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#i think i'm gonna do a few more personal posts like my last one sharing thoughts of mine on some topics
adore-gregor · 2 years
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xamag-draws · 2 months
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BBR thoughts 2024
Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies
This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not
So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters
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I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash
I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted
Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it
At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do
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Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction
So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older
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I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet
When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"
But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work
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If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now
I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:
Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)
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I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat
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I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least
I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example
I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep
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I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor
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I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence
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The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers
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Some new Dolly outfits
Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days
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Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo
I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused
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One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book
An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well
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So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)
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raikkxz · 2 months
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ᯓ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⑅ walk him like a dog 2 ✯ jb22 .ᐟ.ᐟ
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★ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃﹕﹙ yes/no ﹚ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘﹕﹙in which sebastian vettels sister gets her dream job to work along with him, but stumbles across an infamous playboy﹚ — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒﹕﹙purpose use of lowercase letters only, not sure if there's gonna be another part, use of y/n, black-cat!reader, golden-retriever-ish!jenson, past-playboy!jenson, lowkey-past-toxic!jenson, VERYY light angst [i think], probably not well proofread, lmk if there's anything i missed!!﹚ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆﹕﹙jenson button 22 x f!vettel!reader﹚ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓﹕﹙icba checking but it's not much at all imooo fjdkjfdsjfkla﹚ ★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙part two who cheered !?﹚
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˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰previous // last work // pinned post // masterlist // taglist // rules // next ꒱
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JENSON COULDN'T HELP BUT look at the red bull racer's sister eating her lunch with some of her co-workers. she fit right in and right away, even only after a week. she was smiling. oh, her smile. it was different than how she smiled with her brother. how jenson would do anything to make her smile that genuine smile she had with her brother.
"staring at my sister, huh?"
jenson whipped his head around to see sebastian vettel. he opens his mouth then closes it as he sees the fellow driver's raised eyebrows.
sebastian's cold face cracks into a grin. he throws his head back and laughs. "you should have seen the look on your face!"
jenson grumbles under his breath.
"alright, all jokes aside, please don't play with my sisters heart." sebastian puts a hand on jenson's shoulder.
"why would i ever-" jenson starts as he looks at him, but seb raises his eyebrows.
jenson purses his lips. "i.. alright, maybe you're right and i'm sorry."
seb sighs softly. "i'm just looking out for my sister, alright? i love her very much, with all my heart. i don't want to see it broken. i don't want to see *her* broken. just please, promise me."
"i promise." jenson nods sternly.
days after days, you and jenson had formed a friendly and healthy relationship, in which you both hoped would never be ruined. every time you laughed or smiled, you didn't know the thoughts lingering behind the eyes that shined when you did so. you've opened up more and more, finally showing the fun side of you.
jenson hoped to keep it that way. he hoped that your friendship would never be ruined. he'd never felt this way before, and he didn't know whether you felt the same way or not. being the infamous playboy he was, of course he didn't want to break your heart like he did to the other girls. he made a promise to your brother, a promise he could and would never break. you were too dear to him, too precious. he didn't want to break you. he vowed to, with all his life and heart, and he would never admit that to anyone or to himself.
so from then on, he kept it a secret. a secret he couldn't bear. and little did he know, that you on the other hand, was starting to catch feelings too. and you would never admit that to yourself either.
you both had fallen too hard to ever want to break your relationship. your personalities might be polar opposites, but the way you both want to keep your loved ones close and protected was a trait you shared.
jenson, the infamous playboy he was known as, obviously had toyed with a 'few' girls hearts. he's not one to think before he acts. he's the outgoing, social golden retriever.
you were oftenly known is the black cat, and the studiouss quiet kid. you were known by everyone, but not exactly popular. you plan out your movements carefully, always one step ahead. perfect match, honestly.
but further more, jenson made you feel special. you wanted to deny that feeling that made you think, 'he probably gives this treatment to every girl.' but oh, how you were wrong.
he would never offer to carry an item that weighed less than a pound for the 'other' girls. ("here, let me help you with that." "jenson, i can carry it, it's fine!! it's literally just a-" "no, please just let me help." and of course you had to give in to those helpless eyes. that effect he had on you made you weak in the knees.) he would never buy the 'other' girls special and thoughtful gifts. ("please, darling, this is my treat." "but jens-" "i said it once and ill say it again. my. treat.") he would never follow those 'other' girls around like he did to you, like a dog on a leash. ("walk him like a dog." seb snorted. "shut up!!" you muttered, feeling your cheeks get slightly red. jenson rolled his eyes, continuing to follow you neverless.)
it was never those 'other' girls, who he never even talked to anymore ever since he had met you. it's always been you. and from then, it would never change.
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★ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎﹕﹙i MIGHTTT take some blurb and part requests for this series, so ill lyk if i do!!﹚ ౨ৎ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓﹕﹙@gray4youuu @c-losur3 @ujws5 @namgification @faithshouseofchaos @isurvived3-11andimproud @somebodyonce-toldme @44lewico﹚
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˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰previous // last work // pinned post // masterlist // taglist // rules // next ꒱
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notes, comments, reblogs, feedback and follows are greatly appriciated!
!! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON OTHER WEBISTES/APPS OR COPY MY ORIGINAL WORK !!
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vvenus-child · 5 months
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❀ an: my first Dean x Reader fic! this was a wild dream I had last night where I could just feel his angst of being ignore by his girlfriend-not-girlfriend. I hope you like it! I post on Ao3 too, mostly Dramione and original works. Here is the link. Feel free to DM me ideas to write down too! ❀ tags: Dean Winchester x Reader; NSFW (just a bit); Angst; Hurt/Comfort
Sam was waving at you from the driver's seat of a rental car. Something inside of chest pinched a bit for not seeing Dean's Impala waiting for you. Your feelings for him were so obvious, pathetic even.
"Hey! How was the hunt?", Sam asked when you closed the door. As usual you two made conversation for most of the ride before falling in comfortable silence. It was mostly like this with him. Sam was a easy person, someone people felt comfortable to share your or to stay in silence.
"Have you talked to him? Is he okay?", you asked sheepishly. The question was hanging in your head since the minute you left the bunker to hunt. Your heart felt tight, your throat sore and dry every time you thought about Dean. Most of it was embarrassment for not being able to contain your feelings, always seeking to be close, to take care of him somehow. But what was love if not the desire to see them happy? What was love if not seeking their happiness by being anything they needed you to be?
Sam laugh's cut your self pity session. He glanced at you in the corner of his eyes, side smile playing in his face like he was a joke you weren't part of.
"You gonna tell me you two didn't talk for the last weeks? He didn't call every night to bitch about how you were taking too long or how I'm never able to make coffee right? Really?", he said shaking his head.
His question caught you off guard for a moment. Frowning at him you took a minute to try and understand.
"No?", the weird assumption really didn't make sense, at least not when it came to Dean. You were the one that initiated the conversations. You were the one that always made sure small things like his coffee or his whiskey never ran out at the bunker. You were the one gravitating towards his presence in the room. So to think he would make the effort to call you, or even miss you, was a wild idea by far.
"Come on!", Sam snorted this time. "You two seem glue by the hip, it's impossible."
"Dean would even notice if I didn't said a word to him", you let out without thinking.
"Yeah, like you two don't spend time alone behind everyone's back"
The memories of the nights spent together, the moments you almost thought he was about to do something flashed in your mind. You couldn't almost smell his scent, hear his laugh, listen to his voice grave sharing bits of his life in the dark of his room when no one else was there to hear but you.
This was becoming ridiculous and painful. You tried to pretend, but it was not useful with Sam. He had a reason for being the one that they used to pry information out of people at hunts. Sam's damn eyes always made people break.
"You know this thing is one sided, so please stop with the jokes. It makes me feel more stupid than usual".
"It's not a joke", he said while parking the car. Sam turned to you with a raised hand. "I'll bet you 100 bucks that if you ignore him for the next few days, he will lose it."
You looked at the extended hand with caution. Right. 100 bucks. To prove your point, which was something you love to do and to stop being pathetic. Easy money. You took the bet without thinking twice. Maybe try to purge this feelings out of your system with a bit more of self respect was just the thing you needed.
You left the pie you bought for him at the trash can before going down to the bunker. Maybe this was going to be fun.
Dean heard the door open with a creak when Sam had finally came back. Behind him, you followed with a smile while saying something.
"Did you bring the pie I asked, Sam?", Dean shouted from the table. He was trying to find this lore about a sea creature that lured man but, supposedly, wasn't a mermaid because the bodies would be found on the shore with their blood drained. A great combination of little mermaid and Edward-fucking-Cullen.
Dean's eyes glanced to you carrying a huge bag over your shoulders. It had been weeks since you left. It was normal to not call during small hunts, but he still felt a bit uncomfortable to not have a single call. It was such a chore to make a phone call or even leave a voicemail every now and then? Just to make sure you were alive?
He opened his mouth to complaint just as you passed right through directly to your bedroom. No hello, hi, how are you, but still laughing at some joke he was not privy to. No tales about how it went, no nothing. That really bothered him for a reason he couldn't pin down. You didn't owned him a explanation, not at all, but it was basic courtesy - in his mind at least.
"Is she okay?", Dean asked Sam who, to anyone's surprise, didn't bring the goddamn pie but seemed to not have forgotten his own rabbit food.
Sam made a fake surprised face that showed him knew something was up.
"I don't know? She was just telling me how the hunt went. Maybe she is tired?"
Dean decided to let it go. He was already pissed about the pie and you acting weird was just the icing on top.
A few days later, Dean couldn't shake the feeling you were avoiding him. At breakfast you only talked and smiled to Sam or answered Dean's questions when directed at you - always with a brief phrase or a dismissive nod. You weren't being rude or down right ignoring him, not at all. Still felt like Dean was nothing but a small fly in your radar or someone you only noticed when he opened his mouth. The easy smiles you two had, the late night conversations, the shared beers, everything, seemed to be gone. It bothered him. It bothered him a lot.
Growing up Dean hadn't felt jealous of Sam most of the times. The kid was his to raised and take care of, especially when Sam's and John's fight got too heated. He had given his life for his brother and would so again in a heartbeat.
But right now he wanted to punch his face so hard his nose would touch the wall behind his back. The fucker knew what was going on and didn't let a pip out of his mouth to help. "She seems normal to me, Dean" this or "Stop being a freak, she didn't not ignore you" that.
The three of you were hunting the vampire-mermaid thing at Fremont Beach a little bit more that 12 hours from the bunker. The change in scenario did nothing to help Dean's situation and, if anything, it worsened. Usually in ride you would offer to drive, in which Dean would deny and say he was fine. This time you only offered to change when Sam was driving. You didn't even complaint about the music, for God's sake.
Dean's breaking point was the way you flirted a bit too much with the waiter at the dinner, an younger stupid college student who was all smiles for you. He didn't even had a beard. Not even a shadow of it. It was ridiculous.
"So what's the matter? You can talk to Mr. Just Came In My Pants but not to me?", Dean asked outright with his jaw clenching so hard his teeth were about to break. Sam chocked loudly with his coffee, while you just looked at him with wide eyes and mouth half open.
"I think I need to smoke a cigarette", Sam said getting up from the table.
Dean didn't let his gaze out of your face, anger boiling inside.
"You don't fucking smoke! Your brother lost his mind and you leave me?", you spoke in a loud whisper.
"I do now", Sam said already at the doors.
Dean waited for a answer. Your eyes, finally looking at his after weeks, blinked so much that he thought the question would've broke.
"I'm speaking to you, we are having this insane conversation right now. I don't know what you are talking about", you said coldly.
The warm feeling spreading in his chest hinted at something Dean didn't to explore. The jealousy, the anxiety about what was going on, all those were feelings he absolutely didn't want to explore. He just missed your company so much. Dean always felt something was wrong with him, something lacking, but when he was with you this feeling lessened. He felt worthy, he felt seen. John never sat down to talk to him, to spend time with him. Sam ran away the first chance he got. Mary... Mary was a whole other can of worms that he didn't want to open. He had Lisa and other people in his life, but they weren't like you. You two were made in the same cloth. The same strong material that would cover loved ones, would protect them. Same shitty childhood, same fuck-up parents. You were the one he shared his life with at all times, good or bad. More than friends or lovers or anything people would use to describe. Dean could point the term to save his life but you were his and the silent was slowly killing him more than any monster would.
"It was something I did?", he asked in a whisper. He jaw clenched in tension, voice raspy and sore from untold words.
Your eyes ran to the window for a second and he was ready to beg for them to come back. When you looked at him again they were filled with caution, your lips pursed in a way he knew you were choosing words carefully. If Dean didn't know you, he could've missed the pain there. Could've missed the blush in your check's or the way your bottom teeth bit your lower lip in worry.
"Because it's pathetic, isn't? The way I was all in your life, hanging around the edges waiting for crumbs of your attention. Waiting until the day you would notice me or how I feel. Even Sam, who is the most subtle person I know, mentioned it. So no, it's not something you did, it's something I did all the time and it needed to stop for both of our sake."
The weight of your explanation took a second to sink in. All that Dean tried to push down was now in the clear, finally acknowledged one of you two. He wanted to go over the table and kiss your lips, kiss you until the wasn't any air between you two. He wanted to act on the burning sensation he always felt when you got too close. He thought back to all those nights in the bunker, when it was late and both of you were just a bit pass tipsy and going on drunk and his eyes would linger longer on your lips or the curve of your neck. Dean thought back to the first time he saw you covered in blood, not yours but someone else's, and his cock got so hard he had to stroke himself twice just to get rid of the image.
"That's what you think?", was all he let out for a moment. "That you hang around the edges of my life?" Dean ran his hand over his lower face in frustration.
Your sarcastic laugh sounded so bitter to his ears.
"It's not what I think, it's what it is", you looked at him in defeat. "I love you and I don't care if you don't like me the same way. I know you care for me in some extend, of course, and I content to see you happy and being your friend or what you need at the moment. But maybe I needed a little time to settle my feelings", you shrugged.
He wanted to break something out of frustration. He could feel the anger burn his veins. All those days, running scenarios, trying to find the reason why this bothered him so much. The old self hate that steamed inside him late at night, his old company, making him formulate all the reasons he could've fuck up your... friendship? The word never felt right between you two. It was something else.
After a moment of silence Dean threw a couple bills at the table and took your hand, leading you both out the restaurant.
"What are you doing? Are you going insane?", you screamed trying to get out of his hold. He didn't let you go, however.
Dean searched with his gaze to see if Sam was around the car before throwing you inside and going right after. He pulled your hair in the back with a gentleness that didn't match the wild expression in his eyes.
"Look at me and listen carefully", he said between his teeth. The fire running thought his veins was even more intense now. Dean could feel your body under his branding him like iron. Your legs around his hips made his cock twitch with the slightness movement of your body. "You are not in the fucking edges. You are all around me. You are all I fucking see. If anything, everyone else is at the goddamn edge and you are in the damn center", he said each word getting closer and closer to your lips. He could smell your breath, something so yours that he couldn't find the correct word to compare. Dean swallowed hard before taking the last step.
His mouth closed down in yours making time stop. Dean groaned against your lips, biting down almost hard enough to break skin. He wanted to taste you, swallow you, in a manner that your being would never not be apart from his anymore. Your hands went up to his neck pulling him closer, trying to breach the barrier of clothes between your bodies.
"Please...", you begged against him, grounding your cunt against his cock. It was deliciously painful to have your body so pliant under him. Having you beg for his touch, a needy expression on your face.
"Shh...", he cooed, "I know... I know".
Dean's hand went down your neck stroking your skin until he got to your breasts, pinching your nipple with just the right pressure. His tongue stroked your lips in a slow, deliberated movement, tasting like starved man.
"I finally get what I want, so you have to be a good girl and take it, alright?"
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hollandorks · 6 months
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haven
battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader
chapter fourteen
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Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.
a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)
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word count: 2k
“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”
“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed  her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised. 
“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug. 
Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.” 
Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements. 
Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up. 
They wanted her to know that they could get to her. 
And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.
Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him. 
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes. 
Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–” 
“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night. 
She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her. 
“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment. 
They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.” 
An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.
She looked up, and there was Bruce. 
His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home. 
Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach. 
Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers. 
Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes. 
“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–” 
Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?” 
“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–” 
Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.  
Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez. 
“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes. 
Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!” 
Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.” 
“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.” 
They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock. 
“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–” 
Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.
The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again. 
“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!” 
Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would. 
“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?” 
Y/n barely noticed him leaving. 
She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything. 
“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.” 
Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–” 
“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?” 
She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–” 
“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say. 
“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”
She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.” 
“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.” 
Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out. 
Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.” 
“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook. 
“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. “Arrest me if you have to.” 
“How about I get your statement instead?” 
It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.” 
Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly. 
“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”
“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.” 
“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.” 
Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.
Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed. 
She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.
She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later. 
Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home. 
She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe. 
Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.
It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived. 
When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome. 
She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now. 
Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 
Next Chapter
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silenzahra · 2 months
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Luigi the Bookworm 📚✨
Today, April 23rd, we celebrate Book Day in Spain with a beautiful tradition: gifting books and roses. In the past few months, I've started to see Luigi, my favorite Mario character, as a bookworm, thanks to some art pieces like this one, by Mikis_art94 on Instagram, and this one, a short comic by Sarahsketckesluigi, also on Instagram.
And, since I'm also a bookworm myself, I thought of celebrating this day by sharing with you my own take on Luigi's bookish side 🤭 Warning: this is gonna be LONG, so make sure to grab some drinks and snacks and make yourselves comfortable! 💖
(Also, I may go and turn some of these into actual fanfics at some point because, well... I got myself inspired 👀🤭✨)
Please go and check this amazing post by @itsavee4117! It's a companion to this one and you can see many of my headcanons illustrated in his lovely art style!!! 📚💖
@bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @peaches2217 @nuctoria @keakruiser
@pepperycar @kelbreyworshipper @roscolate and anyone else who might be interested: I hope you enjoy! Happy Book Day! 📚🥀✨
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Part 1: Luigi's Bookish Side
Luigi is a person who tends to get excited easily, and when he does, he experiences those feelings with great intensity. This applies to all aspects of his life, and reading, one of his greatest passions, is no exception.
In terms of genres, Luigi is generally open to read anything. He enjoys realistic novels, historical novels, classic novels, mystery novels, sci-fi novels... And he also reads books about gardening, cooking, baking and mechanics from time to time. The only things he’s unable to consume are thrillers and horror. He's tried, but, with all the times he's had to face King Boo, he's had more than enough terror and frights to last him a lifetime, thank you very much.
His favorite genres are fantasy and romance. The former, because traveling to made-up worlds allows him to forget about his real-life problems and offers him an escape from his daily life, which can often be exhausting. The second, because he’s a complete romantic who loves to see people loving each other and living happily ever after. And also... because of something that has to do with Daisy.
Luigi lives every book he reads with the same intensity. For him, it's as if the characters really existed, as if they were his friends, people he can talk to, share common interests with, and also help to achieve their purposes in life (i.e. in the books they’re from).
And maybe... just maybe... he's fallen in love more than once while reading and now he has a loooong list of literary crushes thet only keeps growing.
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So, when he’s reading, Luigi laughs with the characters, cries when one of them suffers or dies, his heart tearing in his chest, and is deeply moved every time a tender moment occurs, such as a kiss, a hug or a cute scene involving, for example, a baby or an animal.
His favorite stories are those about siblings. Not only because he enjoys reading family stories, but also because, without even thinking about it, he often finds it easy to put himself in the place of the younger sibling. For him, therefore, it’s as if he were reading a story starring himself and his beloved brother Mario, and he loves to imagine that they’re going on adventures together in an unknown world. Almost like when they first arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom.
Over the years, Luigi has gathered quite a collection of books, so Mario, the moment they move into the little house in the Mushroom Kingdom that Peach offered them, doesn't hesitate to suggest to his brother that he use the extra room to build himself a small library. Luigi is not too sure at first, thinking that maybe his brother would like to have an office, but Mario insists.
So Luigi has a small library in his new home, which he soon fills to the top with books, and it’s his pride and joy. He and Mario assembled the bookshelves together, which they brought all the way from Brooklyn, and now Luigi has a wonderful reading nook where he can isolate himself to let his imagination run wild for hours. It is, along with the bedroom he shares with Mario, his favorite room in the whole house.
For Luigi, reading is something so important, meaningful and almost sacred in his life, that he has a whole ritual that he performs every time he sits down to read. He has a rocking chair in his small library, a present from his brother when they moved to live in the Mushroom Kingdom, and he has it placed right next to the window and in front of the fireplace. He likes to be able to see the sky when he looks up from his reading, and he usually stares at the clouds or the stars while he daydreams about or reflects on what he has just read. During the summer, he usually keeps it open, as he loves to read in natural light while the gentle breeze from Peach's land cools him, and in winter he keeps it firmly closed while the fireplace warms him.
Luigi loves to light a scented candle to help him get in the perfect mood for reading. His favorite scent is vanilla, as it reminds him of his favorite princess, but he also loves lavender and cinnamon. He usually makes himself a hot drink, sometimes tea, sometimes chocolate, and brings a nice blanket to warm up, which is why his favorite time to read is the coldest time of the year, especially autumn. He also prepares his set of post-its to mark his favorite sentences and parts of the book, and he has a ritual for colors too: yellow for funny moments, blue for sentences that make him reflect on them, red or pink for romantic scenes…
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Luigi knows that there are many people who write directly in their books, but, for him, that is unthinkable. He sees books as a valuable and precious object, a repository of stories that helps him disconnect from reality and let his imagination run wild. He respects what everyone does with their books, but he’s simply incapable. Especially if it’s a book he has been given as a gift.
His favorite copies are hardcover, even more so if they include a dust jacket. He treasures all his books with the same affection, but those are undoubtedly his weak point. The most precious of all is a hardcover, dust-jacketed edition of his favorite book, which was a present from Mario, and which also has painted edges.
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Usually, when it's time to read, Mario is either napping, spending quality time with Peach, or doing something else around the house. Polterpup, on the other hand, takes the opportunity to approach his owner and, if it's summer, lie at his feet while he reads. If it's winter, however, Polterpup will jump into Luigi's lap without his permission and cuddle up and fall asleep immediately, before Luigi even has time to recover from the fright and resume reading. (Check out @pepperycar's funny addition to this!)
