#◐ ≫ ❛ my answer might surprise you ❜ 「asks 」. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tuliptic · 2 days

Text

My Way: Finding My Place in Adulthood

Don’t be afraid, dreams are everywhere, just keep going as I always have, this is my way.

Henlo adults here, this is another reading for y’all. This reading is specifically targeted to all adults: young adults to ease their minds; regular adults to get used to adulthood. Adulthood is really… Something… And this is coming from someone who’s turning 30 soon. I still have no grasp about what I’m doing, how I’m living my life, etc. Adulthood is still scary to me, though I have to say I’m seeing myself getting better and better day by day. Taking baby steps is important, as we all grow from what we experience.

Close your eyes, meditate on this topic and ask yourself the question: How am I supposed to move around in adulthood, being an adult? Breathe in and out, make sure your mind and heart is calm. Then, open your eyes to see which pile talks to you the most/draws you in the most. Once you’ve found your pile, scroll down to the respective parts to see what are the messages for you.

Pile 1 - Pile 2

Pile 3 - Pile 4

Disclaimer: This is solely for my entertainment purposes. Take only whatever you feel like it. If it doesn’t resonate, it’s okay to just drop it. Also, I do not consent to my work or images being used by third parties on this platform or other websites as well.

Decks used: Luna Cat Tarot Deck (Major Arcana), Linestrider Tarot Deck, Sweet Dreams Oracle Deck, Starcodes Astro Oracle Deck.

Pile 1: Don’t be afraid, dreams are everywhere

One card to represent you: The World

I feel like there’s some sort of fear and enlightenment here. Some of you have an idea of what you want to do or achieve in your life, some of you know your life purposes, most of you are content with how your life is right now and are just going with the flow. However, all have a certain discomfort in common, which is fear of uncertainty. Most here may have earth influence in your chart, where stability is needed, where you are able to hold certain control over your own life. What if I do this and I could no longer go back? What if I give up my job and pursue something else? You have the answers to these questions, but you’re not ready to take the first step because of how certain you are that things will not go as you planned and hence, you’re in a standstill. (PS: Some of you may be into spirituality as well, and you might be called to use this gift to achieve enlightenment for yourself and the people around you.)

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - Four of Wands rx

For some reason, I feel that… You expect difficulties. You don’t expect or believe good things can come to you without lessons or pain. You believe in fairness and balance, that amazing things can only come to you if you put in the effort and work hard. Hence, you tend to not take certain opportunities either because you think you don’t deserve it or you don’t think you’re capable of it. In a sense, I’d say that this way of thinking has caused quite some conflict and tension, not allowing you to enjoy the peace and security you usually like. What has brought you comfort in the past is now hindering you to accept new happiness in.

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - Seven of Cups rx

Seven of Cups is a card of illusion, but with it in reverse, it is a card of choice. This relates back to the first card pulled, the card to represent you. You know what to do, you are capable of doing it, but there’s fear holding you back. Or maybe, fears. To you, you’re not only jumping out of your comfort zone, but into a danger zone where you have no idea how to manage the risks. Accept your fears, let yourself fall, let yourself fail. Have courage, believe that you’ll still be able to stand up after the fall and grow better from it. You’ll be surprised with what you’re capable of.

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - Death rx

This card here is very self-explanatory: You fear change. That’s it. You prefer stability over anything else, and you fear losing control over what you have. What is yours needs to remain yours. This may stem from insecurities that were caused by traumas when you were younger, may it be people leaving you, or being disappointed by others, or something else. It has definitely affected your thought process, your understanding of the world and your way around it. The first thing that came into my mind was therapy, because there are some deep-seated issues that you may have. You’ll need to identify your fear, the root cause of it, work it out, and step out to try something new, constantly regenerating yourself on the way.

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Nine of Wands

You’re resilient. You may not think so, thinking that how you function is just the norm and everyone else does the same. No, you’re different. You have gone through a lot of things and those experiences help you manoeuvre yourself around the present issues, and you learn as you grind through the challenges presented. People may see you as an inspiration with how you manage to not dim your lights through the darkest nights. You need to know that you have a side like this, and that you’re able to encourage others through you being you. Shine. Accept yourself and shine brighter, be the inspiration you’ve wanted to be. You’ll be surprised with how things will fall in place and come to you.

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - Eight of Wands

I’d say building connections would help you in the long run. Eight of Wands is a card that talks about action, which is… Again, self-explanatory. But what sort of actions should you be taking? In what field? Connections and networking. I’d say most of you have a way with words, or some may even have 3H or 11H placements. By building a web of connections, you’re able to gather information and help from various parties that will help you to get on the right track. Some may even push you towards the direction that you want to head to. Be proactive in making friends, talking to people, and taking the first step. Once you throw yourself out, people will know you and will be able to provide the support you need. And then you can vroom your way.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Five of Pentacles rx

One comforting message here is that difficult times shall pass. You may think you overcame something but there’s more to work on, which you’ll realise that the issue you face is still affecting your decision making as of current. You’ve got to review your past and learn your lessons, know that you can’t afford to stay in this mindset for long. This card acts as a sign that it’s time for you to move from feeling insecure to a more adjusted mindset, which will be prompted when you see new perspectives. You will be receiving messages from your guides and higher selves in various forms. Trust your gut feeling, believe in every reason that makes you feel better.

