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jaysng · 5 months

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all i want is you | pjs

pairing: loverboy!jay x reader

genre: angst, fluff

summary: idk how to summarize this🙏🏻

<a/n> little women reference used cope w it 🤣

you hear it, the teasing glances and the whispers as you walk around the school. it’s been like this ever since jay, the popular guy at school had asked you out about 2 months ago during valentines.

“hey look it’s your girlfriend” you hear it very clearly, but you know what they want, they want a reaction out of you.

you still turn your head to the side to look and jay seems.. embarrassed? sad? you weren’t good at reading people so you never tried that hard either.

there wasn’t anything negative about you or your looks, it was just the people around you who did not value you. but sometimes you did tend to forget and let your emotions control you.

same way, 2 months ago when jay had asked you out, private proposal. it was pretty unusal to you, you thought it was some kind of prank, you still do, like some kind of bet.

so you just stared into his soul that day, without responding you nervously just bowed at him and excused yourself.

few other students saw and reported it to their friends and slowlt by the next day, the rumor spread like a wildfire.

yes jay’s ego was hurt, you expected him to look down at you after that day but later on he just showed up with “i will win you.”

maybe he watched a movie and got motivated off it?

you did like him back, no doubt in that but all your life you’ve felt like you were in a competition and always losing it so you just let things be.

there was someone else who wanted him, some other of your classmate, yunjin.

so you just did not want to be in all this drama, yunjin already despised you, you did not want to make things worse.

you head back to class as soon as recess is over, ignoring all the whispers and the look of envy you recieve from yunjin.

“what is going on?” wincing in pain as yunjin pushes you onto some wall with a sudden question.

“what the fuck do you want?” you ask back as she laughs at your face “i thought i told you to stay away from jay?” you could’ve fought back to get out of her grip, but come on she had two girls behind her making sure nobody sees.

“i did, we haven’t spoken in a while” you say as you grab her hand harshly and pull it away “and, don’t touch me.”

the sternness in your voice intimidated her, you could tell by the way she was gulping, even though you appeared weak you still were strong enough to fight back so they could not do much.

“then why the fuck is a rumor about jay dropping all his friends for you going on?” she says as you look at her, not even surprised cause you were already done with this school and it’s rumors.

she steps back “god have you like casted a spell on him? why the fuck does he even want you?” looking at you in disbelief if you have caused it.

shrugging, “don’t know and don’t care” you say as yunjin tries to trap you between her and the wall again but the teacher calls out

‘what are you girls doing? get to class right now’

she gives you the dirtiest smirk known to man kind as you stare into her soul back with a poker face, not feeding onto her little trick.

deciding to talk it out with jay, during second break you visit him near the playground area.

“why would you choose me when you can have her? i mean she has everything i don’t” oh the way jay could answer this in a paragraph.

“she has everything but she is not you okay? she is a piece of shit who goes around and bullies people, just like she has bullied you your entire life at school” you can audibly hear breaths leaving his mouth, desperation of wanting you really evident now.

your gazes piecered each other’s souls, staring deeply, somewhere deep down you knew there was some spark as your chest tightened oh how bad i want you jay.

“you’re what everyone wants jay. i am someone they spit on and walk past. nobody wants us together.” you confessed absentmindedly.

“why do you care about what they think?” he asked, “its always been like that, you were a bystander too before you liked me” he lowers his head out of embarrassment.

knowing there is nothing more to add in to the arguement, you slide your hands in the pockets of your uniform skirt and walk away.

little did you both know, yunjin was eavesdropping everything and rage of jealousy filled her making her undereye twitch.

class dismissed.

it is finally the end of the day, the bell rings as the sounds of everyone packing their bags fill your ears.

jay’s class was right infront of yours, but unfortunately yunjin was still in your class so you just couldn’t avoid her for some reason, knowing you’re under her sight almost all the time.

she walks out first as you go extra slow, too tired for anything.

out of luck, no body stops you to tease you today, everyone annoying out of your sight.

walking down the alley as everyone else, it was almost empty and not crowded as usual, as you realise you came out late. shit what was i dreaming about.

something captures your eyes, but you were captured someone’s eyes way long before you noticed, it was yunjin, she saw you walking back home to school and grabbed the opportunity out of her luck that jay was walking back too at the same time.

“oh- jayie” she calls out for him as he diverts his attnetion to her now raising his eyebrows, “can i have some water.” she asks faking tiredness.

jay cringes at her but still reaches for his side pockets of his bag.

as he is doing that, yunjin watches carefully as you walk closer, minding ur own business.

thats it as soon as jay looks back up yunjin pushes him to the nearest wall holding him by his tie and kisses him.

she kisses him so hungrily, ignoring his pushes, finally jay gives her one sudden push that makes her lose her balance and fall over “dude what the fuck?”

“did she see it?” she thinks to herself directly looking back at you as she sees you standing there, amused and disappointed.

jay looks at yunjin but realizes that she is looking somewhere else, his gaze follows her as his mind freezes for a short second.

you slowly meet his eyes, he could feel the rage in your eyes, your face completely showing numb as turn your eyes back to your path and continue walking.

you walked as fast as you could avoiding him calling out your name, running behind you.

jay thought to himself, this is the most of my desperation i can show. mix of anger, love and worry on his face.

“just stop jay.”

both of you stop in your tracks as he pants swiping his sweat off, bending down taking supporting of his knee.

he uses all his energy to keep his head high, it was like your and his eyes were magnets, once attached you could physically feel the burden of breaking it.

“why don’t you get it? just leave me!” you scream from a distance at the top of your lungs, catching your breath as soon as you were done with your words.

your feet faces back to your path as you continue walking fast, you could hear his footsteps fastening again, you did not quit either as you start running back

“i have loved you ever since i’ve known you y/n why dont you get it”his voice ringed in your ears as you cried after each word, eyes getting teary and blurry.

that’s when you gave up and lost it all, crying right there on the spot. “what jay?” you ask as you shut close your eyes, your lips trembling and so were the words.

he didn’t stop, continued to approach you and close the distance, shaking you by the shoulder, even though the action seemed harsh it felt so soft, “why don’t you just accept this? why don’t you just accept me? what do i lack?”

what do i lack.

someone so perfect like him had feelings like that too, about a total complete loser like you? after all he was just a person, just like you.

you opened your eyes, your eyes met his as the world went quiet, his narrowed eyes staring at you, the tension in the air mixed with all your emotions crashing with each other.

both of you taking deep breaths and panting hard, feeling the heat radiating off each other, “i gave up everything you didn’t like, cant you see? i’m happy i did its fine and i waited and i will wait and i never complained..

and i-“

you kiss his lips to shut him up, the sensation in his heart goes crazy as you feel his muscles go loose, knees bucking as sense of weakness.

you hold his face, sharp bones of his jawline and cheekbones right in contact with your palm, he was so warm. his lips were like pillows, so soft.

his head spins around, incapable of coping with the moment. you pull back

“you know i figured you’d love me y/n.” he says without thinking as if he was on auto pilot

“oh god how much i love you” you kiss his lips once again grabbing his collar to pull him closer.

you couldn’t hold onto it any longer maybe this is what everythings meant to be.

#enhypen fluff #park jongseong #enhypen x reader #enha #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #jay fluff

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sailor-aviator · 6 months

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Fool's Fare: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Cursing, Talks of a curse, Arguing, Feelings of Betrayal, Feelings of being used, Mentions of broken hearts, Verbal abuse (kinda), Mentions of death of a parent, Talk of the supernatural, Mentions of abandonment, Suicide mention, Reveals. I think that's it, but please let me know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Guilt was almost never rational. It was the monster that crept into your emotions, turning sorrow into pain, anger into wrath. It didn’t care for things like logic or forgiveness. It fed on the destruction it created, leaving behind ruin and sometimes even catastrophe.

You felt guilty for the disappearance of your father. Maybe if you had begged him to stay that last day, had pleaded for him to not go like your instincts told you to, he would still be around and things would be better. Your mother would never have died of a broken heart, your brother wouldn’t be suffering the effects of a curse that were not his to bear, and the ache that lay inside your chest wouldn’t be throbbing from your conversation with Captain Jake Seresin of the Hangman.

Water lapped against the rowboat as two of the men pulled and pushed the oars through the water. You sat in between Mickey and Bradley, refusing to meet the gaze of the blond who sat across from you. His green eyes bore into your profile, willing you to turn and look at him, but you stubbornly looked out at the dark waters that surrounded you, the mist not allowing you to see very far, not that there was much to be seen.

Mickey fidgeted uncomfortably next to you as his gaze darted between you and the captain, his fingers tugging on his sleeves as he chewed on his bottom lip. You could feel Bradley’s eyes on you as well, drilling a hole into the back of you head. You let out an annoyed huff, tapping your foot gently against the floor of the boat as you crossed your arms.

You wished a rogue wave would come and swallow you whole.

The shore grew closer and closer with each passing moment, and soon the men around you were hopping out into the shallow waters, still eerily dark and murky despite being so close to land. Mickey and Bradley got out on either side of you followed by Jake and Javy, leaving you the last one to exit. You stood to get out, a hand coming into your line of sight. You paused to look at it before glancing up to see Jake still looking at you, eyes shining with something you couldn’t place. You scowled at him, batting his hand away and taking one step out of the boat and into the water. The sand shifted, causing you to stumble, and Jake’s hands wrapped around you to keep you steady. He helped you onto firmer ground before you pushed him away from you with a glare.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, brushing your clothes off, “I had it.”

“Sure you did,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off of you. His brow creased as he frowned, and you let out a huff, stomping over towards where Bradley and Mickey stood. His gaze lingered, but you didn’t turn look back at him, instead choosing to watch as the men dragged the boats further up onto the shore, weighing them down with nearby stones so that they wouldn’t float away once the tide came in.

It was then that you allowed yourself to look around, taking in the jungle scene around you.

Loud cries from the different birds sounded all around you, some squawking and others chirping as they hopped along the branches. You heard the chattering of other creatures as well, watching as shadows darted about above you as well as in the brush surrounding. The mist clung to your skin, and the air was surprisingly cool for what should be the tropics. Perhaps the ship had been blown farther off course than anyone had previously thought.

Rustling sounded from behind you, and you whirled around. Your hand flew to the sword that lay strapped to your side, unsheathing it a few inches as you waited for whatever was there to show itself. Your muscles tensed as more rustling sounded, the large leaves moving, and you sucked in a breath as your eyes widened, the creature revealing itself in one quick motion.