Luigi is a speed reader. Usually, when he starts reading, he doesn't intend to go too fast. It's just that, after so many years reading, his eyes have acquired an astonishing speed, and he’s able to retain every word in his head despite going through them very quickly. Also, if a book really hooks him, he’s unable to put it down until he finishes it, which has caused him to stay up late several nights and go to work half asleep the next day, but it's always totally worth it. Because of this ability, he can finish books of about 300-400 pages in just a few hours, and sometimes also 500 if he gets caught up completely.
Luigi LOVES to buy books. His favorite visits are to Sarasaland and the bookstore, and he also does a lot of online shopping to support small publishers. Every time a new book comes home, he gets excited as if it's the first time, and always asks Mario to please record him while he's unboxing it. Mario unhesitatingly stands on the other side of the camera and makes sure that every shot is perfect and that the book looks great, and Luigi, delighted and grateful, always gives him the tightest and most spontaneous hugs every time they finish filming.
And, of course, once he has the book in his hands, Luigi squeals and kicks, excited, as he waves it in the air like maracas before hugging it tightly to his chest. And, when the book is a present from someone dear to him, he acts exactly the same, only he ends up crying and thanking again and again the person who gave it to him while, again, he presses the book against himself as if his life depended on it.
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Luigi is VERY much a fan of merchandising. He loves collecting bookmarks, he has such a huge collection that he's had to divide it into several drawers, and every time he’s going to start a new reading, he tends to spend more time deciding which bookmark will be the most suitable than choosing the book itself. He’s also bought a few literary stickers and some printed works of his favorite books, like fanarts of different scenes or characters illustrated by various artists, which he's hung on a corkboard. And, of course, since his books are the most precious thing he has, he’s also bought many literary covers from different small artists' stores, so that he can keep his books well protected when he carries them around.
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Luigi is the kind of person who takes a book with him everywhere. A doctor's appointment? Book in backpack in case the wait gets longer. Public transport? He can't think of a better way to spend it than reading. He even takes them with him when he meets up with Mario, Peach and Toad, just in case his brother and the princess get lovey-dovey, and Toad falls asleep. And, if there's one thing Luigi likes better than sleeping in nature, it's reading in nature.
Part 2: The Reader Brother
Luigi has loved reading since he was very young. When he and Mario were babies, their parents used to tell them a bedtime story, sometimes Pio, sometimes Mia, and Luigi always listened very attentively. He would gawk listening to them and loved how they used to put voices and even recreate some scenes to make them laugh.
Mario also listened very interested, but being a more energetic baby, he used to fall asleep about halfway through the story, with his head resting on Luigi's shoulder and his arm firmly around his brother's waist. Their parents would drool, but they had to continue, for Luigi, even if he was struggling to keep his eyes open, wasn’t going to go to sleep without knowing the ending.
Only then, with a satisfied smile, he would hug his brother back, curl up next to him, close his eyes, and put his thumb in his mouth to get ready for sleep. By then, Mario was completely asleep, clinging to Luigi like a koala to a eucalyptus tree, and their parents had to make great efforts not to melt as they tucked them in and kissed them goodnight.
Since then, both brothers have grown up being great lovers of stories, only that, while Luigi loves books, Mario prefers to consume them in movies or video games. Even so, these are all hobbies that the brothers share, as they love to immerse themselves in a good story that helps them escape from reality for a while.
When Luigi gets emotional about a book he’s reading or has just read, Mario immediately comes to his side to hug and comfort him. He knows that, even if it's fiction, his brother has lived through it all in such a way that his feelings, of sadness, joy or emptiness at having finished a great story, are real and intense. And Mario would never judge him for it.
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Luigi is deeply grateful not only that his brother comforts him, but that he listens to him talk endlessly about what has just happened in the book he’s reading, and even catches his emotions. Mario may not cry, but he feels his brother's sadness as if it were his own. Fortunately, the same thing happens when Luigi is happy or excited because of a book, and even on the few occasions when Luigi has gotten angry with a character, Mario has giggled under his breath before calming him down, because he finds it extremely tender.
Luigi usually goes to the bookstore at least once a week, and Mario, since they were teenagers, has almost always accompanied him. The only exceptions were when Mario was dating Pauline, and Luigi had no problem paying his weekly visit to the bookstore by himself, but, deep down, he missed Mario.
His brother also loves to accompany him, because, despite not being as much of a reader as Luigi, he enjoys watching him go back and forth from one shelf to another, pointing out the books he’s already read and the ones he wants to read. Also, when he gets the chance to buy a new one, Mario is amused to see Luigi picking up one book after another and trying to load them all and then deciding which one to take home.
Of course, Mario immediately offers to help him carry the books so that Luigi can keep picking up more if he wants to, and Luigi appreciates it from the bottom of his heart. And also that, again, Mario listens to him chatting incessantly about why each book has caught his attention and why he has such a hard time making up his mind.
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Mario always tries to guide him in the best possible way: "What do you feel like reading more right now?" "Is it part of a series or is it a standalone?" "Is the sequel already out or would you have to wait?" "Did you like this or that author better?"
And Luigi thanks him deeply for his advice and questions because, that way, he manages to discern which book he really wants to buy that time.
The best way to surprise Luigi, the best birthday and Christmas present, will always be a book. Mario knows this, and that's why he doesn't hesitate to ask his brother to show him his long and endless lists of books he wants to purchase, as well as discreetly taking notes every time he goes to the bookstore with him. Luigi cherishes every book his brother has gifted him like the priceless treasures they are to him.
Sometimes Luigi runs into space problems. Even though his bookshelf is large and spacious, there’s a limit to everything. In those moments when he’s overwhelmed because he doesn't know where to place his new acquisitions, Mario always comes to the rescue: he immediately offers to hang a new shelf on the wall, or to look for another bookshelf to place in some free space in the room, or, directly, he stares at Luigi's shelf with a frown and his hand on his chin for a few moments, before taking the new books from his brother's arms and, displaying his skills playing Tetris, manages to find room to place them.
He loves to do it not only because he enjoys applying in real life what he has learned playing video games, but above all because of the relieved smile that blooms on Luigi's lips when he sees that Mario has found the perfect solution.
Luigi loves going to literary events where he can meet his favorite authors and have his books signed, but he tends to get so nervous that he always gets stuck for words and sweats a lot, which embarrasses him deeply.
The first time, in fact, Luigi was so shocked to have his favorite author in front of him that he fainted. When he woke up in the ambulance, he was so embarrassed that nothing Mario, who, of course, always accompanies him, said succeeded in comforting him.
He only calmed down a bit at home, when, alone with Mario, he began to silently cry without even realizing it, and his brother, not uttering a word, sat down in front of him, worried, and wrapped him gently in his arms. He pressed the back of Luigi's neck softly to make him rest his head on his shoulder and stroked his back gently, his heart aching at each new sob that escaped his brother's throat.
It took him many, many years to convince Luigi to go to an event again, for Luigi feared the same thing would happen to him again. He didn't want to make a fool of himself like that ever again, especially not in front of writers he deeply admires.
So Mario decided that they would practice: he dressed as much as he could like Luigi's favorite author, watched as many videos as he could on the internet to soak up his personality and find out what kind of books they wrote, and pretended to be them again and again, relentlessly, until Luigi, little by little, managed to exchange a few words with him.
It took them many attempts, because, despite knowing it was his brother, Luigi had no trouble getting into the situation due to his overflowing imagination. Mario had to step out of character several times to try to calm him down and help him regulate his breathing.
Luckily, thanks to Mario's efforts, eventually it worked, and Luigi, a few years later, found himself back at an event and able to chat for a few minutes with the writers he read, even though his heart was beating frantically in his chest and excitement was flooding his insides.
He will never be able to thank his brother for his infinite patience, but Mario always plays it down tenderly. He keeps assuring him that it was not patience, but his deep and sincere love for his younger brother and his eagerness to help him fulfill his wishes.
Part 3: Royalty + Luaisy
Ever since the brothers met Princess Peach, she and Luigi have been, little by little, building up a beautiful friendship that grows every day, just like the sweet romantic relationship between her and Mario.
It didn't take long for Peach to discover Luigi's bookish side, and it made her eager and excited, as she has always enjoyed reading and loves to comment on the books she reads in great detail.
So she didn't hesitate to take Luigi to the huge library of her castle, and she smiled, touched, as she saw the amazement with which Luigi observed its towering shelves, turning on himself in the center of the room as he tried to take it all in.
Since then, Peach and Luigi have become reading buddies. The two of them love to immerse themselves in a good story, read together in the castle library while comfortably sipping tea and, of course, comment on what they have just read and exchange views. Luigi even ends up causing Peach to also take a liking to collecting bookmarks and literary merchandising.
They often do joint readings: they discover a book they both feel like reading and set a series of goals to try to read it at the same pace, so they can discuss it as they go along. Sometimes, however, Luigi discovers that Peach hasn't read one of his favorite books, so he doesn't hesitate to read it with her so he can see her reactions, and vice versa. They love to share their anger, their cries and their joys, for it fills their hearts with bliss and emotion that they have someone by their side who understands perfectly well what they’re feeling and why.
They enjoy hearing what this or that scene has made the other feel, or what they think of this or that character, because it helps them to see things from a point of view that, perhaps, they had not considered before. Reading enriches them, but their literary conversations enrich them even more.
And Mario, of course, is delighted that the two most important people in his life have forged such a strong, deep bond and spend so much quality time together, sharing one of their greatest passions. Often, unbeknownst to them, he stands watching them as they read in the library and gets a silly grin on his face when he sees them laughing together after chatting a bit about their readings.
When it comes to Prince Peasley, on the other hand, Luigi is the one who watches him while smiling, mesmerized, as the prince, always so elegant and sophisticated, has an exquisite oratory and knows how to strike the perfect tone every time a character intervenes, and also to confer the right emotion when it comes to the narrator. And Luigi, besides staring at him, enraptured by the fabulousness of his figure, also listens to him spellbound. He would almost say that he enjoys reading more when his beloved prince is the one who narrates, and plays, the stories.
Princess Daisy, due to her energetic nature, is not much prone to reading. She prefers more dynamic activities where she can unleash not only her endless energy, but also her competitive side. Even so, she knows and respects the value of books, having grown up well aware of their importance in safeguarding and protecting the history of her kingdom. (@kelbreyworshipper you may like these ones!)
But when she meets Luigi, she begins to show a slight interest in reading, something that at first was only born so that she could have something to talk to him about. Fortunately, Luigi, despite his initial shyness, doesn't need more than a mention of literature to start talking nonstop about his favorite stories and how much they make him feel. And Daisy, not even realizing it, finds herself listening to him entranced, very attentive to his every word and genuinely understanding why there are people, like Luigi, who find reading so exciting.
Over time, she starts asking him for book recommendations, which he happily obliges, and Daisy discovers that she actually enjoys reading, especially stories with tons of action. Still, what she likes the most about this is Luigi's thrilled and moved expression when he finds out she's actually listened to him, read the book he recommended and, therefore, now they can fangirl together. She falls even harder for him because of the cute little face he makes.
Sensing that her interest in him is growing and that it may be mutual, Daisy decides to invite Luigi to Sarasaland Castle to show him her library. At first she doesn't tell him what she has invited him for, which makes Luigi VERY nervous, as he doesn't know if this is a date or not. She playfully takes him by the hands, leads him to the library doors and asks him to close his eyes. Luigi hesitates a little, unsure, but ends up obeying so as not to disappoint her.
Daisy then opens the library and guides Luigi carefully inside. He almost trips, which makes her laugh, causing him, in turn, to relax a bit. And when she finally tells him to open his eyes, Luigi gasps and his jaw drops, his heart pounding in his chest, not only because that library is even a bit larger than Peach's, but also because, slowly, his mind understands and assimilates that Daisy had prepared this to surprise him.
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And even though he’s fascinated by all the books before him, he ends up, without realizing it, looking at Daisy, with a blushing smile on his flushed face and his hands over his heart, while she explains to him that all those volumes belonged to his ancestors and that he has her permission to come whenever he wants to get them. "They're yours!" she says at last, turning to him, and Luigi's heart grows larger at the offer, causing a tear to escape his eyes as the princess, full of tenderness, smiles at him.
Over the next few days, Luigi goes to the library, encouraged by Daisy, who insists again and again that he come to Sarasaland. Her library has a huge ladder to reach the highest shelves, and Daisy uses it without a second thought to glide across the room, to the terrified gaze of Luigi, who dares not even climb the first rung.
As soon as she notices this, Daisy gets down, walks over to Luigi and takes him by the hand to guide him to the ladder. He almost cringes when she places his hand on the wood and freezes when Daisy encourages him to climb up. "It's completely safe!" she assures him. "And, besides, I'll be right here. You can hold my hand as you climb up. I promise I won't slide you down too fast the first time!"
Very slowly and clinging to Daisy's hand, Luigi climbs up the steps. She doesn't let go and keeps repeating phrases to encourage him, which makes Luigi feel almost as safe as when he is with Mario, though in a different way. Once he reaches the top of the first shelf, however, Luigi is unable to climb any higher, so Daisy doesn't pressure him any further. She gently grasps the lower end of the ladder and, after warning him, moves it a little, very slowly as she promised, to make him feel secure.
The next day, however, Daisy goes up right after Luigi and, leaning into the next bookshelf, pushes as hard as she can to propel the ladder to the opposite side at breakneck speed. Her laughter mingles with Luigi’s screams, but however, once they stop, he discovers that, despite his initial panic, he’s had fun with what Daisy has just done.
This then becomes a regular occurrence between them, until it gets to the point where Luigi feels comfortable and confident enough to climb the ladder by himself and propel himself across the library in true “Beauty and the Beast” style.
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In the kingdom of Sarasaland there’s a tradition to honor books, as they’re not only a source of entertainment, but also the sacred objects that preserve their history. Daisy has grown up with these values and does not hesitate to tell Luigi about this tradition soon after they start dating.
On Book Day, it is customary for the man to give the woman a rose and the woman to give the man a book. This originated many centuries ago, before everything related to gender and relationships evolved, so nowadays, simply put, the members of a romantic relationship give each other both a book and a rose.
Luigi shows up in Sarasaland on the appointed date very nervously, dressed in a smart green suit, his favorite color, and carrying a wrapped book for Daisy, as well as a purple rose, very rare and hard to come by, which he has grown himself in his garden with Peach's help. Daisy greets him in a lovely purple dress, with a vaporous skirt, matching elbow-length gloves and her delicate shoulders bare. She holds out her gift to him almost before he reaches the castle gates and can recover from the amazement of seeing her so dazzling and beautiful.
He’s delighted when, upon opening it, he discovers that it is one of those special editions he’s been looking for for so long. Only Mario knew he wanted it, so he understands, without needing Daisy to tell him, that his brother has given his girlfriend a hand to surprise him. And that makes his heart fill with love and his eyes with tears, and the book even more precious to him.
Daisy excitedly opens her present and, to Luigi's surprise, squeals when she discovers that he’s gifted her a fantasy adventure novel that caught her eye when he first took her to his favorite Brooklyn bookstore. Daisy drags him into the library, invites him to sit down with some drinks (tea for him, a smoothie for her), and asks him to please start reading.
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And so they spend their first Book Day together: settled on Daisy's fluffy library couch, she sat on his lap, the skirt of her purple dress spread over his legs, almost hiding them, and her arms around his neck, depositing light kisses here and there as he struggles to read aloud the book he’s just given her. This was the first time they gave each other a book, but of course it would not be the last, as reading together, visiting the Brooklyn bookstore and Sarasaland and Mushroom Kingdom libraries, and continuing to celebrate Book Day would soon become habit for them.
Daisy often stares at Luigi as he reads, amused by his reactions and the faces he makes, and, when their relationship is more established, she has no qualms about peeping over his shoulder. And Luigi, far from getting angry, what he did the first time and has continued to do ever since is to read aloud, so that she also finds herself immersed in the story without realizing it. (This may sound familiar!)
But what Luigi enjoys the most is that Daisy, whenever the characters in the book share some intimate gesture, instantly replicates it with him. If they hold hands, Daisy immediately reaches for Luigi's hand. If there’s a hug, Daisy wraps her arms around Luigi and holds him tightly, which leaves him breathless, but also makes him laugh and fills his heart with tenderness.
And, of course, if there are kisses, Daisy won't hesitate to start showering Luigi with them. First on his hand, on the tips of his fingers and on his palm. Then on the forehead, with a delicacy that always melts Luigi. His cheeks color every time Daisy places her lips on them, but what drives him absolutely crazy is when she seeks his mouth. It's the only thing that makes him put down the book and postpone reading for another time. (Check out @bberetd's wonderful art for this!)
Often, before they fall asleep, Daisy cuddles up to Luigi in bed, wearing his green shirt, and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Luigi absentmindedly begins to fiddle with her hair, delighted to have her so close, and, with his other hand, reaches for his book to read aloud a few more pages before they fall asleep. It's part of their routine and they both love sharing stories that way.
Part 4: The gang
The visit to the bookstore and libraries has now become a regular occurrence for everyone. As soon as he started talking about books with Peach and she showed him her library, Luigi immediately invited her to come with him and Mario the next time they went to their regular Brooklyn bookstore, and she gladly accepted.
On that first visit by the princess, Peach was as thrilled as Luigi and the two of them went back and forth in the bookstore, she eagerly looking at everything, he endlessly talking about the store and the many books he’s bought there. Soon they found themselves going often to acquire new books, not without first spending a good while in the place accumulating stories in their arms to, again, decide in the end.
Again Luigi was looking for Mario, who, unconsciously, had been staring at them with an amused smile and his eyes full of affection. Blushing, Mario would hurry to come to his side to help him, and Luigi, even though he’d caught him gazing at the princess in rapt attention, wouldn’t comment anything so as not to make him uncomfortable or put any pressure on him.
Many times, however, Peach would intervene and take two of the books Luigi had chosen. That's how she also started giving him books as presents, and Luigi couldn't be more grateful that his beloved friend pampers him that way. Her gesture makes her even more attractive and sweet in the eyes of Mario, who melts at seeing her displaying such adoration towards his beloved little brother.
Daisy, always eager to learn more about the place where her dearest hero in green grew up, also joins in, but, to her surprise, she finds herself next to Mario, fondly watching Peach and Luigi, especially the latter. They, however, are so excited talking about books that they never notice the goofy smiles with which Daisy and Mario look at them, delighted to see their two favorite people indulging in their greatest passion.
Despite this, both Mario and Daisy make sure to pay attention to the books that Luigi and Peach point out with the intention of acquiring them in the future, and then make plans with each other to decide which ones to give them on future birthdays, Christmases and, of course, regular days. Any time is a good time to surprise their favorite people with a new literary gift.
Sometimes, on their dates, Luigi and Daisy also go to the bookstore, and she, as always, listens to him talk very attentively. When it comes to advising him on which book to acquire, however, she’s much more practical: she thinks Luigi should pick the book he wants to read the most… or the one with the most romance in it.
And Luigi blushes violently because he perfectly understands the implications of such a suggestion.
Literary events also end up being a regular thing they all do together. Luigi, thanks to Mario, already manages to control his nerves and chat a bit with the authors when they sign his books. Peach, of course, is all sweetness and always tells them how much their stories have made her feel and dream. Mario just smiles and listens, delighted to be able to accompany them and to see them enjoying themselves so much, right up their alley. He always takes pictures of them with the authors, both together and separately, something he already did when it was just him and Luigi.
Daisy, on the other hand, is so spontaneous and genuine that she doesn't hold back when it comes to treating the writers with too much familiarity, which only embarrasses the others, especially Luigi. If it's the author of a romance book, Daisy doesn't hesitate to cheerfully tell them how much she and her boyfriend enjoyed the sensual and intimate scenes, or that she lost count of how many times she kissed her sweetie during the reading because of the sheer number of times the characters kissed.
In those moments, Luigi can only think of crawling under a rock. He has to resort to all the training with Mario to manage to keep his composure and not faint again or run away to hide so no one sees him turning red as a tomato.
However, then Daisy intertwines her arm with his and kisses him on the cheek, and he feels that his blush, this time, is due to being close to her and to her tokens of affection. After all, Luigi adores everything about his princess, all her sides and her personality, and besides, to other authors, fortunately, Daisy tells them how much fun she and her boyfriend had with their novel, and Luigi can only adore her.
At these events, both Mario and Daisy go out of their way to get lots of bookmarks and merch for Luigi and Peach, as they know they both love to collect stuff related to their favorite books. And also, again, they take mental notes of all the books they can buy as future presents for them.
From time to time, Toad and Peasley also join in on their visits to the bookstore, libraries or events. Toad is a big fan of fantasy and adventure comics, as they nurture his enthusiastic and adventurous spirit, and Peasley loves to talk endlessly with his favorite authors about the various subjects they cover in their books, thus unconsciously displaying, once again, his impeccable eloquence.
I really hope you liked this! I had a blast writing all of this and imagining my favorite characters in the many situations I've experienced myself as a bookworm, as well as adding others I came up with 🥰
Plase feel free to add your comments and feedback, and also headcanons if you have a few of your own! And if by any chance this inspires you to create your own stuff, I'd be more than honored 😭 All I ask is to please give credit! 🙏💖
Before I leave, please remember to check @itsavee4117's blog today! You won't regret it 🤩📚✨
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urf1lterr · 1 year
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afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]
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"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"
previous chapter: [1]
summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.
pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader
genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature
word count: 15k
status: 2/3 complete
author's note: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT LOVES. even though its gonna be three parts lol i still want you to want more. i've been confused on my writing because tbh- i feel like i could do better and keep rushing with these storylines and end up regretting them AFTER they are posted lol. not edited- it really isn't.
"Let's cut the chit-chat and get some real answers, why did y'all breakup?"
"Andrew!"
"Three days have passed, she's fine now," he defended, shrugging as Florence shot him an irritated look by his prying behavior.
It has indeed been a few days since the terrible night that consisted in you meeting your favorite artist, crying beside her, running awkwardly away right after, having a screaming match with your ex, and then passing out in the car.
So, you couldn't deny it wasn't a memorable night.
The past three days could've been better to say the least if your management team stopped spamming you with text messages concerning the fight, maybe even ignoring the loads of pictures of your crying face.
Oh, the pictures. Not a fun sight to see.
Luckily for you, the pictures were only ones inside the party near Andrew- not Pedro. Unfortunately, though, your picture was turned into a 'crying in the club' meme.
You couldn't exactly be mad over it, you loved memes.
Thank the Lords the paparazzi were clueless and never ended up catching your argument with Pedro or you wouldn't know how to cover it up.
You could never get away with the typical 'friends fighting' after he shouted how much he loved you.
And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.