Overall energy: The Tower, Five of Cups rx

The themes of lesson, growth and replacing things and values that no longer serve you. Liberation will come to you when you move past that phase that’s holding you back. Hmm… Lemme reword myself. This pile gives me the feeling of something promising is coming, but you’ll need to go through the lessons (aka accepting that good things can come to you without your expected cost, it’s alright to fail, the need to find out the root cause of insecurities, etc). Life will present opportunities to learn, and will bring in new people for you to grow together. You know you are loved. If you don’t know it, now you do. Believe it.

Pile 2: Finally we begin

One card to represent you: The Empress

I would say that you have a gentle energy, you’re the person others go to when they’re feeling down or when they need some advice. You radiate a warmth that’s calming, providing a space of comfort for the hurt and wounded to rest and heal. You are intuitive, tho I have to say that your wisdom outshines it. It’s not just wisdom, it’s not just gentleness, but also a sense of belonging, a place where one returns to. Your intuition is what gives you the ability to see through things, people as well as the unknown. Some of you may have clair abilities, especially claircognizance.

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - Ten of Pentacles

I would say that you expect to build a life, build a family of your own, to be your own source of whatever you want. You do not want to rely on other people for things, especially financial abundance and happiness. You want to be your own provider so that you would feel secure with it, and that you’ll be able to contribute or give out what you have without needing to be conscious of how others look at you. There’s a hint of family themes among this, so it could also be you wanting to be the provider in your new found family without losing your own independence, if this makes sense.

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - Ace of Swords rx

It’s doable, but it’s difficult. I feel that there’s quite some conflict between you and your family, resulting in you wanting to build a new family or to have your own found family. There’s this tension in you that is blocking a lot of blessings, I’d say. There’s a lack of clarity and undefined goals, preventing you from achieving success and happiness (depending on what you define them as). You will need to review your expectations, to set clear and measurable goals, only then you’ll be able to see your progress and further decide on how you want to proceed or to make changes along the way. Do not try to cover up facts or find excuses. You know that it’s not going to help you in the long run. Face it, accept it, work with it.

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - The Sun

Optimism is great, but being overly optimistic is not good. You tend to see the good side of things and may end up beautifying them, exaggerating them, or even fabricating them unconsciously. For some reason, I’m also seeing that you may be beautifying self-sacrificial tendencies, or attempt to attract people with your pain. You want to shine, want others to pay attention to you. Some of you may be prideful, but some would use whatever they’re “lacking” to attract attention. Example: Your friends use iPhone, and you use Android. Instead of saying you want to be different, you probably will go with the approach of “people who use iPhones are just keeping up with the trend and thinking that’s the higher end”, when in reality you can’t afford an iPhone. This is just an exaggerated example illustrated here for you to have an idea.

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Death

Change is your forte. Some of you may not know it, but some of you do (and perhaps do not accept it). It’s not flexibility that we’re talking about, but more of an open-mindedness along with acceptance. Once you’ve overcome your weakness, you will be more open to listening to what others have to say, and forming your own opinion based on whatever information you’ve gathered (from others, from your own research, as well as updating outdated data). The transitioning phase will be smoother during then, when you shift from the old to the new. Right now, I’d say that there’s still a part of you who’s unable to accept that you’re wrong, or incorrect at certain things. There’s no fault in having pride over your knowledge, but if it is hindering you from improving, then you may need to work on that.

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - The Emperor

Focus on your goals and what you want to achieve. For you, I’d say, one of your goals would probably be something that’s legacy related, may it be inheriting something (finance, career, skills, connections, etc.) or starting a new legacy (starting your own company, building network from scratch, starting to take up a very specific and niche role, etc.). I would also say that you’ll need to look straight ahead. The Emperor can’t afford to look around, only focusing on the path that’s in front of him where he tread carefully but boldly, carving the steps out for his people to follow (somewhat a legacy too). Do not be distracted, do not easily give in to temptation.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Eight of Cups rx

First thing I’d like to say is that your journey is going to be lonely. It’s not just going on that journey alone, but it’s something akin to a burden or a mission that you can’t tell anyone. You may have tried telling a family or a friend about it, and they don’t think it’s a big deal, resulting in you swallowing the pain alone, no longer willing to trust. The disappointment and disillusionment has uhhhh thicken around you. Think of them as fogs around you, and as they thicken, the more difficult it is for you to see your path. That. Communication with boundaries is very important for you right now, where you can put a balance between the socialisation and exposing yourself thoughtlessly. It’s difficult for some people, where you unknowingly overshare too much. Learn from it, find out a way that works for you. Open yourself to things, allow yourself to be open to inspirations from things and people around you.