The sound of your sword unsheathing all the way and swinging in the air filled the small clearing, and Jake was met with the business end of the sharp weapon, tip stopping just shy of his chin. His own eyes widened as he stared at it, quickly darting up to meet yours. It took you a moment to process what was happening before you, and you scowled at him, lowering the sword and sheathing it once more as he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Little jumpy, huh Guppy?”

You ignored him, face still set into a scowl as you took a few steps around the clearing. A strange energy filled the air, one that set your heart hammering inside your chest and the blood in your veins zapping with energy. Your fingers twitched at your sides, everything becoming intense around you. The air started to feel almost suffocating, the noises becoming louder, the foliage becoming brighter. Your eyes darted around as an overwhelming sense of dread gripped you, your chest starting to rise and fall rapidly as the sensations grew. You took a few tentative steps around the clearing, willing the sensations to stop, to slow down. It was all so much.

“Guppy?”

A hand grabbed yours, and the steadiness of it grounded you. Your head whipped around to look at Jake, uncertainty coloring his features as he studied you. The colors faded back to normal, the sounds became quieter, and the energy swirling around you became less stifling. Your breathing returned to normal, and it was then that you realized that tears prickled at your lash line. You wiped them away quickly, clearing your throat and pulling away from the blond to inspect the far side of the clearing.

“Are you okay?” He pressed, taking a hesitant step towards you. You waved him off, schooling your features as you heard the sound of a river nearby.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. Of course you were still mad at him, who wouldn’t be after what you found out in the cabin? He had been using you for months, getting closer to you only to relieve the effects of the curse that plagued him. He had wormed his way behind your walls and into your heart, and you hated him for making you care about him. You had been played for a fool, and the very thought had you clenching your fists with rage.

“Guppy, please-”

“What do you want from me?” You snapped, whirling around to face him, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. “What? Are you upset that you let your little secret slip out? That I’m basically just some kind of pain relief for you, and that’s the only reason you’re interested in me at all?”

A frown tugged on his lips, brow pinched in distress as he shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant at all, sweet girl,” he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out a hand to you. You took a step back, face guarded as you watched him. He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he regarded you.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly, eyes set in determination as he finished crossing the distance between you two. He made no move to touch you, but you sucked in a breath at the proximity. “I know you think I’ve been using you, but I haven’t. If I wanted to use you, don’t you think I would have gone farther than we ever did? I know what I’m saying may not mean much to you right now, but I swear it, Guppy. I swear on everything that I care about in this world, I was not using you.”

You studied him for a moment, mulling over his words. Perhaps he had a point. If he was using you, surely he would have done a lot more than just hold you? You pressed your lips together firmly, frowning at him.

“I’ll tell you what,” he murmured, eyes shining as they looked at you, “I won’t touch you again unless it’s to protect you or because you want me to.”

Your brow furrowed, frown growing deeper as you regarded him. He swallowed thickly, nodding more to himself than to you.

“I mean it,” he whispered, backing away just a step. “I won’t touch you unless absolutely necessary. When-if you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Before you could answer, the leaves began to move again, and both of you turned to watch as Javy stepped into the clearing. Jake stiffened next to you, a look of irritation flashing across his face before he schooled them into one of cool indifference.

“What is it, Javy?” He drawled, sounding almost bored as his quarter master glanced between the two of you, a look of knowing mixed with annoyance plastered on his own face.

“You’re going to want to check this out,” he said finally, fixing Jake with a hard look. Jake nodded, looking back at you and gesturing for you to follow as he walked after Javy back towards the beach. You moved to leave, stopping when you heard a strange noise, almost like a song. A shiver ran up your spine as you looked back, dread filling the pit in your stomach as the sound happened again, closer to the beach this time.

“Guppy, let’s go!”

You jumped at the sound of Jake’s stern voice, whirling around and following quickly after the two men.

The men were all gathered in a clearing of trees along the water, a wooden hut on stilts sat above the water, a set of steps leading onto firmer land while another set led directly into the water. You would never have known the structure was there unless you stumbled upon it. The trees hid it from view of the beach, the foliage packed so densely that you had to really push your way through it. You stumbled out onto the other side, Bradley reaching out to steady you as you tripped over a tree root.

You wondered why he never told you that your presence brought him relief like Jake said it did.

Jake inspected the structure, walking along the side of it before looking at Javy.

“Any of you been inside yet?” He asked, frowning at the surrounding men. The quarter master shook his head, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the area.

“No,” he answered. “No one has been in yet. I wanted you to be the first to see it.”

Jake nodded, turning his attention back to the group.

“Where’s Benedict and Joshua?” He frowned.

“No one’s seen them since just after we landed,” Javy replied. Jake cursed, shaking his head.

“Alright, let’s check this place out,” he muttered, already heading up the steps. Javy was close behind followed by two more men, then Mickey, then you, and finally Bradley brought up the rear.

“We’ll keep watch out here,” one of the men called out nervously. Jake glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow before shrugging.

“Suit yourself,” he drawled, waving a hand dismissively at them.

The hut was tiny, but still somehow contained item after items along the floors, the shelves, and every other surface that was available. A strange hum filled the air, not unlike what you felt in the clearing when you were with Jake. Several bottles held mysterious items suspended in liquid, and you found yourself clutching onto Bradley, fingers twitching nervously as your heartbeat picked up.

“It looks abandoned,” Mickey muttered, eyeing a spider as it crept across a dusty, old book.

“I wonder who lived here,” you whispered, worried that something might be listening. A floorboard creaked from the far side of the room, and all of you turned to see a haggard-looking woman standing in the doorway. Hands flew to swords, and the woman let out a low chuckle.

“You won’t be needing weapons here, sailors,” she purred, her voice surprisingly pleasant sounding despite her outward appearance. Her hair was matted, crawling down the length of her back in black strands. Her skin was pale like moonlight, skin pulled tight against the bones that lay underneath. Her eyes glinted dangerously in the light, like the eyes of a predator ready to strike at the first opportunity. Despite all of it though, you could see that she had once been a beautiful woman.

“Who the hell are you?” Jake snapped, voice gruff with warning as he glared at her. She flashed him a sharp smile, lips pulled back almost too far as she regarded him with predatory eyes.

“I am one who watches over this place,” she said sweetly, hands gesturing all around her. Javy took a half step forward to stand at Jake’s back.

“Where are we?” Thequarter master asked, eyes hard as they watched the woman glide around the table that occupied the center of the room.

“You find yourselves at the isle where broken hearts go to rest, the poor dears,” she smiled, dark eyes shifting to stare straight at you. You stiffened in your spot next to Bradley, shuffling to try and hide behind him as best you could. The woman’s smile grew even wider, skin stretching in a way that it shouldn’t as her eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Your heart is so heavy,” she crooned, moving towards you, and your hands latched onto the back of Bradley’s shirt as her eyes danced with glee. “You’ll make a fine addition to my brood.”

“Not happening,” Bradley hissed, reaching an arm back to push you further behind him as he puffed out his chest, eyes narrowing at the woman in warning.

“It must be so lonely,” she continued, ignoring Bradley and the way they others shifted around the room, “to know that soon it will be just you who stands in this world. Those around you have fallen, left you for either the hereafter. And soon what you have left will fall to a curse that has nothing to do with you.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, your heart lurching in your chest as the weight of her words hit you, the familiar prickle starting in your eyes as you pressed your lips firmly together.

“That’s not going to happen,” you whispered weakly.

“Oh my sweet girl,” she cooed, reaching a hand out to touch you. “It will. When it does, I will be here to comfort you along with the others.”

“Who are the others?”

Her finger stopped only centimeters from you, her head turning slowly to lock on to Jake who still glared at her. She cocked her head to the side, the smile fading from her face as her features morphed from friendly to cold and calculating.

“Were you not listening?” She rasped, eyes narrowing dangerously. “The ones who live here have all suffered broken hearts.”

“We didn’t see anyone else on the island,” one of the crewman muttered towards Jake, but the woman ignored him. The smile slowly crawled across her face once more, though this was held promise of malice rather than the half-baked attempt at comfort she had given you.

“You are also one who is familiar with disappointment and heartbreak,” she sighed, walking slowly towards the captain. “You almost remind me of my son, the poor boy that he was.”

She stopped when Jake’s jaw clenched, glee returning to her dark eyes as she continued.

“Look at you,” she cooed at him, her saccharine tone sending another wave of chills down your spine. “What would your mother think of you now? The poor, bastard son she raised in his father’s house. Working night and day to earn her place as well as her son’s, your father never once acknowledging you as his own despite his lack of an heir.”

Jake’s nostrils flared as he glared at the woman, her lips curled into a dangerous smile as she let out a low chuckle.

“Your kind, loving mother doing everything she could to protect you from the reality of your situation,” she cooed. “But then she fell ill, didn’t she? And then she passed, and there was no one left to protect the child that you were. You were cast out of the only home you had ever known at only seven years, forced to wander the streets with any scraps you could find as your meals. It wasn’t until that old captain took you under his wing that you had a place to call home again.”

Jake said nothing, but if looks could kill, you were sure the woman would have died ten times over already. The woman clucked at him, smile once again fading, lips turned downward into a disappointed frown.

“Nothing to say about your poor, dead mother, hm?” She taunted, looking mildly put out at his lack of a reaction. Her eyes lit up suddenly, the smile returning once more.

“But that wasn’t your first encounter with heartbreak, was it?” She mused. “Not only have you suffered your own, but you’ve inflicted it on another, haven’t you?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Jake spat, fists clenched at his side, fingers twitching with restraint.

“Broken hearts are my business,” she huffed, eyes slowly shifting back towards you. “Has he ever told you why he was cursed?”

“He slept with the woman that Davy Jones was in love with,” you replied uneasily, glancing at Jake. The color had drained from his face as he watched the woman contort with laughter, the sound echoing through the room as she cackled.

“Is that all he told you?” She grinned, eyes shining wildly.

“Be quiet,” Jake snapped, stepping forward with a warning on his face. Fear ensnared his features.

“Why should I?” The woman grinned. “I think the truth deserved to be spoken. Her story deserves to be told.”

“Please don’t,” Jake begged, eyes darting between you and the woman now. “Please.”

“Davy Jones is not the kind of man to curse another because his affections are spurned,” the woman continued, ignoring the captain. “No, he wouldn’t be so cruel as to curse someone with no just cause. Jones was in love with the woman, yes, but he respected her choice enough to let her run into the arms of the man she had chosen.”

“Stop,” Jake murmured quietly, leaning against the table for support as he hung his head.