To clear up your meltdown, you took it upon yourself to send out a quick tweet the next morning with a "i'm sorry i'm an emotional drunk. one second we're talking about 500 days of summer and then...well you already know how THAT ends."
In that moment you couldn't care less if people believed you or not, this was going to pass fast anyway.
Now here you were, sitting in front of your kitchen bar as Andrew and Florence decided to pay you a visit because they missed you- or so they say.
Realistically, they wanted to see if you were still a hot mess.
Which you weren't, obviously.
Shailene would have tagged along, but she was busy doing grown up things, such as working on her latest project Andrew claimed which was a slight bummer. She was the mediator, now who else was going to stop the arguments calmly between your two friends.
Florence disagreed, shaking her head. "You can't just ask her that, it's impolite."
Sighing, Andrew sent you an apologetic glance. "Okay, I am sorry." Not taking his eyes off you, you could feel his curiosity and eagerness from the other side of the kitchen. "But we're all thinking it."
Judging by how unresponsive Florence became, you could tell she wasn't going to fight him on this. And well, she was secretly on his side because your fight with Pedro was seriously excessive.
She just wanted to know what he could've done to make you so angry, it didn't make sense to her if he did cheat. He didn't seem like the type, but some people do the most surprising things- so she couldn't really tell.
"Do you want the last reason or all of them?"
Widening his eyes, Andrew shares a glance with Florence for a swift second before finding your eyes. "Last reason?"
"The last fight we had that led us to finalize our breakup."
"Finalize," he giggled, leaning on the marble counter. "This isn't a divorce process."
"For a person who is so concerned about my relationship crisis, you seem to be catch on to the most irrelevant stuff."
"So you admit you still want to be with him," Andrew declared, giving a smug look as you tried to process his words. "If you're still stressing over him, it means you don't want to let him go."
"I never said I was stressing over hi-"
"Did she or did she not just claim she was undergoing a crisis-," Andrew interrupted, slightly raising his voice. "-a relationship crisis, to be exact."
Florence sheepishly looked your way, capturing your stern expression before slowly nodding.
Your male friend clapped his hands loudly before bursting out a wider grin, happy someone had his back. "There we have it, if he's on your mind that much to turn into a crisis- you still love him!"
Furrowing your brows, you didn't know how to respond. It was true, you had many moments where Pedro agitated you even when you haven't been near him for quite some time.
But isn't being wound up over an ex part of healing?
Truth be told, you knew your feelings for Pedro hadn't completely disappeared, but love? You weren't even sure love existed by your past experiences.
"I do not love him," you hiss, vigorously snatching the water bottle on the counter and aggressively opening it. "How can love be real? It's baffling."
"Questioning the real question with a question," he sneers, making Florence and you become confused as ever. "You're so in love him."
Florence cuts in, squinting her face in puzzlement. "Wait- what's the real question she's supposedly questioning with a question?"
"Love!" he cheers happily before placing his hand on his palm, dreamingly gazing at you. "You have your doubts on what love may be, but without knowing it you're having them because you're questioning your love to Pedro since you're too scared to admit you still love him."
"I don't get it."
Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn away and head towards your living room to lay on your couch. You were not in the mood to have someone else tell you what your feelings were when they weren't you. "I'm done with this conversation."
Hearing a low slapping noise, following an irritated hiss, you could make out Florence's displeased voice. "See what you did! Now she's not going to tell us."
"So much for moral support, you really are nosy," Andrew fought back, whispering loudly.
A minute or two went by since you couldn't make out what they were saying before rushed footsteps soon made their way near you as your friends awkwardly smiled, hoping they didn't upset you too much.
Because they really wanted to know the drama.
Pushing him roughly from behind, Florence sent you an innocent smile as Andrew landed near your side of the couch, trying his best to hold his composure and not turn back around and start another fight.
Placing a light hand on your shoulder, you blankly glance at it before meeting his attention. "We just wanted you to know we totally understand if you aren't comfortable...expressing your past-"
"Get your hand off me and let's get this over with so you two can leave already."
Florence quickly sat right beside Andrew, both not offended with your statement because they were fully aware of how annoying the were becoming.
Before you could say anything, Florence quickly spoke aloud. "Start from the beginning!" Andrew slowly looking back to her, he sent her a confused look. "So we aren't lost, of course."
Laughing lightly, you nod before adjusting yourself on your seat. It was going to be hard to remember all the details clearly because there really wasn't an exact time issues occurred, it kind of just naturally appeared here and there.
Now that you think of it, majority of the tiny disputes during the earlier days of your relationship were probably on the same level as when you two were splitting, but maybe the dense ones created towards the end really made it hard to continue.
"If I'm being totally honest, we never really had problems when we first started dating. He was really great," you begin, clutching onto a pillow you found right beside you. "And he would always make sure to watch me make it inside my house before leaving, that was when I knew he wasn't some fling."
Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."
Smiling at the thought, you focused your mind to uncover the ugly truths that slowly tore you two apart.
"But then one day, I wanna say a few weeks after our second anniversary, we just started...fighting?"
Tilting your head, you look down as sad memories began pouring through your mind completely. "It wasn't our usual small fights over who left the bathroom floor wet or dropping his ipad in the pool-"
"-you dropped his ipad in the pool?" Florence coughed, bewildered by your scandalous actions.
"He wanted to know if it was waterproof," you defended.
"Was it?"
"No," you nervously reply, avoiding their eyes. "But he had it backed up and I bought him a new one!"
"That was kind of a bitchy move," Andrew muttered, catching your pissed gaze. "But at least you made up for it!"
Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to just throw it in, but he did say he was really curious and wanted to dump it under the sink.
"Anyway," you start back up again, making Andrew lowly sigh in relief. "Our fights were never that serious, or at least not until he started filming for that new tv series he joined."
Florence spoke up, lightly questioning "The Last of Us?"
Nodding, you shrugged. "I guess it's normal to say the time apart did cause a rift in our relationship, but it wasn't too bad. He always made sure to call and facetime at least once every two days."
"But one day when he was visiting during his week break he just...snapped?" you frowned, not even wanting to visualize the tiny argument.
You had to for your own good.
"He had been home for maybe two days before he suddenly became moody. Like- his attitude was insane, I have never seen him like this ever," you sigh, closing your eyes for a second before continuing. "He didn't want to go out to eat, didn't want me to make him food, and when I offered to have it delivered he slammed the bedroom door on my face and claimed he was going to bed."
"Woah, why would he do that?" Andrew asked, seriousness splattered all over his face.
You wish you knew.
"Not sure, I just thought maybe work was stressing him out so I wanted him to have his alone time to clear his mind."
"Did that work?"
Sitting up straighter, you send a sorrowful smile. "For the rest of that week-yes. He ended up apologizing to me when I tried going to bed and said his manager was being tough on him for some scenes they had done."
You remember the moment you walked inside your bedroom, disappointed that he was awake. Not wanting to cause more tension, you planned to sneak under the covers and deal with the incident in the morning.
But his arms slowly wrapping over your waist as you had your back facing him said otherwise. Pulling you closer, you remember the soft "please don't be mad at me" he whispered near your ear, making sure you felt his tight embrace as if to prove you were his.
That night ended with you turning your body over to face him, accepting his open arms as a way to answer his pleading way of forgiveness.
Like always.
"Once he went back to work, we still talked- but I could tell he wasn't fully engaged like he always was," you sulk, remembering the first time you caught him not listening. "It got to the point where I purposely stopped answering his calls."
Your friends quickly send you a shocked look, you continue before they could intercept. "I couldn't handle his lack of attention, I would rather have him panic from the rejected calls than just tell him why I was upset."
It wasn't your best move, but you were frustrated. It wasn't fair that he was the one who got to treat you poorly and you had to accept it.
You admit, maybe if you communicated with him about these issues you could've prevented many future arguments and even saved your relationship.
But you were human and sometimes humans act human.
"Then what happened?" Andrew asked, a curious appearance plastering his face. "You continued ignoring him?"
Laughing lightly, you shake your head. It was the plan, but plans don't always work out. "Actually, he secretly took a flight back home one weekend and confronted me."
Gasping, Florence jumped up in her seat and moved her leg under her. "No way!"
"Yes, way," you sheepishly reply, embarrassed at the memory. You can still picture the way Pedro stood in your shared bedroom as you stepped out of your bathroom, jumping at the sight of him.
Standing with his arms crossed with his bags thrown by the door, he was determined to figure out what was going on with you.
"I wouldn't say we engaged in a heated argument, but it was surprisingly really emotional."
Andrew leaned his body closer, too interested not to let his questions slide. "Were you guys never emotional? I feel like every couple experiences those moments together- it's what makes them stronger."
It should've made you two stronger, but instead it made you weaker without you realizing it.
"Pedro and I had our minor instances, but it never involved problems we were facing," you began, sighing slightly. "All I remember was finding him standing near the bed with no emotion- none. I couldn't read what he may have been feeling, he just looked so....empty?"
"Empty? That's not good." Florence commented.
"That could mean a lot of things, not necessarily anger," Andrew added, trying to make you feel better.
"I knew deep down he was mad, as he should be- I was the one ignoring him," you defended him, taking full responsibility over your childish actions. "But I could tell he was more hurt that mad."
"What did he say?"
"What's going on?" Pedro questioned, his eyes not daring to leave yours as you freeze- stopping your attempts at brushing your wet hair, extremely confused as to why he was here.
He wasn't supposed to visit for another month, or so he said.
"Pedro?" you squint your eyes, still not sure if he was really in front of you or maybe you were daydreaming. You were high off many shots of espressos, it's finally hitting you. "Is that you?"
Still staring plainly at you, he stays right where he was. In any other circumstances he would have run up and wrapped his arms tightly around you, but this night was different.
He looked disorientated, out of place. His eyes lacked intensity as his body followed, looking as stiff as ever. Even his breathing matched his energy, calm yet unsettled.
You left him confused and he did not like that. "Answer my question."
Batting your eyes faster, you realize what was going on and where he was. Gasping, you do the exact opposite of what he wanted. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be home- you could get fired a-"
Taking a hold of your arms, he stills you and ignores your rambling. "What-" he begins, moving his right hand to the back of your neck and forcing you to focus on him only. "-is going on?"
Freezing, you try to back your head away from his grip but he tightens his grasp, making sure to not be too rough so he doesn't actually hurt you- he would never do such a thing. "I don't understand-"
"You haven't been answering my calls, what else is there to understand?" He sternly recalls, not wanting you to bullshit your way out of this. "So you either have been ignoring me on purpose to be petty or this is your way of hinting you don't want to be with me anymore."
Shaking your head frantically, you try to talk but he cuts you off again. "-And don't say you've been busy. You and I both know I would have figured out if you had added projects to your schedule- your mom tells me everything."
If this were a good time, you would have laughed at his side comment regarding your mother, but it wasn't.
"Not everything," you spit out, causing him to squint his face and release his hands from you.
"Are you trying to tell me something? Are you not happy? Is that why you've been avoiding my calls?" he questions, tilting his head in bewilderment, not liking your attitude at the moment. "Because if you really don't want to be with me you should've told me sooner than leaving me feeling fucking clueless while I'm out in another country working."
"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you-"
"But you aren't denying it," he intercepts, firmly nodding in realization. "I get it, I'm just glad I know now and won't have to wait another month to finally understand how you're feeling."
Walking away from you, Pedro walks towards his bags and reaches down for them. You scoff at his disturbed demeanor. There is no way you should be the only one at fault here- you both made mistakes.
Pushing his backpack off his hands, he watches at it lands on the floor before instantly finding your eyes. "Are you seri-"
"Just because I'm avoiding your calls doesn't mean I want to end our relationship" you shriek, glaring at him as his eyes soften at your hidden truth.
Your angered expression and stiff posture hits him like a brick, there was something really bothering you and he was too oblivious to acknowledged it until you began overlooking him.
Taking a deep breath, you watch as your boyfriend intently examines you as if he's trying to read your impractical mind. Sometimes, he wished you would speak up when something was bothering you, in fact- he has told you many times in the past to do so.
But the idea of patiently waiting until it erupts is what he's sure you've normalized in fear of desertion. Or maybe refusal of reality- the two of you weren't perfect.
"What's going on?" He calmly questions again, dropping any signs of fury and replaces it with worry and concern. Reaching out to you, he softly clasps your shoulder before moving in a few inches. "Am I making you upset?"
Slapping his hand away, you cross your arms over your chest in agitation. "I'm mad at you!"
Blinking a few times, he couldn't believe how fast you spilled and chaotic your energy was. He's never seen you act this hysterical and to be honest, he was really debating asking if you were on your period or not. "Why?"
Pursing your lips together, you release your arms and let them fall on your sides. "You know why!" With that, you turn your back to him and make your way back to your bathroom to hide.
At this point, you felt it was acceptable to act unbearable- he left you feeling insignificant and you weren't going to hold it in anymore.
If you stayed there any longer you knew you would break down into tears. Showing your vulnerable side this early into an argument was too easy, you have to show how bold you were in order to get your point across.
Or anger across.
But it was really hard to hold a grudge, he was just so- loving, despite your recent incidents. Deep down, he did care about you and wanted to validate your feelings- or as best he could.
Grabbing anything you could find near your sink, you begin opening some moisturizer and splatter it around your hands to keep you busy. You could feel Pedro come inside your shared bathroom but you don't dare to peep his way.
"Honey- please," you heard him release a soft sigh as he stood behind you, watching through your huge mirror in front of the two of you. He could make out your distressed appearance and you were absolutely not fine. "You can't just steer clear from this, we need to talk about it-"
Slamming the poor jar on the counter, you swiftly twist your body to his front and feel all the rage taking control. "But did you want to talk all those times I called you?! No, you didn't give one fuck about me or Leia!"
"You named your dog after Princess Leia? That's smart," Andrew butted in, grinning. "You know, since he's in the Mandalorian and Star W-"
"We get it."
Maybe it was wrong to bring your beloved corgi into such a serious topic, but she was abandoned by her father too.
"I did talk to you! I made sure to call you whenever I had time an-"
"I'm glad I made it into your schedule- but maybe if you considered adding some compassion and empathy it wouldn't feel like I'm just another business call you hate!"
Panting, you send daggers his way as his eyes widen. Did you just say he doesn't care about your calls? Impossible- he loves your calls, it makes his days better.
"You aren't a business call and you know that. Honey, please understand- hey!" He cuts himself off once you finally had enough of his poor attempts to defend himself, trying to flee but he ends up being quicker on his feet and yanking you back to his arms.
But once you were wrapped around him, even though it was for pure captivity and not warmth, you instantly broke down. He didn't know you were in tears until he felt his shirt become damp and still then he just thought you were trying to spit on him out of anger.
Hearing your tiny whimpers, he immediately glanced down and lifted you up to catch a clear view of your face, despite your protests and blockings. "Baby, I-I didn't mean to make you cry-"
"You don't mean a lot of things," you spit out, swatting his hands that dared to reach your face. You weren't in the mood to make up, all you wanted to do was sleep your troubles away, especially with the draining work day you had.
Continuing your pulling, Pedro began becoming annoyed with your strong protests against his affection. Isn't this what you wanted? "Why won't you let me hold you? I want to console you, can't I be your boyfriend for the night and tomorrow you can continue hating me?"
"You see my tears and now you want to hold me but admit we'll still be out of place tomorrow? That's acceptable for you?" you laugh ruthlessly, allowing space to be brought in front of you. "Do you hear yourself?"
Groaning, he rubs his face hard before speaking his mind, trying not to sound too furious and scare you. "What do you want me to do? I admit, I did lack some energy-"
"Some?" you snort to yourself, your face still wet.
"Don't interrupt me," he declared, shaking his head at how rude you were becoming. "I wasn't the best partner, okay?! There, I admit it, but you don't understand how it is working constantly and not being able to see family and friends and-"
"It's like you don't even know me at all," you ignorantly chuckle over his nonsense and walk towards your bed.
What a way to dismiss your feelings.
"That's not what I meant," he sighs, following after and stopping you from opening your covers and hiding underneath them. "It's just hard being away from everyone I love, I'm in a different country. It's not like I can drive an hour away and suddenly see them!"
"I can't do that either!"
"Can't you just please, please, please- consider that my mindset is not good right now," he declares, his eyes filling with sadness as his arms slowly find your waist. Taking a deep breath, you watch as he looked up at the ceiling before biting his lip. "I know I am not being the best partner right now- or for the past few months, but I am trying."
As soon as uncertainty flushed your face, his hands tightened as his expression deepened into an emotion you never seen him explore before- dejection.
"I can't promise you I'm suddenly going to wake up and give you 110% every interaction we have," he began, his voice lowering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "But I confess- I am being a little shit and I am willing to work on that. Just please- please don't push me away. Try to understand my situation."
He wasn't wrong, his life switched around once he accepted the role of Joel Miller and you should've known from the start he would face some difficulties. Maybe you were being too self-centered and invalidated his feeling too, not just him.
Sometimes he wasn't good with words when expressing himself and made you feel as if you weren't as popular as him, but you knew it was never his intention to hurt you like that. He had a heart and loved to use it.
Fighting over work should never be a reason to be miserable especially when it's how you both get your income.
"I-I understand," you lightly speak up, watching as his eyes light up by the sound of your now calm voice filling his ears. "I just want you to know that it didn't make me feel good-"
"Of course it wouldn't make you feel good, I was being horrible," Pedro intercepted, pulling you into a tight hug and landing his face in your neck. "And if I wasn't thousands of miles away I would totally spoil you with kisses and chocolates as my sorry."
"Chocolates are still in favor," you joke and feel him softly swat your bottom in disapproval.
Pulling away, he leans his face closer to yours and plants a sweet kiss upon your lips before backing up an inch and whispering softly, "I love you, you know that right?"
Smiling, you slowly nod and surprise him with a deeper kiss before answering him back with a familiar, "I love you, too."
"You better," he smirks, pulling his body on top of yours, hearing your light squeaks once your back hit the mattress and his lips snuck their way into the crook of your neck.
"Did you end up getting chocolates?" Andrew immediately questioned once you finished your long recollection of memories.
"That's not important," Florence rolled her eyes.
"I mean he did promise her it."
Chuckling at his curiosity, it amused you how focused he was about some candy. "Yes, he did- for like a month and then I got over them."
"Understandable," Andrew replied, looking down at his lap.
Florence jumped over him, making herself sit closer to you as he winced at her sudden movements. "Then what happened?! I mean, there had to be more right?"
"My god woman, I hope you're not working for TMZ," Andrew joked.
She shushed him before leaning closer to you, signaling you to continue on with your memories. "After that fight, things became pretty normal again. We would call each other with far more energy than before and he would even fly back home often to keep our communication strong."
"And how long did that last?"
Frowning, you took a small breath. "Like three months- then we started fighting more."
"Over?"
Rubbing your face, you groaned. "He went back to lacking energy! But that's not even the worst part."
"Please don't tell me he cheated," Andrew begged, covering his eyes with his hands while pulling a sorrow look. "I would never be able to look at him the same."
"I don't know if he did cheat- but I did find out two months before we ended things that he stayed the night at his exes."
Loudly gasping, the company you had began freaking out with their jaws dropping- literally. Florence angrily furrowed her brows, "you've got to be kidding? How is that allowed in a relationship?- It's not!"
Crossing your legs, you shrug as a way to answer her. You really did wonder what was going through his head when he did that. Sadly, you couldn't believe a word he said after you found out what he did.
Maybe that's why you were fine with ending things- because the trust was slowly disappearing.
"Not to mention he would always be with her and ditch plans with me," you form a tight smile, trying not to make things awkward but it was too late.
Who could possible hear this and not feel embarrassed for you? Classic move on his part to follow the 'being friends with my ex is okay' stereotype, but it only left you feeling unwanted and flawed.
Were you not good enough to be in his arms all those times he ditched you for her? And why couldn't he tell you what was really going on- unless he was truly hiding something unspeakable.
"Spill the beans."
Hearing a door slam, you jump up in a daze. You could feel sleep still linger on your body as you crank your neck to the side, capturing the bright '12:47 pm' located on top of your nightstand.
Slowly yanking your body up, you don't stretch as you hurry out of your room to the living room in search of the mysterious person who was either your missing boyfriend or an intruder.
Catching sight of his bright yellow t-shirt as he opens the refrigerator, you could feel your body boil up. "Where have you been? You snuck out last night without even telling me- do you even understand how worried I was?!"
Watching as he gradually turns his head to face yours, Pedro closes the fridge before leaning against the kitchen counter- completely relaxed despite your current state.
"I was out with friends," he declared, grinning to try and take pressure off from you- it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I will tell you next time. I didn't mean to worry you, my love."
Placing your hands on your hips, it pains you that you secretly don't believe a word he's saying. Normally, if this were the case, he would text you if you were sleeping or call you in the morning to inform you with what he'd done.
He did neither one.
Maybe you should test him? Ask him questions and see if he'll freeze up?
"And who were you with?"
He smiled, grabbing a cup from the pantry while easily answering, "Diego and Oscar- we had a couple of drinks and Oscar thought it would be best I stay the night."
Nodding swiftly, you examine him to see if there were any signs of him lying- there weren't. Fuck, you forgot he was an actor. It's literally his job to control his emotions! "And why didn't you call or at least send a simple text?"
After hearing your words, Pedro sends you a small smile before gently placing his cup down. Walking up to you, he opens his arms. "Baby, is that why you're so upset? Because I didn't call?"
Before you could answer, he engulfs you in his arms before swaying you both around. Feeling vibrations as he let out light giggles, you instantly dropped any suspicions you may have had because he had to tell the truth- he would never lie to you.
It's surreal how easily you could throw any convictions out the window when he touched you. It's like he jogged your memory.
"Well, why didn't you at least text?"
Removing his head from your neck, he squeezes you waist and sends you an amused smirk . "Because I was insanely drunk and if I would've used my phone it probably would have resulted in me leaving you hundreds of drunk voicemails confessing my love for you."
"And that's bad?"
He chuckled, shaking his head before pinching your side. "No, but it sure as hell is annoying."
Standing up straighter, you cautiously nod at his answer and watch as he lovingly smiled down at you. "Okay, I believe you."
"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.
"I call bullshit," Florence confidently declares, strong on her view that Pedro was not an honest person.
"Let me finish the story!"
Loud footsteps could be heard near your hallway as you stood behind the oven, trying your best to not burn these damn chocolate chip cookies.
Such a basic recipe yet so complex- it was truly aggravating.
"Y/n? Where are you?!" you heard you assistant squeal from a distance.
Trying to properly put your mitten on, you murmur a small "kitchen" before preparing yourself to open the oven. The amount of times you burned yourself thinking it was cool enough not to wear protection-
Point is- always wear protection.