Overall energy: Strength, Six of Swords rx

You’re strong, knowing where to go and how to reach your destination. Just that whatever that’s happening around you is preventing you from moving forward. You’re holding a lot of things back because whatever situations you’re in, but your passion and faith in life is strong enough to support you. You are doing your best with whatever you have right now, looking for opportunities in life’s challenges and learning the lessons. It is a difficult time, but have faith that things will turn for the better. Prepare your boat, and once the wind blows, set sail.

Pile 3: No matter what I’m going my way, to the place I’ve dreamed of every night

One card to represent you: The Chariot

I would say that you’re someone who’s goal oriented. You know what you want and you'll work towards it. I would also say that you may be impatient at times, wanting to achieve things in a short time. It feels like you feel that you're running out of time, especially when you compare yourself to your peers. For example, people your age have been talking about career advancement while you're still figuring out what to do, or your friends are married with kids and you're still single and feeling miserable. You know you're on the right path at your own pace, and you appreciate your days and blessings, but sometimes you just feel anxious about being “left out”.

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - Three of Swords rx

You expect yourself to be healed from your wounds and traumas soon. You want it quick, you want it urgently, and you’re pushing yourself far more than you can deal with at the moment. You probably may have gone through some childhood traumas and you’ve left them as they are. It may be due to the society or environment you grew up thinking that whatever you experienced was normal (Asian families, perhaps?). You thought vulnerability was a fault until recent years, where you learn to accept and honour them, and from there you proceed to heal your inner wounds. You may have thought that once you’re done with Phase 1, you can immediately complete Phase 2 of your healing, and… Sorry to break it to you, it’s not gonna happen that way.

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - Two of Swords

It feels like you’re asking yourself the question: Am I healed or not? And your answer to it is either yes or no. Which… Is not how healing works. Healing is a process; a journey, not a mathematical equation which is either right or wrong. You may think you’ve been healed but in reality, you may not have achieved that yet. You’re not seeing a lot of things yet, which is why you need to rely on your senses, especially hearing. You need to learn to listen to the whispers of others, may it be your friends or your guides. You are not alone, you have people accompanying you through this journey because you are loved. Healing is not linear, so take your time.

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - The Fool rx, The Devil

I would say that you have expectations and you may think you’re living up to that, believing that you’re better and you live like it. … Lemme rephrase myself: You think you’re alright and that you’re living as how you expect yourself to be when you are not. It’s like you’re putting on a mask to deceive yourself and to show others that you’re doing fine. There’s this saying that you’ll need to fool yourself first if you want to fool your enemy. That’s you. You’re pretending and putting up an act, which will eventually cause your downfall to be greater than what you’ve experienced. Your insecurities are devils in disguise, which you probably know of. Now that you know of this side of yours, you will need to think and use your brain to figure out as you go.

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Four of Swords rx, Eight of Pentacles rx

I would say that you’re very action based, and you think a lot. One thing that’s special about you is that you know when to stop thinking. Unlike most people, once they start thinking, they spiral into their thoughts and have no way out. You, however, know when to stop and how to pull yourself out from that headspace. From there, you then use that energy and time to focus on earth-themed items, such as career, work, fame, building something, etc. You’re basically the healthy combination of brain and physical energy, making sure both of these aspects are taken care of, working on them when others are still trapped in their heads. If you think that you do not have this trait, maybe you can try it out. I believe all can achieve this, but your pile is able to tap into it easily as compared to others.

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - Four of Pentacles

Learning to focus on yourself, to put yourself first before others. I’m not sure if you’ve been called selfish for putting your needs above others, but you’re not. You can only share when you have extra/excess, and that’s when sharing becomes something comfortable and meaningful. Remember, you are not supposed to burn yourself to warm others. Let yourself have your own time, build connections with yourself and with others. Collaboration is something that you can work on, may it be work related projects or personal projects. Passion projects are things that will help you redirect your energy, and for you to keep yourself occupied when you realise your thoughts are jumbled up again with the excess energy.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Three of Cups

I would say that you will need to build your own home with people you trust in, with people you’re comfortable with. You may have gone through quite some family trauma, and your safe space may no longer lie with it. Remember, home is where the heart lies. As long as you feel comfortable, comforted and safe, you are home. For some reason, you may have been seen as the black sheep of your family. You have been told that you have great communication skills (may also have 3H placements), and it would be great if you know how to use that skill to its full potential. There’s more you can do with it, may it be drawing people to you, or drawing people away from people who harmed you.

