwear, bringing them both down to the floor. You didn’t say anything, the words not quite wanting to slip out of your mouth. “What, babe? What do you want?” he asked, his sweet, soft, ‘worlds-most-thoughtful-boyfriend’ voice appeared. Your cheeks flushed with the thought of how much you loved him - and how much you wanted him. “I want all of you, and I want you to have all of me,” you breathed, and smiled as Willy’s eyes widened when he, after a few seconds, realized what you wanted. He nodded and swallowed, hard. “I want that, too,” he smiled. 

A wide smiled appeared on your lips as you threw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his. Your naked bodies crashed together, but William held you close and moved you both to the bed again, after removing your last few garments. He pulled back and moved to kiss your neck, whispering I love you’s as he moved down to your chest. 

By the time he’d left kisses all over your chest, his fingers were deep inside you, making sure you were ready for him. His lips nipping on the skin underneath your ear, as he listened to your deep breaths and soft moans. “Will, Willy,” you breathed, letting your hand fall from his hair to his back. He moved so his face was above yours. “I think I’m ready,” you whispered, your hands moving to the sides of his face. “You sure?” he asked softly. You nodded, smiling at the boy over you that looked so focused on making you ready for him. 

Willy reached for the second drawer of his nightstand, digging out the box of condoms that the two of you had bought together a little over a month ago, snuck inside the house and then - while profusely giggling - hiding in the back of his nightstand drawer. You both knew that the time would come soon, just not when, so you decided that you would be ready for it. 

“Just, remember that you can tell me to stop whenever you want, okay?” he swallowed hard, nervous about what was to come. He wanted to please you, wanted to last, wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you. Wanted to be with you forever. 

~

William stood on the other side of your door. His head ducked down, his hair hidden underneath a grey beanie and the hood of his sweatshirt. His hands were deep in his pockets. You opened the door before he could reach out and knock for the third time. You quickly dried your eyes before appearing on the other side of the door. He looked up, his already sad eyes fell when he saw your tired face and bloodshot eyes. He wanted to hate you, to blame you for it all, but truth was that he loved you and he still couldn’t stand to see you sad.

He sighed and stepped towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder as he led you both back inside your studio apartment, closing the door behind you. He sighed before he put his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest. You were hesitant at first, but the familiar feeling of his chest had you clutching onto his sweatshirt in seconds. You felt his head resting upon yours and you fought the urges to both slap him and kiss him at the same time. You wanted to hate him, but he hadn’t given you a reason to, nor could you ever.

You stood there for several minutes, just clutching onto him. When your sobs stopped and your breathing slowed, everything that had you wanting to slap him came back to you.

But your love for him, your longing, would never be passed by anger.

“You didn’t tell your mother,” you accused him, balling up your fist. “I have now,” he mumbled, knowing very well that it was him that was in the wrong. “Yeah, after I told her to call you. After I started crying on the phone to her, because she thought that when you came back from Cabo, you’d be coming back to me,” you cried.

You wanted to yell, to shove at him, to tell him to fuck off and never come back. But more than anything, you wanted him to stay, stay right there with his arms around you, his head rested upon yours and with his shirt catching your tears.

“I didn’t want to disappoint her, okay?” he pulled away, holding you at arms length, trying to make you look at him. You fought his strong arms, wanting to stay with your face pressed against his chest. “I made it to the NHL, I play for one of the most popular hockey teams in the world, but you, you are my greatest accomplishment. And I fucked that up. You are a part of our family, my mom sees you as one of her own, and I don’t know if she will ever forgive me for hurting you,” a single tear made it’s way down his cheek.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive me,” he whispered as more tears wet his face. “And it was stupid of me to think that I could just wait, I know she calls you more than she calls me, I know that, I just ignored that fact, I guess. Of course she would call you.”

“Do you think waiting would make it better? It’s been six weeks, Willy,” you mumbled, drying a few of your own tears to occupy yourself from reaching out to dry his.

He stood completely still, tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched you, his hands on your shoulders, keeping you at arms length - where he could see you, where you couldn’t run away.

“Talk to me, Will!” you exclaimed You tried to shove at him, but his arms were so much longer than yours.

“I didn’t want to tell her, okay? I wanted to wait, I wanted to win you back!” he raised his voice, just like you did. Your breath caught in your throat.

He let go of you, his hands going to his hair, like they always did when the frustration got too much. “I can’t stop loving you, I can’t not have you in my life. To think something different was stupid, okay? It was fucking stupid, I’m fucking stupid for pushing you away. You know, that is what I do, I push you away when I get scared!”

“Why the hell are you scared? We’ve been together for seven years, Will, what is there to be scared of now?” you couldn’t keep you frustration in any more, and you yelled back. “I don’t understand,”

“Of course I was scared! Hockey has always been a part of my life, and you’ve been with me through the whole journey, from children’s teams to SHL to the Marlies. But I’ve always had time for you, or you’ve had time to come with me. And I don’t have that time anymore, and you’ve got university and a job, and your own friends, friends that aren’t also my group of friends. And you should, you deserve to have a career and lots of friends, but I don’t feel like I have enough time for you, like I have the time to give you the attention that you deserve, without taking time away from your life,” his fingers were deep in his blonde locks of hair, cheeks wet by salty tears, while he paced the floor. While you stood still, watching him, listening to every word he said as they broke your heart.

As they made you want to hold him close, lay his head in your lap and run your fingers soothingly through his hair like you knew he loved. You wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that you would both make time, make time for each other. ‘Cause, there wasn’t a chance in hell you could stop loving him either.

“So, I push you away. I push you away because I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you, that I can’t give you everything you need,” he comes closer now, slowly reaching out to touch your face. “And I don’t tell my mom because I know she’ll be as disappointed in me as I am, as my sisters will be, and my dad. And Alex? He would rather kick my ass than come to fucking Cabo with me. He thinks I’m the biggest asshole in the fucking country of Canada for thinking that leaving you was a good idea,” his arms reach around you and pull you into him.

You’re still frozen, for a couple of moments, before you open up and let him hold you like he needs to.

“William,” you whisper, letting your fingers comb though his hair. His grip on you tightens and you take it as your cue to keep going. “William, you pushing me away is the only thing driving me away from you. I will always make time for you, like I know you’ll always make time for me,” you whisper soothingly, hoping to calm his rapid breaths. “Come here,” you escaped his strong embrace and lead him over to your bed, pulling him with you into it as you sat against your pillows and he laid down in between your legs, continuing to hold on to your middle.

He cried and cried, clutching onto your sweater that once had been his, many years ago. You let him cry, brushing your fingers through his hair as you let your thoughts wander. You wondered if this trip to Cabo had been anything like what you imagined, like what Alex’ picture made it out to be. You wondered if he had cried himself through the entire trip. If he’d cried as much you during the last six weeks, or if everything came now, all at once.

William’s sobs came to a stop, and as his breaths calmed, he crawled further up your body, laying his head on your chest and nuzzling his face in your neck. You wrapped your body around him, hoping that it would make him feel as safe as his body on top of yours made you feel. His hand came up to your neck and you felt the urge - and followed it - to take his hand in yours.

“I hope you can forgive me, but I understand if you won’t” he catches you off guard. “Just know that I won’t stop loving you, even if you’ll stop loving me,” he chokes back a sob and gets up to leave, but you manage to grab his wrist before he can get both feet on the floor.

“Willy, what makes you think that I’ll ever stop loving you? What makes you think that I can?” his eyes meet yours, both red and filled to the brim with unshed tears. “Yes, you hurt me,” you started, and his face immediately fell, “but I want to come home. I want to be in your arms again. Everything about not being with you scares the shit out of me, Will, and I don’t want to spend another day or hour thinking that there’s a chance that someday you’ll be someone else’s, that you won’t be mine,” you let the tears flow freely and a relieved sigh escapes his lips, along with tears from his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispers and pulls you into him, embracing you like you’d been gone for years. His lips meet the top of your head and you find yourself tipping your head back to let your lips touch his for the first time in almost two months. You didn’t think you’d gone so long without kissing him since before your relationship started.

“Ugh, Alex, stooop,” you whined as he looked at you with his regular shit-eating grin. The one that adorned his face whenever he teased you and his older brother. William rolled his eyes. “Not happening,” he added, but the rest of the crowd wouldn’t let you get away from this one. The crowd being a mix of family members and neighbours. 

Every summer the Nylander’s gathered family and friends to an end of summer barbeque. Every year the kids - basically everyone aged 11-15 gathered in a circle on the grass, hiding away from the parents that laughed with cold beers in their hands in the back yard. Every year someone proposes a game of truth or dare, or spin the bottle, and every year you sit next to William taking all the teasing from the older kids, about how girls and boys couldn’t be just friends, how you were always so close to each other, how either you were in love with Willy or he was in love with you. Every year. 

This year, though, Alex had joined the circle. Alex’ favorite pastime was teasing you and William, especially if he had an audience. He proved himself to the older ones with snarky comments and juicy dares. As juicy as they could go at a friends and family gathering. 

“You gotta do it, Willy, we all you know you want to,” the Nylander’s next door neighbour said. He was 15 and friends with Michelle. William groaned and threw his head back, before leaning in closer to your ear, whispering. “If you don’t want to we can leave, go do something else.” You shook your head and moved to whisper in his ear, all eyes on the two of you. “It’s fine, if we just do it they might leave us be,” you whispered back. “But it’ll be your first kiss right? I don’t want to steal that from you,” he laid his arm around you, ever so considerate and sweet to you. You turned your body towards his and smiled at him, mouthing “it’s fine” as you tried to block out all the eyes that were on you. 

Willy grabbed your leg and pulled you closer, quickly placing his hand flat on your cheek, and slowly pressing his lips to yours. Everyone went quiet as your lips touched softly for a couple of seconds. And then everyone erupted in cheers and claps as you pulled away from each other. 

A couple of hours later your father called your name, you were leaving - one of the last to do so. As always. William got up with you, walking with you towards your parents where they stood by the Nylander’s gate talking with Camilla. 

“Mom, I’m just gonna walk her home, okay?” Willy said to his mom, as your parents had said goodbye and started the short journey to your house at the end of the street. “Honey, her parents are right there, I think she’ll be fine,” Camilla said, a small hint of laughter in her voice. “I want to, okay? I’m gonna walk her home, I’ll be right back,” he smiled, embarrassed. Your parents walked up front, letting you and William linger behind. None of you said anything, but Willy’s hoodie over your shoulders and the stone that you kept kicking between you said enough. 

“Five minutes,” your mother told you as she closed the door, leaving you and William outside. You nodded to her before turning back to him. “So, uhm, I hope that was okay?” he asked, his hand immediately moving to the hair that stuck out underneath his backward placed snapback. “What?” you asked, not quite understanding what he was talking about. “I mean, the kiss, I hope I didn’t screw it up or that you’re mad at me or something,” he mumbled, his shoes all of a sudden turning very interesting. 

“Hey,” you nudged him with your converse, making him look up at you. “It was good, and it was totally fine, I’m not mad at you or something, why would I be that?” You laughed. “I don’t know, I was just really scared that I stepped over a line or something, and first kisses are supposed to special and shit, right?” he smiled now, but he couldn’t quite look at you as he said it. “Willy... It was special, alright?” you nudged him again, this time by lightly poking him in the arm. His head fell, but you could see his smile. “Okay, okay, good, I tried,” he smiled as he looked back up at you, and you smiled back, as he came closer to give you your good bye hug, this time ending it with a kiss to your temple, before he shoved his hands deep in his pocket and started to kick the stone all the way back home again. 

~

And his lips press to yours like it’s the last time, like it’s the first time; like they would never leave again. And your fingers tangled in the dark blonde hair in the back of his neck like they were holding on for life, like they were begging for someone to stay.

You moved your hands to his waist, pulling him with you as you laid back in your bed. William rolled over to his side, pulling you in so close that not even air could come between you. His lips were still holding onto yours with desperation.

“I’ll never leave you again,” he pulled away just far enough for his lips to no longer touch yours, his forehead leaning against yours. “If I ever push you away for no reason again, call me out on it. Slap me if you have to. Please, promise me that,” he said as a stray tear slipped from his eye, forever regretting the last six weeks - the last few months, really.

You nodded, catching the tear with your thumb. “I promise, and you promise that you’ll talk to me before you do that again, okay?” he nodded, fighting the tears that still wanted to spill. You nodded back and pressed your lips back on his, letting desperate and needy kisses take over.