“So you do feel shame after all,” the woman cackled, though no humor was laced in her tone. “You know what you did was wrong. You knew she loved you, and like the vain, prideful youth you were, you threw her to the side once you had had your fill. No regards to the love she gave you, nothing in your heart for that woman. Tell me, did you feel anything for her before Davy Jones cursed you? Or is it the curse that made you see the error of your ways?”

“Enough,” he whispered, eyes pressed tightly shut as his shoulders hunched in on himself.

“Or perhaps,” the woman hummed thoughtfully, “it was the moment she threw herself off the cliffs into the water below that changed your heart.”

A/N: Wow, what a reveal! Can't wait to hear what y'all think of that one lol Anyway, gentle reminder that I no longer do tag lists! If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog: @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#ff #fool's fare #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction

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sixx6sexx2love · 2 months

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FLUFF ALPHABET | NIKKI SIXX

UGH NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS BUT I DID HALF OF THIS A LONG TIME AGO AND FOUND IT SO I JUST FINISHED IT. AND THE ABC THING DID REALLY GOOD ON MY OLD ACC SO IM PRAYING THIS WONT FLOP.

word count; 1984

warnings; drugs, sex, alcohol, him getting a little angry, him being bitten by a dog, physical abuse (his step dad), lmk if I missed any (its funny when I see ppl say that knowing damn well yall won't say shit💀)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

nikkis pretty affectionate, loves PDA and stuff. hes down for anything from just having a hand on your back to fucking you on a car in a parking lot. he doesn't care. he also likes cuddling and just hugging you, not just when he wants something or he's done something.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

most likely fwb if you guys would be best friends. if not then at least have hooked up once or twice. but as a best friend he'd keep you around a lot, let you hang in the studio, get high with you at parties and makes sure you're safe (even though he encourages you to get shitfaced, and challenges you to drink offs)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES he likes cuddles and you can't change my mind. fucked up, sober, upset or not, doesn't matter, he likes cuddling. his favorites could be face to face with your leg over his waist (he likes to sneak some touches sometimes) or his head on your chest or your head on his chest with one arm around you and the other to hold a bottle of liquor, or if he's needy, everything but sober, and upset, he likes wrapping his arms tight around your waist with his head basically between your tits. boobies make pain go away.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down?)

He would want to settle down but at a certain time. He said he's always wanted to be a dad and he would want to get married someday. like, I don't see you and him accidentally getting married in Vegas even in his drunkest state because he doesn't wanna get married now, what would you guys do when you were really ready to settle down and you guys already got married in 1984 or something?

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if you guys had a real connection then he'd probably be upset about it for a while. he'd probably end it because he had to choose between the band or you or something. he'd probably call you and break it off or meet up with you and break it off. but just because you guys broke up doesn't mean you could get another boyfriend or something while he's still around. he on the other hand would probably hook up with someone in the next 24 hours.

but if it was just a fling or you guys dated for a week or two hed probably just tell you it wasn't working and leave or he might not say anything at all.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

he wants to get married but not yet, he didn't know when. hell, he could've proposed with just the question a long time ago, but wouldn't get married until he knew he wouldn't be all fucked up. definitely would not get married around the time he was strung out on heroin 24/7. most likely would get married after the whole 2 minute death and wake up call.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He thinks he's more gentle than he actually is. not saying he's throwing you around all the time but hes definitely done some damage, accident or not. more so rough with your emotions and sometimes neither of you know it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

he likes hugs, he hugs you enough to where it means something each time. he doesn't side hug you, if he's gonna hug you hes gonna make it a hug. hes the type to make sure you hug back and if you don't he'll keep hugging you until you do or until you hug tight enough. sometimes he'll fuck with you and keep telling you to hug him tighter and you end up feeling like you're taking his blood pressure or something. hes a tall guy so assuming you're shorter, when you hug him its normally where he sprays his cologne so you can smell it while you hug. but when he's a 6’4 monster in his platform heels you're to like his stomach or something.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

either really quick or really late. no inbetween. like the night you met or started dating hed tell you he loves you and acts like you've been dating forever and you're the one, or he waits too long to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

yes. LMAO THATS ALL I GOTTA SAY. I've made posts about his Jealousy, and its not just cannon, its a fact. if we had to say from a scale from 1-10, I'd say his Jealousy is always like a 7.4 and up. dosn't matter who, if he doesn't like them and you guys are talking, he feels more Possessive than insecure.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

everywhere that can be kissed he will kiss. he likes a lot of tongue action in kisses, like his tongue would be all over yours of he'll suck on your tongue. something freaky like that. really, he likes to kiss you on your mouth but when he's fucked up he misses and like makes out with your neck or something.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he loves children. its like a public secret. I have a picture of him when he went to Idaho and there was this little girl and I cant remember if she was opening a present or something, but he was just kinda watching her (i put the picture at the top). if you have younger siblings hed wanna meet them and get to know them, but if they don't like him and wants you to break up with him hed literally give zero shits. if it were like a pre teen hed probably be a little more awkward than with little kids or teenagers. hed probably be like “so, you like rock? you play anything?”

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

uh.. you guys rarely see mornings unless you're just going to bed in the morning. but waking up with him at any time there will be vomit, screaming (telling the other to be quiet while throwing up since the other has a headache), pain killers (maybe one too many) and more jack.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

now were talking. you already know. booze, drugs, sex, music, fights, all that.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he probably wouldn't bring up his childhood by himself, maybe if you asked, but you gotta be careful. he wouldn't spill it all at once, maybe if he did itd be a drunken rant and you can't understand half the things he's saying besides hearing “whore mother” and “asshole dad”, but he would willingly tell you things like how he has a half sister who lived with his mom, and some things he did when he was young. but maybe after all those little things he says about his childhood and you piece it together you can get an idea of what happened. or maybe if he ever took you down to Idaho to meet his grandparents, his grandmother would show you the few pictures she has of him as a child, and her being the sweet lady she was shed probably just tell you about his mom and stuff.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

not really easily angered but easily annoyed and irritated that can lead to anger. hell get irritated when something doesn't go his way, and if its not fixed in a short amount of time hell get mad. he'll get annoyed at the phone ringing when you guys are having sex, and he'll get irritated if someone keeps calling. its like a loop.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he'll remember what he can, he'll forget most of what you told him one night but would try and fill in the missing parts. but when you keep reminding him of what you actually said after like 2 more times, it sticks, and his memory gets better the more you guys date. because he knows you'll get tired of repeating and he really does wanna know your moms secret macaroni ingredient or some shit.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

probably the first time you hooked up. hes probably had his eye on you and you didn't really wanna move that fast in a relationship, but you managed to wait maybe 3-5 days in the relationship before you guys had sex.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts?)

its your birthday? pick what you want and he'll buy it. already picked what you wanted? he got you more shit. anniversary? probably rented out like a whole part of a club that was kinda blocked off so you guys could fuck on the couch with the table almost full of fruity drinks you wanted to try.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I could go on and on. either read my other posts or you don't know him enough💀

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

God, hell genuinely tweak if his hair isn't a foot tall with hairspray. but when he's having a good makeup day he smiles :] like that :].

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

in a way. if you guys went strong and made it a while, hed probably feel lonely without you, or confused. like when he's just by himself and he's thinking of you and that you're not there, he has the look you make when you enter a room and forgot why you went in there.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

this isn't cannon but Nikki hates German shepherds because when he was young his step father (the one who beat him for brushing his teeth wrong) had one and the dog would always bite him and the guy didn't do anything about it. and when they were driving to Mexico the dog was in the car and bit him the whole way there

I feel like he makes good smores though LMAOO

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

now.. he said he doesn't like curly hair because he said everyone he's met that had curly hair was cock eyed. but don't let that stop you, it'll grow on him. hell still stand for not liking curly hair but would word it differently when talking about you. “her hair isn't curly its fuzzy. and I like it.”

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

hed take up the whole bed. he doesn't move much in his sleep so don't let him lay all stupid on the bed or he won't move. he also probably doesn't like blankets that much, he always kicks them off or gets annoyed at night from being hot and just aggressively but softly throws the rest of the blanket on your sleeping body.

#motley crue #nikki sixx #motley crue x reader #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x you #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue headcanons

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manicpixiefelix · 7 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 17.

Summary: Learning little things, and big things, on these summer days. About each other, and how the world sees you all, in the garden, in the family room, in hindsight, in the study late at night.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: reader, felix, venetia, and oliver getting high in the garden together, some degrading language (kind of a given any time venetia and reader are in the same room at this point), heavy discussion about the reader's parental trauma/neglect

A/N: 5812 words. i think i cast venetia in a bad light sometimes which i feel bad about because i love her to pieces, and she and the reader love each other very much its just that she's gotten used to being arguably too verbally prickly with them in order to rile her brother up mostly, and she forgets (and maybe i do too) what that looks like from the outside. anyways, just for absolutely no reason whatsoever, have you ever looked up what different flowers mean in flower language? much to think about.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Venetia rolls her joints with little hearts at the end where the filter would go if it were simply a cigarette. It's a trick she learned during what she calls her 'gap year', what Elspeth calls her 'grand wine tour of Europe', and what Felix and Farleigh have recently started cruelly referring to as 'the year Venetia inspired a TV show'. While you do think it's mean, you also quietly agree that Billie Piper bares a striking resemblance to the young Catton woman in the ads you'd seen for Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Cruel implications is all you would say on the matter, not that either of the boys had been game enough to say it to her face.

But the thought floats through your mind in this moment, taking just a moment to admire the way she's expertly curled the paper before you bring it to your lips. She watches you with that smile that tends to intimidate others, sharp and mean and hungry, sharp gaze on your lips as you inhale, lips remaining sealed as you offer the next hit to Felix on your right. Venetia's focus follows the joint, straying from you to admire the way her brother takes a hit before he too passes it on to Oliver.

Felix muses to no-one in particular about how long it's been since he'd been out here to the Fairy Ring Garden, but only gets a response from Oliver, and a strained one at that as your guest holds smoke in his lungs as long as he's able, muttering that it's beautiful. Sitting on the grass in the morning sun, you squint at the iPod in your hands, trying to choose some music.

Venetia suggests Amy Winehouse. Felix calls his sister tragic under his breath, to which she flips him off. Still, it's the best suggestion you've got so far, so moments later, the singer's rich vocals warble out of the little, portable speaker you'd plugged into the headphone port.