Opening the oven door, you pull the tray of freshly baked cookies towards you as the footsteps became clearly audible. Right when the cookies were in your grip and being lifted, you heard your assistant yelp-
"Pedro was caught leaving his ex's house two days ago."
Throwing yourself up into a standing position, you forget about the tray of cookies until you feel the burning sensation upon your left arm. You accidentally pulled the tray too close to you. "Ow!"
Instantly panicking, your assistant rushes to your side in support and grabs a towel to fill with ice. Pressing downwards on the wound, you wince at the pressure that was building.
"What the hell are you talking about?" you still question, extremely curious to uncover what this situation was.
His ex? That's absurd, he hasn't dated anyone in years when you first met. It's definitely not like he was in contact with them when you made it official, he was always firm when it came with communicating with past relationships.
That was a big no-no, especially when one of your ex's tried reaching out after your last movie dropped. Pedro made it very clear how unhappy he was when he made an appearance at your premiere- your boyfriend not daring to leave your side and even blocking your view whenever your ex had the chance to gawk you up close.
At the time, people thought Pedro only attended because he was close with the director and has always been friendly with other actors. Little did they know he was being extra friendly with you behind the curtains.
"Someone snapped photos of him outside of her door! It looks like he just woke up, too." Grabbing the phone from her hands, you pull it closer to your face and watch what the screen uncovered.
There he was, your boyfriend of two-years smiling brightly as he steps outside her door in the clothes he wore the night before. The same ones he manipulated you with about being with Diego and Oscar that night.
Not just that, but peering on the side of the door was indeed his tall, beautiful ex who definitely aged like fine wine. Hell, she was gorgeous and everybody knew that.
And the fact that they broke up due to their long distance, at the time, did not help this situation. Now that they lived a few cities away, what now? Were you just a doormat he could walk all over and eventually throw away whenever he wanted something new?
Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, you refuse to take your eyes off the screen as your assistant begins speaking. "Did you know he slept over?" Glancing up, she takes your downcast face as an answer and swiftly pulls you in a tight hug. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."
You were sorry for yourself, too. How could he lie right to your face so easily knowing he was doing it- intentionally. And the most fucked up part was he probably knew you would believe him- just like all the other times you did.
"I saw that picture!" Andrew exclaimed, bewildered at his recollection. "I thought the paparazzi caught him lacking after a hook-up- damn, I wish I would've known you were together sooner."
"Same, I would have unfollowed him," Florence added. "And nobody would've known it was because of you- since you two never been public."
Forcing a smile, you give her a tiny nudge on the arm. "Gee, thanks for being so considerate."
"Continue!"
"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before your flee.
Let's just say, things were pretty...eventful once you discovered his scheme.
For starters, after bawling your eyes out on your poor assistant's shoulder, she made her departure in order to clean up the spare bedroom she offered you to take if you weren't comfortable staying at your own place.
You accepted.
Once she was out the door, you fled to your bedroom and grabbed any suitcase close by and began stuffing it to the brim, not caring how disorganized it was professing as you reached for more clothes.
You were almost done packing your second bag full of makeup and bathroom necessities when you heard your front door open. Jumping up, you felt your eyes widen once you heard your name being chanted on by your boyfriend. "Y/n?!"
"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, drastically glancing around your now messy bathroom to make changes to your plan- only take things you really need.
Seconds pass and you find yourself zipping your bag and rushing out the door, that was until your body roughly collided with another- causing you to drop your belongings and land on the floor. Groaning, you hesitantly rise, immediately finding your boyfriend's body nearing yours as he pleads to help you off the ground.
"Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming out," he apologizes, using his fingertips to clasp your forearms to level you. "Look, I need to tell y-"
"Get off of me," you grit, forcibly slapping his palms off you, causing him to cease and stare stunned. He has never seen you once be this aggressive. Sure, you would reject his embrace whenever you two fought here and there, but slap? Not ever.
Brushing roughly past him, you gripped your larger suitcase by its handles and made a beam to the closest exit. You couldn't be around him, not when thoughts of him being unfaithful constantly drowned your head.
A strong tug of your makeup bag made you halt your movements, not by choice, as Pedro made sure to tighten his grip to prevent you from leaving. Glancing down at his now white, clenched hands, you glare. "Let go."
Shaking his head, he stared you down- irritated that you would just pack up and leave so quickly without even hearing his side of the story. Yes, he should have told you what really happened that night- but he knew how you'd react.
It was better to keep it sealed until he was ready to unveil- or so he thought.
"You let go," he hissed, raising one of his hands and smacking yours with it. You hate how much stronger he still was while only using one hand while you had two- fuck his strength and your poor muscles.
Groaning, you dig your feet onto the ground harder as you continue your tug-a-war charade with your selfish boyfriend who didn't seem to believe space was an understandable coping mechanism after he shattered your small heart.
"Fine," you yelp, shoulders falling slightly as he eases his grip- still holding on though. "We both let go on 3."
Tilting his head, he suddenly grew suspicious by your random middle ground. He knew you well enough to know you don't give up that easily, especially when he's fully sure, by your bolting efforts, you saw the picture. "How do I know you won't just run off after?"
"You're faster and stronger than me, you'll catch me eventually."
Internally agreeing, he knew you had a point. Even if you did escape, your little legs weren't going to get you far- he knows from all the times he tackled you down after you countlessly would steal his food.
"1," you begin, eyeing him to see if he would follow.
"2," he stared at you back, cautiously watching your every step.
Taking a deep breath, you count again. "3!" With that, you release your grip from your bag and watch as he still clutches on to the strap. "What the hell- we agreed on 3 we'd both let go!"
Nervously chuckling, he placed the bag on the ground and sheepishly smiled at you. He was glad to see you finally calming down. "Sorry, I didn't think you would actually do it."
Sending him an annoyed glance, he scratches the back of his neck for assuming you wouldn't follow your word. "Trust me, I always tell the truth."
Wincing at your cold tone, he frowns by your hard demeanor. "About that- I was going to tell you-"
Softly placing a hand over your head, you release a sound of discomfort and miss the way his eyes wander in curiosity.
"Can we talk about this after I take my supplements? I am not feeling too good," you cut him off, slowly touching your forehead as you watch his concern grow. "I forgot to take them this morning."
"You know you get bad migraines when you don't take them," he declared, sighing as he raised his hand and began softly rubbing your temple in ease.
He believed you were being serene because you weren't livid and allowed him to stop you from leaving- how wrong he was.
"I know but I had a crammed morning-"
"This is why we need to hire someone to walk Leia, we don't have enough time majority of the week!" he exhales, making you stare at the floor for the point taken. But there was no way you'd hire someone to walk your dog, that's ridiculous and a waste of money. "We'll talk after, let me grab them- stay here."
Sadly nodding, you allow him to flee towards your bathroom in search for your medicine. Peering you head a few inches to the side, you wait till the coast is clear before slowly, but firmly, grabbing your once lost bag and dashing out of your bedroom.
"I almost forgot about Leia," you muttered to yourself, instantly feeling bad at the thought of how quick you were to forget your baby. How terrible of a mother were you.
And what even was more mind blowing was how Pedro didn't catch your innocent acting. Truthfully, he must be trying to be extra helpful so you would believe him. Too late.
Finding your white corgi near the kitchen, you whistle lowly for her to follow as you peddled your way to your garage. "C'mon doggie, if daddy notices our escape plan he won't let us leave that easil-"
"Y/n?!"
Jaw dropping, you shoot a glance of panic to your dog, who only blankly stares back, before rushing to your parked car. "Just like Batman and Robin- now jump in," you hushed, opening the back seat so you could not only throw your bags back there- but also your tiny-legged corgi who struggles at first, but eventually makes it in.
Once you jumped into your seat and turned on the car, you catch a breathless Pedro rushing out through the door to your side. "Fuck."
"You tricked me!"
"You slept with another woman, asshole!" you yell back, glaring as he rolled his eyes- outraged by how unreasonable you were becoming. All he wanted to do was sit you down and have a normal conversation about this, but instead you kept running away.
Once again, he thinks you need to work on your communication skills.
"You used your failing health to your advantage- how sick are you?" he yelped, offended.
"They were gummy supplements!"
Touching your car door, he sternly peers at you as you quickly lock your doors in case he tried opening it. "I did not sleep with another woman," he started, inhaling strongly before releasing it. "Why would I do that when I am in a committed relationship? Huh? Do you think I am capable of cheating?"
Shrugging innocently, you pull a sarcastic face. "Not sure, I do know you're capable of lying- maybe infidelity is the cherry on top?"
Mouth gapping, he sends you a look of hurt and for a second you feel terrible by your choice of words. In your heart, you wanted to take it back- but your head thought otherwise.
"I would never be unfaithful to you- that's not who I am," he firmly states, feeling like absolute shit that you would even accuse him of being with another woman when you were all he thought about every single second of the day.
Dryly chuckling, you nod along to his words. He feels his heart ache, as if hundreds of knives jabbed through the delicate muscle by your painful mien. Did you really think that lowly of him?
"That's who you are to me now."
Once those words flew out of your mouth and he was able to process it clearly, he paused. Whole body turning stiff and cold, he scolded you profoundly before fiercefully charging towards your car door and pounding for entrance.
It was like a nerve was touched and he was not willing to be forgiving anymore. You struck him hard and he knew you meant it out of pure anger- not genuinely, but his awareness soon became replaced with treachery and he so badly wanted you to pay for your foul words.
"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before fleeing.
Mentally checking off your items before departure, you inhale sharply before lowering down your car's mirror and pressing your garage remote- allowing the door to gradually rise and Pedro to panic.
Cursing in his head, he couldn't let you drive away or else he might never see you for days and he couldn't bear the thought of you moping around in agony without at least hearing from him- the man in the picture- what actually happened that night.
Pressing on the lever and angling down to reverse, you nervously press on the gas and allow your car to drift back as your poor dog watched through the backseat his dad embarrassingly urging you to not go.
You prayed the neighbors couldn't hear a thing, if the cops came you're sure you would never go out in public for at least six months.
Realizing that it was now or never, you see from the corner of your eye a figure running towards the back of your car before a loud thump was heard.
Shakily, pressing on the brakes and putting your car on park, you jump out in horror by the sight of legs near your back tires.
You hit him.
"Shit!" you gasped, involuntarily sprinting- as if your body just knew how to react- and dropping down to your boyfriend's lifeless body-
"You ran him over?!" Andrew and Florence shrieked, interrupting your storytelling, causing you to glare and shush them.
"Shut the fuck up- it's getting to the interesting part!"
Hugging his body tightly, you could feel your face began to fall down and your body slowly begin to tremble. In a matter of seconds, you just knew your garage wasn't going to be a pretty sight to see.
Hitching your breath, you run your hands to your boyfriend's chest and shake him softly in hopes he would open his eyes- he didn't. With tears flushing down your face, you sniff as you grip onto him harder. "Please w-wake up," you begin, trying your best to keep your touch on him but you were a jittering mess. Not being able to stay still, you press your ear over his chest to see his he still had a pulse.
Sighing in relief, he did.
Squeezing his face, you frown as his expressionless face stills. Realizing he might have passed out over a concussion, your lips begin to tremble as you finally breakdown in tears and cradle him.
Leaning over from his side, you bend your body and embrace his head into your neck. "I am such a-a fucking idiot," you squeak, your eyes shutting as you don't have the power to keep them open. "I-I love you- I should've just stayed and t-talked-!"
Cutting yourself off, you ironically feel like the lifeless one despite your literal unconscious boyfriend being in your arms at the moment. Bitch, you really had the nerve. Swiftly kissing his cheek, you plunge yourself into his neck and cushion him with your body- being as fragile as ever when handling him.
Quivering in misery, you keep a strong grip onto him before you felt pressure along your side. "It's been minutes and you still haven't called 911? I could've been dead by now."
Screaming, you instantly drop the figure once on top of you and force your thighs to back up, causing you to sit perplexed on the concrete floor.
Glancing back up, you find your boyfriend brightly grinning your way, using his arms to hold his upper portion up as you looked back in confusion. Didn't you hit him?
"I was my own stunt double for some scenes," he speaks up, smiling to himself proud as you continued staying still, confused as to what had just happened. "As long as you have the right mentality- you can take a pounding."
Registering where he was going with this, you scoff and quickly allow your feet to hit the ground. Following after you, Pedro jumps at your unpleased sight and watches as you cooly open your back door to let your dog jump out before marching towards the door to your house.
"Wait? Are you mad at me for that, too?" He calls out, tilting his head in question and proceeds to get his answer by the slamming of the door behind you. "Never mind."
Angrily storming through your hallway, you accidentally run into the wooden desk placed against the wall. "Ugh!" you scream, turning around and giving it one hard kick before making your way towards your destination- the kitchen.
"What did the desk ever do to you?" Pedro mumbled to himself, stopping right by it once you were out of sight and fixing it back up against the wall, making sure the books settled on top were nested properly before going after you.
"So that's why one of the legs is chipped? I noticed that-"
"Shut up, Andrew."
"Sorry, go on."
Finding you near the blacked marbled kitchen bar, Pedro ceased his movements. To be honest, he was nervous to confront you. Not only did you find out he slept at his ex girlfriend's house, but he made you believe he was dead.
This was not going to end well.
"How could you do this to me?" He hears you ask, you back being in his peripheral view as you leaned your body over the counter, hands gripping the ends roughly.
"Do what?" he idiotically responds back, mentally slapping himself for having the audacity to question something he surely knows.
Slowly turning around, capturing his soft yet worried eyes, he catches onto your tear ones and breaks down on the inside. "Tell me the truth." you gulp, averting your eyes to your feet as you sense him bobble his head. "Did you sleep with her?"
Choking on air, he frantically shakes his head in dismay, not believing you would actually think that despite the past half an hour of him comprehending that you might so. Maybe he just couldn't believe it would ever come out of your mouth- but this whole situation made him nauseous.
Steadily finding his balance, he inched towards your frail body as you kept your contact with the floor strong, not daring to move it even when the sight of his shoes play in your mind. "Honey," he lowly calls out, lifting his fingers to your chin and hastily bringing your vision to his own. "No- I did not sleep or engage in any sexual nor romantic activity with her."
"Then why did you go to her house and not tell me?!" you cried, nudging his hand off your face, him immediately aiming towards your waist to still have you near. "Why would you do this to me? Why would you sleep over when you know how I would feel?"
"I can't tell you," he confesses, whispering softly. Feeling your face fall, you erupt into tears again as you lift up your palms to hide behind them.
Hiccuping, your hands twitch as they support your weight and force you to fall on top of the counter and continue watering your tears there. Everything was unfair and he couldn't seem to realize how bad your fights have progressed throughout the months.
"If you really care about me," you whimper, still behind your hands as he rubs circles on your waist. "You would consider my feelings and understand why I should know what you did with her."
Sighing, he releases you waist and rubs his forehead in frustration. Pedro wasn't the type to hide things in relationships. In fact, he was amazing when it came to expressing feelings and being honest while you were the same- but you typically took longer to reveal your troubles than he did.
But no matter how loyal he was to you, it wasn't his place to share someone else's business no matter who the association may be.
"I know, baby. I know- believe me," he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off the counter as your sobs were felt among his chest. It broke his heart. "But I can't betray her, she needed me and trusted me to see her. I can't just deceive her."
"But you can do that to me?" you reply, catching him off guard as he shuts his eyes tightly by how accurate you were being. "It's okay, I understand."
"No," he shakes his head, groaning before staring you down. "You don't understand, hell- I don't understand this either. But what I need you to know is I did not kiss, flirt, wink, tease, or touch her in any sexual way. We did not have sex - there was no removing of any clothing-"
"Then why did you sleepover?!"
"She needed me," he simply replies, causing you to laugh ridiculy.
"I needed you and you left me," you spit out harshly, not believing how he could defend himself and think you would ever fine with it.
Grunting, he runs his hand over his hair before pouring all of his stress onto you. "What do you want me to do? I told you what happened- she needed me, I helped her, it took longer than expected so I fell asleep on the couch- do you want to touch my knotted back for proof? Because you can!"
"Why am I the one being yelled at?" you respond, watching his face fall in disappointment.
Staying in your position for a minute or two, you continued examining him as he did the same, not knowing where this was headed. That was until he motioned with his hand for you to move closer.
"Come here."
Furrowing your brows, you pause at his words. Did he think hugging was going to solve all of your problems- because it wasn't. "No-"
Feeling his arms glide up along your upper body and finally wrapping around your shoulders, he pressed you up against his chest into the warmest bear hug you might have engaged in.
It was...peaceful.
Sighing, he felt your body soften by the touch. Relaxing, you closed your eyes as he made it his mission to not ease up on his grip. "I didn't do anything with her," he whispers, laying his face comfortably on your shoulder. "I promise, I love you."
Sadly, his confession made you break down more as tears flooded your face and your body fell upon his grip. Easily wrapping his palms on the back of your head, he cradled you tightly and never left your sight once the rest of that day and week.
And that's how that fight ended- with you trusting his sweet nothings and letting him take over your body with his hugs and kisses because he somehow made you believe him.
Every single time.
You wish you could have moved on from that topic that night as you allowed him to show you how much he loved you, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.
Especially when paparazzi exploited more pictures with him and his ex the following weeks later.
"And what about your last fight? You know- the one that ended things," Andrew started, making you halt. "What happened then?"
Quickly standing up, you brushed your sweatpants down before sending him a tight smile. Now that you talked about sad memories you hadn't really thought of in months, you knew the mention of your last fight would only break you.
You weren't ready to undergoing the same pain you felt that night.
"I didn't know these talks about my past would take a toll on me, but they have. I don't want to talk about it, but I appreciate the two of you checking up on me- I really do, but I think its time for me to take a shower and maybe nap- it's been a tiring day."
Feeling your discomfort, Florence and Andrew exchanged a weary glance before looking back up to you, hesitantly nodding. Probably an intense memory, they were determined not to mention it again unless you came forward.
"Alright- but give us a call if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or just plain old company!" Florence smiled, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug before pulling back. "We can even have a sleepover."
"Count me out on that one," Andrew joked, bending down to give you the same hug. "But for real, you can cry on my shoulder any time."
"Thanks," you giggle, soon following them towards your front door as they say goodbye to your dog before departing in their own cars.
What an emotional day it has been.
-
"Do I really have to go? It's no use- I already seen the film. I don't want to rewatch it," you whine as your manager hushes you.
Walking down the side of the theatre, you clutch onto the oversized, black leather jacket you were wearing as your manager and assistant walked on either side of you, directing to to the entrance of a random theatre in the city.
Since the Oscars, nothing has really changed. It's been about three weeks now and there wasn't chaos anymore- it seemed like news about that night had already faded.
Regularly, you did chat with Florence, Shailene, and Andrew on the phone- individually at times throughout your past weeks- but nothing too crazy.
You all had your busy schedules and your manager was still being as hardworking as ever trying to exploit more of you to the press and on the screen. Safe to say, every time she had news it would always be something impressive.
Except for today, when she proudly announced after barging into your house during breakfast that there was a new film premiere you had to attend.
It's not like you opposed the idea- but you watched the film when the production team invited you to their private screening. It would be useless watching it again.
But as persistent as ever, your manager claimed there would be great press and directors attending the public's premiere, following with "an Oscar-nominated actress like you must make themself remembered."
As dramatic as always- but at least she was highly active in your career.
She did everything to make you get noticed, especially when you were at your lowest point mentally after your breakup.
Now onto past relationships, you hadn't heard any news regarding Pedro since you last saw him. Not that you wanted to, but for some reason he was still on your mind. Due to the fact you did sit with your friends ranting about your shared troubles, that's likely the reason.
But all jokes aside, you seriously can't stop thinking about him.
However, you were too scared to admit this to anyone. You tried telling Florence, but every time you mentioned his name she would immediately disregard him, pissed by how he treated you.
Which you loved that she had your back, but you needed someone else to have his own- oddly.
Maybe it was your head deep in thoughts that revealed how you were feeling, but your assistant seemed to notice that you weren't okay- mentally.
After checking in and finding a small crowd, you accepted that maybe most of the audience were in their seats already despite the film starting in almost an hour. Nudging you once your manager left to find one of the producers, you glanced at her as she motioned you to move towards the wall.
"What's up?"
She made a face, practically laughing at your question before continuing on. "Why don't you tell me 'what's up?' The whole ride here you've been silent and I know it's not because you were tired- you slept all afternoon, what's really up?"
Chuckling, you roll her eyes at how nosy she was being- but you knew she only wanted to help you. After working together for years, it was a ritual both of you performed: don't let the other be sad.
Surprisingly, it worked every time. She would hide you from people who upset you while you let her have more vacation days whenever she felt the same.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're thinking about him, huh."
Eyes widening, you shake your head quickly as she laughs at your poor attempt of denying her idea. But she knew right from the moment you got lost in your head that he was the one to blame.
"Don't worry, I won't tell," she whispered loudly, causing you to shove her as she laughed louder.
"Shut up, someone might hear you," you hiss, watching as she tried holding her breath to stop herself from cackling again. She just looked like a fish in need of water.
"Don't think about him then," she teased. "If it's making you lost in your thoughts! Wait- why is he in your head? I thought you hated him?"
Coughing, you shake your head. "I don't hate him- I could never."
"Never?" she raises a brow in shock. "I think we're seeing some progress here. You're falling back in loveeeee with him."
"No way," you scoffed as she grinned heavily. "I'm just thinking about the Oscars since that was the last work-related event I've been to since today and you know- he was there so he ended up in my mind...for a little."
She slowly nods, teasing a smug as makes it pretty clear she did not believe one word you said. Your assistant has seen everything, so she is quite familiar with your thoughts regarding Pedro.
She knows when your happily, sadly, angrily, and crazily daydreaming about him. In this case, she's stuck between happily and crazily- not seeming to find any hints of fury and sorrow through your expressions.
But definitely warmth and frustration- all due to him not being able to leave your head.
"When are you just going to admit you still love him?" She blurts out, causing you to snap your heard towards her. "Everybody sees it, you obviously have a soft spot for him if you let him be near you."
"Near me? He's never near me," you laugh. "And I never show signs I want him back, I don't. I made it clear for months now after perfectly avoiding him at all costs."
"Yeah, but he's still on your mind- that must mean something," she declares, causing your small grin to fall into a tight line.
That must mean something.
Did it?
Shaking that thought away, you reject her idea. "It means he traumatized me."