It wasn’t just your lips that had missed his body, your hands scrambled to touch everything that you had missed. You pushed up under his shirt, letting your fingers trace the arches of his back muscles, feeling them move underneath your fingertips as he, as well, tried to touch everything he’d missed.

“I just wanna be close to you,” he mumbled as he got up on his knees to remove your shirt, letting his own follow yours to the carpet on the floor quickly. Willy quickly laid back down, pressing his naked chest to yours, while he rolled you both underneath the covers of your bed.

You let your hands slide from his chest and all the way over his torso, wanting to feel everything that you’d been missing, but quickly moved onto the waistband of his pants. You slide two fingers into both his sweatpants and boxers, just wanting to have his naked body on yours again. William had barely kicked them off before he started the process of getting you naked as well - quickly ridding you off your bralette, panties and sleeping shorts.

His lips pressed back on yours, and his arms pulled you in so close you could feel every part of his body on yours. You desperately tried to touch as much of his body as you possibly could. Your hands trailed over his neck, his chest, his torso, back, behind, thighs, before you ended up letting your fingers move over his hard shaft, that needingly pressed against your lower torso.

William started leaving kisses down you neck, to your collarbones and then to your chest, while his hands trailed down your body, finally disappearing in between your legs. You moaned, putting your hands back in his hair, begging him to come back up so you could press your lips back on his. When he did, you took the chance to roll you both around That way you ended up on top him, straddling him. He groaned into you mouth as you moved your hips over him, and it filled your desperate wish to have him inside you again to the brim. You moved your hand down between your own legs to find his member, to position him underneath you, before you slowly slid down on him - finally having him inside you again.

You let both you hands slide up over his chest and to the back of his neck, then moving into his hair, before you let his lips capture yours again. His hands moved soothingly up your back before embracing you, holding you tightly to his body as you slowly rode him. 

“I love you so much,” Willy whispers into your lips and gripping your body harder before rolling you both around. You wrap your legs around him, feeling him even deeper inside you. “I love you too, William,” you breathe, but quickly press your lips back on his. Willy threads his fingers between yours on the pillow above you. His other hand moves up and down your side, sometimes stopping on your breast to lightly caress your nipple, sometimes stopping in your waist to pull you closer, and other times stopping on your behind to help you meet his slow but deep thrusts.

“I need you to come for me, babe,” he breathed, small sounds and groans breaking up his words.  “S’close,” you managed to answer him. He moved his lips down your neck, while his hand moved between your bodies to further help push you over the edge. Your hands desperately moved from his back to his hair, holding onto him as you came undone, letting Willy do the same. 

He collapsed on top of you, his head falling to your chest. You let your hands run soothingly over his back, as you both calmed your breaths. Your calm and quiet peace was soon disturbed as Will’s phone started to ring - the familiar sound of a face time call. He groans as he arises from your chest to see who’s calling, and most likely decline. “Ugh, it’s mom,” he groans again. “I should take it, she’s not very fond of me at the moment,” he adds, but leans down to kiss your forehead before he lays back down next to you and answers the call. You make sure to pull the covers over your chest. 

“Have you talked to her yet?” Camilla asked, Jacquline scowled at the camera - at her older brother - from beside her mother, where they sat in the living room back in Sweden where you’d spent countless nights in your childhood. “Yes, mom,” he answered, his energy level not exactly on top at the moment, after not just sex, but weeks of long nights and crying his eyes out just an hour ago. “And how did that go? Your eyes are really bloodshot, Willy,” her voice was laced with heavy concern. She might have been extremely disappointed with him, but it didn’t stop a mother from being concerned with his son’s wellbeing. 

You lied still watching Will’s call from the side, and you saw his lips turn upwards, before he turned his face towards you. His smile had now grown wide and you couldn’t help but smile as well, as you moved underneath his now outstretched arm to put your head on his chest and show yourself to the camera. 

“Oh, thank god,” Camilla put her hand to her chest, relieved that you were back together again. You smiled at Camilla, who smiled back. But her smile wasn’t entirely happy - you could see that she was still concerned. She stared at the two of you for a while, sadness in her eyes. “Oh, you both look so tired and..” she didn’t know what to say, she had talked to the both of you during this period of time, and you had both cried to her on the phone at some point. “I hope for the both of you that this never happens again, look at you two, you’re wrecked,” she spoke. “It won’t, mom, we’ve talked through it all, I’ll just have to get better at communicating my feelings, okay? It won’t happen again,” he told his mom, and you reached up to put a light hand on his cheek. He leaned into your hand. 

“And you?” she looked at you. “You moved, what are you doing about this new apartment?” she asked you. You turned to look at William, who was already staring at you, a small smile on his lips. “I’m coming back home,” you smiled and William leaned closer to kiss your temple. “That’s good to hear, honey,” she smiled. 

“Jacquline, why are you still looking at me like you want to kill me?” William, who was in a better mood now, asked his sister. “I just hope that you’ve learned your lesson, big brother. I mean, I knew you were stupid, but this was really the cherry on top,” she squinted her eyes at him. Willy just nodded, he knew and he agreed. You smiled at her, to tell her that it was gonna be okay. 

“Also, I just can’t not notice that you’re both pretty fucking naked underneath those blankets,” she added, sassy as always. Camilla’s eyes widened. “Jacquline!” she looked at her daughter like she’d killed someone, making both you and William laugh wholeheartedly - together, for the first time in weeks. 

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 16 Review: Jean Paul’s Latest Detained Guest

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 }

{ Synopses: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

{ Screencaps }

I wasn’t going to start working on another review until next week at the earliest, but I have been re-watching the Agatha episodes from Desmond Hall and, oh my Great Serpent, are they terrible! I don’t wish to spoil too much of what happens then because those reviews are a long way in the future, but I will say that (1) I can’t stand Agatha Pruitt and (2) while some episodes of Desmond Hall Part I have decent writing, in others the writing is very, very, very bad. I can’t help but feel sorry for the fans of both this show and Dark Shadows in early 1970, because Agatha would have been swanning around Desmondton getting on everyone’s nerves during the same period as one of the least-loved arcs on DS, the Leviathan arc.*

Normally, I would type out my complaints about Desmond Hall in the OneNote notebook where I take screencaps and save them for when I write those episode reviews in a year or two. However, I felt that I had to mention the awfulness of Episode 91 in this post, because that is what compelled me to return from my hiatus early. I needed to remind myself why I like this show enough to dedicate a whole blog to it, and so I took a (metaphorical) trip back to Maljardin to re-watch and review Episode 16.

Our mascot!

On the last episode, Jean Paul hired Reverend Matt Dawson to conduct a funeral service for his wife Erica, still frozen in the cryonics capsule  and awaiting her resurrection by THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES. Now Jean Paul--who has changed into a very nice pinstripe suit--is showing Matt the crypt at Maljardin where the capsule is located. “Even with the electrical connections, the compressor and cryonics capsule, I think this probably will be the best place for the service,” he says to the horrified minister. “Don’t you think, Reverend Dawson?” All Matt can do is smile and nod in response while privately questioning the life choices that led to this moment.

He’s probably thinking, “I left my ministry to stalk a 20-year-old full-time for this?!”

Jean Paul continues interviewing him. “You have no objection to a service without a burial?”

“No,” Matt shakes his head. “I have officiated at many such services, where the body is usually placed in the family crypt.” Considering that the vast majority of families don’t have family crypts--at least not in their basements--I think that he’s humoring Jean Paul. After all, he’s seen so many red flags already--the isolated island, the extreme secrecy, Jean Paul’s reluctance to tell anyone about Erica’s death, the whole cryonics/resurrection thing itself, and now his insistence on conducting the funeral service around a cryonics capsule.

He questions the idea that a body held in cryonic suspension can be brought back to life, and Jean Paul continues to deny that Erica is forever dead. He also continues to insist that the usual laws of nature don’t apply on Maljardin, and that on that island he is God:

Yes, Reverend Dawson, your new client thinks he’s God. There’s another red flag for you, Matt, that Jean Paul Desmond is not a client that you want to work for and you should probably cancel the agreement, give up on Holly, and try to get off the island while you still can.

Jean Paul tells him of a man who was allegedly brought back to life after dying in a blizzard, and who lived three decades as “a soulless corpse, like a zombie” before dying again. After saying “zombie,” the camera cuts to Quito who is spying on them, confirming that Quito is indeed a zombie--although, considering that Quito has emotions (which he expresses through body language) and pets whom he clearly loves, the “soulless” part is unlikely.

Did he offend Quito when he called zombies “soulless corpses,” I wonder?

It’s at this point that handsome devil Jacques takes over and starts trolling Matt. “You are a theologian trapped by your own logic and teachings,” he remarks with a mocking smile. “When you run out of answers, look to the fire god. He’s got some new ones, new for even you.” Which goes over about as well as proselytization usually does: that is to say, not at all, especially without one of those poorly-written smiley-face tracts that are absurdly popular with Christian fundamentalists. But Jacques, unfortunately, is straight out of copies of SMILE THE FIRE GOD LOVES YOU and so has to resort to confusing Matt (and us) with non sequiturs instead:

Jacques: “I don’t advocate or procrastinate.” (That has to be a line flub.) “I live and let live.”

I’m surprised he didn’t bring up the age-old theological question about how many angels can fit on the head of a pin and awkwardly try to connect that to the situation as well.

Matt storms out and Jacques stays behind to gloat. “I haven’t had so much fun,” he quips, “since one of my colleagues fiddled while Rome burned.” This reference to the Roman emperor Nero is without a doubt the clearest evidence so far that Jacques is indeed supposed to be the Devil, who at some point came to occupy the body of Jean Paul’s ancestor.

Back in the great hall, Matt returns to stalking Holly, who once again rejects him, because stalking only leads to mutual love and committed relationships in bad romance movies. He insists that he has something important to say to her, and she agrees to listen, but only for five minutes. He insists that Elizabeth doesn’t like him and that he followed her to Maljardin because he “thought [she] might need [him] for protection, guidance, maybe even comfort.”

According to StrangeParadise.net, this is an allusion to a real person, Reverend Harold Davidson, described in more detail on this page. I won’t copy Davidson’s bio on here because of its length, so I’ll just quote Holly by calling him a “lecherous minister.”

She rejects him, he leaves with his proverbial tail between his legs, then she proceeds to mope while sprawled in Jean Paul’s favorite chair for arguing with Jacques. Alison finds her there and asks what’s wrong, so she starts to explain before Matt arrives again and interrupts by insisting that he’s not trying to keep her from her inheritance like she claims. He’s right, but that doesn’t change the fact that Elizabeth is using him to do just that. Now it’s Holly’s turn to flounce, and she does it with more gusto than Reverend Stalker.

He talks to Alison, who fills him in on the whole situation, speaking again about how Jean Paul thinks he’s God and also about how Matt is now a prisoner on Maljardin.

Alison explaining the concept of a detained guest to Matt.

Matt suggests that Alison get Raxl to try to reason with Jean Paul, unaware of how well that didn’t work out a week before, He insists, though, that “perhaps these Tarot cards [that Vangie gave him in Episode 14] will sway her.” Although Alison is skeptical and so is Raxl upon her arrival, that all changes when he gives her the pack of cards and tells her that Vangie said “that [she] should use them for everyone’s good.”

She knows instantly that Vangie has predicted that Maljardin is doomed.

An interesting conversation between the two follows. Matt reveals to her that she should contact Vangie at “the third hour” (3 AM, also known as the “witching hour” or “demonic hour”), which means nothing to him but “everything” to her. She recaps for him about Jacques Eloi des Mondes, the conjure doll, and the silver pin, mentioning that “the power of the Great Serpent made him an eternal prisoner” for three hundred years.

Raxl: “Jacques Eloi Des Mondes! It must be he who walks. It must be!"   Matt: "Impossible!" Raxl: "You believe in God, but what about His work?” [I think this is a line flub for “word,” which would make more sense in context.] “I trust the Tarot cards, but what about the words of the woman who reads them?" Matt: "I'm a messenger, not a convert." Raxl: "One conjure doll, one silver pin. If that pin were still driven into that doll's head, we would all be safe."   Matt: "Raxl, that is witchcraft!" [And reading Tarot cards--a form of divination--isn’t?] Raxl: "Do you feel safe, Reverend?"

He gazes at the portrait of Jacques without another word until Jean Paul returns, explaining that he had to apologize to Quito after inadvertently hurting his feelings earlier, most likely with what he said about zombies. He asks Matt if he’s started preparing a speech for the funeral service, and an argument erupts between the two of them:

Did I mention yet that Jean Paul is more than a bit of a control freak?