Overall energy: Judgement, Wheel of Fortune rx

I feel that you tend to judge yourself a lot, or people may have passed their biased judgement onto you when you’ve decided to not go their way. There are also some… Remnants? Of feelings of unjust? You have felt that life was unfair and things have not been going your way. Though you may have put that thought aside real quick cuz you believe in yourself more than what the stars or fate has said. You prefer to take things into your own hands instead of whatever higher beings there are out there, and I’d say that you’re doing a good job with it.

Pile 4: I admit it now life is a long marathon, the difference is that I set the course

One Two cards to represent you: The High Priestess, The Lovers rx

The first word that came to me is intuitive. You know you’re intuitive and you have used your intuition on a lot of things that came into your life, may it be making decisions or using it to discern those who come close to you with agendas. But still, you probably have some… Troubles with love? Not necessarily romantic ones, but platonic and love towards yourself as well. For some reason, I feel that you may feel called to be a lover. It can be self love, but personally, I feel that the energy here is more outwards, where you are supposed to love others, and yet there’s no one out there deserving of your love. Some of you may have 12H or Pisces placement as well, which may give others an impression of being dreamy or drunk in love. (My logical head thinks so, but for some reason I’m feeling that heart-clenching feel, as well as a sense of loss. Not sure how to phrase it well tbh.)

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - The Moon rx

Weirdly, for some reason, I’d say that you expect yourself to be… Different? You know you’re different and that you may sometimes feel that you are unable to align with how this world functions. Hence, when you feel you’re becoming too “earthly”, you may feel torn, because you expect yourself to do or achieve “unearthly” things, eg: to be a spiritual guru, to do reiki healing, etc. You are definitely one pile that is more prone to the spiritual side of the world, where you’ll often have a nagging feeling at the back of your head when you’re not doing anything of that sort.

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - The Empress

It is definitely something achievable, that is, if you focus on healing yourself as well as creating meaningful bonds with the people around you. One of the main themes of The Empress is to nurture, which you are called to not only nurture the people around you, but also to nurture yourself. You will also need to be with the right group of friends who will be able to help you flourish (and of course, you helping them as well, as this is a mutual relationship). I honestly don’t know what else to say about this because the message is repetitive, and I think you know it as well.

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - Two of Cups rx

This card in this position talks about tension, deception or even lack of trust between you and your spiritual side. For some reason, I’m feeling that you are holding too strongly to a certain thought or a belief. It causes stress and fatigue, making you lose hope in the process. Instead of taking a forced “temporary” approach, it would be better for you to reflect on what it brings you, and to let go of past beliefs that no longer serve you. Two of Cups is supposed to be a card of joyful celebration, a union between two parties. You will need to turn the card upright. It’s time to release the old and embrace the new, only then you’ll be able to grow into your very best self.

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Six of Swords rx

I would say that one of your strengths is special, because it is not so to a lot of people. You do not let your problems push you, but you work your way with it. See, most people’s first reaction is to solve the problem or to run away from it, but you choose to live with it and rebuild your life around it. There’s a part of you that is unwilling to make your life a mess by running and avoiding the problems. You surrender. Not in a negative way. You surrender the pain and stress, you abandon the old, limiting beliefs, and you live in the present. The best way I can describe it is… It’s like you’re a monk, where you live with whatever that is happening around you. Waves (troubles and challenges) are around you, and you’re on the boat, keeping yourself calm, not bothering with what the world is doing, keeping your calm. It's like you know there's a life after death and that you're working on it right now instead of being present in the current earthly life.

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - Ace of Wands

Ace of Wands is the first card in the Minor Arcana. What I’m picking up from here is that you’ll need to create a new beginning for yourself. I wouldn’t say it’s The Fool kinda journey, because The Fool’s journey is of meeting people and learning the lessons on the way. Your kind of journey is understanding what you want, seizing opportunities, and turning your enthusiasm into actions. You have an idea of where you want to go, when you want to reach there, how you’re going to move, with whom you will want to travel on this journey. I would also say that it would be a great time for you to filter your circle so that you’ll be able to go on this journey with the least distraction.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Four of Pentacles rx This is a time where you should consider relaxing your mind and remember that you cannot control what others are doing or holding. You know you have enough, and instead of focusing on the action of others, focus on yourself instead and how you can block out the noises. With this done, you will be able to move from a period of control and fear and anxiety to a stage of being more open (and blank). It’s like… Once you are able to clear your mind, those noises no longer mean a thing to you, and you’ll be able to focus on yourself and what you want to achieve. I’m also picking up words like “zen”, “calm” and “enlightenment”. … Yeah the word “monk” too.