"It means you're in denial and scared to be with him again," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, I just know you two are meant to be. Next time you see him, talk to him. Tell him how much you care for him- even if you don't want to admit it in a lovey-dovey way. It can be friendly!"
Giving her a strange look, she lowers her energy quickly before looking around the room, making sure no one saw how enthuastic she became.
"You get the point!" she rolls her eyes. "Just be nice, maybe the both of you can form a friendship or just drift apart knowing there's no hard feelings."
"But there is hard feelings," you declared, pointing out the obvious.
There is a reason why you two broke up, like there is also a reason why you despise him. It all comes down to history and actions, which you've both experienced- which is why, again, you broke up.
"Just..." she started, thinking about it for a second before sending you a sincere glance. "-give it a shot. If you don't hate him, like you said, it wouldn't be terrible to be civil."
Slowly nodding, you understand where she's coming from. This tension between Pedro and you was getting old, and the fact it was only you adding fuel to the non-existent fire since you've broken up is sad.
Especially when all he's been around you was sweet and considerate of your feelings, leaving you alone when he felt your energy- except for that one night, but you have to admit that was your fault for riling him up.
The roughness of heels came marching your way, forcing the both of you to instantly lift your head- finding your manager striking a fake breaming grin with two men beside her. She was trying too hard.
"Girls! This is Greg and Shawn- the writers of the film!" she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes rapidly as both men awkwardly raised a hand, waving it.
Releasing a tiny chuckle, you do the same as your assistant walks closer, sticking out her hand to fully gain their attention and introduce herself.
What can you say- she was a charmer.
Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, your manager slightly pulls you closer to the strangers and strangely bobbles her head- preparing whatever gibberish was about to spit out of her talkative mouth.
"Y/n- the boys thought it would be a great idea to sit in the vip selection among other A-listers- isn't that just lovely? We are very grateful for your offer-"
Boys? Oh god- now she was bonding for her hopeful chances of getting a call for an audition.
Compelling a sweet smile, you feel the only possible response you could give them was a meaningless 'thank you so much' after she literally put you on blast to communicate more. The funniest part about this situation was- you already watched the film!
Clearly you never met these writers- but instead the director himself! Your manager should be satisfied enough with that.
"Would you look at the time,-" Greg- you believe, softly gasps while raising his arm to examine the tiny apple watch planted. "Guests are probably filling up in their seats by now, terribly sorry- but we should probably go."
"I hadn't realized how close we were to showtime- we certainly must continue off our conversation after the film is over!" Shawn proclaims, making your manager nod far too quickly. "I look forward to meeting again."
With that, the two men inclined their motions of farewells before taking off down a dimmed hall, likely finding the exact destination set to premiere their comedic film.
Sighing, you send daggers to your managers who barely blinks before coughing out a swift, "What?"
"You really couldn't wait till after the film was over to sweet talk them?"
Dramatically rolling her eyes at your annoyance, she waves you off by your sudden introversion. It was her job to throw her best compliments about you too them, and she knew you were still too young to understand that everything she did was for a cost.
You.
"C'mon grumpy, let's locate the theatre before you start whining that your feet hurt, too."
Feeling your mouth slightly drop from her remark, you hear your assistant cackle right beside you, using her right palm to hold in her giggles while you mentally prepared for what comeback to throw her way.
You got nothing.
Huffing, your legs followed hers as she guided the two of you towards the same hall the men approached minutes before. The closer you've walked, the larger the capacity gathered around.
For such a low-budget film, it sure did gain quite the crowd.
As the rolling of the ending credits flooded the screen once you sat the last two and a half hours trying to act as if you didn't know what was coming next, you wish you had it in you to say the second time made up for the first- but it didn't.
There we have it, tonight was just not your night and endlessly enough- you couldn't blame it on some silly excuse of watching the same film over again.
Not even your assistant's sneaky offerings of her red licorice lifted your blues- and that speaks enough volume to say the least.
"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" the whole-heartedly voice of your manager's voice filled your ears as the three of you sat in the same lobby as before, still not finding a way to escape a cold room.
Oh how you abominated the sharp hits of the air conditioning- it frankly made coming to the theaters a horror unless layers of clothing and a blanket was tagged along.
"Why can't we leave? The film is done and people are walking out."
"We still have to talk to Shawn and Greg!" your manager declared, presenting a look of pure determination to get her way with their levels of skill.
Groaning, you throw your head in absolute exhaustion. Fairly, if your manager hadn't had made such an early visit during the morning hours you're sure you would've been in a better mood.
It was like the more you interacted, the less energy you had to give.
In order to survive the next few hours, you needed your phone or who knows how your fake laughters will sound.
And you call yourself an actress.
Sliding your hand to the back of your pockets, you wait for the feel of your large iphone to surface- but that moment never comes. Swiftly, you check your leather jacket ones just in case you slipped it there without realizing.
You didn't.
Anxiously glancing towards your assistant, your trembling hands find her arm. "Have you seen my phone? It's not on me."
Examining your hands before meeting your eyes, she shrugs it off. "Relax, no need to have a nervous breakdown- I'm sure you left it in the car with your bag-"
"No, I had it on me during the previews."
"We did go to the bathroom, too- why not just go check those two places?" she suggests. Concerned filled you, hoping nobody was capable of actually stealing your phone- it would be such a hassle getting another one. "I'll check the bathroom, you check our seats."
Agreeing, the two of you sneakily escape your manager when her back was turned, unpleasantly speed walking down the familiar hall before parting ways to your needed locations.
Opening the thick, black doors and striding up the long runway, your eyes are met with the same darkened seating area you were in less than twenty minutes ago.
Then and there, you use this desertion in power- running towards the middle rows consider 'vip' and begin your inspection. Fuck, you wish your had some form of light to help- you couldn't see shit.
Sliding your fingers among the seat, you lift up the cushions in hopes it mysteriously pops up, but all you find is pieces of popcorn and gum glued down.
Gross.
Feeling your eyes begin to water, you were sure you were seconds away from crying like a little kid over the loss of your beloved possession before you heard a deep voice call out for your attention.
"Is this yours? I heard it ringing when I came back in and- uh," the person froze, not having the ability to finish off their sentence as you gradually lifted your body off the floor into their view.
Hopelessly praying the stranger was regarding your phone, your eyes search for their hands first and there it was- your phone!
The corners of your mouth lift up, as well as the creases around your eyes as you internally cheer for your discovery. However, it faltered once you noticed a familiar tattoo laying on one of their palms. Moving your eyes up, you're sure your smile completely disappears once you recognize those brown eyes.
How did you not catch onto his voice from down there?
"Uh- yeah- that's mine," you nervously reply, choking on your words that probably made you sound like you were about to lose consciousness by how strung you were, and hesitantly reach out for the device.
Pedro quietly lets you grab it, not saying one word as your hands collide for a split second before the object was back in your own. You didn't miss the name that appeared on the lit up screen when touched- your assistant must have tried calling you to see if the phone would ring in the bathroom.
Smart.
Avoiding awkward farewells, Pedro swiftly turns around and makes his way down the theatre stairs, not daring to continue on with the barely existing conversation you shared. He's leaving, that fast?
Thinking about all your past interactions, he would always try to chat with you- even when you did give him the coldest shoulder of all time- because that's who he was: kind.
But now he's...walking away?
"Hey- uhm," you begin, following clumsily after him, almost tripping on one of the steps as he reaches his final steps and doubtfully turns your way. Once you stood another step ahead of him, you feel that swirling feeling in your stomach again.
You were nervous- you've never felt this way around him during your breakup- never.
Adjusting your arms inside your jacket, a small smile is extracted out of you as you watch his stay flat. He did not look interested one bit and it frightened you to death. "Thanks for finding my phone- I-I was really scared there for a minute."
Not reacting to your little laugh at the end, he replied- dull. "I didn't know it was yours, I would have given it to guest services if so."
Ouch, you're sure you're hurt expression was recognizable on the outside as much as it pained you on the inside. He really did not want to talk to you, even when you're showing your appreciation.
He really was over you.
"I know," you squeak out, not missing the way his eyes tiredly scanned your own as his body stood there stiff as ever. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all- you saved me a lot of trouble."
Coldly laughing from that, he nods. "I'm sure I have."
Your body tingled with rage as he carelessly ignored your warmth and threw jabs in return. "What's with the attitude? I'm doing nothing wrong here- I'm trying to be friendly."
Inching up, his face presents a sullen one and you immediately feel intimated by the height he owned and used as his advantage. Just the first few seconds before he spoke alone made you feel his displeasure. "And what about all those times I was friendly? I received shit so forgive me for allowing you to experience the same treatment you give others."
Loss for words, you were speechless and didn't know what to say back. For one, you were alarmed by his hard demeanor he gifted to you. Second, humiliation soared throughout as he called out your imperfections.
In other words, he wanted you to know you were a bitch.
"And I take that back but-"
Pedro was about to burst out laughing in front of your face, but he held himself together in sake of your feelings. Can you believe that, despite the misery he still cared for your state of mind. "Taking back isn't apologizing."
Sneering, you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Apologize for what? You were the one who fucked my life over."
Scoffing, he shakes his head in vexation by your lack of empathy- as always. "Countless of times we would contemplate our faults and how we could move on and now you're discounting your wrongdoings- typical."
Pedro did not want to have another unpleasant argument with you, especially in a public setting again, and decided it was best to just walk away. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't make this altercation worse.
Meeting his broad back, you lightly gasp as he ignores you altogether and makes his leave far too early for your liking. Charging towards him, you feel his back solidify once your fingers yank him to a halt.
You were not done with this conversation, but you did know once you got home you were definitely going to regret how toxic you were radiating in the room.
"Typical? What do you mean by that?"
"Knock it off and let me walk away, y/n," Pedro warns, still facing his back towards you after blocking your attempts of moving him. "We both know how badly this will end."
You know, but for some reason you don't want him to leave. Was that so bad?
"No, I wanna hear exactly what you have to say about me- maybe it'll make me recognize the ignorant ego I have."
"You're talking out in anger, you're trying to cause a fire that I won't let you ignite," he simply replies, his eyes still not found by his hidden appearance.
Very poetic.
Scowling profoundly, you don't realize what you're doing until you're finally met with his provoked display after. Stalking around his body, you stand in front of him and jab a finger towards his chest. "You're preventing me from bettering myself, isn't that what you always wanted?"
Leaning down until his face with inches away from yours, you make out his hard features clearly now. His face expressed discomfort as his eyes creased while lifting- even his lips stayed hard as a rock. "I'm going to tell you one more time, let me go."
Ignoring his cold shoulder, he inhaled a sharp breath before taking matters into his own hands. You don't want to listen? Fine. But he wasn't going to let you drag him into this any further.
Right as you push another finger up against him, your wrist was taken and roughly pushed down by your side as Pedro's body practically belted against yours. "Get off me!"
"Not until you stop fucking around," he grunted, immediately widening his eyes in realization. He knows you don't like when he casually curses directly to you- even when he doesn't harm. "Sorry- I-I meant when you stop playing around."
Praying that a smile doesn't escape you, it made you feel some type of way capturing his manners and how even though you two were on rocky terms- he still had some respect for you.
"Why are we even fighting right now?" you sigh, slowly softening your muscles in forfeit.
"You tell me- it sounds like you want my attention," he casually replied, releasing your hands and stepping back an inch. "Considering you won't let me leave."
"I'm just trying to have a normal, polite conversation! Is that so wrong?"
Softly laughing, he shakes his head in disappointment. "You don't get it."
Scrunching your face, you become lost by his words. "Get what?"
Scanning the wall before meeting your eyes again, Pedro motions his hands between the two of you. "What do you think will come out of us having a conversation? Acquaintances? Maybe a friendship?"
Thinking about it for a second, you feel your head eventually nod as he squeezes his eyes shut in return. Was that not what he's been trying to do- end in good terms? "It's what's healthy for us."
"Us?!" Pedro groans, sending you a tired gaze that had you weak to the knees. "There is no 'us' anymore. You made that perfectly clear after causing a scene last month in front of your friends."
"I didn't plan on that happening a-"
"I'm even letting go the bigger scene you caused inside the after party- isn't that enough to understand why I feel this way?" he adds on, frustrated that you would think otherwise.
You were the one who caused the attention and brought a bad look on his name. He should be shouting at you like you would have done to him if the roles were reversed.
"I'm not saying we should get back together, all I want-"
"-is a friendship? Some sort of relation that won't make us strangers?" he interjects, causing you to stay silent. That was all he needed to understand what you really wanted: not to let him go. "Look, we had our history, but I don't think it's good we keep in contact anymore."
You swear you felt all air leave your body as your face felt cold. Was he breaking up with you- in life itself?
"I-uhm don't- I don't understand," you cough, scared to make a bigger fool out of yourself. You're sure you probably look like a ghost by how much color you've lost since his recent reveal and again- you were grateful this room was dim. "Why can't we at least be friends? Not even that- why can't we at least know we have each other in our lives? Why end up as strangers?"
"What do you mean? We hadn't talked to each other in almost a year till last month! We basically are strangers," he exclaimed, causing you to look down at your feet as your heart ached.
He wasn't wrong- you just hadn't realized he's been right. And to blame was you, not him. You pushed him away in the first place, he was only kind enough to oblige.
And it was surely pathetic how now you wanted him back in your life, even if it meant not even talking just to assure yourself he still had your back.
He didn't.
"Y/n..." he sadly muttered, trying his best not to hurt your feelings as you were still continued to stay downwards- not wanting to disclose more hurt. "You didn't even say happy birthday to me, how can you be considered a friend? Friends don't do that, not to me at least."
This caused you to glance back up to him, disagreeing immediately as to what he was trying to get at. Of course you knew it was his birthday, you celebrated two with him in the past! "I didn't want to make things weird-"
"You never do but still avoid me like the plague and breakdown whenever I'm too close to your liking. I'm sorry for trying to do what's best and leave us in the past,-" he explains, closing his eyes in discomfort, "-but I can't keep letting this go on. I'm too old to be going back and forth as if this is some high school relationship- it's not."
High school relationship- you never knew simple three words could have you shrinking in guilt.
"And I know things will be easier for you when the time comes- I won't be around to nag you," Pedro tries to lighten up the mood but you can't break the line upon your lips. You were emotionless and it made Pedro upset.
Why would he be upset? You finally deserved learning your lesson after treating him as if he was nothing to you. But despite all your flaws, he still cared for you.
He cares so much that he's willing to let you go so you can do better things in life- without him.
Trying to find the right words to say, you give up. There isn't much to discuss now that he wants nothing to do with you.
You fucked up- for real this time.
In fact, you shouldn't even be hurt- you wanted this. Or at least that's what you thought before last month when he wasn't on your mind 24/7.
Maybe it was the way he begged for your forgiveness after not seeing each other for so long that made you realize how badly you adored him nearby.
Maybe it was the attention he was giving you after you continuously rejected his pleads, furthering the argument until he stormed off in the end.
And maybe you should've took his concluding estrangement announcement seriously before he left you last month.
But just like they say, you never know what you have until it's gone.
"I see," you quietly respond, slowly nodding as a faint grin forms among Pedro's lips, appreciating your cooperation over this mess. "Maybe it is best if we stray away from each other- you can even delete my number."
"I already have," he accidentally blurts out, not realizing how bad that sounds until he hears it himself and cringes. Your sufferable reaction didn't make things better.
"You know what," you fake a laugh, trying to calm your voice as you feel it about to crack any second. The tears were heading your way- you just knew it. "Fuck you."
Pedro's face falls, taken back by your inappropriate language. "Excuse me?"
Noticing your rushed attitude, he wanted to stop you and tell you everything was alright. That everything was going to be easy and how the two of you would get passed this.
But he knew he'd be lying.
"You heard me, fuck you," you casually slip out, scoffing as his eyes darken. "For someone who's so kind to others, I would have thought you would know what words were right to say."
"You're one to talk, sweetheart," he chuckled, staring at you in repulse. "Every time you talk you always have to neglect someone else, I'm fucking glad I don't have to witness that ever again."
"Me too, my family was right- you are a joke who wasted my time."
With that, you make your leave to have the chance of having the last word. Maybe if you left this room faster he would forget about your comment. You knew it was harsh but you didn't know what else to say.
You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?
Your arm was instantly tugged as Pedro pulled you back, not letting his grip go as his face was still filled with resentment. "And your team was right, you are a bitch."
Freezing, you stare at him in shock as his face doesn't fall once. What the hell is he talking about? "Get away from me or else-"
"Or else what? Weren't you the one physically blocking me from leaving minutes ago? What has changed?" he tries to smirk, manipulating you into believing how ruthless he could be when really he was dying to tell you the act he was pulling. "Cat got your tongue?"
Your face felt hot with rage as you yanked your arm off his hand, catching him by surprise as you glared at him. "I'm so glad I never took you back, you're fucking pathetic."
"And I'm insanely glad you didn’t, saved thousands returning that fucking ring."
Those twelve words made you halt and even made Pedro speechless. By the staggered look planted on his face, you could tell he didn't mean to say that.
Ring? As in, an engagement ring?
Weakly failing to stand straight, you felt your voice crack. "You were going to propose?"
Shaking his head, he swiftly backed away. "I need to go." Before you could stop him, he was already out of the theatre and probably near larger gatherings of people that would only prevent you from talking about this more.
Holding your face with your hands, you couldn't even cry. You didn't know what to do, you were utterly lost for words.
If he was really going to propose like he hinted at, what meaning did your last fight have? Nothing made sense and you don't know how you could move on from this now that he wanted you out of his life completely.
Hearing doors open, you instantly averted your gaze in hopes he had come back in and planned to properly finish what he started.
Instead, you manager came barging in while gripping onto your assistant's wrist harshly.
"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere and to find out your stupid assistant-"
"Don't you dare disrespect her," you sternly cut her off, watching as her face falters by your sudden tone. "If you're here to pester us some more, feel free to walk home."
Laughing in shock, your manager tilts her head at your rudeness. "Excuse me? It wasn't my fault your assistant wondered off. After everything I have done to protect you and your career you feel the need to throw me out-"
"Did she hurt you?" you cut her off, focusing on your assistant who has gone quiet. You notice the redness on her small wrists before she slowly nods, looking down in fear your manager would try something else.
"You're fired," you simply state, pushing past your frantic ex- manager as you lightly guide your assistant out the door.
You ignore the rage your ex- manager unveils as you make it back to the lobby. Ignoring the waves random people sent your way in hopes of finding your destined car sooner so you could help your assistant with her injuries and be home already.
And in bed to think about what the fuck just happened tonight.
+
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carlyraejepsans · 11 months
Note
Oh! What are your headcanons for frisk? I know we don't know much about them in canon so it's hard to extrapolate but I'm still curious
oh sure! mind, these are all personal headcanon, as there isn't all that much canon info i can go off of, HAHAHA
obviously I don't think frisk had a happy home life, just like chara. but while chara's abuse was more active, i think frisk's abuse came from neglect rather than outright hostility or violence from the people around them. maybe they were a single, unwanted child. maybe they were among the last of many, many siblings. too many to be notable... or missed. so they left.
by the time the game starts, they've already been living on the streets (of the city that became of the village of the humans that chara was born in) for a few years. they get by with their wits. i think they're VERY clever, unnaturally so for their age, and judging from their ability to talk/charm themself into and out of anything in the game, they probably refined that skill for survival (you make yourself liked enough, people are quicker to show you kindness. leftover food, a dry shop window to sleep in at night, some used clothes).
undertale itself raises the question of why frisk climbed Mt Ebott. i like the idea that it was a force outside of themself. like a sudden, SOUL deep tension that would only release if they followed the call. an intrinsic certainty that, somewhere, somehow, someone really needed them. maybe it was fate. maybe it wasn't. maybe they were tied to chara's spirit long before they ever fell (by blood, as a long descendant? by magic? both?) and they were reacting to flowey calling out for them. point is, they felt the instinct, and they followed it.
because here's the thing: in my take on this, frisk desperately wants to be needed. that's what ties them so closely to chara. going with the more literal interpretation of them as a ghost, chara still has unfinished business in the underground. they haunt their former home, much like flowey did, and they NEED to see more of it, they just can't let it go. and they can't do it without frisk. they need them. so frisk goes along, because FINALLY, they're needed. that's why they reset at the end and try again, that's why they keep returning to the underground. but of course, chara isn't the only undertale character who needs frisk. the entirety of monsterkind does, and the entirety of monsterkind gets better thanks to their intervention. flowey, too. asriel, too. that's what resolves chara's unfinished business and allows them to finally let go (i mean... as long as YOU do, too, of course :])
and this is precisely the reason I'm not a fan of making frisk traumatized by their experiences in the underground. having leftover baggage from before they came? love that. but the whole point of their journey, to me, is that they were the single most powerful being in the entire story. the amount of liberties they could take, with their actions, with their words, with their own person, due to the sheer scale of power they had on everything else.. sure there was violence, and fear, and adventures and misadventures and betrayals, but when you can literally control time, i think that was almost euphoric for them.
after the life they used to lead, i like to think frisk saw their experiences in the underground as positive. no more powerlessness. no more loneliness. finally in (shared) control of their life. was it maladaptive as hell? yeah! but it was better than nothing! and if you've been following me for more than a month, you'll know by now that i am obsessed with the idea of a post pacifist, reset-heavy frisk freaking out AFTER their happy ever after, when chara doesn't follow them out of mt ebott and takes the SAVE power along with them (which is... kinda what happens in the game). being back to square one would mess them Up. fortunately, they now have a whole support system of family and friends who love them to make them feel needed and safe. it's gonna take some work, but man. it's gonna be worth it.
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ianthoni · 17 days
Note
Listen, Anthony's IG stories be about unconditional love and whatnot. I don't give a flying rats ass, they're about Ian 😎
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LISTEN whenever i share my thoughts ppl call me crazy. But hear me out. I'm running an update account (@ian-anthonyupdates ) and im following his stories since december. And i believe all his stories about destiny/finding the true love/unconditional love/universe/sun-moon coded, fire and water coded stories are about Ian. And i have a ten pics limit so im gonna show a little bit whats in my head. (Check spirituality/lover boy tags in my updates profile you're gonna see what i mean i think half of them are related to Ian if not most) (the unconditional love videos he share is gonna be last)
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Starting from his art pieces and their connection to Ian. This post was shared on the night of eclipse. For you guys to fully understand this whole interaction i need to start from the beginning of the day. Ian shared he watched the eclipse that day. He sharing a meme and a shadow of the eclipse (I'm gonna explain more in the next part) and then Anthony shared the red painting you can see at the back. Around the same time. That was Ian's FIRST ever comment in Anthony's painting account. He also followed Anthony's painting page and said 'this one was my favorite one so far'. And that night Anthony shared this heart, with the painting Ian liked at the back. Heart with an eye in it. Now eye is a keyword for us remember that it's gonna come up later in this essay lmao also noticed the tray in the table? Yeah it is coming in now.