Jean Paul decides that maybe Jacques had the right idea as far as the detained-guest thing went, and so puts the island on lockdown: “There will be no further trips to the main island and no trips even for mail until a matter between the Reverend and his conscience is resolved.”

Jean Paul is a male example of what is known in certain fandoms as a yandere, or a character who is madly in love, enough to hurt and even kill anyone who they believe is standing between them and their love interest.

Meanwhile in the basement, Raxl performs a ritual to contact the Conjure Man using Vangie’s Tarot cards while Quito enters the Not-So-Hidden Temple. And with that, the episode ends.

Raxl and the Tarot cards.

This was an interesting episode, with Matt as the central character for a change. The major theme of this episode seems to be belief, and how, whether seen through the lens of science (Alison), Christianity (Matt), or voodoo (Raxl), Jean Paul’s plans to revive Erica appear crazy at best and dangerous and/or sacrilegious at worst. There’s also the suggestion that Erica might return as a zombie, which does not seem to bother Jean Paul as much as it should (make of that what you will). Did it make up for the badness of Episode 91? Yes. It’s genuinely a good episode, even though some of the lines don’t make sense--but I think that at least most of those are line flubs.

Coming up next: Raxl sends a message to the Conjure Man, so Jacques decides to interfere. Also, Jacques’ portrait becomes much stranger.

Notes

* I don’t know the exact original airdates for most episodes of Strange Paradise. Maljardin aired from October 20, 1969 to January 19, 1970 in Canada according to StrangeParadise.net, but the show premiered in the United States on September 8, making the US six weeks or 30 episodes ahead of Canada. The YouTube user retronewfoundland has the endings of several episodes on their channel with the original Canadian airdates. The nearest episode to Episode 91 that retronewfoundland has a clip from is Episode 84, with the airdate of February 17, 1970 (a Tuesday). This means that (according to my calculations) Episode 91 would have most likely aired in Canada on February 26, and in the US six weeks earlier on January 15. Either date places it contemporary with the Leviathan arc, which lasted from November 14, 1969 to March 27, 1970 (source).

{ <-- Previous: Episode 15   ||   Next: Episode 17 --> }

[parkkjiminssi]

Outcast

Kim Taehyung x Reader | social media au

Part 10: How

In a world where superpowers exist, you would think that there’s no such thing as being different. Y/N, however, was branded with that tittle early in her childhood days after almost destroying her school and hurting her classmates. In attempts of escaping her past, Y/N attends to a high school that’s in a neighboring city. What will happen when Y/N meets the Elite Nine? What will happen when Y/N meets a boy named Kim Taehyung?

tag list: @astronomyturtle, @namiiy, @momdancingtomcr, @perseephony, @moonfairyjoon, @vstellarkth, @stephgiriseok

word count: 2.9K

a/n: I’m sorry this is so long 🥺 I just wanted to throw some fluff at you guys. Like always links are on my bio!

Y/N and Taehyung:

Today was just a chaotic as yesterday had been. A lot of questions were left hanging in the air and of course you all were looking for answers.

“Where’s Kay?” Avery asked once all of you, well most of you, were sitting on your usual table.

“She didn’t wanted to come to school today.” Lynn responded as she swallowed the bite she had taken out of her rice ball. “I guess she wasn’t ready to face Jimin.”

“Speaking of Jimin,” Avery continued, now turning to you. “where is he? He’s not with the boys.”

“As soon as he walked into class and didn’t see Kay, he tried leaving but Mr. Shin trapped him into a force field.” You answered. “I’m guessing now that it’s lunchtime and Mr. Shin is no longer on top of him, he’ll be leaving one way or the other.”

“To be honest, it was about time somebody said something. Neither of them were ever going to say anything even if they’re dying of love for each other.” Avery said as she took a bite of her own rice ball.

“That’s just the way Kay is. She’s afraid to get attached.” Lynn said with a sad chuckle. “I guess she’s actually just afraid of going back to that hellhole. As if I’ll let that happen.”

You placed you hand on top of Lynn’s trying to provide comfort. “We won’t let that happen if the time ever comes.”

“Which it won’t!” Avery added.

“But if it does, we won’t allow for anything to happen to her.” You finished.

Avery looked over her shoulder and waved at Namjoon. He returned the wave with a dimpled smile. It made you uncomfortable the fact that due to your disagreement with Taehyung, now the boys were eating separately from the girls.

“Avery, you don’t have to be here with me you know.” You said while sipping on your juice nervously. “You should be with your boyfriend.”

“Oh, no. It’s okay, Y/N. I really don’t mind it!” She said cheerfully. “Anyways, has anyone seen Jinx? She hasn’t arrived yet.”

“I saw her hiding.” Lynn said as she now took a bite out of her dessert. “I’m guessing she’s also avoiding Jungkook.”

“Wow, it’s not like her to miss class. I hope they all fix this, Namjoon will get a stroke. He’s already super stressed with all his president duties.” Avery said in between laughs.

Lynn and yourself joined Avery in the laughter.

Little did you know that a certain blonde haired boy was watching you, wishing that he could be there next to you. Laughing with you.

“Stop starring.” Hoseok murmured without looking up from his plate.

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung asked confused.

“Just go and talk to her. I’m sure she’s forgotten everything by now.” Namjoon added in.

“N-no, I can’t.” Was the only thing Taehyung said before stuffing his mouth with food, unable to say anything else.

More like refusing to answer anything else.

Subconsciously, Taehyung’s graze fell upon you once again. However, this time you also turned to look at him. Your eyes locked for a small moment but as soon the two of you realized what had happened, you quickly looked away.

I’m sorry, Taehyung.

Jimin and Kay:

Jimin was determined to speak with Kay about what had been said in the chat last night. He wanted to know if it was true, he needed to know. He had tried to contact her through any means possible. Text, call, kakaotalk, email, FaceTime, Snapchat but Kay just wasn’t answering. And as soon as Jimin saw that Kay wasn’t at school, his whole plans went down the drain.

He tried his best to leave. To go find Kay. Unfortunately Mr. Shin wasn’t having it, and trapped him inside a force field throughout the whole morning.

“Any sudden movements and I’ll make sure to close this field on you. I’m sure you don’t want to die crushed.” Was the only thing he needed to say to get Jimin to settle down.

“Jimin, calm down. We’ll think of something.” Taehyung whispered to him when Mr. Shin had turned around to write on the board.

“Thank you, Tae.” Jimin replied with a sad smile.

Lunchtime soon came around and there were still no signs of Kay.

As he walked towards the cafeteria, he bumped into Lynn and asked her about Kay.

“She stayed home. I’m sorry, you know how she is.” Lynn said while looking down. “She’s just afraid, you know, of that place.Which has nothing to do with this, but she’s just being dumb.”

“Like hell I’m going to let those bastards lay a hand on her.” Was the last thing he said before taking off running. To where? Well, to the Clearwater’s home. To Kay’s home.

“Wow, Jimin looked so cool right now.” Yoongi finally spoke after a long moment of silence.

Jimin ran. The dumbass could’ve just taken his car, but in a moment of frustration like this, this was the only thing that came to his mind. Later he came to regret this decision when his legs were sore and couldn’t climb up the tree next to Kay’s window. Regardless, he still climbed and knocked on her window.

Kay tried her best to ignore him. To pretend that he wasn’t there but Jimin screaming at her was very hard to ignore and very hard not to laugh at.

“Kay, you better open this fucking window. You don’t know what I’ve been through to get here.” He screamed in between pants, his cheeks red from all the running. “If you don’t open it, I swear I’m going to bust it open.”

“Fine, fine!” Kay eclaimed as she finally opened the window and helped Jimin climb through it. “What do you want?”

“Really? What do I want?! Not even a glass of water or—“

Jimin was cut off by a splash of water on his face, courtesy of none other than Kay herself.

“Kay, can’t you be serious for just a moment?!” Jimin said frustrated, his hands grabbing on to Kay’s arms. “Why haven’t you answered my calls or my texts? Why didn’t you go to school?”

“Why? So you could laugh at me or tease me?” Kay said as she tried her best to free herself from Jimin’s hold.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’ve only seen me as your best friend and I’m so in love with you.” Kay yelled, tears finally streaming down her face. Thank god that her parents were out working. Otherwise, Mr. Clearwater would’ve busted in to Kay’s room ready to pummel whoever it was that had made his daughter scream like that.

“Kay, all this time I was the one that was in love with you and thought that you only saw me as your best friend.” Jimin sighed, his hands letting go of Kay’s arms and embracing her instead.

“Y-you in love with me?” Kay asked. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I don’t know, Kay.” Jimin said as he gently stroked her back, trying to comfort her. “I guess I was just always scared or had this idea that you’d never see me as anything more than your best friend.”

“That’s just silly. You seriously could never tell all those times that I would flirt with you?” Kay pulled away to look at Jimin in the eyes.

“Well now it does sound silly and no I couldn’t.” He said looking away. “I was just always trying not to think too much out of things so our friendship wouldn’t become awkward. I guess I just didn’t wanted to lose you, it didn’t matter if we stayed friends forever. I was content with being just that.”

“But I know that the moment you started dating someone else, I was most likely going to lose it. Kay, please hear me out.” Jimin finally gathered the courage to look at Kay in the eyes. It was now or never. “I know that you live in constant fear that one day those assholes from the center will come back for you. That that’s why you’re afraid to form bonds and get attached.”

“Jimin, I—“

“No, please let me talk. If I don’t say it now then who knows when I’ll gather up the courage to say it again. Maybe another five years will pass by.” Jimin cut Kay off, causing a soft giggle to escape her lips.

“When I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the entire world. As we started to talk more, I just became more and more entranced with you. From there, our friendship grew and you became comfortable enough to share your story with me. Still to this day, I feel very honored to know that I was the first person you ever confided in about this aside from your family, of course.” The two of them smiled at the memories. Of how close they had gotten in these five years. Of everything they had gone through together. “Kay, ever since that day I made myself a promise to not let those sons of bitches lay a hand on you ever again. I’ve been training and doing everything in my power to become stronger, so when that day comes I’ll be ready.”

Kay was practically sobbing at this point. She always felt like shouldn’t enjoy her life because sooner or later it would be over once again. Oh how she hated that place and the people that ran it. How she hated the fact that she always had to be watching her back and how she didn’t feel like a human at all. That she was only an experiment for them and nothing else.

“Kay, you deserve to live a normal life.” Jimin said as he whipped off her tears. “You also need to learn to depend on others and that it’s okay to show weakness every once in a while. Because unlike before, you have us by your side now. Kay, I love you so much and I won’t let anything ever happen to you.”

“I-I love you too.” Kay said in between sobs.

“I loooove you! Marry me Rebecca!”

“D-did you just quote catbug?” Kay looked up at him, a smile growing on her face.

The two of them started laughing out loud. The sadness and frustration from a while ago were long gone. This is what Kay loved the most about Jimin, he always managed to find a way to make her smile. After a couple of minutes, the two of them finally managed to calm down.

“Jimin, I love you so much. I really do, but I—“

“I know, I know.” Wow, Jimin was surely doing a lot of interrupting today. “I’ll wait for you as long as it takes. Can I ask for one thing, though?”

“Sure.” Kay looked up at him with curiosity.

“Can I kiss you every now and then?”

A slight blush appeared on Kay’s cheeks. She definitely didn’t expect something like this, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like the idea. “Yes you—“

Before Kay could finish, once again, Jimin took her in him arms and kissed her.

How the two of them had been wanting to this for a very long time. How lucky they were to have each other.

Jungkook and Jinx:

To say that Jungkook had looked everywhere was an understatement.

Jungkook had left no stone unturned trying to look for Jinx, but somehow the girl was nowhere to find. It was like she had become invisible or something.

Wait a minute.

.

..

...

“SHE FUCKING TURNED INVISIBLE!” Jungkook shouted in frustration.

How had he not thought about this before? He had spent the whole day looking and he even missed lunch time, which according to him was his favorite class despite what everyone said. How dare they say it’s not in the curriculum?

Jungkook sighed. He was exhausted. He walked over to a nearby bending machine and pulled out a few coins from his pants. Just as he was about to choose his drink, he noticed something odd on the reflection.

A floating school uniform?

Well, it’s now or never.

He selected the banana drink before reaching for his phone in his pocket. Jungkook pretended to click on his phone and then placed it against his ear.

“Hey.” He started saying.

Meanwhile, Jinx was standing right behind him. Hiding in between a fake plant and a wall. She never thought she would have to resort to something like this to avoid Jungkook. This boy sure was persistent and she just wasn’t ready for this.