"Good dog," Venetia says with a particularly mean sneer in her brother's direction as she takes the iPod out of your hands to place it on the grass, replacing it with the joint you'd all been passing around once more. Out of instinct, you place your free hand on Felix's chest, telling him that whatever reaction he was going to have really wasn't worth it. Venetia rolls her eyes, "boo, you whore," she snarks, laying back on the grass.

"I'm taking the rest of this as compensation for emotional damages," you hold the joint between two fingers, telling Felix to just roll another from the kit still sitting in the middle of the impromptu circle the four of you had made. Much to both yours and Felix's surprise, Oliver moves too quickly to let him, rolling with the air of someone who'd seen it done often without having done it himself.

Both you and Felix watch him for quite a while as he stumbles through the task like a baby deer taking it's first steps. Things are getting fuzzy and warm around the edges already, and you're caught up in watching the way Oliver's hands work.

"Why 'd you put up with her?" Oliver asks bluntly, frowning at his work. Venetia's indignant 'hey' goes otherwise ignored by the three of you and it takes a long moment for Felix to respond.

"She's my sister?" But in his confusion it sounds more like a question, talking about Venetia like she's not even there. But Oliver stops, and finally looks at him; he offers a rather sad looking, clearly unfinished joint, not as an offering but as a silent request for help. Felix takes it and tries not to look too endeared by Oliver's failed attempt as he fixes it.

"Not you, Felix," Oliver, after a moment, looks away from Felix, right to you, eyes wide and earnest as he watches you take a long draft of your own joint, now burned well down. His gaze makes his intentions clear, but still he offers, "she's mean to you too." Too, like he'd pointed out about Farleigh all those months ago.

"They like it," Venetia scoffs at the sky dismissively, but Oliver refuses to acknowledge her, even if Felix takes a moment to scowl at his sister and her constant, casual degradation of you. But a slow, amused smile spreads across your lips in the moments that follow, you can't help it.

"I love that you worry about me, Ollie," you sigh almost dreamily. Clearly not expecting that, you have the pleasure of watching Oliver blush with surprise, "you're so fucking pretty, Ollie," you add, though you're pretty sure you couldn't have stopped yourself from saying that out loud if you tried. He blushes harder, while Felix and Venetia both try and stifle their giggles; you take another hit, tilting your head just a little as you look at him, analysing him. Finally, when you ask his favourite flower out of seemingly nowhere, Oliver seems like he can't function under your gaze like this, and chooses to lay back in the grass, mirroring Venetia.

"Darling, you're such a lightweight," Felix snorts, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he holds the rerolled joint between his lips as if intending to light it. Before he can flick the lighter on, however, you take his chin gently in hand, guiding him to you, pressing the still-glowing end of your own joint to his unlit one for several long seconds, until his caught successfully.

When you and Felix join your companions in laying back on the grass, you do so together. His arm is around you, coaxing you to lay with your head on his chest, beside him under this perfectly blue sky.

"Why would you want to know something like that?" Oliver's voice reminds you he's there only moments later.

"Because their robot brain needs to know everything about everyone at all times," at least Venetia sounds fond when she chimes in, even if her words aren't exactly the most complimentary.

"You're lucky you're pretty, Vee," Felix cuts in with a casually cruel tone; you can feel the way he twitches with irritation, "because you have so few other redeeming features."

"I am pretty," Venetia agrees airily, pointedly ignoring his insult, "you're such a darling brother, Felix," she adds with painfully sarcastic faux-sweetness. Felix's only response was to sigh with incredibly loud disappointment, while you tried to stifle your giggling, caught up in the sensation of him tracing abstract patterns up and down your arms, and the idea that you could count on the ever-relaxed Felix Catton to always come to your defence. Had this been the case for years? Over a decade? Yes. Would it always make you a little bit giddy to think about? Almost definitely.

"And it's not like I'm wrong," Venetia finally broached the silence once more, "as if they don't already know our favourite flowers," she points out, before making a rather insistent noise. You bark at her command, it seems - those cheerful little yellow ones on the inner ring of flowers - dismissive, but the sound of her scoff has you correcting yourself, suddenly feeling a sting of shame and not quite knowing why.

"The chrysanthemums." The other three echo the name of the flower, one right after the other, all taking turns to turn it over in their minds and mouths as you almost burn your fingers finishing off your joint. As if trying to prove yourself, you add, interrupting them all, "Fi's are forget-me-nots."

Felix seems surprised to agree, like even he'd forgotten that detail about himself, or perhaps forgotten that he'd shared it with you, while Venetia's laughter has turned fond and knowing; it's a little condescending too, like she'd expected as much from you, but you try not to dwell on it. It's Oliver's voice that you focus on, endeared as he quietly murmurs the name of the flower to himself, like he can't quite believe something as soft as Felix having a favourite flower.

"Now I'm curious, Ollie," Felix finally speaks up, and you hear the grass shift beneath his head. He must be turning to look at the man in question, "do you have a favourite flower?" He pauses for a moment, "or is this one of our weird things, like wearing cuff-links to dinner every night?" He tries to play it off, but there's those notes of self consciousness that you're surprised he often gets when talking about tradition around Saltburn.

The grass near Oliver rustles, but your comfort overrides your intrigue to watch him.

"I think it's fox... Something?" Oliver says after a moment, "my favourite flower," he clarifies, "I haven't put much thought into it," he admits. You hum thoughtfully before asking if it could be foxglove. He confirms as much before going quiet.

There's a lull that follows in which Felix asks after Farleigh's whereabouts. Farleigh should be here, your hazy mind immediately chirps, you love Farleigh! Venetia sighs, sounding incredibly put-upon to be explaining that Farleigh was in the computer room, obsessing over his ex-boyfriend's MySpace updates that he'd missed lately. The ones about the tour.

"The guy from that Broadway show?" Felix asks with vague interest.

"No, his ex-girlfriend is touring with that Broadway musical, that he knows about, that he at least pretends he doesn't care about," Venetia corrected, "the ex-boyfriend is that one from that band, the one who wrote that song about him that got nominated for that award?"

"Grammy," you supplied automatically.

"Right," Venetia barely acknowledged you, "anyways, he's on that big, American tour with all those tragic, emo bands that are a big deal, which is apparently news to our dear cousin."

"Is that the one we were all talking about getting tickets to a few months ago?" Felix asks after a moment of silence, patting you on the arm as if his words weren't enough to get your attention. You hum in confirmation.

"I think so; The Warped Tour, we were going to make a vacation of it in LA this summer," you sighed rather forlornly at how the idea never got off the ground, "it was Anabel's idea -"

"- God, she's always been such a groupie for those kinds of boy-band-types -" Felix mutters derisively under his breath as if he hadn't spent the better part of two semesters inviting her to his dorm to listen to him play guitar knowing full well she'd practically be on her knees at the very suggestion. So of course you ignored that aside to finish your explanation.

"- except she turned around and said she hated the line up, when really she didn't want to admit her passport expired and she couldn't be bothered with the paperwork for a new one -"

"Actually," Oliver chimes in, though you're not sure if he was adding to the conversation, or if he'd even been listening, "when I was a boy I got to go to this botanical garden that had all these fancy flowers usually from the rest of the world." Oh. Flowers again? Sure. "There were these ones that got flown in from Australia, and I couldn't help thinking that they weren't worth it to fly all the way over here from Australia. Too long and curly and pointy; pretty, but not the kind that..." something about the way he speaks about the experience, about the flowers, it catches in your mind; Australian, long, curly, pointy, pretty, you tried to commit to memory, "that's worth spending your time on." He clears his throat and his tone seems almost forcibly lighter, "foxgloves are prettier, wouldn't you think? Yeah..."

Silence hangs between you all for several long, pensive moments.

"What colour were they?" You ask softly.

"Foxgloves?" Oliver knows you don't mean the foxgloves. He asks anyways. Everything always for the sake of the act, the pantomime of propriety.

"No."

"Red."

There is no more that needs to be said in the moment, but later you will be grateful when the details stick through the haze of your memories. Through the quiet, Venetia mentions how she misses the purple pincushions, how sweet and strange they were, and how cruel you have been to order the gardeners to prune the flowers before they can ever bloom.

The mere mention of those purple fucking pincushion flowers sours your mood; your one regret amongst your garden, a conceit to Felix that even he wishes he could take back knowing now how much you'd end up hating them. It's been a year since a single purple pincushion has bloomed in your garden, and you've been down here at least once a day all Summer, meticulous, pruning the bulbs yourself with much malice aforethought. Part of you is so filled with fury in this moment that you consider going over and uprooting the plants by hand right now, but Felix's arm around you, Felix's chest, solid and warm beneath your head, Felix's steady heartbeat in your ear, he grounds you.

For now you must simply remain content knowing that none of Eddie's precious, purple pincushions will ever bloom upon the grounds of the Saltburn Estate again.

"Venetia," expression pinched, you address her with far more coldness than you think you've ever directed towards her before, "shut up."

You don't remember when exactly during the day you asked Duncan to fetch you all the botany-related books in the house that made mention of plants native to the Asia-Pacific region. Knowing yourself, and knowing Duncan, however, you're not surprised by the small, neat stack you find the following evening on your desk in the lilac study.

While you fully intended on continuing your trend of wearing something provocative and continuing the pantomime of propriety with Oliver as the two of you had been doing each night for almost a week, Sir James raises the suggestion of a family movie night instead. Felix whines when Venetia and Farleigh champion the suggestion of a scary movie, and pouts when they bully Oliver into agreeing with them.

"Don't ask them," Farleigh groans when you're called upon for your opinion, "they're just going to say whatever Felix said but in a different voice," he rolled his eyes. You and Felix both choosing to flick little pieces of cantaloupe at him from your desserts does nothing but strengthen his argument.

Nobody thinks to ask Poor Dear Pamela her opinion, sitting at the end of the table, looking less than thrilled by the suggestion of The Ring, so everyone else decides that you and Felix are out numbered. On the way back to your rooms to change out of your dinner clothes, Oliver tries to apologise, and Felix tries to pretend that it's fine and he's just putting it on for Venetia and Farleigh and that he absolutely does not have the temperament of a rabbit when it came to anything scary. He is, of course, lying. But Oliver doesn't realise that just yet.

Venetia, always invigorated by a social triumph such as this, and never one to let a well-earned moment of joy pass her by, tucks her arm in Oliver's as the family meets back up in the living room. The moment is not missed by either you or Felix, who both glower at her bold display of affection as she ignores you and pulls Oliver onto the sofa. The large, plush armchair next to the sofa, with it's wide, low arms almost fits both you and Felix, though it's more of a token gesture than anything. No-one is surprised when he pulls you into his lap less than ten minutes after the film begins, arms around you and watching with his chin on your shoulder, ready to hide his face against your shoulder at a moment's notice.