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Now here is the part tray comes in. That first tray is Anthony's tray. We can see it on the story he shared from the same day. And the eclipse story is Ian's story, he was watching the eclipse. Did you notice something? It is Anthony's tray, theyre watching the eclipse together. Now you may say that tray didnt come out in the factory as one piece. But remember it is from the same day. And its up to you if you believe it or not im just giving my observation. And remember this is the same day he liked Anthony's painting and followed his account. It is very very possible that they were together and maybe he even watched Anthony while he is painting.
After that watching the eclipse story. Anthony made an eclipse painting. Very obviously the sun hugging the moon. I love sun and moon ianthony stories because Anthony himself said Ian is like the sun. And we all know the romantic meaning of moon and sun, how sun illuminates the moon, how moon is in love with the sun and always around it. So it fits them. And Anthony shared this painting a few times after he did it which he was not doing that at the time. Like he wanted someone to see it and like it, comment on it like he did before with the red painting. But it didnt happen sadly :/ (this also might be the reason of instagram drama but im not opening that can of worms)
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Now the EYES. Anthony and his obsession with blue eyes. This is definitely coming from looong before (i.e all his past gfs being blue eyed) but you know who's the first blue eye he met? Yeah you guessed it right. Ian. It doesnt even have to be love, but i think ian's eyes was always a safe place to him, something warm and remind him home and makes him feel happy cause Ian makes him happy. And he always complimented ian's eyes, how theyre beautiful and whenever Ian wears blue he always mention it, he even said "your eyes are out of this word" in Jared Leto live stream. So he loves blue eyes of a special person. And if you noticed before he loves drawing them too, either just blue pupils or full blue eyes but there's a couple of them. I'm specifically sharing this one cause he put a secret message in this. "I see the universe in your eyes" he shared lots of stuff about universe and destiny and love. And talked about him and Ian meeting again was universes job/ destiny. So i think he is associating Ian with the destiny/universe/galaxies stuff. NOW whats MORE interesting is Ian shared that story 7 hours after Anthony shared his painting... Interesting right. Oh btw Anthony always share his painting steps but he didnt share the i see the universe in your eyes. Like its a secret message just for one person to get it. And that person get it and send his own message back.
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To accompany the eclipse painting, he used two songs, one that talked about a "longing" and another that was called Bliss and was the same piece that was playing in another story he shared that was about "consciousness observing the feeling of falling in love". (Which makes the romantic connotation of the eclipse painting undeniable). To make it even more interesting the same day he posted that eclipse painting he posted a picture of himself in lan's office, under a tapestry depicting a sun.
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Ok this is getting SO LONG. But stay with me. The first one the hug. I shared that the hug looks exactly like their hugs. This is not obviously just that. The caption is more important. "Our differences makes us complete. Anthony talked about Ian and him being opposites in multiple videos till now. They're like water and fire, sun and moon, yin and yang. But this doesnt change the fact that they always find each other. If anything they're so happy with it now. They're getting along more than before.
Well do i have to say anything? Friendship always wins.
Again water and fire hugging allegory. I love that he's thinking of each other like that. He also make comments about Ian bringing the fire, also the fact that he's sun literally fire ball. Ian's favorite movie rrr had water/sun allegory. So it is obv to me he thinks of them when it's about opposites falling. Oh and he also have a "in order to live life we need fire" tattoo.
This one is so funny cause i didnt get it until they talk in the live stream. He talked about how he saw Ian going for a walk and he said can I join you too? And ofc Ian said yes and they went for a walk around together. He literally shared this the day Ian and him go for a walk together 😭 he said life is pretty good actually after spending time with Ian is so🥺
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This was also from the same day he went on a walk with Ian. I think it fits. Watch hot tub live stream for the full walk story.
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This was the day after they spend time together, going for a walk, shooting day. He missed someone.
Tbh this is pretty self explanatory too. He did see Ian as coming home, a safe place, like turning back home after a Kong tiring day, just like he did with meeting with Ian again and glowing with him each passing day.
Well Ian is pretty LMAO and i don't see he's posting this about someone new. Like idk 🤷🏻
Again the unconditional love theme. He share a lot of stuff about this actually. I think it fits them. He loves Ian without a reason.
People think the first one is about someone new. Cause of the way it says "and then one day someone walks into your life" like someone walks into his life just now. But i see this as him remembering their first meet. How Ian walked into his life that very day in 6th grade and how he changed his life completely. Anthony is so talented don't get me wrong but if they're smosh now, if he is Anthony Padilla™ now its because of Ian. Ian was with him from the very beginning. He was helping him, encouraging him, supporting him when he was a shy lil teen in front of the camera. I think Ian is the one that walking in his life and completely changing it in the best way possible.
Unconditional love, a theme he is posting about very occasionly. Since we're that deep and ppl already call me delulu im just gonna write what i write to friends when i see his unconditional love stories.
Unconditional love means he would love him without expecting anything in return. This doesn't mean there's no love returning back to him but means he would love him even if there wasn't. Even if Ian didn't hug him enough or kiss him enough or share him with the world the way he wants it. He'd still love him. Cause his love is unconditional. He doesn't need any of this. He still loves him without getting to shout out to the world.
He is meaning he would love him for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. This is basically a wedding wow. It doesnt mean he thinks Ian wont make him laugh or he is not beautiful or hes poor, no he means even if he had nothing he'd still love him. Hence the unconditional. They loved each other when they were little boy's that have nothing and look like little gremlins. And i think its not gonna go away soon.
Oh also did you notice something? The very beginning of the video. Is basically the same as the ornament in Ian's room. With a bright and rising sun in it : )
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Ok bye love y'all 💖
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crepesuzette2023 · 6 months
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I know this is a broad question, but if you had to pick, what is the most angsty Mclennon fic you’ve read so far ? You have some amazing recommendations and I’m looking to hurt my own feelings lol
Hi st-john!
Thank you for the ask! This made me think about some of my angsty forever-faves in general, sorted from subtle to savage. (Under the cut.)
If you want to skip straight (do we use this word around here?!) to the fics I personally find the most angsty: they're at the bottom of this post. I also included some dark/angsty stories here, but I didn't want to repeat any recommendations.
Your ask helped me understand what it is I find the most angst-filled in mclennon, so thank you for that. I was surprised to see so many canon-adjacent stories on my list, and I think it shows that, to me, the most potent angst doesn't come from outside threat but from their minds, as evidenced by events that actually happened. The two of them being scared of (and turned on by) the big fat x they mark on their shared psychosexual map is one of the most attractive aspects of mclennon for me—followed by the two of them taking x for granted, and being permanently damaged once they realize they lost it forever. I also like stories that show their mutual resentment, even as they're into each other (sometimes literally). Anyway, under the cut are some of my favorite angsty fics in three handy categories:
1.) Carry That Weight/Love is Strange: Their relationship is deep and doomed and addictive. These stories are all set during the Beatle-years. I'M GONNA HAUNT YOU (sexysadie): 1968. John and Paul talk about women, but really, they talk about each other. A brief story about longing in the absence of hope. WALKING CLOSE AT HAND (harmonising): John and Paul as pair of broken mirrors, haunted by death in all things. Their love as beautiful magic-turned-curse. LET ME ROLL IT (@downtothe-lastdrop): The 1968 NYC Apple Launch Divorcemoon from Paul's POV. Lively and detailed, and drenched in what it must feel like to drown in unspoken words. I THINK OF THINGS WE DID (J_deandra_j): 1965. John and Paul fuck in Austria during the filming of Help! There is something intangibly upsetting about this story: anger and frustration; lust and sex with little room for softness—but it's so good and real and raw while it lasts. This one is impossible to forget! John POV. HOW YOU WERE DIVERTED (candle_beck): Paul handles John. This is about sex as one of the things that is "just them"—an urgent and rough emergency intervention. 2.) Tributes to the Canonical Breakup. To me, the break-up is an angst-filled nightmare. Not to mention the looming day of John's murder. I love stories that explore the break-up and its aftermath with compassion. And, as painful as it is, I especially love stories that make me feel that the love was there, always (even though it wasn't enough). THROW THE WINE (@savageandwise). This one is such a classic I imagine everyone must have read it, but I can't not mention it. It was one of the first fics I read—arrow through me, and such. The more painful it gets, the more it slows down. That takes courage. YOU'RE A DREAM LOVER (@dailyhowl). John and Paul share dreams and love each other in their dreams—gloriously so—but in the end, the dream is over. The most brutal aspect of this one is seeing Paul in the end, alone. I STILL MISS SOMEONE & CLOSE THE DOOR LIGHTLY WHEN YOU GO (RosalindBeatrice). Paul and John become lovers in the 70's, but their encounters are few and far between—and in the end, darkness falls. But there's also the mercy of honesty, tears, and, yes: sex. Beautifully melancholy story about the vast distance between bright stars. ONE NIGHT IN BANGKOK (@backbenttulips). Apologies to the writer in case my "angsty" reading of this one misses the mark! Above all, this is a hot hot hot story about John and Paul hooking up in Bangkok and fucking every which way, remembering the past and seizing the present. But it's also a story about a relationship that no longer exists: their musical partnership. They destroyed the one place where their love had a home. Now, faraway hotel rooms will have to do—and there are no goodbyes or plans for a next time. (I must repeat how hot this is though.)
3.) "A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day."—Except it's exactly this day. Deep pain and sadness: the break-up is final; no one was saved. [Writers mentioned here: this is meant as a compliment. All of these stories are so good. It's not for nothing that I was never able to forget some lines from these stories, even though I read them very early on.]
HEAR ME, MY LOVER by @savageandwise. (Unfinished, but feels finished.) At the time the Beatles break up, Paul attempts to kill himself. He lives, but much else is destroyed. No one is wrong or right—their love and fracturing cut all possible ways. I read this as a literal translation of what the loss of the band (and John) meant for Paul, for a while.
FOUR LAST SONGS by @celebratorypenguin. This AU (four parts) explores what would have happened to the Beatles if John hadn't been the one to die first. Sentences from this one still live in my brain. The story is both sweeping and deep, and covers the POV of all four Beatles. Its truly an alternate history of the band, and it's very sad. But so, so beautiful, too.
Bonus Materials: John and Paul never became John&Paul. Everyone comes at this differently, but to me, the idea of them meeting, and falling in love, and turning away from it, is as angst-filled as the worst of the the break-up. That's why I think these two are among the best, most courageous, but also most angst-filled, of all mclennon fics: ALL THE BOYS ARE SINGING LOVE SONGS. (@dailyhowl): Paul settles down with Dot and they start a family. He and John meet again, and the spark is still there, but after a night together, the fear of starting over is greater. This magnificently written story fucked me up, and I've yet to pick up the courage to read it a second time. To quote the writer: this is a story about "the angst of living in the prison of society-approved masculinity." Yes. "Happy ending seekers need not apply." That is fair. As a happy ending seeker, I comfort my tender shipper's heart with the exhilarating fact that the real John and Paul did, in fact, become lovers become famous with the Beatles and formed a close musical partnership. THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas). This is a story I mentioned in my overall favorites post, and it's not, strictly speaking, all angst (to quote the writer: "this is about being sad and middle-aged, but it's also about being so happy and middle-aged!") It's not even J/P: it's mostly Paul/George, and their relationship is beautiful and real. Still, as a reader I was aching for the other life that could have been, and that is woven through the events of this story with incredible artistry: the Beatles, which everyone misses without knowing why. The great love between John and Paul that ended when John chose someone else. This is the magic of RPF: reality is the shadow event included for free. (Unfinished, with have all four n on-Beatles POV's. So far: George and Ringo.)
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system-of-a-feather · 29 days
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Full Integration, Final Fusion, Functional Multiplicitly, and General "Spirituality"
(Disclaimer: this is a very long post)
Heyyo, this is a bit of a hodgepodge of connected topics that I was thinking on this morning. For those that don't know, after like three months of being a really solid fused whole, we really decided that we needed to redivide back into our core parts to recenter, rebalance, and reorganize ourselves since our fused whole was loosing sight / vision of the "plot". We don't consider this "splitting" because we are still in - what we like to call "full integration" - and we don't really engage in much dissociation when we do this as the means of how we do this largely stems from the way we perceive, engage with, and view the concept of "self" and "identity." Our system highly values the mastery and art of a very fluid and ever changing sense of identity and self. This morning - thank you Chunn brain for batting our collective brain from the usual urge to get out of bed and get started with our day to give us time to really sit with our inner selves - we spent about an hour and a half and a small half hour nap just laying there thinking among ourselves and I wanted to share a few.
I think at the moment I am still mostly a fused whole and I had considered trying to go to Ray or Lin for them to write this, but it didn't feel right to go to Ray brain and Lin brain directly told me "Dude, this thought line started with Riku-dominant fused brain, trying to have someone else write it would be a disservice to the reflection. Let Riku or Riku-dominant fused brain do it, it's their thought." and you know, fair point. I think I'll use this post as a temporary "bye few thoughts" and love letter to our parts as a fused whole before leaving it to the individual specialists to do their things.
So introduction to this post aside, hello and temporary soon to be farewell before I choose to temporarily redivide into my main parts. Today is May 15, 2024 and I'm gonna document this a bit for when I come back whenever that is and kind of see if my fused-whole perspective and nature changes - mostly for myself. Online I go by Feathers, irl I just go by our chosen name.
I'm a (mostly, technically non-denominational independent, but most of my views and perspectives come from and align closely with) Zen Buddhist. I'm nonbinary vaguely transmasc (not really though?) intersex individual with the pronouns of they/them. I am extremely pro-endo and if I honestly felt like sticking around longer, I was thinking about writing a much more nuanced essay on tulpa-terminology discourse with my current reflections as a fused whole and as a pretty avid Buddhist but, unforunately, unless one of my parts still shares the same insight AND interest, that essay will have to wait for me to potentially be back (hey, Riku or Chunn might still want to who knows). I dunno what else to say, I love bird, Bleach, walking, driving, listening to music, video games, writing, art? I dunno man, I'm just me.
Documentation aside anyways, I gotta figure out where I want to start. I think I will actually piss my high-school English teachers off and start with the LAST thing in the title card. I might loose a lot of close minded white anti-endos here, but hey, if you are that close minded, then its your loss cause I'm just talking about late-stage recovery as a person with diagnosed DID that is considered polyfragmented. It's a fun conversation to have with other people with DID aiming for recovery so, if you're hell bent on hating people talking about plurality form a non-DID lens enough to disregard cool information, that's your loss. (Thank you XIV brain, crediting that to you for part of our goal today)
Buddhism, Spirituality, Plurality and Our Perspective of Full Integration
According to Buddhism, and one of the largest concepts and principles of Buddhism that we believe the most in and actively work to practice and cultivate the mindset of - is that the concept of "I" and the concept of a singular, distinct, and separate self from the world and others simply does not exist - only the experience and illusion of experience exists. I was talking about it with @quoigenicfromhell in DMs since they were interested in talking shop about Buddhism.
To save myself a whole effort of rewriting a discussion on how one can hold together the clear sensation of existing and being an individual with the idea and Buddhist understanding that the "self" does not exist, I'm going to copy a little bit of what I wrote in response to them. If it doesn't make sense cause its in a bit of Buddhist jargon, then oh well, I'm lazy, it's written for an audience that has done some reading and looking into Buddhist thought so RIP yall srry not srry (Thank you Chunn brain lol)
Honestly the development and understanding of holding those two things together (the non-self and non-existence with the clear experience of self and existence) is largely a lot of exploration on the understanding and respect for the experience without applying too much value or regard to said experience. Its kind of a hard thing to understand just based off of words alone and like all things Buddhism, its one of those sorts of things you really gotta sit on and explore in your own mental space, but like
The experience of self and personhood and existence is a denied concept in Buddhist thought, but its not a bad or incorrect thing, the experience of self and existence is kind of considered an inherent expression of life and the world and while its important to be cognicent that it is an illusion that can cause suffering and muddy an individuals ability to see Things As They Are, the experience and illusion of self is additionally an entirely natural thing to experience and is an important part of being able to, well, be
I kinda of personally perceive it kind of similarly to say a part in a system. Innately the part is not (at least in my experiences of systemhood) a literal entire separate being and thats an important thing to acknowledge for a number of reasons (life organization and direction, system accountability, etc) but its would also be incredibly foolish to completely ignore that the part operates, experiences themselves, and lives in the world (both inner and outer) as if they were an individual of their own
In the same sense that a part in a system can be seen both as an individual and a part of a whole / collective depending on what perspective and demands the moment needs. An individual can be seen both as the individual expression of a self informed by the arguably incorrect illusion of isolation OR as a part of the whole worlds expression depending on what serves the moment the best. I largely kind of see myself as part of a system that is the world much like I see my parts as part of a system that is "me". While the self may be an illusion, its not an experience that can be denied and it is an innate expression that in its own right can prove to be a great teacher So you deny the concept of a self but respect and revere the experience and innate natural expression of self
With that context in mind, while we do not believe in the concept of self and find that trying to seek out a concrete idea of a singular person and singular self in society is a source of extreme suffering, stress, and displeasure, we DEEPLY revere and honor the expression of self. As we see it, in a complete ideal and impossible the world would be in perfect harmony if we let the world express itself as it naturally does. We find that the experiences of self - in whatever form they take - are inherent and natural expressions of the world as a whole and to try to shape oneself to fit a specific image - may that be societally imposed or internally / personally imposed or a sense of envy or any sort of clinging or desire to a specific version / image of self - is a disrespect to the innate beauty found in the natural expression and a means of adding disharmony into the world.
As a result, our system and whole aims deeply, above almost all else to exist simply as we naturally would in any moment time to time. If we find that something we are doing with our sense of self is drawn and influenced too much on a "I should" or "I want" or "I wish" or "I hope" then we tend to pause, self reflect, and ask if we are actually existing in our natural state, or are we trying to fight against our natural state of self to fit into a self-imposed idea of what we "should be".
As a result of that, our system deeply values our flexibility, fluidity, and ability to change any aspect of ourselves, any opinion we hold, any identity label we consider, and our overall presentation in all ways and forms to a very high level. The desire to be consistent and predictable serves us little in simply practicing on "being" and finding the true and simply-run life that we want. That then results in why our system so casually flips around in system size, fusions, redivisions, how we refer to ourselves, etc. We find very little value in committing to labels and concepts and do whatever is natural for us.
Additionally, another large aspect of Buddhism our system deeply reveres and appreciates is the acknowledgement that there are "Buddhas" - or in less Jargon terms, potential for everything both internal and external to be teachers and guides into finding a sense of peace and simplicity in the world - and that it is deeply important to cultivating peace, happiness, and insight to actively always be seeking out the "Buddha" in everything and everyone. It's important to reflect, engage with, and talk with those "Buddhas" as they are the best and number one way to gain the insight that brings happiness and peace into life and removes excessive suffering and stress.
As many Buddhists agree (at least of the Mahayanan branches), everyone is inherently a Buddha because the world and everything is a Buddha. The only issue people have is that they can not connect, hear, and see clearly enough to be in that state due to a large number of human conditions - one large one being the aforementioned illusion of self.
Having lived my life as someone with DID and having gone through a lot of trauma therapy, self reflection, communication and coordination with my parts, and all that to the point we have reached functional multiplicity over a year plus ago and been able to hold a fully fused state for over three months, I feel like its a given to say that of ALL things in the world, the "Buddha nature" of my parts have been the best and most insightful teachers I've ever had. We revere each other's strengths and specialties greatly as each of us have taught the other great strengths, great understandings, great insights, and great appreciations that have collectively brought us so much peace and happiness. It's not to say any part is "enlightened" because each part is also deeply flawed and struggling in their own realms, but it is largely by working and talking and supporting one another and ACTIVELY looking to one another for insight and lessons about the world and our existence that we are able to reach a uniquely peaceful space.
For us, its an incredibly important practice - both for self care and in the art / spirituality of Buddhism - to regularly talk and engage with these specialized and uniquely-wise (and uniquely stupid - thank you XIV) parts of ourselves to gain deeper insight and overall understanding of ourselves and our place in the world.
In the same sense, it is why - despite being completely capable of operating as a fully fused whole - we regularly choose to INTENTIONALLY redivide into our parts. And no, its not us "splitting again" or even really throwing up any real level of dissociation / dissociative barriers. If anything, we usually do this through meditation and mindfulness.
It's a Buddhist practice, its not a mental disorder and its not stemming from the same mechanism's DID stems from. It might operate *based* on the foundation our history with DID stems from, but at this point in our healing, the way our system operates at functional multiplicity that is intentionally chosen to be that way AFTER reaching "final fusion" has a number of differences from how it operated before we reached general full integration.
Again, for those more familiar with the tulpa-terminology discussion, you might be able to see where I would have a long post delving into a highly nuanced and more middle-ground perspective of that syscourse from the paragraph above this one, but I'm gonna leave that cause I already know this post is long and it would detract from the purpose.
At this point, my system is mostly an "intentionally created one" to Western label standards. We personally do not see any significance or binary in plural VS singular people beyond it being a label some people identify with and not. Plural VS Singular is a false binary perpetuated in white, western, and european society and while I respect that perspective and view in a space that is primarily filled with white, western, and/or european individuals, I am going to firmly state that and expect you to give me that same respect. (and if you refuse to give me that same respect, then you are close minded and being very white / western lmao <- thank you XIV, again)
And so the other related but slightly different topic away from the more philosophical, esoteric, mysticism sounding topic of Buddhism...
Full Integration, Final Fusion, and Functional Multiplicitly
At this point, what we used to call "Wishiwashi Recovery" we kind of have taken to just calling "full integration" generally as a means of really breaking apart the suggested categorical and boxed binary of "final fusion" and "functional multiplicity" as our own experience and discussion with other systems at and near full integration have made us realize that the difference between functional multiplicity and final fusion is FAR more a spectrum than it is two seperate categories. Some systems stick to one end, some to the others, but the largest difference is in external and internal expression of the parts and less any fundamental or biological / clinical difference; at least not in terms of integration. (Note: Integration =/= Fusion; Integration is the general connectivity and accessibility of parts with less / limited / no dissociation)
It's a false binary to say Final Fusion or Functional Multiplicity and its why a lot of the "ones bad and ones good" syscourse is dumb. They're two heads of the same Doduo and they should be kissing. (JOKING, thank you Riku-Aya brain)
With that said, our system, as we've made clear, regularly and freely practices sliding and flying all over that spectrum as just how we like to engage with ourselves. We change between the two as we see fit and having spent probably like 9~ months in functional multiplicity and 3~ months in final fusion I wanted to share some pros and cons of both sides.