“No, I can’t seem to find her.” He continued. “I don’t know, dude. I’ve looked everywhere, it’s like she vanished.” Pause. “Maybe she decided that after all I wasn’t such a good guy to have a crush on.”

No, that’s not true. Jinx thought.

“At times I can be too childish and irresponsible. I play around too much and my grades are not the best but my feelings for her are not a joke.” Pause. “Since the first moment I saw her, something clicked inside me. I know I probably seemed pretty weird because I kept on starring but can you blame me? She’s so perfect. She’s so smart and so funny.”

A smile started forming on Jinx’s features. Jungkook’s words made her feel all warm inside.

“She never gets mad when I ask her to explain something to me or if she can help me with my homework. Jinx is so sweet and compassionate.” Pause. “Yeah, perhaps I should leave her alone. There’s a reason why she’s been avoiding me.”

“That’s not true!”

Surprised, Jungkook turned around and slowly started putting his phone away in his pocket. He honestly didn’t think she was going to come out of hiding.

But there she was, completely visible and slowly walking up to him. Jinx extended her arm and with her small hand she grabbed on to his blazer.

“I’m not avoiding you.” She finally said. “I’m just scared.”

“Scared of what?” Confusion evident on his voice.

“It’s just, I’m so used to being on top of my studies. I want to go to a good college and help my family.” Jinx kept her head down. She just couldn’t bring herself to look at Jungkook in the eyes. “I’ve never felt something like this for anyone. When I started liking you I got scared. Scared that maybe my grades would drop and of these new feelings. I also get scared that maybe one day you’ll get bored of a girl like me and leave.”

“A girl like you?”

“A girl that doesn’t know anything about liking someone or how to do anything other than studying and not being—.”

Jungkook placed a finger on Jinx’s lips to stop her from continuing talking. His bunny smile slowly growing.

“Jinx, I like you for you. You don’t have to change anything about you, because you’re perfect for me.” Jungkook removed his finger from her lips and started stroking her cheek. “I could never get bored of you. I learn something new about you everyday, all in all I just can’t get enough of you. But look, if this is going too fast then I’m willing to wait. I will wait for you until you’re ready. No rush, really! I know it’s been a few months since we met and all.”

“You’ll wait for me?” Jinx finally lifted her head to look at Jungkook.

“Of course! Just please don’t stop liking me in the meantime.” Jungkook said nervously. “My heart won’t be able to take it.”

“Jungkook, maybe for the first time in my life I should start living my life in the moment.” Her heart was beating a hundred miles per hour but she knew she wanted this. Jinx had never been so sure. “I like you, Jungkook. When I’m with you, you always make me forget about all my troubles. I forget about school, grades, college and getting a good career. There’s no worries with you and you actually make me feel like a fourteen year old girl. You’re right, it’s only been a few months and it’s crazy but I never thought that I would feel like this for you.”

Jungkook took Jinx’s hands in his and brought it up to his lips. He placed a small, gentle kiss on each hand. “Jinx, would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Jinx threw her arms around Jungkook and bobbed her head up and down in excitement. “Yes, of course I would like to be your girlfriend!”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around her waist and gently picked Jinx up and spinner her around. He then placed her on the ground just as gently as he had picked her up. Jungkook pressed his forehead against hers. 

Jinx closed her eyes and smiled. “Jeon Jungkook, please treat me nicely. You’re my first boyfriend.” 

Before Jungkook could say anything, they heard footsteps coming down the hall. It was most likely a teacher or a hall monitor and if they were caught, they were going to get detention for sure!

Jungkook wrapped his hand around Jinx’s and pulled her along with him. “Run!”

“Where are we going?” Jinx asked. She definitely didn’t wanted to ruin her school record that soon.

“Anywhere! I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Jungkook said and he kept on running with Jinx’s hand in his. A slight blush tinted Jinx’s cheeks and a small smile rugged at the corners of her lips. 

Jeon Jungkook. He surely was going to change her life.

[t-lostinworlds]

Crush (Ethan Dolan) [3]

A/N: I am very aware that I am so slow at updating, and I am so sorry. ANYHOW! Part 3 is finally here!

Summary: What would happen if the one and only Ethan Dolan found himself crushing on a simple but closed off girl like you? Would he work hard to try and break your walls? Or would everything be too much for him? (loosely based on the song Crush by David Archuleta)

Warnings: None, maybe typos haha.

Word Count: 6,136

Masterlist in Bio

P.S. I’ll leave the tags at the bottom, so if you want to be tagged when I post an update to this series just comment/message me and let me know 💖😊 (or if you want to get tagged when I post a new fic just let me know haha)

-:-:-:-:-

Part 3

Your usual routine every time you have a day off is just being a couch potato the whole day, eating junk food while watching some random movie on Netflix. You don’t usually go out unless it’s certainly needed to. So when you stood in front of an unfamiliar building in downtown L.A., you just knew today was going to be very different than most days off.

After that night at the restaurant, you’ve received a text from James almost immediately as you got home, saying that he really does want to film a video with you, but he didn’t say what it was about yet. The both of you only talked about your schedule and when you would be free. Few days later, here you are, standing in front of James’ apartment door.

You knocked a couple of times before you heard a faint shuffling on the other side of the door. Next thing you knew, you were greeted by a glammed up James, smile wide with a hint of mischief in them. Your eyebrows met for a couple of seconds but were soon gone when he engulf you in a hug.

“You came! I’m so excited for this video oh my god!” He exclaimed, letting go of you in order for him to step aside, gesturing you to come in. You fiddled with your fingers as you looked around the place. It was nothing too extravagant but it was still aesthetically pleasing with the red brick walls, frames with motivational quotes in them and a few plants here and there. You nodded to yourself, impressed; it definitely was better looking than your tiny apartment.

“James! Why the fuck does your Wi-Fi have to be so slow!” You jumped, startled by the abrupt voice coming from behind you. You turned around to face the living room, and that’s when you saw him. To say that your heart skipped a beat would make it too cliché, but is still true to say the least.

It has only been a few days since the last time you saw him in person but he seemed to have grown even more handsome with that light scruff covering his jaw.

You hated to admit it but you have been thinking about him none stop, and not because you’re a fan of him, but because of this odd feeling that erupts inside of you whenever he crosses your thoughts. And when you watch their videos over, you found yourself staring at him longer than you should be, getting a little too distracted when he laughs or just stares at the camera too intensely as if he was looking straight at you.

You tried plenty of times to ignore this little “crush” you have on him, because you didn’t want to get hurt again, not after what happened just a year ago, but it seems to get only harder as the time goes by.

You looked at him with wide eyes, clearly surprised because James failed to mention that he was going to be here too. He was just laid flat on the couch, his phone directly on top of his face as he scrolled through it, completely oblivious to your presence.

“Don’t be rude Ethan, especially when I have a guest over.” James said from behind you but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of Ethan. You flinched a little bit when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around expecting James but you saw Grayson smiling down at you before turning his attention to Ethan when he spoke.

“What guest? I know it’s Grayson who just walked in so don’t use that excuse on me.” Ethan grumbled, his eyes still glued on his phone. You bit your lip to suppress a smile, looking up at Grayson who was chuckling at his stupid brother.

“Don’t say anything just yet until I give you a signal okay?” He whispered, but before you could respond, his voice already boomed around the apartment.

“(Y/N)! It’s nice to see you again.” Grayson exclaimed, giving you a quick hug. You hugged him back, still a little bit confused as to what’s happening, but you kept your mouth shut just as he said.

“Ha – ha very funny Gray, stop playing with me.” Ethan rolled his eyes, but still didn’t tear his eyes off his phone. You covered your mouth as you giggled, looking up at Grayson, him giving you a wink and a quick nod.

“What’s funny?” As soon as those words left your mouth Ethan’s head snapped in your direction, mouth hanging open and eyes as wide as saucers as he saw you standing there. He dropped his phone on his face and cursed, stumbling as he tried to stand up as quick as he can.

“(Y/N)! Hi.” He squeaked when he finally stood on both feet, swallowing the lump in his throat, his hand scratching the back of his neck while his face turned extremely red.  

“Hi Ethan.” You waved at him shyly, giggling at his reaction, feeling a little bit flattered thinking that maybe, just maybe you weren’t the only one feeling these feelings towards a certain someone.

You quickly shook your head to get rid of your thoughts, mentally slapping yourself as you realized that you are already dancing around dangerous territory.

You know Ethan is a great guy but still, you can’t be that naïve girl again. As much as you like him, you need to protect your heart as much as you can, even if that means denying your feelings for him. Maybe if he can prove himself, then you’ll try your best and open up a little.

Grayson laughed beside you; hand on his stomach as he turned around to James who was holding his phone up. “Did you get that?” He said in fits of laughter. James giggled with a nod, “Sure did sister.”

You laughed, looking back at Ethan who was rubbing his face with a groan, evidently annoyed at all of you. Well, maybe not so much at you because he can’t be annoyed at how adorable you looked today in your simple ripped jeans, black Vans, and a black rolling stones t-shirt.

Ethan hasn’t stopped thinking about you ever since the two of you met at the restaurant. Even Grayson got annoyed at how he kept talking and asking about you, pestering James at times to just give him your number already, but James is stubborn as hell, he kept saying that he should just wait.

He sometimes even tried to eat at the restaurant again but Grayson advised him to be patient, and not to be desperate.

Ethan tried to deny his attraction towards you but he just knew that what he’s feeling is not a one-time or a playful thing. He has never liked a girl this hard before, and that’s saying something because he doesn’t catch feelings for girls that easily.

“Hi.” You said with a soft smile, Ethan blinking twice before realizing that he unconsciously walked towards you. “Hi.” He responded, blushing profusely knowing how weird he must have been just standing in front of you for who knows how long.

The way you had Ethan captivated is scaring the living daylights out of him. You already had him hypnotized without doing anything at all. Your simplicity is so beautiful that he just can’t seem to get enough of it.

You stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, your smiles slowly disappearing, both your eyes speaking for themselves.

“(Y/N)! We’re ready for you!” James sing-songed, breaking the gaze between you two as you looked away, cheeks flushing. “Uh, I have to –” You started, not being able to finish your sentence as you pointed both of your hands towards James. Ethan nodded as you slowly walked towards James, getting inside a room that looks like his studio.

“Okay kitty girl, you sit here and we’ll film the intro.” James instructed after he introduced you to his editor, placing a stool behind the white table. You sat down, eyes adjusting to the bright lights. “Okay we’re filming.” James sat down beside you and smiled, clasping his hands together in an excited manner.

He took a deep breath before saying, “Hey sisters! James Charles here and welcome back to my YouTube channel! Today I am joined by a very unfamiliar face to you guys. Say hello to my friend (Y/N)!”

“Hi guys!” You said shyly, waving both of your hands. “So sister (Y/N), how about you tell us something about yourself and your taste in make-up and in fashion.” James looked at you expectantly. “Yeah, my name is (Y/N) and I’m just a simple girl who works as a server in a restaurant, nothing too special really. Make up and fashion wise, well…” You trailed off, not really sure on what to say.

“It’s okay, just take your time. It’ll look fine after editing I promise.” James reassured. “You’re doing great (Y/N)!” You heard Ethan yell from somewhere, making you blush and fumble with your words even further. James looked at you, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

“I – uh, I don’t really wear that much make up as you can see but I really love watching your videos even if I know nothing about make up you are just so fun to watch. And I just wear the usual jeans and shirt every day.” You laughed, thinking about how boring you actually are. “Aww, thanks sweetie.” James gave you a side hug before turning back to the camera.

“Yes, Sister (Y/N) here is just a shy simple girl, but we are going to changed that today by giving her a makeover!” He squealed excitedly, clapping his hands a few times. You stared at him, in utter surprise, clearly not expecting this at all.

“She didn’t know about this anyway that’s why she’s sister surprise at the moment.” James spoke to the camera nonchalantly. “Wait what? A makeover?” You asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Yup, I thought I’d treat you with a makeover since you were so kind to us when we ate at the restaurant, and trust me guys, she is the sweetest ever. I can also see that you are very hard working so I’d really love to buy you new clothes!” James exclaimed. “Oh my god! Thank you!” You exclaimed, giving him a huge hug.

You aren’t exactly poor but you can’t really spoil yourself either since you are still saving up so that you can open your own restaurant soon, plus paying the bills doesn’t come in cheap. It makes you really happy that James is kind enough to treat you on buying an outfit.