When the film ends and the lights come back on, Venetia finally notices how you and her brother are sitting, and opens her mouth with malicious intent in her eyes.

"Watch it," you warned her before she could say any choice, disparaging remarks, "remember who's kept you off of What Not To Wear the past six years," you remind her; Felix, giving you a little squeeze, levels a smug smile at his older sister over your shoulder. Venetia closes her mouth, expression immediately turning.

"I can't believe they're still making that show," she spits, stalking from the room. Farleigh, finally getting up and stretching, follows her out at a far more relaxed pace.

"I can't believe they're still fighting Y/N to put you on it."

With those two having left, Elspeth and Pamela both give you curious looks, Elspeth asking if it was true. You confirmed as much with a blithe shrug, finally getting to your feet.

"Years ago one of the hosts was trying to track Ven down after seeing her on a red carpet and word got back to dad - or, well, his assistant at the time - and he remembered that I'm pretty close with the Cattons," you gave a humourless smile, offering Felix your hand to help him up from the sofa, which he gladly took, "however Ven was deeply offended when I asked her if she wanted to be on the show," Felix let himself chuckle at that, while Oliver was taking longer to stand, strange look on his face as he listened to you with surprisingly rapt attention.

"And they've been, what, continuing to ask after her even though she's said no?" Elspeth frowned, but you sighed, shaking your head.

"No, apparently Ven sent in a particularly rude letter despite me informing them of her refusal, and now dad's assistants seem to think I'm her agent and I get a call every time the show is threatening to add her photo to a montage of worst-dressed celebrities."

"Didn't she freak out when you refused to get an episode pulled when they actually did it?" Felix snorts, to which you rolled your eyes.

"That's why dad's assistants keep calling me, because of how she reacted to that episode."

You do feel a little bit bad for Venetia in this moment, when you see the resigned disappointment in both her parents' eyes at the story. The rest of you do finally filter out at this point, all heading back to your separate rooms. The walk is quiet for the most part, except for when Oliver, who'd been looking as though he was ruminating very hard on something, looks to you.

"Y/N, what does your dad do for work?"

You know and hate that Oliver sees the moment in which his question makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you try to not let it, nor how desperately you try to hide it. Shrugging as you desperately shoot for casual, you sigh.

"I'm pretty sure your guess is as good as his," you say blithely, so casually evasive that Oliver doesn't really think to call you out on it before you get to your room. But after you and Felix wish him good night and head into your room, you close the door and slump against it with a heavy sigh. Felix lets you have this moment of respite to yourself, quietly moving about the room, getting ready for bed.

"Do you think they'll even show up?" Finally Felix breaks the silence, and you just make a vague noise, "to the dinners they told mum they'd be at," he clarified after a beat.

"Probably," you muttered, dejected at the prospect as your mind wanders to the couple who reluctantly created you.

"They asked about you," you admit to Felix quietly. From what you can hear, he stops, "mum, specifically," the memory of the phone call with your grandmother burned bright in your mind; it wasn't particularly recent, had happened at the start of your last semester, but you'd kept it to yourself for so long. You'd tried to disconnect yourself from it, tried to take solace in your grandmother's fury on your behalf, but you feel your face heat up with your own anguish, "asked how you were and if you were still living in 'that beautiful house with the Reubens and all those royal portraits'," voice trembling with both heartache and resentment, you slide down the door, tears welling even as you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Nan sounded so angry when she told me," you whispered, knees drawn up to your chest, "I've never heard her like that; she made it sound like she yelled at mum for- for- for ages -" you feel when Felix settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. This is when you finally break, when you finally let yourself cry, whimpering, "but I bet mum just hung up on her the minute she felt like the fucking victim."

Felix isn't the one who needs to be apologising right now, but part of you knows you'll never get one from the people you crave it the most from. Still, he apologises with his lips against your temple. You know your best friend well enough to know his heart is breaking for you, and fuck you wish you had been strong enough to push back this breakdown, but you couldn't -

"She asked for you by name, Fi, full name," you sobbed curling up in his arms, burying yourself against him in your misery, "they haven't spoken to me or about me in eleven years; they haven't even said my name- they've acted like I don't exist to everyone - everyone - even to my own grandmother for eleven years!"

There's no easy sleep that can be found after a revelation like this, but Felix, even after he manages to drift off, is unwilling to let you go, unwilling to let you feel even the slightest bit alone for the rest of the night. It continues through the next day, even as you assure him you're fine, that you're glad for his comfort but that you've overcome the despair that had hit you so tremendously last night. It's not even much of a lie.

You spend the day with the family who'd taken you in without hesitation, and feel a swell of pride within you as you hear Oliver comment enthusiastically on the Palissy plates Sir James had always loved dearly. You yourself vaguely recall the plates getting a page to themselves in the very book you'd gifted Oliver about Saltburn, so you were glad to see him putting it to good use.

A little white lie about how deep Oliver's love for Palissy genuinely was really wouldn't hurt anyone. Honestly, it was worth it for just how brightly Sir James' eyes shined at one of Felix or Venetia's friends finally taking an interest in his antiquities like that.

But all day, Felix was never too far away. Not that he was incredibly obvious about it, at least not from anyone else's perspective, but you could tell. Quietly, you were grateful, even if you were still trying to convince the both of you that you were okay. Something about being able to just lean back and know he'll be there in times like this, times where you need him to be there but don't know how to say it out loud, is a comfort you never want to take for granted.

You want to thank him but it gets caught in your throat. But standing on his balcony as the sun sets, sharing a cigarette, you take his free hand for this one, quiet moment. Your voice is full of affection, full of thanks, full of love, too much for you to even look at him, focus kept on your hands, your fingers laced with his.

"My Felix."

"Always, love," he kisses your forehead.

That night, the only time you are without him is when you end up in the lilac study, wondering if Oliver will even show up after last night broke the tradition. Either way you'd use the time to continue to go through your botany books on the hunt for red, curly, pointy, Australian flowers. You keep seeing bottle brush but something in your heart said it wasn't right. However long you'd actually spend perusing the books tonight would depend on if you had company.

But eventually Oliver does choose to darken the doorway with that hungry-eyed stare you've never seen in the light of day, and you take your time with noticing him. Tonight you're lounging on the cream sofa in one of Felix's shirts, not even bothering to do the buttons up; you've pulled it mostly close for a pass at modesty, considering the only other thing you're wearing is underwear.

"'re you seducing me?" He sounds amused; you're surprised by how quickly he cuts to the chase, but you try not to let it show.

"Is it working yet?" You turn another page of your book before you finally look up, playing almost at boredom. Oliver, barely visible for the lamp light, the gallery beyond him nothing but shadows, huffs a laugh at that, and for reasons you can't quite understand, he drops his gaze. He breaks the moment, the rules of the game. Oliver doesn't look away, he never has before.

"You trying to get me in trouble?"

"Depends on what you consider to be trouble," your smile grows wider as you carefully set your book to the side, fixing your intrigued gaze upon Oliver properly, "perhaps I'm saving you from trouble." In a sense, the more nights you can get him to spend here with you, the less he's falling prey to Venetia's planting herself beneath his window you're sure she's doing, just as she had with Eddie a year ago. At least this time you've learned.

"I think you may very well be the trouble," Oliver looks up, just in time to see your wicked, delighted grin.

"Then I am definitely trying to get you in trouble," you don't even hesitate before firing off the inuendo, smiling wide and proud at your own quick wit. The sight of Oliver's very genuine smile and laugh catches you off guard too; it'd been so long since you'd seen it, you forgot how taken you were with him when he lit up like that. Then, as the laughter died down, Oliver walks in, he sits with you, lets you lean against him.

"You've been saying a lot of..." he hesitates, turning to you. Oliver wears a strange, lopsided smile, but from the corner of your eyes you see something reserved in his gaze as he takes in the sight of you in this moment, "generous things about me." He's too close to miss the way your breath catches. Venetia and Farleigh are dirty fucking snitches, "'s alright-" he tries, but there's clearly some kind of reservation in his voice as he staves off your stammered apology, "knew what I was getting into, didn't I?"

With Oliver's arm around you, you can't help but wonder aloud -

"Did you?"

"I thought I did," he admitted softly, and you tipped your head onto his shoulder, then you feel him shift, feel his lips on your forehead and voice soft, "I think I thought I'd be alright anywhere if I was with Felix." For reasons you try very hard not to think about in this moment, Oliver's words sting.

"Oh," it almost gets caught in your throat; your traitorous heart sinks in your chest for just a moment. Except Oliver gives you a squeeze, holds you tight as he seems to realise his mistake.

"Of course you're a given," it almost salvages the moment, and of course you feel as though you have to act like it does, but there's something tight and unfamiliar balling up in your chest. "Felix loves you," Oliver sounds almost wistful, words coming out more like a faint breath, but perhaps it's this strange new feeling in your chest that makes him harder to read in this moment.

"He loves you too, Ollie," you tell him, forcing yourself to inject some levity into the moment. This time it's you who moves, who turns your face to Oliver, forehead against his as you muster up the warmest smile you can manage, pressing against him, making a show of overwhelming affection, "we both do," of course, your tone says, obviously.

And Oliver actually giggles at that, so it must work. In the next moment he's pulled you into his lap. It's so easy for you to readjust, to fit in his arms, in his space, against him, like it's where you were always meant to be.

"Is that you talkin' or Felix talkin'?" Oliver asks finally when you've got your arms settled around his neck, "I don't mind, I'd just like to know."

"What 'd you mean?" You ask, curious about the wording and it's implications. Oliver visibly hesitates, though he seems more embarrassed for whatever was about to come out of his mouth than anything else.

"Speakin' with Venetia made me realise how little I actually know about you," Oliver says carefully. Almost immediately your expression sours, and a long, exasperated sigh is pulled from you, "she's a deeply confusing woman, isn't she?" He adds almost like an afterthought, and you barked a quiet laugh.

"That is a very kind way of putting it," you offered diplomatically after a beat, before letting go of Oliver and leaning yourself back against the arm of the sofa, considering your next words carefully. His hands come to rest on your stomach, but you're surprised when he does up two of the buttons of Felix's shirt, providing you with a little more modesty. Then, his hands come to rest on your stomach and thighs, warm and unmoving.