Overall energy: The Devil, The Chariot

I am feeling some self-sabotaging themes here. It may sound difficult to accept but I do think The Devil here talks about you, where you’re embodying some traits, thoughts or beliefs that you’re unwilling to let go. Y’know how some things turn toxic when there’s excess or if you hold onto it for too long? That. It’s burdening you and you probably are actively trying to run away from it. I’m having the image of you being annoyed at how you’re not progressing, and you end up flipping the table, scattering all the plans you’ve made for yourself. Probably some big changes are bound. Clear up the space and welcome your spirit guides to show up in wondrous and unexpected ways.

#tuliptic #🌷#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reading #general tarot reading #self related reading #aite another reading here #i finally finished deciphering the cards and have completed this reading #i'll be doing some proofreading (if i have the strength to do so)#hopefully this reading sheds some light or gives you a lightbulb moment to work things out #hopefully you guys had fun with this #cheers

131 notes · View notes

coolprettyleo · 1 day

Text

my soul has changed? - will smith au

wc: 1.4k

tw: depression, suggestion of an ED, awkwardness? mean girl.

will smith x oc celebrini sister!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

april celebrini was in a point of her life where everything felt still. she was pretty sure she was suffering from depression and it was a cycle she didn't know how to get out of.

she would wake up, go to school, go to work, and then sleep. she was lucky if she fitted a meal in between that meant she had lost tons of weight.

she had been a pretty healthy teen, she played hockey up until high school alongside her brothers; but when the time came to play college hockey, she got no offers. contributing to her depression.

it was a sport she held so much love and dedication, she couldn't understand why she hadn't been good enough? I mean her brothers were good enough, they got college offers. macklin was even projected to go first overall, so why couldn't she?

those were thoughts that were constantly haunting her mind. if she found something to forget them they would flood back in, like if they wanted her to be a lifeless doll she had been feeling like.

her family had been really worried for her. she had finally seen her brothers after a year, at the NCCAA playoffs and it only caused them to worry more.

flashbacks

april knew that macklin and aiden were gonna bombard her with questions as soon as they were alone. they could hardly recognize her. growing up she was always a smiling person with a big personality and now she was about forty pounds lighter and was a ghost of the person she used to be.

"april what's going on" macklin said shutting the door behind him.

"what do you mean"

"cut the bullshit. I know your not okay, you barley answer my text anymore, what's wrong"

"it's nothing mack-"

"no it's not nothing, maybe I can fix it-

"you cant 'fix' it"

"and why not-"

"because I don't know what wrong with me!"

that had been about two weeks ago. she just didn't know what to tell her family. she really didn't understand why she had been feeling that way.

she was currently at work where she was a barista in a cute coffee shop. she honestly loved working there, she had got the job when she was in high school and had kept it till college. seeing as she didn’t move far away for college, choosing to stay close to her parents.

she often wondered if she might be happier if she moved away just like everyone else did, just like her brothers did. but it would always end in her telling herself; that it's not worth dwelling on.

it was currently six am and at this time of day there weren’t many customers. the cafe was always busy mid day when people were looking to find somewhere to study.

so she was surprised when she turned the open side around, to find a boy waiting outside to come in. a boy who looked a lot like will smith.

april wasn’t an idiot to hockey, she kept up with it a fairly good amount, so she would have to be living under a rock to not know the guy who dominated the ice at her brothers rivalry school.

that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to act like she didn’t know him.

he reached for the handle and took a look at her before turning as red as a tomato and blushing,

“hey, are you guys open?” he asked nervously, mentally slapping himself because he just saw her turn the sign around, to ‘open’

“uhm yeah I’ll be with you in a sec” she told him.

will couldn’t help but think her voice was cute. she had a rasp to it that made him want to give her everything she’s ever wanted.

april finished up, putting the coffee too brew and turned to the counter.

“okay! order when your ready”

“uhm. i actually never been here before… any recs?” he asked after a moment nervously scratching his neck.

“well I get a dirty chai, but considering my brothers hate it, you might hate it too… I guess you might like a frap?” she told him, a little too monotone.

“yeah okay” he told her again nervously. he found her to be breathtakingly beautiful.

he paid and stood back as she got to making the drink.

“you from here?” will asked hoping to make small talk.

“uhm kinda. I was born in Vancouver but moved here when my dad got a job”

will panicked. oh god was she still in highschool

april must of saw the worry on his face because she added,

“that was a couple years ago, im eighteen now” she said smiling at his face. something she didn’t do often anymore.

“oh, i’m eighteen too”

“oh yeah, what brings you to san jose, school?” she said innocently knowing very well he was drafted here and was most likely here to work on development.

“no. I”m came to meet with some people here. I go to boston college” he answered. april starting to not feel so bad because she saw he didn’t want to right away say he was a hockey player.

“far from home huh”

“yeah, i’m literally across the country from everything and everybody i’ve ever known” he told her wanting to slap himself. did she need to know that!?!