“Don’t mention it sweetie!” He hugged you back. “And we’re going to be picking three outfits today so we better get going and you wouldn’t be able to see them until the big reveal.” He added after you guys pulled back. “Three outfits?!” you asked, your eyes bugging out of your head.

“Yes sister, we are going all out today. So chip chop, let’s go sister shopping! Ew that was so bad.” And with that both of you stood up and went outside of his studio.

“James, three is too much, you really don’t have to.” You said, still overwhelmed by his sudden generosity. You don’t really know each other that well yet, the only thing you have is what you see in their videos.

“No it really is fine. And I have a big feeling that we will be seeing you more often so three outfits is no biggie.” He brushed you off, leaving you there even more confused.

What does he mean by seeing you more often? Is James Charles planning something here? Is this more than just a simple video?

“Twins!” James yelled, catching both boys’ attention who were just sitting on the couch, on their phones. “You drove here separately right?”

“Oddly enough, yes, we did.” Ethan answered, giving suspicious looks at James. There’s something about today that makes Ethan feel a bit uncomfortable, like James and his brother a plotting his death or something. This morning, James just randomly texted him to come by at his place for something really important and when he got out of the house, Grayson’s car was nowhere to be found.

So he drove here in his Jeep, sending Grayson a quick text to where he was going. Weirdly enough Grayson responded a few minutes later saying he was on his way to James’ place too, he just needed to pick up a few things that’s why he went out earlier than expected.

“Perfect! Let’s go people!” James shouted, clapping his hands in an authoritative way, ushering everyone off of their seats and outside the door.

“So I guess were taking the Jeep since that’s the only way we all fit?” Ethan said when all of you reached the spot where the boys parked their cars.

“No way, I’m not leaving my car here. I don’t trust this neighborhood.” Grayson shook his head, holding both of his hands up as he walked over towards the driver’s seat, getting inside without another word.

“Ooh true, okay, Kelly and I will go with Grayson and (Y/N) would you mind accompanying Ethan? No? Okay let’s go! Ethan I’ll text you the address!” James grabbed Kelly’s hand and went inside Grayson’s car before you could even utter a single word. Next thing you know, they already drove off, leaving you standing there with Ethan dumbfounded.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You heard Ethan grumble behind you. “What was that about?” You asked with a small laugh, turning around just in time to see him rake his fingers through his hair with his other hand in his pocket, his biceps flexing in the process, the white shirt he was wearing leaving so little to the imagination.

No one can disagree with you when you say that Ethan Dolan is hot. Yes you’ve seen him shirtless from photos since there are quite a lot, but seeing it in the flesh is a whole different level, and he isn’t even shirtless now.

You bit your lip unconsciously and Ethan caught this immediately as he was already looking at you, a smirk playing across his face, feeling his ego shoot to the roof. Maybe he doesn’t have to worry too much about making you like him.

“Trust me, I have no idea.” He chuckled as he answered your question, making you snap back to reality, and judging by his smug expression, you definitely got caught checking him out. “What?” You asked, giving him an innocent smile, but your cheeks still turned red anyway.

“I don’t know, maybe I just caught you eyeing me or something.” He raised one eyebrow at you as he ran his tongue over his teeth, making him look even hotter, feeling even more confident this time when he saw you blush.

“Oh don’t be so full of yourself Ethan.” You rolled your eyes, the flush on your cheeks just growing even more. He laughed, turning around and opening the car door for you. “After you mi lady.” He curtsied with a grin, super pleased with himself, knowing that he has somewhat of an effect on you judging by your red cheeks.

You cocked your head to the side, looking at him cautiously as you walked forward and stood in front of him for a second. “I heard you like a gentlemen?” He gave you a quick wink and smirked, making you scoff as you got in the car, the shy and awkward Ethan from moments ago was long gone.

He jogged his way to the driver’s seat, a grin now plastered on his face. He can sense that you are trying to hide something from him. Not many people know this but Ethan is very good at reading people, whether it’s form body language or just how your eyes look.

Just as Ethan started the engine of his Jeep, his phone beeped. “Is he fucking serious?” He muttered as he read the text over and over. “What is it?” You asked with your eyebrows drawn together.

“James just texted me, but he didn’t give any address at all. He just said that I should keep you busy while he picks out the outfits, saying it should be a surprise. Then he added, ‘have fun you two.’” He answered, scratching the back of his neck, finally putting the pieces bit by bit on what James is planning all this time.

“Okay, that’s a bit weird. Are you sure he didn’t say something to you about this? Because I feel like this is more than just a video.” You giggled, thinking about how slick James can be when planning things.

“I kind of have a hunch, but I’m not entirely sure. And no, whatever he is planning, I have no idea.” Ethan narrowed his eyes at the road, scrunching up his nose as if he was deep in thought, which was very cute.

“So I guess you’re stuck with me then.” You shrugged as you gestured your hand from the top of your head to your feet, Ethan’s eyes following attentively, almost sizing you up.

“I wouldn’t mind that. I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’d quite like that actually.” He smiled at you cheekily, giving you another wink as his chin rested on his hand.

“Oh for fucks sake, stop doing that will you?” You groaned, burying your face in both your hands to hide you red face. Remember that time when you said if you’d had a dollar every time you blushed? Well, you’d be filthy rich by now, especially when you’re with Ethan.

“Stop doing what (Y/N)? Making you blush? Is little old me making you blush again?” He teased, giving you a soft poke on your side making you flinch a little bit. God this man just knows how to make you feel all tingly and soft inside doesn’t he? The way he has an effect on you is frightening.

“Just drive idiot you’re wasting gas.” You avoided answering his question as you are too embarrassed to admit so. “Fine, where to?” He chuckled, finally driving off, silently thanking James just a little bit for giving him a chance to spend more time with this amazing girl.

“Pizza?”

 ***

Meanwhile on the other side of town, Grayson trudged behind James lazily, getting more and more confused as to why he has dragged him into this “plan” of his.

“James, what am I even doing here? I clearly no nothing about girls’ fashion.” Grayson groaned when James dragged him into a Gucci store.

“Well, you clearly know Ethan and I want you to judge if Ethan would like the outfit or not.” James brushed him off, picking out a nice belt for you. Grayson furrowed his eyebrows, “You do know Ethan won’t care what (Y/N) wears right?”

“Oh no, I know that. I just want to see him all shock and everything, like completely blown away.” James said, settling with a cute and simple reversible black leather with a double G buckle that would go very well with the first outfit he has chosen.

“Can you at least explain to me bit by bit what you really are planning here? Because you only texted me and said that I should leave the house before Ethan wakes up since you have a surprise for him. And I know some of this isn’t part of the video.” Grayson crossed his arms in front of his chest as leaned over the counter, waiting for James to explain everything to him.

“It really is plain and simple Grayson. First, I wanted the two of you to drive separately so that we can just leave Ethan and (Y/N) with each other. Second, I have set up something for the two of them later on and just let this relationship blossom. You saw how they looked at each other, there is something there, and I really love being a sister cupid for once.” James grabbed the bag and started to walk out of the store, Grayson quick to catch up with him.

“Wait, you aren’t including this in the video right?” Grayson asked as he saw Kelly about to turn the camera back on.

“No silly. As much as I would like to put ‘Setting Up Best Friend with His Crush’ on the title, I want this to be private, you know how some of your fans are, I wouldn’t do that to (Y/N) and to Ethan. Besides, we still don’t know where this is going to end up. I’m just giving them a starting point, and the rest is up to them.” He gave Grayson an honest smile, in which Grayson nodded approvingly.

Of course Grayson loves their fans so much, but some of them can be a bit too much when it comes to them dating or just being with a girl for that matter. And James is right, they still didn’t know if this is going to work or not, plus it’s their choice if they want to go public.

“I feel like I’m just your private driver or something.” Grayson complained as they got back inside the car. “Oh sush, you’re helping more than you think you are sweetie.” James gave a dismissive wave of his hand, handing some bags to Kelly in the back.

“Where to next?” Grayson asked. James gave him the address to their next destination, heaving a huge sigh, Grayson slowly drove off.

 ***

“Uh, I’ll get a pineapple pizza, and…” Ethan looked up from the menu and at you. “I’ll get the same.” You smiled at the waitress. She gave you both a nod and walked away. You looked back at Ethan to see him smile at you in complete adoration.

“Do you really like pineapple pizza or are you just trying to impress me?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, leaning back on his seat as the corner of his mouth quirked up. You scoffed, “Please, I’ve been eating pineapple pizza long before I knew your obsession about them.”

This just keeps getting better and better. He thought to himself, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the table and stared right into your eyes. “Where have you been all my life?” He muttered, his crush for you building up more and more as he got to know you better.

“You’re so cheesy aren’t you?” You shook your head with a laugh, the redness starting to tint you cheeks once again. He listed his shoulders up in a half shrug. “At least I try and I know you find it cute because you’re blushing again.” He pressed, tilting his head to the side with a proud smile, making your eyes roll.

“Shut up.” You grumbled looking everywhere but him. He held his hands up in surrender as he laughed, the beautiful sound echoing around the restaurant.

“Why are you even wearing a hoodie? It’s hot out.” You changed the topic to try and divert the attention to something else. “Well, I’m clumsy as fuck and I don’t want to stain my white shirt.” He answered, eyes lighting up as the waitress came back with two huge slices of pizza.

“Oh wow this is huge.” He rubbed his hands together as he licked his lips, so excited to take a bite already. “Let me take a picture.” You suggested, him agreeing as he gave you his phone. He lifted the pizza up, doing silly faces and a few serious ones.

“I’m starving.” You sighed, lifting your own pizza to take a huge bite, hearing a click a few seconds after. You looked up to see Ethan holding his phone up with a chuckle. “Cute.”

“Delete that Ethan.” You glared at him, your mouth still full, but being the stubborn person that he is, he just kept snapping pictures of you as you tried your best to hide your face.

“Please stop.” You laughed as he started to make faces as if he was a professional photographer. After a few more clicks he finally stopped, giving you a wide smile, showing his gums and all. “You’re such a dork.” You can’t help but feel your heart swell at this adorable person in front of you. How can someone be adorable and hot at the same time?

The two of you continued to eat your pizza, just talking about anything and everything as you got to know each other more, finding out that the more you guys talked, the more you have in common.

Ethan found himself liking you more and more as he found out the things you are passionate about and the things that makes you, you. Ethan likes it when you talk about the things that make you who you are because it just makes you glow in such a way that has him captivated.

That’s why he silently cursed when James texted that it was time for the two of you to go back to his apartment, indicating that your alone time together is ending.

You frowned as you received the same text as well, not wanting this time with Ethan to end, but you had a video to finish so you guys paid your meal and stood up, slowly walking back to the car, the conversation between the two of you not pausing even for a second.

Ethan opened the door for you again, being the gentleman that he is. When he got to the driver’s seat, he stared at you for a moment, deep in thought.

Ethan doesn’t like to say it out loud but he does in fact get shy around girls, but something about you just wants him to be bold and daring for once, so that’s what he did.

You felt your breath get caught up in your throat when Ethan reached over you, left palm flat on the window on your side as he came face to face with you. He stared you down, your faces just inches away from each other, to the point where you can smell a hint of mint coming from his breath due to the gum he just chewed a few seconds ago.

His eyes glanced down your lips for a moment, not even trying to be discrete at all. You gulped, your hands fisting on your thighs, feeling your heart rate escalate. He looked back at your eyes with a lopsided grin as you felt his hand brush pass your shoulder, his nose now almost brushing yours.

“Seatbelt.” He whispered, before pulling away with the strap of your seatbelt in his hands.

You took a glimpse at him as he locked in your seatbelt while he watched you intently through his lashes, with you still frozen in your spot, your brain still processing how close you were just seconds ago.

You let out a deep breath that you didn’t realize you were holding as he sat back on his seat, wanting nothing more than to punch that stupid grin off of his face.

“What? Safety first.” He shrugged as you eyed him questionably, putting on his own seatbelt.

Funny how quick the tables have turned don’t you think? Earlier he was the one all awkward and fumbling when you were around then all of the sudden he’s got this huge confidence out of nowhere, making you feel so shy and intimidate by him.

“If I hadn’t known better, I’d say your hitting on me Dolan.” You teased to try and hide your embarrassment.

“What if I am? What if I like you? Would that be a problem?” He said bluntly, staring at you with a proud, genuine yet very nervous smile with both hands on the wheel just as he started the car. He knew it might have been too early for him to say that, but the short amount of time that you spent together had him so sure that he in fact likes you a lot.

That caught you off-guard by a lot, blinking a few times with your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, not sure on how to respond.