I would also like to put a disclaimer that this isn't meant to be "positives and why this side sucks" as much as it is the differences in life style according to our opinion and our experience. Both final fusion and functional multiplicity are absolutely WONDERFUL things overall and we love both states. If we got "stuck" in either, we would still be immensely happy. The purpose of this part is just to share certain differences in how we experience the two different ends. The Cons in these case are only "cons" relative to the "alternative" and not "to not ever reaching either"
Functional Multiplicity Pros:
A lot more clear and direct communication between parts internally that allows for a SHIT ton of internal banter, productive conversation about complex topic and perspectives from unique and diverse perspectives; the communication is a lot more intentional and a lot more in focus so its easier to properly sit and attend to the complex differences and sometimes conflicting directions
It's honestly just a lot of fun, not gonna lie. A lot more dramatic and extravagant expression + brain friends in a more overt sense
Easier to let certain parts of the brain take "breaks" - it's not the same as it is with not-fully-integrated DID but compared to Full Fusion, certain parts of the brain can "tune out" easier than not
More palatable to DID / OSDD spaces online
Easier to focus and use a wide variety of skills, interests, hobbies, and thinking patterns by simply just having a specialist part take their look at it
Generally easier to target specific boxes to look into as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated
Final Fusion Pros:
Quick and a lot more inherent understanding of all parts on a general gut level without necessarily needing to fully think about everything and listen to every opinion and perspective; there is a lot more of an inherent understanding, trust, and awareness of the collective whole which makes decision making and seeing whats good for the system as a whole a lot easier
It's honestly way more calming, relaxing, and solid feeling. There is a unique sense of confidence, understanding, and trust within yourself and you have a HUGE arsenal of skills and interests that come from the combined parts that you've lived as
You are a lot more present and aware of your life and you actually get to live YOUR life and have all parts of yourself be engaged in life; no part feels really left behind or is caught off guard from having their brain partially turned off. The awareness is really present and engagement is so much more complete.
More palatable in real life and non-DID/OSDD spaces
Easier to simultaneously use skills from multiple parts at once; very much a jack of all trades all at once situation
Generally easier to integrate multiple complex and otherwise seemingly detatched boxes of memory and the past as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated
Functional Multiplicity Cons:
Takes more intention, focus, and often time to get the same level of full understanding of the whole system when making decisions. It can be slow and it requires a lot more internal engagement which can make it harder to be fully present in life
Sometimes you can get what I call "lite" amnesia where a part was not paying attention and doesn't fully process what was going on / what is going on and so sometimes you get poor attention-driven "amnesia". It's small and easily recovered by simply going "hold up wait" and thinking back or asking another part
Harder to use skills from different parts at the same time; albeit definitely still possible and only "harder" relative to final fusion
Generally harder / requires intentional discussion between parts to integrate multiple complex boxes as you process all the newly accessible memories and information from being highly / fully integrated
Final Fusion Cons:
Less direct and overt bantering and discussion between parts (still present by the way, just less frequent and less overt). It can be a little less fun (still is fun cause they are sill there) and it can be a bit harder to fully see the extent of a more extreme perspective
It can be tiring and overwhelming to be aware and present so much for so long if you were accustomed to the breaks DID / OSDD tends to give parts
Easier to forget to use a lot of the skills and hobbies that may have been more niche to less-dominant and less-prominent parts; you don't "loose" the skills, you just aren't accustomed to using them as much so you can just kinda forget to use them
Harder to focus on a targetted recovered memory / information that you want to process and can sometimes be a bit overwhelming trying to connect a number of things at once
And this is all just to say that both are absolutely astonishing and great places to mentally be. The main point is that - for us - sometimes one state works better for us in the moment and another state works better for us later and that's completely cool cause - as aforementioned - the difference between plural vs singular is not a binary one for us anyways.
Anyways, I don't know how to wrap this up so I'mma just post it
Ideally today we will focus on cultivating our independent parts and return to Functional Multiplicity end of the spectrum so I guess tata for now
-Feathers
EDIT and PS: Anyone is allowed to add their thoughts to this so long it is in good faith.
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sgiandubh · 6 months
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S on BBC 4's Saturday Live: 'anything but a quiet life'
As you all know, S was today on BBC Four's Saturday Live radio talk show, sharing the scene with people like super male model David Gandy, Catrin Finch - a Welsh harpist of international repute and the ever fascinating Lucy Worsley, a strong contender (along with Mary Beard) for the title of personal favorite (living) historian.
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You can listen (as I dutifully did twice) to it here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001t96r. I don't know how to embed it on this page, but that shouldn't be a problem.
The show is always interesting and I strongly suggest to let it play along and not rely only on my summing up & comments. I particularly enjoyed Lucy Worsley's Medieval and Baroque musical selection (flawless!) - but enough said, we're here for S, who was live on show from BBC's London studios.
As usually, I am going to transcript it as much as I can, primarily for those reading this post and using Google Translate (@bat-cat-reader, you are served!). So, you will kindly excuse the length, thank you.
At the 07:40 mark, a half jocular mention when prompted by the host: not a cricketer and not a harpist either (you can say many things about S, but not that he's got no humor - always a big plus in my book). But then things quickly get emotional, when he immediately mentions his mother (the question generally asked was 'what did your parents sacrifice for you?'), who 'sacrificed a lot (...) [as] a single parent, (...) she gave us everything, I think'. And then he quickly gets emotional, mentioning Chrissie H. again:
'(...) can I give my mom a shoutout, it's her birthday, on Monday [Nikki Bedi, presenter: 'aww, of course you can!'], so happy birthday, Chrissie, and thank you so much and I wish... I'm glad you never got me a harp, because I would have never dedicated myself. I think that's why I became an actor, because I didn't have to work too hard at one thing.'
It's then David Gandy's turn to talk about his own rural childhood in Billericay (Essex), his close knit family and his parents' endeavor of building a business and the now incomprehensible need to use faxes, something he has now to 'explain to the younger ones'. Then Nikki Bedi turns to S (13:08): 'Sam's laughing at that. Do you remember faxes?' Answer: 'I do.. I mean, I remember faxes getting scripts through or couriers bringing you know, scripts to your door, it..it's just a completely different world, now, and I am sure the fashion world is completely different now, isn't it, David, I mean it's changed so much'.
Onwards to more questions asked by Mrs. Bedi. This one was interesting (19:16): 'Sam, do you fear that each job you do is an act that could be your last? Is that always in the back or front of your mind?' Answer: 'Yeah, I think.. David, I mean...um... earnestly, everything you're saying there kinda rings true for my career as well... I am sure for Catrin being, you know, being a musician, I think it's, you know [Nikki Bedi: is it true, Catrin? CF: yes, absolutely, yeah, many things David said... it's the same (...)'].
Huw Stevens mentions alternatives to 'gigs', the need to plan for the future and the fact 'you always have to remain busy', mentioning S's whisky. Gandy also mentions S ('you've got quite a few businesses [...] a man after my own heart, we'll then gonna have to go out'), immediately cued in by Nikki Bedi ('whisky, tequila, gin').
Just after Lucy Worsley's superb intervention (easily my favorite of the whole program!), cue in to the kilt on a glacier part of S's chit-chat I am sure we all dutifully 🙄, by now. I noted the slight hesitation in his voice, while mentioning 'my...my friend, Graham McTavish', so I will not - yeah, sue me-, I repeat: I will not transcript this verbatim, simply because it doesn't really bring anything new or important to what we all know, already. Sitting on a glacier 'in a kilt, in commando, yes, it's my claim to fame'. Disgruntled Tumblrettes, beware - he poked fun at himself (shall I sign this to you, or are you able to read my lips?) and that is something only very intelligent people are able to do without sounding pathetic. Another interesting thing is the way Nikki Bedi presented S ('the actor, award-winning liquor maker and writer'- 36:00), roughly midway of the whole broadcast.
His dedicated segment begins at the 49:10 mark and lasts until the end, about 10 minutes in all. He was introduced by Huw Stevens: "Sam Heughan, it seems, would like anything but a quiet life", plus some cursory bio elements, mentioning his mother's influence on his own creativity, his breakthrough as JAMMF, but also TCND (Nikki Bedi watches it and 'apparently the third episode is the most steamy' 🤦‍♀️). 'He is also a philanthropist, businessman and thrill seeker, and of course, as mentioned earlier, has his own whisky and is a best-selling author'. Mentions his 'parents, characterful people, hippies, in the Seventies, with a love for Tolkien'. S: 'my mum would probably kill me if I called her a hippie' - also, 'she is not the best singer, but there was always music around'. Stevens mentions the Gandalf's Garden Soho hippie community both his parents were a part of before he was born, but S doesn't develop it. The rest (difficult childhood, loner, using his imagination sparked his creativity, etc) we know from Waypoints. The very Scottish concept of 'stravaigin'' comes along in the conversation, which is not exactly a drifter and a bit more than a wanderer (if I understood correctly) - perhaps a good title for a second personal memoir, S? I'll leave this idea float in here for free, heh. OL comes along then, and by far the most interesting thing he mentioned about it is that "it is my life, it's taken over my life', hoping it would sparkle at least some conversation in the comments' thread. OL 'has also been hugely beneficial for Scotland, increased tourism by 200% in some locations (...), and it's all down to the magic of Scotland'.
Next projects: exciting not to really know what is next, but 'I am also saying no to a lot, because I am in a place now where I think the next decision is really important (...). I enjoy being in control now (....), producing my own shows and you know, my own products. (...) once you take control of that creativity (....) there's a lot of freedom and yeah, we shall see'.
And then Huw Stevens makes a joke - but was it really a joke? it's the BBC, after all - and says that all four of the guests could contribute something to what 'could be the next generation of Bond', (S: 'the finest British production'). Cue in an anecdote about S being invited to present an event to Buckingham Palace and taking a cab to a pub, right afterwards. MPC and tomorrow's book signing at Saint Pancras station wrap off the show.
Quickly, my 50 cents on it: way, way better than expected and S always delivers when they ask no weird questions about his private life (hallelujah, maybe they listen to us, after all?). The question about the fear of each job being the last reminded me of one of his answers in a very early interview: 'your biggest fear? getting the sack'. This time, his answer, whatever he intended to say, got lost in the brouhaha, but I suspect not much has changed, essentially, even if the 'after OL' part of the show strives to tell a more optimistic story.
But the thing that impressed me the most and in a very good way is the attention he got from all the other people invited in that studio. Unlike the social nobodies of Tumblr, they did not find bizarre the fact that he created his own spirits business and is actively promoting it. They were far from judging him: in fact, I even think he made a new friend of David Gandy, who had quite positive and nice and honest things to say about him. S was articulate and graceful and very moving every single time he mentioned Chrissie. And I am also sure he would have loved to share more things, especially when David was lovingly talking about his wife and daughters. But he couldn't. And that is a shame. But this too, shall pass - The Boy is slowly learning to say no to a lot of things, as he just let us know. Probably the best news we've got from him in a good while.
And now, onwards to a particularly venomous Anon I am still pondering the answer to.
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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year
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The Lonely Hearts Club: Part Two
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Summary: Full Story! Breaking up with Andrew Barber is hard to do. You of all people should know, considering you just tried. Now what? Read Part One.
Warnings: Mature Themes, Angst, Discussions of Break-ups, Fun with Exes, Jealousy, Andy Being a Menace, Confident Reader, Eventual Smut, Cursing, Expect Additional Future Warnings, Minors DNI
A/N: Dedicated to @atkissoflife, @that-one-anxious-mango, and @piscesmermaidprincess. This multi-part fic features a combination of requests from the likes of @writer84, @lexivass, @moejdaw, and several others. It is also, part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
___
February 15th - 12:25am - Los Angeles, CA
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Wow. Just...wow.
You stare down at your phone as you wait for the bartender to bring you your check. While you had initially been prepared for Andy to be upset over your note, as well as your pretty abrupt departure, you certainly hadn't expected this.
If anything, he seemed almost...unbothered. By all of it. Granted, it was sometimes hard to gauge a person's tone via text. But you'd also been in a relationship with the man for the better part of six freaking months! At this point, one could argue that you were practically fluent in Andrew Barber and all of his fucking moods.
The guy was up to something, without a doubt. Which meant that you were now officially on high alert. Because your man - your ex - had never been the type to play fair.
Especially where you were concerned. You should've known that it was gonna take a hell of a lot more than a handwritten letter and a box of artisanal muffins to knock some sense into his stubborn ass.
"Argh! You are such a fucking ogre, Andrew!" You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Why can't you ever make things easy?"
The next time you look up it's to see the bartender returning with your credit card. She goes to hand it over, only for you to interrupt her mid-sentence.
What was her name again? You could've sworn it started with a "D".
"Sorry, I know I said I was ready to close out. But since men are stupid, I think I'm gonna need another margarita. Quite possibly two."
Delta gives you a sympathetic nod before pocketing your card once more. "You got it, sweetie. Still want sugar instead of salt?"
"Yes, please." You mumble, reminding yourself that it was okay to feel annoyed. Because you were. This was supposed to be your time, damn it. You deserved to take some space for yourself!
Even if it meant sitting alone at a hotel bar, missing the one person you loved more than anything, the day after motherfucking Valentine's Day. Cheers, bitches.
___
Two Weeks Later – Somewhere in Downtown Boston
Andrew Barber stares blankly at his computer screen, mindlessly tapping his index finger against his temple as a fresh wave of anger courses through his veins. 
He’d been so good the last two weeks. So patient and understanding. He’d given you your space, just like you’d asked. Never intruding with the exception of the text he shot off that night.
Even when he’d come across your latest Instagram post from a few days ago showing off your apparent date with another man. Some pretentious looking fucker who went by Russell Cromwell. You two had looked real cozy while sharing a plate full of Birria tacos. And then you’d posed outside of the restaurant with your arms wrapped around his waist. 
But the real kicker had been the last photo in the carousel. The one where you’d kissed him on the cheek – when you’d done the “knee thing” that actresses used to do in those old black and white movies you loved to watch so much.
Oh yeah. The two of you would be having a discussion about that one real soon. His wayward Baby Girl could count on that shit. 
Honestly, you had no idea how hard falling back had been for him. It had been a real struggle. Because at his core, Andrew Barber was a man of action. He was well-known for his cunning and mental prowess. This was a man who had graduated at the top of his class, who had then gone on to become the youngest District Attorney in the city of Boston’s history. 
And in times of crisis, he was someone you could count on to remain calm and collected while you worked towards a solution. Nothing could shake him, save for the trial and media circus that had briefly surrounded his late son. 
After that particular tragedy, Andy had resigned himself to being alone. Forever. He often tried to convince himself that he preferred it that way. Andrew Barber didn’t do love. Not after what happened with his ex-wife, Laurie. He was better off living a life of no commitment. 
Even if it meant a lot of lonely nights filled with a seemingly endless revolving door of meaningless one-night stands. 
And then he’d met you. 
Yes, you.
The woman who had somehow, against all odds, brought magic back into his life. Your laugh, your smile, your very presence – it colored his whole goddamn world. He told you that all of the time, and yet it was almost as if you didn’t believe him.
At first, he was convinced that you were too good to be true. Although he’d been quickly dispelled of that notion when you’d had the balls to walk out on him during your very first date. It’s quite possible that he’d fallen for you right then – because you were the type of woman who knew her worth.
By then, Andy had become convinced that you were a gift from the universe. The way he saw it, after everything he’d been through, he was owed you. You were the woman of his dreams – his very salvation – all wrapped up in a curvy little package. And when you ran that night, it called to the primal part of him that felt compelled to give chase. 
Just like now.
But what you had yet to understand was that, once a man like Andrew Barber had deemed you his forever, there was no going back. There was no letting you go. No means of escape.
At most, he’d been granted you a temporary reprieve. You both needed time to assess the situation, survey the damage, and then calculate your next move. 
And sweetness, you’d already played your hand when you’d left that little note skipped town under the pretense of taking a fucking business trip.
Fine. Now it was on him. And while you still held most of the cards, that certainly didn’t mean that Andrew Barber was walking around without an ace or two in his back pocket. And you had better believe that he was more than ready to play his own. 
But first…he needed some fucking coffee. And lucky for him, he knew just where he could find the perfect cup – shot of chocolate, dash of cinnamon, hold the whip. 
___
Forty Minutes Later – Monarch Media Group (20 Minutes Outside Downtown Boston)
You lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. For the life of you, you simply couldn’t seem to focus today. Or any other day for the matter.
Even though it had been almost a week since you’d returned from your trip to L.A., you still felt just as conflicted about things with Andrew Barber as you did before you’d left. And not only that, but you also found yourself feeling on edge about the entire situation.
Because after your brief text exchange the morning of February 15th, he’d left you alone. The most impatient man you’d ever encountered this side of Boston had actually found it within himself to respect your wishes. 
No calls. No texts. No emails. Not even so much as a fucking smoke signal.
And while part of you was pleased with that particular development, there was no denying the fact that you missed your Big Man. 
You could be woman enough to admit it. You missed the hell out the handsome, grumpy-faced district attorney who, up until recently, had been a major mainstay in your life. But after some serious soul searching and a generous amount of tequila, you’d come to the conclusion that it was important for you to get your mind right before moving forward with anything.
You owed it to yourself to figure out who you were outside of your relationship with Andy – needed it even. Because that man was a force to be reckoned with. He could be so dominant sometimes, his personality so completely all-consuming that it was easy to lose yourself in him. 
To allow yourself to become so entirely eclipsed by his brilliant shadow. Which is something that could absolutely happen the moment you stopped paying attention to your own wants, and needs, and desires.
And if that ever were to happen, part of you wondered whether or not you would be able to find your way back. Honestly, you had no idea.
Because after all of this, if you chose to be with him…it would mean that you were all-in. There was no other option with him.
That beautifully stubborn man didn’t have a lower setting.   
However, the last thing you’d ever expected was for Mr. Andrew “My Way or the Highway” Barber to go quietly into that good night. Well, suppose you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Because if anything he could very well be planning–
Your inner musings are interrupted by Anya, your favorite receptionist at Monarch Media Group. Granted, she was also the only receptionist at the company you’d worked for over the last several years, but that was neither here nor there.
Anya gives you a knowing look before taking a seat on the edge of your desk. “Hi, friend.” She lightly pokes your shoulder. “How ya doin?”
“I’m okay.” You blow out a breath and then decide to exit out of your Outlook. “What’s up?”
“Oh…nothing much.” You watch as your friend and coworker helps herself to a piece of chocolate sitting in a nearby dish. 
“Okay.”
“I just stopped by to tell you that your coffee has arrived.” She dutifully unwraps it before popping it in her mouth.
“What?”
You hadn’t ordered any coffee. You didn’t usually even drink the stuff this late in the day. Unless…
“Yep. And just so happens, it was hand-delivered by the handsomest door-dasher I ever did see.” Anya pokes your shoulder again. “I would’ve accepted it on your behalf, but the guy insists on giving it to you himself. Probably angling for a tip if you ask me.” She throws you a conspiratorial wink for good measure.
Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Andrew “Check Out My Shit Timing” Barber.
“Ugh.” You bury your head in your hands to muffle your cry of frustration. “Can you please just tell him I’m not here?”
“I’m afraid I already let that cat out of the bag. But by the look on your face and the way you’re rocking back and forth like a human pinball, I take it I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No!” 
“Did you and Andy like…break up…or something?” Anya pauses as she reaches for another piece of candy, her hand hovering in mid-air.
No, Anya. I always feel like jumping out the nearest window. I’m fucking squirrley like that.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” You wail. “It’s just…it’s just really fucking complicated, okay?” 
“Gotcha. So…about the coffee…” 
“I’m going. I’m going.” You stand up in a huff, wishing you knew where you put the ponytail holder that had been on your wrist just this morning. “But if he pisses me off, I’m dumping that shit on his shoes. Hot or not. I do not care.”
“Okay, but if it comes to that can you please try to do it off company property? I’m all for you handling your business, but I’m also thinking about all the paperwork I’m gonna have to do if you accidentally injure one of the city’s hottest attorneys.”
“Fuck you.” You grumble as you stalk towards the front of the office to confront the annoying asshole who also happened to be the love of your life. 
“What can I say? I’m a selfish bitch.” She chirps, blowing you a kiss.
“Your words not mine. And stay the hell out of my chocolate, you mooch!” You call out as you turn the corner, fully intending to give the Boston D.A. a piece of your mind before you politely, and very firmly, shoved him out the door. 
Because if that man thought that he could just waltz right into your place of business and act like he owned everything and everyone, then he was sorely mistaken. You were going to prove to him, and whoever the hell’s job it was to oversee this whole godforsaken cosmos, that you knew how to stand your ground.  
The sight of him standing right there in the lobby is easily enough to temporarily rob you of all reasonable thought. His back is to you, giving you the brief opportunity to give him a thorough once-over. His tailored white dress shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his brawny forearms. But what really draws your attention are his slate gray slacks, which only serves to highlight his perfectly sculpted backside. 
He looked good. Nobody deserved to look that damned good, least of all your ex-boyfriend. 
Wait. Is that – is that what he was now? Is…is that how all of this worked? Fuck! 
You note the lack of tension in his broad shoulders. All things considered, he seemed pretty relaxed. But the real question was…how long could it be expected to last?
Andy picks that moment to turn around, his bright blue eyes locking with your own as an eager grin slowly spreads its way across his handsome features. You take a steadying breath and choose to ignore it. 
“Andrew.” You exhale, trying your best to appear unaffected by his presence. It was a lie, of course. But if you managed to keep this unexpected interaction short and sweet, you just might be able to pull it off. “Wh–what are you doing here?”
“Hi.” He cocks his head to the side as he drinks you in, almost as if he’s amused by your disgruntled demeanor.
“Hello.” You cross your arms over your chest, wishing that you had chosen to wear a different sweater today. Andy loved you in this color, especially because of how it paired with your particular skin tone. 
“Happy Wednesday, baby.” 
God, he really needed to lose that stupid smile. Otherwise, how on earth were you supposed to maintain your composure? 
“Sure.”
“Brought you something.” Andy holds out one of the cups of coffee he’s carrying. “Figured you might be able to use a little pick-me-up.” 
“Thanks, but I’m good.” You tell him with a shake of your head. 