“i’m sorry. it’ll get easier” she said remembering her brother had been homesick too but utimatly started feeling better after some time-- as she handing him his drinks and gave him a sympathetic face.

“yeah i hope so, i should be moving here soon, if everything goes right” he said as he took a sip.

“hey this is good!” he said taking another sip as april smiled. something that will thought looked amazing on her.

april smiled at him remembering the fact her brothers liked that drink. boys were so typical

“i’m glad… and hey— if you ever need a friend in town my names april” she told him as she held her hand out to him to shake.

will starred at it for a moment before he quickly met her hand.

“will” he told the girl with a smile.

they were cut out of there moment when two customers walked in.

“I should get back to work. i’ll see you around will” she told him as he smiled a nodded and walked right out.

say something! ask for my number! do anything!

april felt really dumb after she basically just presented herself in a silver platter to the boy and he didn’t finish his part in asking for her number. he had definitely rejected her in the nicest way someone possibly could.

meanwhile will got into the Uber with a gitty feeling. she seemed really cool and having someone to hang out with other than his teammates was going to be so nice.

he was midway into the meeting with some general managers when he realized he didn’t even ask for her number.

“oh my god” he mumbled as he came to the realization

"i'm sorry?" one of the GM's said confused.

“uhh— I said I was excited to join the franchise!” he covered up, feeling like an idiot.

hopefully she was still there after the meeting.

the meeting had gone a little to long for his liking and as he raced down to the coffee shop he hoped she was working a long shift.

he opened the door to see a blonde girl who looked old but yet looked young, and a taller boy with curly hair working behind the counter.

“hi. is april working today?” he said breathlessly

the blonde eyed him for a moment before smirking,

“I don't recall an april ever working here...my name samantha though” she said with a face that will knew was a face of someone who was lying.

“yes there is, she helped me earlier-"

“if your here to file a complaint against her, I can totally help you then,” she said

“no she was great— wait, you said you didn’t know an april-“

“your looking for april” the other barista cut in

“yeah she was here earlier, i was hoping she was still here”

“she got off like two hours ago but i can give you her number!” the curly haired boy told will. he was one of aprils friends and he wasn’t going to ruin this opportunity for her.

“you totally can’t do that!” the blonde girl said in a nasally voice.

“shutup samantha. go take candy from a baby or something” he sassily told her.

she rolled her eyes before walking away to wipe a table down.

“sorry about her, here’s her number— good luck!”

“thankyou so much” he told him as he thought about what exactly to text the pretty girl.

both april and will not knowing the epic love story they were about embark on.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

hi guys! i hope this is kinda good, dont feel shy to send in ask and au thoughts… i like never get any but im so open to it!!

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey fic #will smith hockey #bc hockey #gabe perreault #ryan leonard #will smith hockey x reader #jacob fowler #bc eagles #will smith hockey x oc #will smith hockey imagine #april x will #gabe perreault x reader #nhl #hockey imagine

63 notes · View notes

nyrasproblm · 1 day

Text

I'm not the only one - 5

Leto Atreides x reader

Word Count: 1,2K

Warning: angst, age difference, arranged marriage, mention of infidelity, misogyny, reader is kind of toxic.

series masterlist | next chapter

Leaning further over the dark stone railing of your bedroom balcony, you rubbed your face with your hands in a frustrated movement. When you looked up, you stared at the large rugged stones that formed the shield wall.

You didn't know why you were so angry, it shouldn't surprise you, Jessica's pregnancy, after all, that's her purpose inside the castle, to sleep with him. But it didn't matter, you were very upset, furious, so before she could answer your question you continued chewing and the rest of the meal passed in silence. When you were done, you quietly left the table.

This happened a few days ago and you once again trapped yourself in the comfort of your quarters, not wanting to interact with anyone. You knew you might be acting childish, but you were too angry to even think straight. To make your mood even worse, you remembered your father and let out a disgruntled groan, hiding your face in your hands again.

Your father would make your life hell, through letters, when he found out that the duke's concubine was pregnant and you weren't, even though you explained a thousand times before you got married that the possibility of having an heir with him was minimal, since he already had one as an adult. Your father didn't care. 'It is a woman's duty to give children to her lord husband' was what he said.

You didn't really have any opinion to give, Leto was in charge of the castle, and he could do whatever he wanted. You were nothing compared to him. A soft knock sounded on the thick door of your quarters and you let yourself in without looking back, a huge danger, Thufir would kill you if he saw that.

"Milady Duchess, you must prepare for dinner with the Duke." Raja's serious voice spoke from behind you and you looked over your shoulder.

"Did he demand my presence?"

"The duke says it's your obligation as a wife, my lady." she replied and you had to remember all the etiquette lessons you had to not frown and send Raja away.

"Right." you replied and left the porch, walking in measured steps to the bed. "Help me, yes?"