What a way to tell you that he does in fact like you in a way right? I mean it really that much a big of a deal, maybe he just likes you like a friend or something but the way he has been acting by only a few meetings are saying a lot.

He chuckled at your reaction and took his eyes off of you as he drove off, biting hid bottom lip to try and hide the fact that his cheeks are getting red as well. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously since he pretty much admitted himself that he does in fact like you.

To come and think about saying that to a girl you hardly know and had just met twice is a completely and utter madness. For all he knows, you would’ve think he was delusional or crazy or something.

Even admitting to himself that he likes you more than he normally should makes him think that’s he has finally lost his brain, but something inside him is urging him to continue, that this isn’t wrong.

Why would it be wrong though? After all, you don’t get to choose who you catch feelings for, it just happens and there’s nothing you can do about it, whether it’s at first sight or a couple dates after.

He stole a few glances over you as you stayed silent making sure to still focus on the road, but his foot was bouncing out of nervousness for what you would say to him.

Ethan was never the one to be bold and brave towards a girl, especially in person. I mean when you do it on text, it is so much easier since you don’t have the pressure of getting embarrassed or the fear of rejection. Plus rejection over text hurts less than getting rejected straight up front.

He was overthinking your answer a lot, would you reject him and tell him he’s weird or would you take it differently?

You still stared at him like an idiot, words getting caught up in your throat. You two haven’t really known each other that much yet, so should you say you are keen on the idea – which you very are even if you’ve only met him twice – or should you deny and hide everything to just save yourself from getting hurt in the near future?

You cleared your throat when you’ve finally composed yourself, settling with the best answer you could come up with.

“Well, if that’s the case, just so you know, I am not an easy girl Ethan. I’m pretty guarded as I may say.” You spoke with truth, settling with giving him a little warning that you are not sure about getting into something that involves dating just yet but not full out rejecting him too since you do like him, as weird as that sounds.

“I know and I am going to work hard to break your walls and prove myself, I promise. You might be weirded out by this but I really do like you (Y/N), and I’d like to see where this connection is going to take us.” He said and you can see how he truly meant it just by looking at his eyes.

“Me too Ethan.” You whispered, not really being specific on what you mean by that, if you liked him too or you’d liked to see where this is going too, or maybe it’s just both.

“Okay.” Ethan nodded and smiled, slowly driving off. At least you didn’t say no and that you didn’t like him right? Plus your answer pretty much meant you agreed with everything he said, and there was nothing negative about what he said.

The two of you continued to get to know each other during the drive back to James’ place, sometimes jamming out to the song on the radio when it was familiar to you both, just enjoying each other’s company all in all, laughing and just smiling from ear to ear.

A few minutes later, Ethan pulled up in front of Grayson’s car with a sigh, the smile still glued on his face as you guys laughed about something stupid he did when he was young. He turned the ignition off and unclasped his seatbelt, about to open the door when he heard you sigh in annoyance.

“You okay?” He turned to face you, seeing you struggle with the clip of your seatbelt. “Need help?” He added with a chuckle as you blew out air from your cheeks. “Please?” You gave him a pout as you inclined your head, Ethan’s heart stopping for a moment at how adorable you looked. God he wanted to kiss those lips so bad right now.

You stopped fumbling with your seatbelt as he reached for it, getting closer with you again. He struggled a bit, questioning why it suddenly was so hard to undo it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know wh–“ Ethan started as he looked back up, stopping himself when he came face to face with you again. You didn’t realize how close you were until you looked down and saw his lips just there, a few inches away.

He mirrored your actions; the only difference is that his eyes lingered on your lips a little longer. He forced his eyes to look away from your mouth, his urge to just press his lips on them getting harder and harder to hold. You licked your lips unconsciously, looking down at his pink lips then back again to his eyes.

Both of you heard a click as Ethan finally undid your seatbelt, but none of you backed away. You stayed frozen on your spots, him getting so lost in your eyes, you feeling the same.

You felt a hand cup your cheek, Ethan slowly pulling you even closer until the tips of your noses touched, eyes still boring into yours, looking for any sign of doubt and found none. You felt your hands rest on his broad shoulders, your body just taking over at the moment as his lips ghosted over yours.

Ethan was about to close the space between you two, to finally taste those plump lips of yours, until you heard a loud and obnoxious knock on the car window, forcing the both of you to jump away from each other.

You turned around and saw James smiling widely as he waved his hand. You sighed giving Ethan a glance over your shoulder to see him glare at James, obviously annoyed at him for interrupting what was about to happen.

You held back a giggle, opening the door as you got out of the car, cheeks flushed as you greeted James. “I can’t wait to see you try out the outfits I bought you!” He squealed, wrapping an arm over your shoulder as he pulled you inside the building, not giving you the chance to wait for Ethan.

He on the other got out of the car with an annoyed look on his face, slamming the door harder than he should have. “Dude you okay?” Grayson asked as he saw his brother’s expression. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” He growled lowly, staring at James with his arm around you as the two you disappeared inside the building.

Grayson traced his brother’s gaze and looked back at him. “Why? What’d he do this time?” He asked, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, slowly nudging him to start walking.

“I was about to fucking kiss her bro, it was so close then James decided to fucking bang on the window.” Ethan ran through his hair in complete frustration. Grayson looked at his brother shocked and amused by one, being able to get so close to a girl to a point where they’re about to kiss and two, getting completely infuriated by just an interrupted kiss. Maybe Ethan really wanted to kiss you that bad.

“Shut the fuck up Grayson. I’m not that bad at girls.” Ethan snarled, swatting his hand away as he saw the look Grayson was giving him, knowing exactly what’s in his mind. Grayson threw his head back and cackled, slinging his arm over Ethan’s shoulder, pushing him inside the building.

“Bro, relax. You’ve got plenty of chances, the day isn’t over yet. Don’t worry; you’ll get that kiss.” Grayson patted Ethan’s back. Ethan shook his head with a deep exhale. Maybe he was overreacting a little bit, but he really wanted to kiss you so bad and he was so close, James interrupting it just annoyed him so much.

Guess he’ll have to try again later then.

===

Tags: @sspidermanss @castiel-savvy18 

(this is based on the comments of the last one. I’m sorry if you didn’t want to get tagged anymore since I take so long to update just lemme know and I’ll stop tagging you 😭😅 and again if you want to get tagged just comment/hit me up 💕)

Part 4 coming soon

[paintedface]

only for her

summary: you have a major crush on the princess of wakanda, but when you message her, you never expect her to reply.

pairing: shuri x fem!reader / background steve x bucky

word count: 1500 words

warnings: gay-ass fluff

notes: this is the first in my ‘pride’ series, and this is for all my wlw bby’s, especially for the younger ones, because it involves shuri. this is also for my girl, @whyisbuckyso, because we both have major crushes on letitia wright.

also, if anyone knows how to create fic banners/gifs, and would be willing to create a banner for ‘pride,’ then please message me! i would appreciate it so so much!

Permanent Tags are OPEN | masterlist

You were lounging on the couch, head in Bucky’s lap and feet almost in Steve’s face, eyes drifting close as you browsed your phone.

“Hey, Buck, what was T’Challa’s sister’s name?” You ask lazily, looking up at him as his fingers paused from stroking your hair.

“Shuri? What about her?” He raises an eyebrow, a slight smile touching his face at the thought of the person who had helped to cure him.

“She’s really pretty.” You say breezily.

Steve laughs, pushing your feet away from his line of sight. “Ooh, Y/N has a crush.”

You tilt your head up to glare at him, as you click on her Instagram profile. 124k followers. Holy shit.

“I’d never have a chance with her, Steve. Shit, I don’t even know if she’s gay!” You exclaim, despite pressing the follow button.

Steve rolls his eyes, gesturing towards Bucky. “Y/N, I looked like a shrimp with no muscles, in a time where being gay was illegal, yet I still managed to score this dumb oaf.”

“Hey!” Bucky reaches over to shove Steve as the blonde man laughs, shaking his head. “But it is true. Give it a go, girl. She may be bisexual, pansexual, or something like that. You never know.”

You sigh, scrolling through the girl’s pictures. Intelligent, beautiful, god, you’re falling hard. Though you doubt that she doesn’t look at her DM’s that much, you type out a quick, ‘hey!’ before throwing your phone down.

“Urgh, this is never going to work, guys! Channel me your gay vibes.” You mumble, head falling into your hands. 

The two of them shrug, before leaning over until you shove them apart. “Without kissing, for fuck’s sake! I see enough of that every damn day!”

“Oh my god. Brother!” Shuri yells, her hands trembling a little as she bounds over to where her T’Challa is sitting in the palace courtyards, with Nakia.

“Yes, Shuri?” He turns to her, a smile on his face at her apparent excitement.

“Y/N followed me on Instagram! You know, those two gay white boys’ sort of adopted daughter?” She squeals, her eyes wide.

T’Challa raises an eyebrow. “You mean Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes? And Y/N Y/L/N? The girl you’ve been crushing on for the past few months?”

Shuri’s eyes widen even more, and she pushes T’Challa, making him teeter on the edge of his seat. “N-No!”

Nakia smiles gently at her lover’s amusement and her friend’s embarrassment. “Shuri, if you like her, than you should talk to her. Did she message you?”

Shuri nods, barely able to contain herself. The rainbow flag emoji in your bio only serves to aid her confidence.

“Then reply back! Maybe with a question or just a greeting. I know you don’t have a lot of experience, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright.” Shuri pecks Nakia on the cheek and ruffles T’Challa’s hair, before bouncing away.

T’Challa sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Ah, young love.”

@y/n

hey!

Your breath hitches at the sight of a new message.

@princess-shuri

hi there!

“Bucky!” You shriek, jumping onto him as soon as he turns around. He stumbles back, laughing a little.

“What? What is it?”

“Shuri messaged me back!” You show him your phone, and he grins, flicking his fringe out of his face.

“She’s a good kid. Talk to her more, see how you go. She also likes those...mee-mees.” Bucky crinkles his nose at the last word, still not being able to wrap his head around twenty first century things.

“They’re memes, Bucky.” You correct, as he pulls you to sit in between him and Steve on the couch.

“Same thing. Now text her back.”

@y/n

how are you? what’s the time over in wakanda?

@princess-shuri is typing

@princess-shuri

I’m good! it’s 10:40pm right now, wbu in New York?

wait, you’re y/n y/l/n, right? bucky and steve’s kinda daughter?

@y/n

yeah that’s me ahaha, they’ve sort of become my dads now

it’s great, honestly, the two gay dads

@princess-shuri

heckity, that’d be awesome

this is them back in the 30s, when they weren’t “gay”

@y/n

FHKFFJJHFHIDID I LOVE THAT VINE, also that’s so fuckinf true

@princess-shuri

i played that vine whenever steve came to visit bucky in wakanda

god, it was so gay

@y/n

lmao, just like me

“Shit. Was that too much information?” You hand your phone to Steve, who shakes his head.

“It lets her in on your sexuality in a hidden joke. It’s good.” He muses. You almost forget that he’s a hundred years old, because he’s damn well informed.

@princess-shuri

that’s a big mood, damn

@y/n

bless the gays

@princess-shuri

I bleSS THE GAYS DOWN IN AFRICA

You let out a giggle despite yourself, before typing out a response. The two super soldiers just smile at your excitement, remembering how it felt to have their first love.

It’s been two months since you’ve been texting Shuri on a daily, almost hourly, basis. You’ve swapped phone numbers, and your vine quoting has gotten to an extreme. You’ve FaceTimed before, and the two of you spent the whole time complimenting each other and just outright screaming. You pitied the workers in her lab, and Steve and Bucky, who just glared at you intensely, but were hiding their smiles.

“My brother says that we’ll be going to New York next month! I’ll get to meet you!” Shuri screams, the moment she flashes on screen.

Your eyes widen. “Really?!”

“Yeah! We’ll be coming to the tower, to stay for at least another month!” Her smile is so bright that it makes your heart race a little. You’re so screwed.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Miss Y/L/N. Good to see all of you ag-“ T’Challa starts to say as he approaches the three of you, but an excited shriek disrupts his sentence. He turns around in confusion when his sister runs past him and straight into your arms.

“Y/N!” She gasps, and you stumble back, but manage to squeeze her back tightly.

“Oh my god, Shuri!” You squeak, burying your head in her neck as she giggles.

T’Challa rolls his eyes, stepping closer to Steve and Bucky. “She’s been...crushing on Y/N for ages.”