“What? Since when?” He rears back before offering up a playful pout. “We always get coffee together on Wednesdays. It’s our thing…our little afternoon delight.” This time you’re treated to a wink.
“Shh!” You hiss, bridging the distance between your bodies to slap a hand across his mouth. “Don’t say that!” 
The last thing you needed was someone to overhear that and think you two used to sneak away sometimes in the afternoon to…to well…you know. Some of the people you worked with possessed very vivid imaginations.
And besides, that whole afternoon delight business had only happened once or twice. Okay, quite possibly four and a half times – and then one more after that. 
Amusement sparkles in his gaze as he stares you down. And then you feel the faint flick of his tongue brush across your palm. When you don’t react he does it again, this time following it up with an exaggerated groan. 
You immediately jerk your hand away as if you’ve just been burned. Knowing that things were only bound to get worse, you snatch one of the coffees before grabbing his arm and dragging him outside and into the unseasonably warm weather. 
Thank goodness for small favors.
The smell of spring was definitely in the air these days, but all you can focus on is the sound of Andy’s laughter trailing behind you. Frankly, it’s enough to set your teeth on edge. Even still, he allows you to lead him down the street. At some point there’s a slight shift that results in your relinquishing his arm so that he can lace his fingers through yours.   
But you'll allow it if it means that he’ll behave for as long as it takes to make it to your destination. Which just so happens to be an empty bench located at the edge of a nearby park.
To his credit, the attractive buttface at your side doesn’t say anything during your impromptu power walk, but he also doesn’t need to. Because after two long weeks without you, the man was probably venturing into serious touch-starved territory. 
You knew it. And so did he. So part of you didn’t see the harm in giving him this one, small thing.  
Relief fills you when you finally reach the bench. Of course Andy sits first before pulling you down with him – but thankfully not onto his lap. Although you’re positive that the thought was there.
Eventually he lets go of your hand. Unsure of what else to do, you finally take a sip of your coffee. The rich, slightly bitter flavor of chocolate and mocha bursts onto your tongue, followed immediately by a quick hint of cinnamon.
Mm. A perfect cup.
“I’ve missed you, baby girl.” Andy’s large, lightly calloused hand cups your face – the roughened pad of his thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “It hasn’t been a very fun couple of weeks.”
“I know.” You whisper as you lean into his touch and your eyes flutter closed. Perhaps you were just as starved for affection as he was. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you miss me?” His tone is gruff, but there’s no mistaking the emotion behind his words. Or the pain in his eyes for that matter. 
“I did, Andy.” So much.
“But you still left. Tried to break up with me before hopping on a plane and running off all the way to L.A. to share some chips and queso with good ol’ Rusty.” Your eyes fly open as Andy’s hand drops away. “Or did I read that wrong?” 
How the fuck had he known where you where? You hadn’t included anything about your intended destination in your letter…
“I saw it on your Instagram, in case you were wondering. Was actually able to use that stupid account you set up for me after all.” His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he narrows his gaze, trying to read your expression. “Couldn’t really get much else, although I enjoyed those pics of you at the beach.”
“It was a work trip.” You remind him, suddenly feeling defensive. “And Russell is an old friend, nothing more.”
“Hm.” Andy quirks an annoyed brow. “Are we talking about the kind of friend who also  accompanies you to the beach so you can show off your brand new bikini? Not that I’m complaining any about that gorgeous, sunkissed glow you’ve got going on, princess.” 
His big body is certainly tense, but there’s no ignoring the feral gleam in his eyes. Almost as if he’s dying to undress you and spend the next several hours checking you for tan lines. 
And he would, too. It’s not like it would be the first time. 
“I went alone. Russell stayed behind for that one.” You roll your eyes at the sight of his nostrils flaring. “Jesus Christ, dude! I know you may not believe that I’m a big girl, but I am. And if I wanna go hang out at the beach by myself, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!”
Which was exactly what the fuck you’d done. And it had been positively marvelous. 
“Fine.” He grunts, raising his palm towards the heavens. “God forgive me for having the sense to worry about my girl, especially since the last time I checked, she still couldn’t swim for shit.”
“Whatever, Andrew. This girl does whatever the hell she wants now, so you had better get used to it.” Your mouth is set in a thin, firm line while you silently dare him to disagree.
“I’m not quite sure how that’s different from any other day with you, but alright.” Andy tries to calm himself by playing with a stray curl that’s fallen free from your bun. “You’re still mine, sweetness. Even when you insist on being a brat. Or did you somehow forget that part?”
You swat at his hand instead of responding, hating that steady feeling of warmth that was currently pooling in your belly. 
“Did you?”
You make a show of ignoring him in favor of enjoying what was left of your coffee.
“You know, they say that sometimes silence speaks louder than words, baby girl.” You find yourself resisting the urge to clench your thighs together at the sound of the dark chuckle that rumbles through his chest. “It’s alright, though. Guess I’ll just have to remind you again once we get past this little wall you’re trying to put up between us.”
He gifts you with a flash of his pearly white teeth. Andrew Barber was the type of man who would only let you get away with so much before he put his foot down. And you would do well to remember that. 
“Pretty sure you meant to say “actions”, jackass.” Apparently he finds your acerbic wit funny as well.
“Eh, I’ve heard it both ways.” Andy shrugs before going back to toying with your curls. “But I think you should know that I’m not very happy with you, baby. And I’m trying to be patient here, but it’s kinda difficult when I can’t even get you to talk to me.”
“I was going to call you…” That wasn’t a lie. You had just been trying to drum up the mental fortitude you knew it would take to pick up the phone and actually dial his number. Sometimes, dealing with Andrew Barber could require some serious patience. 
“Were you now?” He doesn’t believe you. You can hear it in his voice.
“I was.”
“Okay, then have dinner with me tonight.” He releases your curl, watching the way it bounces as it springs free.
“Andy.” You let out an exhausted sigh.
“Meet me at my place. I’ll swing by Imperial Wok and pick up a few of your favorites so we can eat. And then we can talk in a quiet, private setting without any interruptions. How does that sound, princess?”
“Wonderful.” The word slips out before you can catch it. “But I–I can’t.”
Andrew Barber’s excited smile dies on his lips the moment that phrase reaches his ears and registers in his brain. As much as you hated to admit it, being alone with this man wasn’t a very good idea right now – especially behind closed doors.
Because while you’d never seen the man in court, you’d definitely heard plenty of stories about his ruthlessness. And you knew firsthand just how persistent he could be when he was determined to get his way. 
When Andy wanted something, he didn’t stop until he got it. Not only was he relentless, but he also wasn’t above using every tool at his disposal – including sex – if it meant having you back in his life. It wouldn’t matter all that much to him how it came about.
The same way he wouldn’t care if whether or not your desired reconciliation only happened because he’d lured you into his bed before fucking you back into submission. 
“The fu–why the hell not?” He growls, his hand grips the arm of the wooden bench so hard his knuckles go white.
“Because I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” The pronounced tick in his jaw makes it clear that he’s beyond frustrated by your refusal. 
Unfortunately, that was too damned bad! By the time this was all said and done, your handsome ogre was going to have mastered the art of having some goddamned patience. At least you hoped that would be the case…
“Both.” You offer your Big Man a small apologetic smile as you rise from your seat. “Let’s plan for sometime next week. Maybe we can shoot for Monday. I’ll, uh, send you a text or something and we can find a place to meet. But I really need to get back to work now.”
Andy stares at you for what feels like a full minute as his impressive brain works overtime to figure out his next move. And then he stands up before taking your empty cup and discarding them both in a nearby trash bin.
“Alright.” He mutters with a nod in your direction. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for your message then. Now, let’s get you back to your office.” A lump forms in your throat when he wraps a muscled arm around your shoulders as you two begin walking back the way you came. 
Fuck, you really hated this shit. But if this relationship was ever going to have a chance of working, you had to continue standing your ground. Even though it hurt like hell.
“I, um...I know you said that we probably won’t be able to sit down and talk until next week. And I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from with that, but while I have you now…” He lightly coughs into his elbow.
You glance up at your hotshot attorney, trying to figure out where he was going with this so that you could potentially cut him off at the pass.
“I at least wanted to say “thank you” in person for still agreeing to help Lydia with the charity gala this Saturday. I’m sure that it wasn’t an easy decision for you, especially given how things have been between us lately. But I really do appreciate it. And, frankly, I’m sure the kids at St. Augustine’s do too.” 
You feel the blood drain from your face as the reminder of this weekend’s event all-but smacks in the face. “Shit!” You hiss, pulling away from Andy as you reach your building. “It’s this Saturday? Are you sure?”
 “I am.” He confirms, his eyes filled with surprise. “I just spoke with Lydia yesterday when I–”
“Fuck!” You exclaim as your hands fly to your hips, uncaring that you just interrupted whatever it was he was about to say. 
In all of the chaos, you’d completely forgotten that you had agreed to help the wife of one of Andy’s colleagues with her annual charity ball. Starting by arriving at the hotel early Saturday morning to aid in the event setup, before heading up to your room to get ready for the evening's festivities.
A room that had been booked during a time when you and Andy were on much better terms.     
“She did mention that she sent all of the volunteers an email a couple days ago with a list of instructions. Maybe it got buried in your inbox, baby.” He rests his hands on your biceps, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “But she is definitely expecting you and I’m afraid it’s probably too late for you to back out at this point.”
Deep down you knew he was right. And quite honestly, you wouldn’t even dream of doing something like this close to the actual date of the gala. But there was still the issue of having to share a hotel room with your ex.
Closing your eyes, you force yourself to take a deep breath. “I–I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that big of an asshole. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to share a room…” You trail off, hoping that he would at least be somewhat understanding of your current plight.
“Ahh.” You can see the moment when realization finally dawns. “Right. Almost forgot about that.”
No, he actually hadn’t. But since Andy didn’t feel as though there was any real need for you to know that, he was going to keep that particular tidbit to himself. Even he was capable of showing some restraint every now and again.   
“Like I said…” You find yourself anxiously bouncing on your toes. “I don’t think –”
“I get it, sweetheart.” 
Wait. He did? Just like that?
“You do?”
“I do.” His words are accompanied by a lopsided grin. 
He didn’t. But then again, you didn’t need to know that either.
Andy’s hands leave your arms so that he can tenderly cup the sides of your face instead. “You just leave it all to me, baby girl. I’ll call the hotel and change the reservations.”
“You will?” You place your smaller hands overtop of his own. “You…you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” Andy leans down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. “And I promise to be on my best behavior Saturday night.” He gives you another kiss, which you allow. “If you want, I’ll even send over the updated confirmation info.” 
“Thank you.” You murmur, wishing that you could give-in just a little more and offer up your lips for a kiss. A real one this time. 
But you couldn’t afford to do that. Not even when Mr. Andrew “Give Me A Gold Star For Being Helpful” Barber was acting sweet. That would only throw everything off balance all over again. 
Andy’s heated gaze drops to your mouth before he slowly pulls away. “Don’t work too hard, okay?” His husky voice sends one last tiny flutter through your belly. 
“Same goes for you.” You tell him as you begin to head into the building.
“Goodbye, baby girl.” 
“Goodbye, Andrew. See you Saturday.” 
He waits until you’re safely inside and out of sight before turning on his heel and proceeding in the direction of his car. Oh, you’d be seeing him on Saturday alright. And he would be on his best behavior – depending on just how much patience he could muster. 
You two would be sorting this shit out then, whether you liked it or not. When it was over, you’d both spend the rest of the weekend making up for lost time. And Andrew was going to do everything in his power to ensure you enjoyed every fucking second of it. Just like he planned to enjoy getting reacquainted with that delicate sweetness between those luscious thighs. But first…
He needed to go make a call.
END
*Part Three Coming Soon...*
___
Unofficial tag list -
@blueraspberryreader
@openup-yourmind
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sanctus-ingenium · 4 months
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I'd looove to hear a little about your worldbuilding process if you don't mind sharing. How do you go about it? I know you have shared in a few posts already but just wanna know moree. Also where did it all begin? What inspired you? (eating it all uppp!!!)
hi!! I know I wrote a big long thing like last year or the year before about the process to making a setting but I cannot be arsed to find it rn so here's some disconnected thoughts
Overall I don't really make Headworlds or Worldbuilding Projects the way a lot of people do (which is why u keep hearing me say 'setting' over and over) because mainly what I make are stories in the order of characters -> plot -> world. those three things have to serve one another in that order of importance, so the world itself bends to serve the narrative. for example, ultimately idgaf where the holy beasts' skeletons come from, that is not important because the beasts are basically just a big plot device to serve the story. i can make some post-hoc justifications for their existence (and i did) but at the end of the day it will not and does not matter how they work or where they come from. the world is full of mysteries that will never be solved because the characters are not in a position to solve them. aside from a single border conflict, the world outside the mezian empire is nebulous and unimportant.
I don't enjoy working in a world -> narrative order because what I want to produce isn't just a series of info posts or artpieces about a setting, but a closed and self-contained story which is the justification for the entire world's existence. Headworlds that are all world and no character don't interest me.
So basically in the process of worldbuilding, I have to serve the story. A while back I made a post about continental history around Inver, all these wars and occupations and schisms and so on. All of those exist solely to provide a particular political climate, justification for Aquitan's theocratic structure, and the spread of the southern church north into Inver. I already had the idea of this church, that it would be integral to the country as a main political faction, so now I have to figure out how it got there and the political ramifications of that. It's all worldbuilding for sure, but it's a support structure underneath the story about how that church eventually changes world history, because i wanted to write a story about a church lol.
I guess if I wanted to explain The Process for a world -> characters setting i'd just be giving you How To Write A Story 101 lol. But basically: I think of a concept which interests me (big mechs yay). Then I think of a conflict that might arise (where does the fuel come from? who controls that supply? what might that do to the concentration of power in this area?). Then I put a character in what I consider to be the most interesting position to observe the effects of this conflict (a knight, an enginesmith, an exile), and honestly the main plot generally writes itself after that. I extrapolate the hook from that.
In terms of characters, I try to avoid calling them 'ocs' because in my mind 'oc' tends to be a very static stand-alone thing. Like I couldn't make a useful ref sheet of my characters because they are all changed by the story. I couldn't say 'he has a carefree personality' because in a few chapters no he fucking won't. in the same way i struggle a LOT to talk about my Siren setting which as close to a specbio 'headworld' as i'm ever gonna get, because I am worldbuilding in vastly different time periods at once in a world which is always changing, i can't make a post about for example a map of Siren because that's just a map from one era, I'd need to make a dozen maps to show how things change, how time affects it all, etc.
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Because nothing is ever static and everything is in flux, pretty much the only way I can handle a setting like this is, again, just to focus on a few small stories centered around a cast of characters separated by time (i have... 4 distinct stories in Siren. maybe more). this is actually a frustrating barrier to me sharing any information at all about this place lol i'm the struggler
Where did it all begin? When I was 11 I used to write stories in my copybooks in class. There has never been a time where I was not making stories and where my stories were not the only important thing at all to me, superseding literally everything else. I learned how to draw digitally in 2011 because I wanted to draw my characters.
What inspires me? Everything lol. I actually don't have time to Consume Media much, I struggle watching movies or tv and I mostly hate video games because I would much rather be productive and sitting and watching a screen feels like a waste of my time. but I like reading books because I can take them with me on my phone. I get ideas from all sources but mostly non-media sources, like obviously mythology but also my history with the church and my scientific education. Usually nonfictional sources interest me the most (i was going to write a whole story that was a post-apocalyptic plague plot based on canine transmissible venereal cancer haha and even to this day that's where "the Immortal Hound" title comes from, little easter egg in inver)
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exhuastedpigeon · 2 months
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Not gonna lie, I've been really struggling to write since I wrote my last fic. It kind of feels like all of my writing beans left me when I posted it, but this lil game makes me really want to write.
How many works do you have on ao3? 155 (holy shit????)
What's your total ao3 word count? 682,114
What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Mostly 9-1-1, but occasionally Teen Wolf stuff
Top five fics by kudos: 1. Queer Robins Club 5246 kudos DC | Mature | 4.9k words
2. Dustin's Dad(s) 3783 kudos Steddie | Teen | 5.2k words
3. give me a sign, I want you next to me 2528 kudos Buddie | Teen | 7k words
4. let me see them tan lines 2399 kudos Buddie | Teen | 2.8k words
5. On the Ropes 2349 kudos Sterek | Teen | 5.4k words
Do you respond to comments? Yes! I try to respond to every comment!
What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? With a Whimper probably. It's also the only first person POV fic I've ever written lol.
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Basically all of my fics have happy/hopeful endings? Maybe there ain't no turning back?
Do you get hate on fics? I have before but not recently!
Do you write smut? I do :)
Craziest crossover: Back Alley Deals is a crossover between Batman and Teen Wolf where Stiles goes to Gotham and ends up hooking up with Jason Todd.
Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yeah a couple times in the Sterek fandom! I don't found out because some friends found them.
Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! A few of them have been. I'm always open to translations.
Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! There was a Jaytim WIP exchange last year that I took part in.
All time favourite ship? I can't pick one? Either Sterek or Buddie probably.
What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Right now it feels like all of them, but probably my fic affectionately titled The Repression Symphony where I go through the movements of a symphony and dive into Eddie's religious trauma.
What are your writing strengths? I think dialogue and descriptions probably.
What are your writing weaknesses? Endings are hard!
Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I don't really do it because I only speak English I don't want to use google translate to write it.
First fandom you wrote in? Harry Potter
Favourite fic you've written? I can't pick one!!!
give your heart and soul to charity Teen | 12.5k | Buddie Eddie finally address his Catholic trauma and guilt.
lay your cards down, down, down Mature | 6.3k | Buddie Buck and Eddie wake up married in Vegas
there ain't no turning back Explicit | 28.3k | Buddie Buddie healing road trip, my beloved
every road and every highway led me right back to your door Teen | 2.5k | Sterek A woman gives Derek a baby and then turns to mist, he calls Stiles.
it hurts to hope for more Mature | 15.6k | Buddie Buck experiences a major non-romantic heartbreak and is forced to look at his life in a new way.
Tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @wikiangela
@jesuiscenseedormir @cal-daisies-and-briars @bi-buckrights @neverevan
No pressure tagging @rosieposiepuddingnpie @inell @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns
@elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @shitouttabuck @thekristen999 @thewolvesof1998
@acountrygirlsfun @actualalligator @tizniz @rainbow-nerdss @eddiebabygirldiaz
@generatorcat @glaciya @withmyteeth @loserdiaz @monsterrae1
@spotsandsocks @underwaterninja13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @jesuisici33 @wildlife4life
and anyone else who wants to share!
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theremina · 1 year
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Adoption causes way more intergenerational trauma and collective health crises than I think many "kept" people realize.
If you bother to read it, the science is clear: adoption is violently traumatic, causing devastating, irreversible health issues for millions of human beings. Yet I'd have more luck conveying the severity and longevity of my own trauma to most non-adoptees with "I was dropped on my head as a baby."
Heck, I didn't begin to contend with the horrors of my own situation until my mid forties. Being yeeted directly after birth into foster care and eventually adopted by lovely, well-intentioned folks who were not prepared *at all* to help me deal with the lifelong neurodevelopmental disorders and physical health problems directly caused by my abandonment at birth has permanently damaged me. I'm saying so as one of the "lucky ones".
I adore my adoptive family. They're incredible parents. We love each other dearly. This doesn't change the fact, not for one second, that I wouldn't wish adoption on ANYBODY. Thankfully, my folks understand this. I wish more adoptive parents did.
The modern adoption industry* is, by design, deeply misogynistic, racist, transactional, ableist, imperialist, colonial. Ignorance and hate and apathy and coercion and subjugation and dehumanization and capitalism keep the machine running.
We're already seeing the beginning of Baby Scoop Too: Electric Boogaloo on Facebook. On Twitter. On Instagram. On other social media platforms owned and controlled by obscenely wealthy white men who don't consider private adoptions to be unethical.
You may *think* that legalized human trafficking doesn't really effect you, but soon, if the Christofascists continue their cultural blitzkrieg, the amount of infants and children who end up in the foster care system, adopted by unqualified people, in devastating private "rehoming" situations like the one shared above, or worse, is gonna SKYROCKET.
So...I'm barely on Facebook anymore for a few different reasons. One of them is that I couldn't handle watching a whole bunch of ignorant self-proclaimed feminists making shitty adoption jokes after Roe was overturned.
Another reason is that Facebook is LITERALLY A BABY MARKET.
ADOPTIVE PARENTS ARE BUYING AND SELLING CHILDREN ON FACEBOOK. WHAT THE ACTUAL UNFORTUNATE FUCK.
Nearly 100 million American families are in the adoption triad, with a majority of adoptees' needs and voices being considered last instead of first. It's so backwards.
Non-kinship adoption is a systemic violence that cannot help but touch the lives of billions. That is so very, very bad for ALL of us, not just abandoned infants and children or their struggling parents.
Some straightforward response questions for every person who has ever asked me about about my adoption:
Are you a feminist? Are you antiracist? Are you a humanitarian? Anti-ableist? Do you consider yourself lefty, liberal, or otherwise progressive? Do you respect science? Then please reevaluate your perceptions of adoption.
For every adoptive or bio parent you listen to, listen to three or more adoptees. For every shitty adoption "joke" you've ever told, check in with an adoptee (or first mom) in a kind and caring way. For every ignorant question you've ever asked an adoptee about our "real parents", crack a book!
Please. Do some research. Learn. Please. Center transracial adoptees, international adoptees, disabled adoptees, queer adoptees. Please. This stuff impacts all of us just as surely as countless other aspects of systemic rape culture do. Try to understand. Please.
I'm more certain than ever that we must abolish before we can rebuild.
Please give a shit. Please.
*The fact that adoption is an industry at all should shock and horrify us all, and yet... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
[image description: a screenshot of a Facebook post with a black border and caption reading, “Welcome to America, where people try to regime adopted children on Facebook Marketplace.” The Facebook post itself reads, “So basically they either want him to come back home, or have CPS place him in a foster home. Or I can find someone willing to take him in, and ‘under the table’ pay them the stipend, we get. If CPS places him they will have to have an open case against me. In doing that I will lose my job. I cannot work at a daycare, school, group home etc. if I have an open active CPS case against me. How the hell do I go about ‘re-homing’ my child? Should I create a post in market place? Through no fault of our own, we are being forced to re-home our thirteen year old son. He can be the most loving, helpful young man. He does suffer some learning difficulties. He comes with a complete wardrobe and a monthly allotment. Only serious inquiries please.” End id]
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