"What dress would you like, my lady?" she asked.

"Choose it yourself." you replied in a tired voice.

"But, duchess–"

She stopped talking at the tired and serious look you gave her, turned and walked to the closet. It took a few minutes until she returned with a burgundy dress, made of soft material and with sleeves glued to the arms, gathered at the bust and near the skirts.

Raja dressed you and fixed your hair, she also ran a soft cloth over your face to improve the exhausted look, you hoped it worked. Holding back your sighs of irritation and discontent, you walked to the dining room and the guards opened the large doors, you walked through them and entered the large room.

"My lord." you greeted Leto, who was sitting at the end of the table, before starting to walk to the other end, but he cleared his throat.

"Not today, I want you to sit here next to me." he said, in a way that you couldn't decipher what he felt.

Using more of your etiquette training, you suppressed the urge to distort your face into an expression of disgust and gracefully walked to the seat next to his, sat down, and dinner began to be served. You ate silently, you had already learned to keep your mouth closed during dinners, just the soft noise of the cutlery.

"You locked yourself in your quarters again, from what I've been told." his voice cut through the silence.

Feeling your brow furrow in irritation, you couldn't help yourself:

"You are constantly informed about my every step, you never see it with your own eyes.”

The Duke looked up, but you kept your eyes on the wine glass that was next to your plate.

"I have to spend more time in the landing pad tower, I moved the staff meetings there." he said after clearing his throat. "I wish I could spend more time here."

It seems to me that you had plenty of time to put a baby in Lady Jessica, you thought venomously, but remained silent.

"I don't like that, our coexistence was better." he started again. "Tell me your thoughts, regarding my concubine's pregnancy."

"I have no opinion to express, sire." you replied, lowering your face.

"Don't call me sire, I'm your husband." his tone sounded slightly irritated. "I'm trying hard to treat you properly but you don't cooperate with me."

"My opinion is that the fact that she is pregnant is a huge disrespect to me, I know that our union is political but you must respect me at least in public." you spat, feeling the back of your neck heat up.

"A disrespect? I respect you, I have respected you since the day we got married." he replied, his brow furrowing slightly.

"It's not exactly an act of respect to impregnate your bedmate while I still have no heirs." you blurted out.

"I don't accept you talking about my lifemate like that." he scolded and you closed your hands into fists under the table. "And I made it very clear that I wouldn't have any children with you the first time we had dinner together."

"Is that why you started the conversation? To mistreat me like you always do?”

"I didn't mistreat you, I'm making your place in this union and in this castle very clear. Jessica has been my partner for sixteen years and is the mother of my son. You are nothing more than title and obligation." he finished speaking and took a deep breath, he seemed tired from the effort of saying everything in one breath.

His words carried so much truth that you raised your face and stared at the duke's troubled expression for a few minutes, before wiping your mouth with your napkin and asking for permission to leave.

Your stomach dropped as you walked into the hallway of your quarters and saw Lady Jessica standing near the door, her hands braided in front of her, her body draped in a simple black dress, her hair tied up in a bun, not a single strand of hair outside the top. place. Leto was right, you weren't even close to her.

"Lady Jessica, what are you doing here?" you asked when you got close to her. She swallowed hard and bowed to you.

"I was hoping to speak to you for a moment, Duchess." she replied softly.

"It's too late, we can talk tomorrow." you replied and surprisingly you weren't being venomous, it was really too late and you were exhausted.

"I do not wish to disturb you, my lady, I just want to clarify–"

"Tomorrow, Lady Jessica." you replied, feeling your head throbbing. "You should go and keep my husband company, he should already be in his quarters."

Passing by the catatonic figure, you entered your room and closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, closing your eyes and sighing heavily.

Leto's words wouldn't leave your mind anytime soon.

#writing #writers on tumblr #dune fanfiction #fem reader #leto atreides x reader angst #duke leto x reader #duke leto #leto atreides #dune fanfic #dune fic #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x you

55 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 2 days

Note

What do you think Salems goal is, exactly? It's obviously not ending the world to kill herself, but honestly I feel like she has ulterior motives than just "overthrow the gods".

I personally wouldn't be surprised if she wants to rule in the Gods stead after overthrowing them. She's already brought up replacing the gods, and seems to believe that humanity "needs" gods/guidance, but specifically Not The Brothers. I only say this because she was the one who said that humanity was more divided than ever without the gods and that they need guidance (and essentially replacement gods), not Oz.

It's hard to say whether she Still believes this, but since she parallels Darkness (to an extent) and destruction is essentially taking out the old to make way for the new, I definitely wouldn't be surprised. The Brothers are the old, Salem is the new n all.

I just find it hard to believe that all she wants is to overthrow the gods and do... nothing afterwards. I believe characters like Cinder have stated that they're going to be high up in her new world?? I'm not sure tbh.