"You're a deeply confusing individual yourself," Oliver pushes softly, "when I think about you too much, I realise there's not much to think about, least nothin' you've told me," and you hum noncommittally, looking up at the ceiling. The next words that escape you are from a script you'd thought was long buried.

"Yeah but that's kind of the point; I'm not really meant to matter, or be looked at, or thought about -" the words seem to shock even you, eyes going wide as you look to Oliver. The intensity of his stare has your heart hammering against your ribs as you try to back pedal, "sorry- that's not- I mean- sorry, that's really not, anymore that is -" you didn't even believe that anymore, right? Your place in the world as impressed upon you by your own parents for the first ten years of your life. Surely having spent more time by now with Felix and the Cattons than you ever had with them was enough to rewrite a good deal of the cruel way in which you'd been hardwired.

Oliver reaches out, caressing your cheek with that confident smile he only ever seemed to wear when the sun couldn't see him. He tells you that you matter, with absolute sincerity. Then, expression lightening to something fond, even teasing, he warns you not to let Felix catch you talking like that, that his love for you was the kind that would have him throwing a parade just to prove that self-doubt wrong. It was a nice mental image, if only for a moment. You, Oliver, Felix, not necessarily a parade for you per say, but a mess of colour and joy and music in the city, together and happy and -

"I don't know if you'd want that," Oliver's grin is fading, and finally you sit back up, let yourself be wrapped up in him as he continues to trail his fingers across the edge of your face, down your throat, across your collar, "but then again Venetia thinks you don't even know how."

"How what?" Voice barely more than a whisper, you know he can feel how quick your heart's beating, his hand flat and warm on your sternum.

"How to want for yourself, 'least not anything outside of Felix," he keeps his gaze trained on his hand, heel of his palm pressing firmer just over your heart, "which is why I asked; you said you loved me, is that you or Felix talking when you say that?" And finally he looks at you. That tight, sharp feeling in your chest spikes when he meets your gaze. He looks so earnest, so open, so ready for either answer.

But you stand, leaving both yourself, and Oliver's lap cold, but hoping your smile is warm enough compensation. Except you can hear in his voice that he believes Venetia; she'd confirmed what he'd suspected, it's what he left unsaid the night you'd slept with each other. The only thing you wanted was so easily met; to be wanted, and seemingly content with nothing more outside of Felix. A contented sycophant, easy to please and happy to be used; you knew the world was happy with this being your place in it.

And the more you think about it, the more you think Oliver is too.

"Of course it's Felix," you tell him what you're almost certain he wants to hear. No need to scare him off with the expectations of your own feelings on his shoulders. Oliver watches you for a long moment, simply observing as you smile wider, and hope that it comes across as adoring, "which means of course I do love you too, that's a given, Ollie." The sharp discomfort is scraping at your ribs, more painful with each word, hollowing out your chest moment by moment, so you bid him good night, unable to bare the conversation for much longer.

"Just one favour, by the way, if you could," you add by the door. He makes a noise of intrigue, but you can't even bring yourself to look at him. It'll be another just person looking at a placeholder while they're waiting for Felix to be ready to love them back. Usually you don't mind. Usually it's enough and you can still enjoy their company and have your fun. But they aren't Oliver Quick, "just... please refrain from properly fooling around with Venetia? I know I sound like a hypocrite but," you take a deep breath, smiling wide enough that you don't even have to see Oliver, "it kind of goes back well beyond just you."

The next morning, stopping into the study before you head down to breakfast, you intend to collect the book you'd finally found those red flowers in. Top of your pile, you'd left it open on the very page. But you find that someone has turned the page. Scabious, in full bloom, mocking you, surely.

The botany book lay like a bitter seductress on your desk, left open, pages spread and staring up at you; purple fucking pincushions.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver x reader x felix #head heart hand fic #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton imagine #manic writer

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icedragonlizard · 10 months

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Headcanon: Kirby hugs everyone

Kirby is a very huggy boi. He loves giving hugs.

Pretty much anyone that is Kirby's friend is going to get hugs from him.

Hugs is one of Kirby's ways to try to provide comfort for someone. He's not good with words of encouragement as he's kind of nonverbal a lot of the time anyways. He'll give you a hug to try to make you feel better, and he also does it just to make you appreciated and cared about, since he wants that for pretty much everyone more or less.

Generally, this works out very well. Even people such as Meta Knight, Magolor, and Daroach that generally aren't huggers on their own are glad to accept hugs from Kirby. It's the least they can do after how lovable and endearing he is, and after everything he's done as a hero.

Every dream friend has received hugs from Kirby. Even Dark Meta Knight, who is generally the most reluctant out of them to accept a hug, has relented to Kirby hugs. Nobody can deny Kirby his hugs.

A lot of Kirby's friends love to return the favor and give him hugs! The most prominent examples of this are King Dedede, Adeleine, Ribbon and the animal friends. Out of the animal friends, Rick, Nago and ChuChu are the most happy to have hugs with Kirby any time. Nago in particular is just a straight up cuddlebug, he's a big hugger too!

ChuChu, Kine and Gooey may not have great skin texture for hugs, but does Kirby care? No. He gives them hugs anyways! Even though Kine and Gooey aren't able to hug back, it's not like they care, they enjoy getting hug by Kirby regardless! They appreciate him so much.

Marx rarely gets hugs in his life. Generally, he doesn't really care for hugs. That being said, Kirby has given him hugs... and he appreciates it! There's a part of Marx that does think it's rather amusing that Kirby chooses to give him hugs considering what happened between the two before, but he figures that the least he can do is accept those hugs! Kirby caught him by surprise one time by hugging him while he was bouncing on his beach ball, which then caused him to fall.. Marx ended up laughing after that because Kirby sure got him there!

The mage sisters normally aren't suited for hugs considering their elements cover their bodies (i.e. Francisca feels icy to touch, Flamberge feels very fiery hot to touch) but I headcanon that they're capable of turning off the elements inside their bodies to where they're capable of giving hugs. And they do that for when Kirby asks to give them hugs. They love hugging with Kirby! They owe it to him after he saved them and Hyness, who likes to hug him as well!

Out of all of Kirby's friends, though, the two that are definitely most needing and deserving of hugs are Taranza and Susie, considering the things that have happened in their lives. After Kirby reconciled with them, he's sometimes been going out of his way to act as emotional support for them. He's made sure to give them both tons of hugs... their grief makes him sad and he wants to them to still feel cared about and appreciated despite losing the people they loved.

Taranza needs hugs for obvious reasons. Dude is just heartbroken from all the things that happened to him. He's so grateful to Kirby whenever he gives him hugs, it often makes him cry happily. Kirby is effective at acting like an emotional support dog for him sometimes.

Susie has gone a very long time without any hugs. When she got banished to Another Dimension, she didn't have anyone that she could've given hugs to, and when she finally returned to her mind-controlled father that forgot her existence, he refused to accept hugs from her... tragic. The first hug that she's gotten ever since the Another Dimension incident was from Kirby when they reconciled.

Because Susie went so long without hugs, it's made her not used to physical affection for the most part. When Kirby hugged her the first few times, it made her flabbergasted, and it even made her cry when she tried figuring out how to respond to it. But eventually as she got more used to it, she really likes Kirby's hugs! Even if she's still not really one for physical affection otherwise, she's glad to have hugs with Kirby any time... she's grateful for it, as it's indeed helpful for her.

That's basically all I have for this post! As this post highly establishes, I headcanon that Kirby loves giving hugs, and will give a lot of hugs to those that need it. It doesn't really get more huggable than Kirby.

Kirby is such a softie. He has so much love and care in his heart. He cares so, so much. Whenever he befriends someone, he's going to act like a real friend to them. He might not talk very often, but it usually doesn't even matter because of how endearing he is. He wants his friends to feel cared about and appreciated, and giving them hugs is probably his best method of making them feel cared about.

Thanks for reading! More Kirby headcanon posts will come later!

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ilynpilled · 1 year

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GRRM on morality, heroism, villainy, and parallax in ASOIAF:

Time magazine wrote of you, “What really distinguishes Martin and what marks him as a major force for evolution in fantasy is his refusal to embrace a vision of the world as a struggle between good and evil.” Do you agree?

I think the struggle between good and evil is central to fantasy and, indeed, in some ways, central to most fiction. It's certainly a worthy subject for fiction. But I regard the struggle between good and evil as being waged within the individual human heart. […] You know, the greatest monsters of history, as we look back on them, thought they were the heroes of the story. You know, the villain is the hero of the other side, as sometimes said. That doesn't mean that it's all morally relative. That doesn't mean that all things are equally good and evil. I think there is good and there is evil in the world. But you know, it's sometimes a struggle to tell one from the other and to make the right choices. I've always been attracted to great characters, maybe because that's what I see when I look around the real world, whether I read about it in history books or the news or just people I meet. I mean, all of us have it within ourselves to be heroes. All of us have it within ourselves to be villains. We've all done good things in our lives, and most of us have also done selfish things, cowardly things, things that we're ashamed of in later years. And to my mind, that's, I don't know, the glory of the human race. We're such wonderfully contradictory, mixed-up creatures that we're endlessly fascinating to write about and read about.

via

In your work, you have essentially captured Mikhail Bakhtin's concept of polyphonic fiction, where the characters are equal, and the reader can root for any of them. This has been impossible to convey on the TV series.

I wouldn't say all the characters are equal, but they have (hopefully) human traits, especially the viewpoint characters. I have seven viewpoint characters in the first book, and each book has a few more. So, by now, we're probably up to 12 or 13 viewpoint characters, and those are the ones where I go actually inside their skin, so you're seeing the world through their eyes. You're hearing their thoughts. You're feeling their emotions. And I try to paint over those viewpoint characters, and some of them are noble and just, and some of them are kind of selfish, and some of them are very intelligent, and some of them are less intelligent and even stupid. But they're all human, and I want to portray their humanity. […] I think the battle between good and evil is fought all over the world, every day, in the individual human heart, as we all struggle with the choices that define us and define our lives. And we have to choose what we are going to do, and sometimes the choice is not easy; it's not this absolute juxtaposition of the good guys and the bad guys. And I wanted to get to that with my characters, and show some of the difficulties that they face.

via

Another element I liked about the series was the moral relativism of many of the characters. Too many Fantasies rely on the shorthand of truly evil villains in the absolute moral sense, but your characters, while they might commit terrible acts, generally do so either from short-sighted self-interest or because they truly believe they are acting for the best. Was this a deliberate decision, or is it just more interesting to write this way?