Steve smirks, looking back at the two of you, now hugging on the floor. “She’s not the only one.”

The Wakandan King sighs, crossing his arms and smiling. “Young love.”

“Your room is next to mine, and we can hang out in my living room whenever we want.” You explain, your hands trembling slightly from excitement.

Shuri gives you a wide grin, her perfectly white teeth showing. “Aka, we can watch vines into the night.”

You nod, plopping yourself down on the sofa. “Yes, what else would we do? There’s no other way to spend nights on the couch.”

You laugh to yourself, but then you realise that your crush has fallen silent, and you tense a little.

“Shuri?”

She tilts her head towards you, biting her lip a little. “I...I think I know another way to while away the time on the couch.”

Your breath hitches, because oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“Y-yeah? And what’s that?” You can feel your cheeks heating up as she inches closer, your knees touching.

She pauses, looking down at her lap, as if debating whether to move forward or not, but finally, she looks back up. The cool touch of her rings against your skin, and her thumb brushing across your cheekbone, sends shivers up your spine as you tentatively rest your hand on her waist.

“T’Challa told me that Steve and Bucky said this. So I hope they’re not wrong.” She breathes, and before you can ask what she means, she leans in, pressing her lips against yours.

Your heart races as you pull her closer, because god, it’s really happening. Her lips are soft, and there’s the faintest taste of sugar on them. You can feel your hands shaking even more as you press forward into the kiss, hoping that your inexperience doesn’t show. But she doesn’t seem to care, her other hand cupping the back of your neck gently. You feel her smile, and she nips your bottom lip, making you yelp, a soft laugh rising out of her. The two of you just begin giggling together, before just dissolving into full blown laughter, both of you clutching to each other as you laugh.

“What...what did Steve and Bucky tell T’Challa?” You wheeze, and Shuri doubles over again, giggling at your lack of breath.

“T-They said that you had a crush on me, and my brother told them I had one back, cause it’s true.” She gasps, pulling you into a hug as you begin giggling again.

“God, we’re so-so fucking gay.” You grin, and she cackles, digging her fingers into your ribcage as she tickles you, making you squeal again.

When the two of you come into dinner holding hands, Steve and Bucky whoop, their eyes shining happily, T’Challa smiles at Nakia, and you can distantly hear Peter scream happily over the rest of the Avengers’ claps.

permanent tags (possibly closing): @vibranium-arm / @gallifreyansass / @omalleysgirl22 / @girlwith100names / @buckysinthesinbin / @petersneds / @buckyofthemyscira / @iamwarrenspeace / @alohabucky / @cuddlysteven / @buckybarnesappreciationsociety / @debbielovesbucky / @metal-armed-dino / @helloitscrowley / @sebastian-stans-thighs / @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics / @lorna-danee / @feelmyroarrrr / @mjuikoli / @megan-atthedisco / @yoyolovesbucky / @sebbies / @carriefish-er / @jurassicbarnes / @ssweet-empowerment / @shieldagentofthemonth / @palaiasaurus64 / @i-love-superhero / @andiewinneris / @ailynalonso15 / @bywonater / @vanillaicecrusher / @titty-teetee / @breezy1415 / @the-geeky-engineer / @mercedesbarnes / @bioticgoddess / @thewonderfulworldofafangirl / @realgreglestrade / @memory-of-a-goldfish / @amynotsantiago / @bandbooktvaddict / @edgyroses / @buckysmaingirl / @thefridgeismybestie / @cumonbucky / @untimelyideasforstories / @ridingmoxley / @jadalecki-jackles / @peters-vlogs / @em--z / @hdthdthdt / @thefridgeismybestie / @jamie-leah / @heyrogers / @ivy-16-18 / @marvlemarvlemarvlemarvle / @nephilimseb / @saveyourbucky / @wonderless-screwup / @rashinyx2002 / @httpmcrvel / @thunderous-flower / @buckys-newarm / @cordysblog / @swanky-batman / @bythebloodofafangirl / @disneymarina / @whyisbuckyso / @katiekitty261 / @plaid-skirt / @stan-by-me / @samwinchxtr / @mypage-myfandoms / @its-daydreamer23 / @goldenkillmonger / @savonid / @ohhhotstan / @softlysgtbarnes / @perksofeatingbacon / @sweet-barnes / @clever-theorist-painter / @thesergeantandstevie / @hewassortapunkroque / @rosescentedblood / @swtltlmrvlgrl / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @sydm15 / @jitterbuck / @impossiblyteenagestudent96400 / @winters-beauty / @marvel-biatch / @ultimategalaxyprogram

(strike through means I couldn't tag you, sorry!)

[eddiemylovc]

Cupid’s Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Reddie

Words: 2,583

Other Chapters: Part 2, Part 3

A/N: This was just an idea that I came up with the other day that I needed to write, I only plan on doing a few chapters so it probably won’t be too long.

Summary: Valentine's Day is coming up so Beverly convinces Eddie to sign up for a matchmaking program to help him find a date. He meets Richie and everything that happens after is far from what he expected. (Fake dating au)

AO3 Link

It’s Valentine’s Day in five days and Beverly will not let up on trying to convince Eddie to find a date.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! You, me, Ben, and whatever nice-looking guy decides to come your way.”

Currently they are in Eddie’s room, sitting on his bed, and she is trying to convince Eddie to sign up for this matchmaker program where singles fill out a survey and it matches you up with another single who you meet at a special event so you have a date for Valentine’s Day. Eddie thinks it’s ridiculous.

“Beverly, I’m not signing up for some stupid matchmaker site. Who knows what kind of creeps are on those things looking for god knows what.”

“Pleaseeeee, it’s just for one night. Well, technically two, but the first doesn’t have to count. Come on, live a little!” she pleads.

“No.”

“It’s the same every year for you. You always sit at home by yourself on Valentine’s Day, and I’m left feeling sorry for you while I’m out having fun with Ben.”

“So now you’re guilt tripping me. Gee, thanks. Besides, who says I don’t like sitting at home by myself on Valentine’s Day?” Eddie lies—to some extent.

“I don’t mean it like that, I just think it would be fun if we did something different for a change, like going on a double date. I mean you could just join us, but then you’re left feeling like the third wheel. And what kind of friend would that make me?”

“A generous one for staying out of my love life.”

“You don’t even have a love life. But, if you listen to me, however-”

“Alright, fine! If I sign up for this thing will you finally leave me alone?”

“Yay! Eddie, this is going to be so much fun!” She wraps her arms around Eddie excitedly. “Maybe if you’re lucky enough you’ll finally get a boyfriend!”

Eddie puts an arm around her—less excitedly. “Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. I’m only doing this to make you happy, there isn’t going to be any long-term relationship happening anytime soon.”

“Stop being so negative. You never know what could happen—you might even find your soulmate.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and pokes Eddie’s side teasingly. Eddie pushes her away.

“As if those sorts of things exist,” Eddie says, although he would never admit that he does like to wonder sometimes if there really is someone out there, made just for him. "And I highly doubt that my ‘soulmate’” he makes air-quotes with his fingers “would just so happen to be on some matchmaker site.”

“Never doubt the work of Cupid, Eddie,” Beverly says with a wink.

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with I suppose.” Eddie gets up and makes his way over to his desk, and opens his laptop. “What’s the name of the website again?”

“It’s ‘www.cupidschoice.com’.”

“Kill me now,” Eddie says as he types the address into the search bar.

Beverly moves off the bed to hover over Eddie’s shoulder. “And then you just fill out all of your information and answer a few questions. Two days before Valentine’s Day it will email you your match, whom you will be meeting at the event that night.”

“How will I know what they look like?”

“You won’t. Everyone will have name tags and it will all be split up into different age groups. You’re eighteen, so you’ll be in the youngest age group.”

“Great, so I won’t even know if I’m meeting a psychopath or not. I could just be signing up for my death right now,” Eddie says as he begins filling out the information.

“What an optimist you are. Stop worrying, it’s at the Derry town hall and I’ll be on speed-dial, you’ll be fine.”

“Whatever you say, Bev. If I die, this is on you. And—even if he doesn’t turn out to be a psychopath—what if I don’t even like the guy? What if he’s a complete douche?”

“It’s just one date, Eddie—a double date at that. You’ll manage. If anything gets too out of hand, Ben and I will come to your rescue, but I’m positive this will work out. I only want to help you find someone worthy enough of your love, Eddie,” she says with a big smile.

Eddie can see that Beverly really does believe that this will work out. She looks so happy and thrilled that he’s finally putting himself out there. Eddie doesn’t want to destroy her happiness so he stops protesting and sighs as he presses submit on his answers.

I really hope this will be worth it in the end, Eddie thinks.

* * *

(1) unread email from Cupid’s Choice: The results are in!

Eddie stares at the notification on his computer, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He’s almost tempted to grab his inhaler off of his dresser. He doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous. It’s not like he’s waiting to hear the most important news of his life, but then again, it has been a while since Eddie’s been in the dating field.

“Here goes nothing,” he says as he clicks on the email.

Thank you for signing up with Cupid’s Choice! You have been matched with:

Richard Tozier Age: 18 Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Interests: Music, comic books, your mom Bio: Richie Tozier is my name, doing Voices is my game. My friends call me Trashmouth, but you can call me anytime. Ha! Looking for someone who’s willing to have a fun time 😊

Congratulations on your match! We look forward to seeing you tonight!

Eddie isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or not. He doesn’t sound like he’s a serial killer, which is a relief, but he doesn’t quite sound all that serious either. Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes at the ‘your mom’ part, and at the cheesy pick-up line.

What am I getting myself into?

Tonight, and one date. That’s all. He can do this. One night of fun with a total stranger and two friends won’t hurt, right? Even if he is an asshole, Eddie never has to see him again after Valentine’s Day if he doesn’t want to, anyways.

Unless he’s a stalker.

Eddie pinches himself.

Stop worrying about every little thing! Like Bev said, you’ll be fine!

Richie sounds like he could be a nice guy, or at least Eddie hopes he is.

Here’s to hoping he’s cute, Eddie finds himself thinking as he calls Beverly to tell her the news.

“Sooo, what’s his name?”

“Richie Tozier.” The name sounds oddly nice coming from Eddie’s mouth. He decides he likes saying it. Richie Tozier.

He’ll never tell Bev this.

“Interesting. Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie and Eddie. Eddie and Richie. I like it! It has a nice ring to it. You guys already sound like the perfect couple!” she beams.

“I haven’t even met him yet!”

“But you will tonight! I’m so excited for you, Eddie!”

“You’re probably more excited than I am. You should get a load of this dude’s bio.”

“I think you’ll feel better after you meet him. Then the real fun begins on Valentine’s.” Eddie can guess that she’s currently wearing an evil looking smirk.

“Right. Well, I guess I better figure out what I’m going to wear.”

“That’s the spirit! Knock ‘em dead, Eddie.”

“Talk to you later, Bev.”

“Bye, can’t wait to hear all about it!”

Eddie sighs as he hangs up. What is he going to wear? He hopes Richie isn’t one to care too much.

* * *

Eddie decides on wearing jeans and a blue, knitted sweater. Nothing too fancy—this isn’t the actual date after all.

Beverly has just dropped him off at the town hall after picking him up from his house, looking giddy with excitement. Eddie had to tell his mom that he and Beverly were going out to see a movie in order to avoid suspicion. It’s most definitely better for her to not know what he’s actually doing right now.

Eddie enters the hall and looks for his age group. He sees that there is actually quite a bit of people here, ranging from all ages—the youngest being his age.

Richie could be any one of these people.

He spots his age group—18-21—near the back and makes his way over to the table where they give him his name tag.

“Name?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“ID? We have to confirm your age and identity.”

“Oh, yeah. Here.” Eddie fumbles with his wallet and hands over his ID.

They look it over and check his name off of a list. “Here you go, and here’s the name tag. You’ve been matched with Richie Tozier who, I believe, arrived not too long ago.”

“Great, thank you.” Eddie takes the name tag and sticks it on his chest. He moves over to the side and tries to look through the sea of people for a boy with the name, Richie Tozier.

No luck.

He decides to walk around instead to see if he can find him, when all of a sudden, Eddie turns around as someone walks right into him, causing Eddie to fall on the floor.

Eddie is furious. “Jesus Christ, don’t you have eyes? Watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

“I do have eyes, actually, but they’re pretty shit, however, so that’s why I wear glasses. That’s kind of what they’re for, in case you didn’t know,” a male voice sneers. “Wait… Eddie? Is that you?”

Eddie’s head snaps up at his name. He looks at the boy’s name tag. Standing in front of him is none other than: Richie Tozier.

Richie offers him a hand to help him up. Eddie takes it. “Yeah, well, maybe you should learn how to use them next time.” As Richie pulls him up, Eddie notices how tall he is. He’s got to be at least six feet tall. Although tall, he’s quite lanky as well, but the leather jacket he’s wearing compliments him very well. At the same time, Eddie can’t help but notice how cute he is too.

Well, that’s one good thing at least.

He likes Richie’s messy, dark, curly hair, and the glasses he’s wearing that magnify his dark eyes. Eddie also takes note of the freckles that are scattered across his nose and his cheeks.

Very cute, indeed.

That is, until he opens his mouth.

“So, you’re the famous Eddie Spaghetti! Wow, I’ve really hit the fucking jackpot with this one!”

Living up to the name ‘Trashmouth’ I see.

“Yeah, and how did I get matched up with you? There’s clearly a flaw in the system. And don’t call me that!”

“Ouch. Wish I’d known I’ve been matched up with a clumsy, feisty, little one. Would’ve prepared better.”

“I’m not clumsy. You’re the one who walked into me!”

“I was only eagerly searching for my prince charming, Eds. Now that I’ve found him, he doesn’t seem quite so charming after all. Although, I will admit he’s pretty cute.” Richie winks at Eddie.

Eddie’s stomach flutters at that.

No! You will not give in to his flirting! Stop that!

“Don’t call me that, either! I’m telling you now that I’m only here because my friend made me sign up. She wants me to find a date so I can join her for a double date on Valentine’s Day, and I want to make her happy. And I guess I’m stuck with you for now, so don’t think I’m actually interested in you.”

“Wow, we’ve only just met and you’re already asking me out on a date! Let a man breathe, Eds!” Richie pretends to swoon.

“Forget it. I’ll tell her you didn’t show up or some shit like that. Surely I can find someone better than you—someone less annoying.” Eddie makes his way towards the door.

“Wait!” Richie grabs Eddie’s arm. Eddie looks at Richie’s hand on his arm; a tingling sensation is left where he’s touching him. “Look, you see, I’m not exactly here for the right reasons, either. My ex showed up the other day, begging me for a second chance. She keeps asking me to go out with her on Valentine’s Day and I’ve had enough of it, so I told her I was already seeing someone else, which, was a lie. Long story short, she doesn’t believe me, so she wants proof. I panicked, and I ended up here. It sounds stupid, I know, but just, anything to get her off my back will do.”

“So, it looks like we could both benefit from each other then.”

“Ding, ding, ding! You’re correct!” Richie aims finger guns at him.

“What kind of ‘proof’ is she looking for?”

“Anything that proves I have a new boyfriend or girlfriend. She works at a café downtown—maybe if we go down there tomorrow and act all couple-like in front of her, she’ll finally leave me alone. Then I can join you on this double date on Valentine’s Day. It’s a win-win situation.”

“Basically, what you’re saying, is that now I have to suffer through two dates with you?”

“We don’t ever have to see each other again after this, if you don’t want.” Something in Richie’s voice makes it sound like he doesn’t want to never see Eddie again, but he’ll do whatever it takes to convince Eddie to go on this ‘date’ with him in order to get rid of his ex.

Eddie thinks this over. Richie seems pretty desperate to get rid of his ex, and what harm could it do to help him out while he helps Eddie get Beverly off of his back about finding a date? He supposes it is a win-win situation, besides the fact he’ll have to deal with Richie’s trash mouth for the next two days, and acting like a couple in front of his ex could be interesting.

Eddie find’s himself agreeing. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Yes! Thank you!”

“On one condition: you don’t call me any more stupid nicknames.”

Richie laughs. “Where’s the fun in that? I can’t promise you that one, Eds.”

“Then the deal’s off,” Eddie jokes. Half-jokes.

Richie sighs. “Fine.” Suddenly, Richie gets down on one knee, grabs Eddie’s hand, and places a hand on his heart. “I solemnly swear to not call you any silly nicknames, or so help me.”

“What are you doing? People are staring.” Richie really is beyond like any other person Eddie has ever met.

A true wonder he is.

“So? Let ‘em stare.” Richie stands up and releases Eddie’s hand. “I guess I’ll pick you up around noon, tomorrow. Oh, here’s my number, by the way.” Richie grabs a pen and a slip of paper from the table and quickly scratches his number down. He hands Eddie the paper.

“Okay. I’ll text you my address.”

“Great, see ya then, Eds.”

Eddie frowns. “You just broke your promise, dumba-”

Eddie is cut off before he can protest any longer by Richie leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Eddie instantly goes bright red, failing to hold back his blush, his heart beating faster.

“Wh-what was t-that for?”

“If we’re going to be the perfect couple we gotta start somewhere, Eds,” he says with a bright, teasing smile. With that, Richie heads out the door, not letting Eddie have the last word.

Eddie stands there with his mouth open.

What did I just agree to?

[stephhannes]

I Was a 23 Year Old Widow & Here’s Where I Went From There

a friend sent me a link to a refinery29 article today (I’m A 31-Year-Old Widow, & I Don’t Know Where To Go From Here) and it felt exactly like something i would have written three years ago, when i was in my first year of widowhood. it basically is something i’ve written three years ago. i remember all of those same feelings, am i doing this right? how do i navigate being hot and young but also a grief-stricken widow? 

the most important lesson i’ve learned in the last three years is this: the world doesn’t revolve around me. 

every time i start freaking out about the nuances of grieving i remind myself, the world doesn’t revolve around you, dummy. and nothing has been more freeing. 

everything in my life revolves around my grief, but there is no one else around me that’s thinking about it as much as i am. so much of my anxiety was defined by if i felt like i was grieving appropriately, in a way that society would approve of- but society isn’t thinking about me and my grief. and if they are, who gives a shit? talk to me when your partner unexpectedly dies at the age of 23. 

when i came back to social media after nathan died, i remember getting comments on photos like “oh, it’s so nice to see you smiling!” that made me so self-conscious. is it too soon to be smiling? is it ok to be having fun with my friends right now? 

i returned to dating apps within a year of nathan’s death, and i kept it secret for a very long time. i didn’t want people to think i was moving on. i wasn’t moving on, i was lonely! i was afraid that people would see me on tinder and be like “oh, she’s not that sad i guess” i was that sad! that’s why i was reverting to the ol’ faithful coping mechanism of entertaining gentlemen callers! 

as someone forced to live in my own grief, of course i was out here catastrophizing every situation possible. i stayed awake at night stressing over ok so when i do eventually date again: when do i tell him that i’m a widow? (literally just whenever it comes up in conversation) is it weird to talk about nathan all the time? (not really, is it actually any different than when someone talks about their ex? if anything, it should be less uncomfortable, my ‘ex’ is dead, there’s no threat there) do i take down the pictures of nathan before inviting someone to my house? (no, it’s my house).

in the piece i wrote 20 days after nathan died, this is what i was panicking about:

And I know that it’s only been a few weeks since Nathan died, but I feel the weight of the 21st century coming down on me already. Theoretically, he and I were so lucky to have found each other so early, not having to navigate our 20s with awkward dates and rifling through dating apps. But in reality, now that’s where I’m going to have to find myself again. I don’t know how to date someone that I haven’t already known for 10 years. When do I tell someone I’m a widow? How much is appropriate amount to mention my dead fiancé during a blind date? When is the appropriate time to update my Facebook relationship status to ‘single’? When am I supposed to take off my engagement ring and show my face on 6th street?

What’s an appropriate tinder bio?

“Hi, I’m Stephanie. I used to be engaged but now I’m not! Hit me up!”

How do I navigate a new relationship with someone when I know that they will never know me as well as Nathan did? I can spend all day talking about who I was in high school, I can explain with detail every moment of my collegiate years, but no one will truly know who I was during those times because they weren’t there.

and here’s the update on that, 3 years later:

as previously mentioned, i’ve had success just bringing it up whenever it happens to come up. i played around with immediately being like “hey i’m steph i’m a widow what’s poppin?” but i think it’s a little more palatable to lure someone in with my insufferable personality and then be like “oh btw im a widow lol” 

i went through a phase where i would tell stories about my time in new york, but omit the fact that the reason i lived there was because of my fiance. or i’d tell stories about “an ex” without being like “well the ex is actually my dead fiance” but that felt weird, so i transitioned to just literally talking about nathan, my dead fiance, whenever i want to. and shockingly, it’s gone over pretty well. men are a lot more receptive to hearing about your ex that you’re still kinda in love with when your ex is dead.

my facebook relationship status is still not updated to single. but i did take it off my profile altogether after about two years. 

i took off my engagement ring about 6 months after nathan died. it was a whole thing. i was tired of people seeing it and assuming i was engaged, and asking me about it and then being forced into being like “oh haha well i’m not engaged anymore” i showed my face on 6th street and hated it, not because of my status as a widow, because i’m 26.

i’m banned from tinder, but my bumble bio is “self made hundredaire / used to work on broadway / never eaten a grape before / very passionate about the monster mash and sparkling water” people seem to like it.

if i could go back in time and whisper to myself “shhh you sweet summer child it literally doesn’t matter” god, i would. i sucked in high school, thank fucking god no one knows what i was actually like then. i was unbelievably depressed in college, we don’t need to re-live that in detail. i’m literally so cool now, and that’s really all that matters. like, i’m fun and a boss babe and smart and hilarious and mysterious (but let’s not focus on the mystery just yet) so does it really matter if someone doesn’t immediately know the nuances of my 15 year old psyche?

+++

when talking about my relationship with nathan, i’ve always framed it as “i know it’s not the end all be all of relationships” and i still firmly believe in that. like the ann druyan quote- “we knew that we were the beneficiaries of chance. we found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.” we had a dope relationship, it ran its course, i learned a bunch of shit about myself and what i need moving forward, and now it’s time to move forward. 

and in moving forward, i have to keep reminding myself that accepting relationships as they come into my life is a fun and exciting experience. it doesn’t have to be daunting and serious and terrifying. part of that has been just forcing myself to get out of my head, stop overthinking everything, and remember that the world does not revolve around me. there’s something about being able to just take what i need, leave what i don’t, for as long as it lasts and being fine with things when they eventually end. 

it’s been kind of hilarious finally going through scenarios i used to agonize over in the middle of the night. everything that i imagined to be a huge deal has been actually, not a deal at all. i had a conversation with a friend a couple of months ago where i was like “i just want a toxic relationship to pass the time,” and she was like “are you saying that because that’s actually what you want, or are you saying that because you’re afraid of being genuinely intimate/vulnerable with someone that’s not nathan?” and i was like, ok first of all i didn’t come here to get dragged like that and secondly…yeah, maybe. 

the vulnerability thing is still tough for me- very much not a fan of talking about my feelings without masking it with comedy. but every step i’ve made in that direction, i’ve been able to do without guilt or questioning myself. 

the first time someone other than nathan slept in my bed, i was worried that i would end up upset- it was fine. i was like “oh, i forgot how nice it is to wake up not alone.”

when i found myself in a vaguely toxic relationship i realized “yeah ok, that’s definitely not what i want.” the last time that person left my house, my first thought was “i miss nathan.” and it wasn’t even necessarily nathan that i missed. i missed being around someone that made me feel like they idk…..cared about me as a person and like…..respected me. 

i spent a lot of time seeking out people that i thought were similar to nathan, and then i realized that the qualities i was attracted to were just the bare minimum of human decency.  the things that i loved the most about my relationship with nathan weren’t necessarily qualities that were exclusive to him (they were things he was very good at, but so are a lot of other people). his willingness to listen to me tell the same stories over and over, his patience with all of my anxiety, how much he loved just spending time around me, the way he valued and respected my opinions, his ability to remember very tiny details, our effortless rapport. 

and at the same time, i’m recognizing strengths in other people that fill in where nathan had some weaknesses. the fact that none of my friends liked him, his inability to cope with my depression, all of the times he’d ask for forgiveness rather than permission, his unwillingness to accept criticism when i was upset with him, or the way he’d continue to push buttons i’d repeatedly asked him to leave alone. 

+++

so maybe it’s the zoloft, or maybe it’s just growing up a little bit- but letting go of all of that anxiety has really allowed me to feel a lot lighter. it feels good to finally be present in all of my relationships, not concerned about how anything looks- rather, just concerning myself with shit that feels right. i’ve always been a pretty solid judge of character, and as soon as i stopped doubting myself, the quality of person that came into my life was immediately a lot better, weird. it’s almost like the only opinion that truly matters....is my own.