Both. I have always found grey characters more interesting than those who are pure black and white. I have no qualms with the way that Tolkien handled Sauron, but in some ways The Lord of the Rings set an unfortunate example for the writers who were to follow. […] Before you can fight the war between good and evil, you need to determine which is which, and that's not always as easy as some Fantasists would have you believe.

via

Do you purposely start a character as bad so you can later kill them?

No. What is bad? Bad is a label. We are human beings with heroism and self-interest and avarice in us and any human is capable of great good or great wrong. In Poland a couple of weeks ago I was reading about the history of Auschwitz - there were startling interviews with the people there. The guards had done unthinkable atrocities, but these were ordinary people. What allowed them to do this kind of evil? Then you read accounts of acts of outrageous heroism, yet the people are criminals or swindlers, one crime or another, but when forced to make a choice they make a heroic choice. This is what fascinated me about the human animal.

via

Martin's realm is not one of unambiguous heroes and villains. His characters, from royals to peasants, tend to be ethically mutable. So-called good people, like the noblemen Ned Stark, his son Robb Stark or the indomitable Daenerys Targaryen ("the Mother of Dragons"), make terrible mistakes - out of weakness, pride or an overly rigid sense of right and wrong. And horrible people, like Jaime Lannister, known as "the Kingslayer," do terrible things and then, over the course of several books, reveal themselves to be capable of heroism and sacrifice.

As we're discussing this in the theater, Martin quotes Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" from memory: “The evil that men do lives after them ;/ The good is oft interred with their bones.” Then he adds his own version: “We shouldn't forget about the evil that good men do. But we shouldn't forget about the good either,” he says. “I do think a society needs heroes. They don't have to be flawless.”

via

Your books have a very strong storyline associated with the atonement of sins. For example, the way of Jaime Lannister, do you yourself believe in karma?

I don’t believe in karma per se, although sometimes I have my doubts because sometimes I think I see things that could be explained by karma. But no, I don’t really have any beliefs in the supernatural. I do believe in the possibility of redemption. And I believe that human beings, all human beings, are grey. And I try to remember that when I write my characters. We are all heroes, we are all villains, we all have the capacity for great good and we all have the capacity to do things that are selfish and evil and wrong. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. In your lifetime, you can be both. And it’s making choices that defines us as human beings. There’s this sensation of compartmentalism. This eagerness to judge everybody based on the worst thing they ever did, not the best thing they ever did. And you know, I think Shakespeare in "Julius Caesar" wrote “The evil that men do lives after them ;/ The good is oft interred with their bones.” And sadly that’s true. And I think it should be the reverse. We should remember the good things and the noble things that people did, and forgive them for their failures and moments of selfishness or wrongdoing because we all have them. When we forgive them, we are essentially forgiving ourselves. Redemption should be possible.

via

Are there any characters that you've kind of fallen out of love with, that you just don't, you know, get excited about any more?

I still love all the characters. Even some of them who aren't very lovable. At least the viewpoint characters. When I'm writing in the viewpoint of one of these characters, I'm really inside their skin. So, you trying to see the world through their eyes to understand why they do the things they do. And we all have, even characters who are thought of to be bad guys, who are bad guys, in some objective sense, don't think of themselves as bad guys. […] “What evil can I do today?” Real people don't think that way. We all think we're heroes, we all think we're good guys. We have our rationalizations when we do bad things. “Well, I had no choice,” or “It's the best of several bad alternatives,” or “No it was actually good because God told me so,” or “I had to do it for my family.” We all have rationalizations for why we do shitty things or selfish things or cruel things. So when I'm writing from the viewpoint of one of my characters who has done these things, I try to have that in my head. And I do, so there's an empathy there that makes me love even people like Victarion Greyjoy, who is basically a dullard and a brute. But, he feels aggrieved and sees the world a certain way. And Jaime Lannister and Theon Greyjoy, they all have their own viewpoints. I love them all. Some I love more than others, I guess.

Who do you think to be the most important characters?

They're all important. I don't favor them, or I don't think of them in terms of importance. The viewpoint characters in the first book I have are Bran, Tyrion, Catelyn, Ned, Jon Snow, the two girls Arya and Sansa. There is the core of the Stark family plus Tyrion to represent the Lannister family. Then I have Dany on the other side of the sea, Daenerys Targaryen, whose story runs parallel and some ways doesn't connect to the others, but some day I'll eventually bring those two stories together. In each subsequent volume I drop some of my viewpoint characters and add new ones. Although the same core still dominates, the cast changes somewhat, and I like to do that. In the third volume which you haven't gotten to yet (he refers to me) I have a new viewpoint character. He's been a major character, but now you see things for the first time through his eyes. Which I think changes your perception of things somewhat. I like to play that kind of game, because we all have our own way of looking at the world. Something occurs and two people witness it. They might have very different versions of what happened, and very different explanations. I like to play with parallax in my fiction, and get different versions of the same thing.

via

A Song of Ice and Fire has much of the complex texture of authentic history, both generally and in its specific echoes of actual historical episodes. What laws and principles (if any) in your view govern human history, and how has your understanding of historical processes shaped the series?

Historical processes have never much interested me, but history is full of stories, full of triumph and tragedy and battles won and lost. It is the people who speak to me, the men and women who once lived and loved and dreamed and grieved, just as we do. Though some may have had crowns on their heads or blood on their hands, in the end they were not so different from you and me, and therein lies their fascination. I suppose I am still a believer in the now unfashionable "heroic" school, which says that history is shaped by individual men and women and the choices that they make, by deeds glorious and terrible. That is certainly the approach I have taken in A Song of Ice and Fire.

A Song of Ice and Fire undergoes a very interesting progression over its first three volumes, from a relatively clear scenario of Good (the Starks) fighting Evil (the Lannisters) to a much more ambiguous one, in which the Lannisters are much better understood, and moral certainties are less easily attainable. Are you deliberately defying the conventions and assumptions of neo-Tolkienian Fantasy here?

Guilty as charged. The battle between good and evil is a legitimate theme for a Fantasy (or for any work of fiction, for that matter), but in real life that battle is fought chiefly in the individual human heart. Too many contemporary Fantasies take the easy way out by externalizing the struggle, so the heroic protagonists need only smite the evil minions of the dark power to win the day. And you can tell the evil minions, because they're inevitably ugly and they all wear black. I wanted to stand much of that on its head. In real life, the hardest aspect of the battle between good and evil is determining which is which.

via

When you are writing the different conflicts in Westeros, do you personally pick a side? Or feel that one side fights for a more just cause than the other?

Yes, certainly. I mean, I’ve often said that I believe in grey characters, I don’t believe in black and white characters. But that’s not to say that all characters are equally grey. You know, some are very dark grey, and some are mostly white but they still have occasional flaws. I’ve always been fascinated by human beings and all of their complexity— even human beings that do appalling things, you know, the question is ‘Why?’ And it’s interesting to get inside their head and see why. Some of my viewpoint characters have done some incredibly reprehensible things: Theon, for example, or Victarion Greyjoy. Why? Were they born a monster? Weren’t they born like a cute little kid wanting to be loved and all that? We all start out that way, right? But things happen to us on the way that lead to junctures in our lives where we make decisions, and those decisions and the consequences of them color everything that comes after. You look at [historical figures] and what’s the verdict on these men? Are they heroes, are they villains? Are they great people, or people we should despise? I mean, they are fascinating characters because of their complexity.

via

“I don't concern myself over whether my characters are “likeable” or “sympathetic.” (I had my fill of that in television). My interest is in trying to make them real and human. If I can create a fully-fleshed three-dimensional character, some of my readers will like him/her, or some won't, and that's fine with me. That's the way real people react to real people in the real world, after all. Look at the range of opinions we get on politicans and movie stars. If EVERYONE likes a certain character, or hates him, that probably means he's made of cardboard. So I will let my readers decide who they like, admire, hate, pity, sympathize with, etc. The fact that characters like Sansa, Catelyn, Jaime, and Theon provoke such a wide range of reactions suggests to me that I have achieved my goal in making them human.”

via

“You want the reader to care about your characters — if they don’t, then there’s no emotional involvement. But at the same time, I want my characters to be nuanced, to be gray, to be human beings. I think human beings are all nuanced. There’s this tendency to want to make people into heroes and villains. And I think there are villains in real life and there are heroes in real life. But even the greatest heroes have flaws and do bad things, and even the greatest villains are capable of love and pain and occasionally have moments where you can feel sympathetic for them. As much as I love science fiction and fantasy and imaginative stuff, you always have to go back to real life as your touchstone and say, ‘What is the truth?’”

via

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notmorbid · 8 months

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happiness falls.

dialogue prompts from happiness falls by angie kim.

there's a fine line, if any, between optimism and willful idiocy.

why would you assume things can't go wrong just because they haven't yet?

hanging up an iphone isn't nearly as satisfying as slamming down a landline.

hope is dangerous.

intuition trumps intellect every time.

it isn't like i was keeping it a secret.

i'm working on seeming less bossy.

you are too old for this juvenile bullshit.

bring a first aid kit, just in case.

i never read the articles, only the cartoons.

i know what you're thinking. i'm thinking it, too.

i won't tell you not to worry, but take care of yourself.

sometimes it's the tiniest difference that can make the most difference.

are you a spy?

my life just isn't that interesting.

no shutting me out and trying to do everything yourself.

i have no idea what you're thinking, but i'm thinking i need coffee asap.

'greetings'? who in hell says 'greetings'?

i'll never scare you like that again.

don't force me to ask.

i wanted to just fucking die.

i feel badly about how we left things.

i thought we were open with each other.

shame is the most powerful and long-lasting emotion we have.

the best defense is a good offense.

stop talking. don't make it worse.

it's easy to be generous when you've taken so much.

i can't fall apart. someone has to get shit done.

i care more about authenticity and honesty than tact.

i didn't realize you still did that.

sometimes, in moments of great stress, we revert to childhood behaviors.

i love your sarcasm when it isn't pointed at me.

thinking and planning are luxuries we can't afford.

'no withholding anything from anyone'. that's my new mantra.

you have to save the highest penalty sin for last. build up slowly.

slow down. start from the beginning. what happened?

i don't care if i never find out what happened.

have you ever noticed how different things sound out loud instead of inside your head?

you can be honest without being cruel.

what are you hiding? i can see it behind you. what is it?

when you can't talk, people assume you can't understand.

i am a different person in english.

can you blame me?

sometimes semantics matter. words matter.

i'd rather give you the benefit of the doubt.

i would be horrible at your job.

you know a lot more than anyone's given you credit for.

a fucking break is what i want.

it did not feel 'rare', living through it.

everyone thought they were next.

there are some things you can't say out loud.

i'm glad we tried.

anger feels so much better than grief.

i don't like remembering it.

it's okay if the answer is no.

god, we're a mess.

this isn't a movie. this is real life.

if this was a 'choose your own adventure' book, what would you hope for?

when did you wake up?

there's no harm in hoping.

how long will i feel this way?

the first try is always the hardest, right?

the world should have to accommodate you, for once.

you can squeeze my hand when it hurts too much.

stop playing games and say what you mean.

you've been doubted long enough.

you doubted me, didn't you? just a little.

i don't want to forget. i want to remember.

i still have good days and bad.

#rp meme #rp memes #sentence starters #ask memes #inbox memes #ask meme #families

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 8 months

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Oh this is going to hurt... a lot.

I should be worried if the first thing I do after an episode isn't open Photoshop. Normally, I would now recall the best scenes of the series and decide on a set… But not today, even though I have the time. I once wrote that when a series can no longer catch me, you can tell by the fact that I stop making gifs… Okay, sometimes I just don't have the time. But today… I wouldn't even know which scene to choose, because there was nothing that got me, nothing that excited me and nothing that I felt emotional connected to. Instead, I have a lot of thoughts in my head that all want to get out somehow.

After the over-emotionalization of the last episode, I had actually already given up on Last Twilight. And that really hurts to admit. I loved the series from the very first second and I just thought it was so good! The problem for me was that they tried to just touch the audience's tear triggers, their emotions, all of them. And they forgot that too much of a good thing is simply not good. For me, episode 11 was right on the edge of what was bearable and I still don't think Day did the "right" thing. You're allowed to argue in a relationship and hold different opinions and then talk about why you hold a certain point of view, for example. If the other person can't deal with it, if you can't find a compromise, then you have to take the consequences, yes. But that wasn't even done here.

Day insinuated that Mhok pitied him, didn't listen to Mhok's side and today we learn that Mhok really only felt pity? Really? And that he is happy Day broke up with him so he could grow? Really? That is so fucking stupid. Day has problems with pity, that's understood and ok, but it's also ok for Mhok to make his own priorities in life and decide for himself not to want to leave, but to stay with the person he loves. But Day took that decision away from him. They could have talked about it. Different perspectives can also make a big difference. But no. Day pushes Mhok away and Mhok lies to Day… But back to tonight's episode. I was actually done with last week (yeah nope, I know). You can see that they tried to find a highly emotional ending that everyone seems to agree with and can cry into their handkerchiefs. The number of fuck yous I hurled at my laptop today shows me that the trick didn't work on me. It was all so over-emotionalized that it just felt fabricated and fake. And that's so sad, because the show felt so fucking real until episode 10. And now it was a weird cliché-ridden cringe-fest.

Honestly, if I had been dumped like Mhok and then ignored for three years, the time I spend thinking about that person would be really wasted. I'd be so fucking angry (probably not anymore after three years, I just wouldn't care). But Mhok immediately starts flirting. They pick up where they left off, but there's three years and thousands of kilometers between them. Unrealistic for me. And then Mhok just carries on, whispering to Day about what's happening and what's going on and just acting like his boyfriend again, holding his hand, helping him get dressed, showing him where everything is. I was a bit surprised that he didn't feed him. And Day is confused and just smiles. I think as a viewer I was the only person who was angry at the end. There were no bad emotions. Nothing. And that felt so fucking wrong!

And then comes the wedding and talk of second chances and of course Day says no because he's too scared someone will take pity on him. Yeah, fuck man, shit happens. and Mhok can't or won't give up. An emotional chase begins and the bride and groom leave their own wedding for the two of them and I lost faith in everything. And of course the plane is gone and of course they're all checked in because the passport was scanned and of course Mhok turned around and went back and of course he clued Night in and of course they end up doing the same dance they did back then and of course the family watches them get back together. And of course the series ends with a bunch of sugary sweet scenes from "call me mom" to sunset and let's repeat this most beautiful and heartbreaking moment from the past epsiode without any emotional impact. It was so predictable and so, I'm sorry, so bad. I'm so angry! And of course he gets his sight back. After all, what kind of a message would it be if Day remained blind? Is that possible? That a blind protagonist can find happiness and love and lead a successful life? No, it's not possible. He has to be able to see again. He has to become normal again in order to lead a normal life. What a shitty message! Damn!

Sometimes less really is more. Not everything has to be perfect and normal. At least that's the lesson I thought I should learn from this series.

If anyone has any gif requests, my inbox is open, but I don't think I'll be making any on my own. At least not today and not with this anger in my stomach.

#josi watching bl #just my thoughts #just my opinion #last twilight #last twilight the series #last twilight ep 12 #I want to scream right now #I am still so fucking angry with this ending #bl drama #bl series #thai drama #thai series

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theladyragnell · 5 days

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oh my gosh as soon as I hit send I immediately thought of another tantalizing possibility if your spoons so permit - Z, for either Kel/Neal/Yuki or Kel/Neal? Any verse!

(This ended up being an alternate POV of a bit of playing out a lot of hypotheticals towards the end, so if you haven't read that one, this probably won't make much sense!)

The day before her Ordeal, Kel wrote a poem, and felt silly the whole time, her face flame-hot with a blush.

She didn’t think of herself as particularly brave. It was too much of a word for ballads and legends, when “stubborn” would do just as well. Still, sitting with scraps of paper half-covered in sums and half-covered in bad translations of bad Yamani, her heart pounded more than it ever had when she was getting ready to charge down a tilting lane. Neal would think it was funny and fitting that for her, poetry took more bravery than galloping full speed towards someone hoping to spear her with a large stick, but that thought didn’t help like it usually would. Neal was the reason it was hard.

It had been a jolt, late that summer, after everything, to receive a poem without a careful authorial attribution and, quite often, biographical information, something Neal had started providing when he’d realized she liked to know. He’d grown so good at finding poems that fit the two of them perfectly that it was the lack of attribution that had made her realize what it was, the gift he’d given her. She’d read the lines over and over again until she memorized them by accident, something she’d only realized when she woke in the morning thinking and more, until the paper covers my desk like snow.

She’d known, then. She’d thought maybe it was true before, but she knew then that Neal loved her, and that she loved him too. The way Dom talked, it sounded like Neal was a flirt, like he’d write poetry for anyone, like he’d been in love with every woman in the palace, and Kel had let herself believe it, but it wasn’t true. Whatever he wrote to those ladies, it wasn’t six lines that were a bit of an insult to the Yamani form they aped. It wasn’t an observation that spoke to years of friendship and care and the shaky excitement of something else added on.

So Kel was staring down her possible death, if the Chamber of the Ordeal took a dislike to her after all the years she’d spent daring it to do its worst, and the last thing she had to do was write a poem, and she couldn’t blame Neal for his poem being a bad version of the Yamani form because hers was going to be so much worse. She didn’t even have the excuse of not knowing Yamani.

One thing Neal had done right was to focus on one small image, her letters laid out on his desk, with a fresh one delivered to fill another gap. If the whole of a feeling was too much to express, sometimes a single image would do. Kel, who’d never been good at expressing her emotions, certainly couldn’t encompass everything she felt about Neal in six lines.

There were too many moments to choose between. Neal in the infirmary on the progress, arch and on the edge of flirting. Neal in a hallway in Persopolis, recommending her a poem in honest sympathy for a loss even her friends didn’t understand. A beach at Queenscove and a kiss she couldn’t in honor give him.

In the end, though, it came back to letters. To the way Neal listened to what she liked and sent better poems, and the way he gave her moments of lightness while she was with the Own, and the way he teased and teased but always seemed to know when to take her seriously. To the smiles Lord Raoul and Sir Graeme and Dom gave her in the days after a new letter arrived, and the way Lerant rolled his eyes when she smiled reflexively when he approached with a stack of papers, because the rustle sometimes meant a new letter was coming.

The last image was the one that caught her. She thought Yuki and Shinko would approve of the specificity of it, the way she noticed papers rustling behind her and didn’t care if they were letters or expense reports, because even the thought they might be letters was still a good one. They might also tease her a little for being prosaic even in poetry, but she didn’t mind that, especially since if she was lucky they would never know, and their opinions would remain theoretical.

Kel had hoped to spend her last day as a squire out in the forest with Peachblossom and Jump and the sparrows, to gain some solitude, but she ended up spending most of it at her desk, writing and rewriting the same six lines until they were good enough to go in the book beside Neal’s own poem, a response and a hope.

By spring, she would be back on the Scanran border. Horribly, Neal would likely be there too, if farther from the action. Whenever she thought of it, she had to avoid thinking about the last time she’d touched the Chamber door, before Third Company had gone north in the spring, about finding a field hospital sacked and raided, finding Neal speared through with no clever words left in him, just a mute appeal for help she couldn’t give him.

There was a winter first, though. Time enough to work through what they could be to each other, what promises they could make without courting heartbreak. Staring at the poems next to each other, his elegant handwriting next to her utilitarian script, the words different but the subjects the same, she couldn’t worry too much about the heartbreak. Everything else, maybe, but not that.

When the ink was dry, Kel gently shut the book where Neal had carefully written out all the poems she liked best, where there was still more room for another year of poems, but not much more than a year. They’d need a second volume, someday.

“Going out so close to time, Kel?” Raoul asked when he caught her in the corridor, book tucked under her arm.

Kel badly wanted to squirm. He’d been through the Ordeal once, though, and he’d seen her the morning of Joren’s. He had to know she would want to be prepared. “I know it’s last-minute. I just need to—leave this. With someone.”

His mouth quirked. He’d spotted the book, clearly, and it seemed like every member of Third Company had teased her about her ever-present poetry book in camp. She stored Neal’s letters between the pages, and had had to remove them so she didn’t give too much away. “With someone, of course,” he said. “Well, don’t let someone distract you for too long.”

Her face had to be flaming. She ducked her head. “I won’t, my lord. It’s just for safekeeping, that’s all.”

Raoul’s expression softened from teasing into concern. “You’ll get it back,” he said, more of a promise than he ought to be making.

“I just have to make sure he has it tonight,” said Kel, and went off down the hallway to be as brave as she possibly could.

#cendiar #answered asks #sometimes i write stories #i accidentally contradicted a minor detail from the fic but shhh we can just pretend neal's an unreliable narrator #anyway this is the second to last ficlet for this comically long round of them

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