Plus, I think her goal being that she wants to rule the world after killing(?) The Brothers would be an interesting dilemma for the main characters. Overthrowing the gods? A good idea even Oz would agree with. Salem ruling? ...Well that might not be such a good idea (she *did* immediately go to "let's spread our word and destroy anyone who goes against it" in the Lost Fable, but I have different opinions on whether or not it's reliable so it likely doesn't matter to you). Either way, it'd make things interesting for our heroes. At least, that's how I'd write it.

Thoughts?

to be clear. my stance on the reliability of the lost fable is that jinn answered with absolute honesty exactly the question ruby asked, which was “what is ozpin hiding from us?”—i think she obeys the same rule ambrosius does. you get EXACTLY what you ask for.

so ‘the lost fable’ includes:

information ozpin knows or sincerely believes to be true, AND

actively chose to hide from team rwby, oscar, and qrow.

the reason jinn frames it as a fairytale (“once upon a time…”) is because she is conveying specifically ozpin’s perspective, and fairytales, stories, are fundamental to how he sees the world. she is telling his story in his words, because that’s what ruby asked her to do!

but the lost fable doesn’t include:

anything ozpin doesn’t know

anything salem told ozma that ozpin believes to be false, except when a synopsis is necessary to provide context

anything that ozpin knows but wasn’t actively keeping a secret (for example, the story omits her answers to his questions about the other relics because neither their original locations nor their powers were something ozpin was hiding; he told them what the lamp could do, when they asked, and if they’d asked about the others he would have told them that too).

so jinn herself is not an unreliable narrator per se, but the question ruby asked necessitated that jinn tell only ozpin’s side of the story, without filling in any gaps in his knowledge or correcting his misunderstandings and mistaken assumptions. the lost fable is therefore honest (in the sense that no part of it is a deliberate lie) but biased and limited (because ozpin is fallible and doesn’t know everything.)

which is something ozpin himself points out in his commentaries in the fairytale anthology—on the infinite man: “no one who wasn’t there could know what really happened. and even then, they would only have a small part of the story,” for example.

all of which is the long way around to saying that i do trust the dialogue in the lost fable to be accurate to what the characters actually said, and the scenes to be accurate depictions of events as they happened (if he was there) or as ozma imagined them happening based on what salem told him (if he wasn’t). the parts i don’t trust are the narration, because that’s the part colored by ozpin’s perspective, and the elisions of ozma’s dialogue in the key ozlem scenes, because things salem says in response to ozma lack the context of what ozma said.

(think about what listening to someone make a phone call is like; if the conversation is about a complex subject, it’s difficult to follow along and easy to misunderstand what the person you can hear is really trying to express.)

and on the topic of those elisions: if salem wanted to rule the world herself, i think she would have made an effort to do so before ozma returned. she is demonstrably capable of both merciless conquest (razing vale) and inspiring awe (slaying the nevermore). she’s immortal. she cannot be killed. before ozma returned there was absolutely no one who could have prevented her from, like, taking over a kingdom and expanding it into an empire with herself as the eternal god-queen.

but she didn’t. she lived alone in the woods, in a miserable hovel. given the well-maintained path leading to her doorstep, she had to have been visited on a regular enough basis for whatever community lived outside the woods to go to the effort of paving the way to her shack. which says… village witch.

left to her own devices, that’s what she did with her life: found some village or town at the edge of a forest and built herself a little house in the woods, just close enough that the townspeople could find her when they needed her but otherwise isolated.

and then once ozma found her, they fixed up her house together and lived happily for… apparently quite some time before ozma brought up “humanity seems more divided than ever” as a problem.

there’s nothing in the lost fable to suggest that salem wanted anything more than the life she had with ozma in that cottage. everything she says about bringing humanity together is specifically in response to OZMA telling her he wasn’t satisfied. she’s supporting HIS stated ambitions.

and like… she’s not… wrong? her phrasing is extremely blunt, but… you can’t bring people together without giving them something to believe in—a cause, a creed, a faith, a purpose—no one is going to unite for the sake of being united. ozma despairs that “humanity seems more divided than ever,” and salem goes… well yeah. the gods killed everyone and fucked off. people just need help. we could help. we have the will and the means to change the world, make it better than before.

but.

the problem is.

the task ozma was given isn’t to help people or make the world a better place; it’s to prepare for the final judgment by uniting the whole world—the god of light instructed him to end conflict full stop. ozma needs everyone to unite in submission to the brothers.

and salem is absolutely correct that you cannot achieve that except by conquest. you cannot, you cannot, you cannot unite the whole world under one creed without genocide. it is impossible.

this is why i say the divine mandate is a fundamentally genocidal ideology: the premise is that humans as they are now do not deserve to exist and must be ‘redeemed,’ and the only way to achieve ‘redemption’ is through genocide. the logical end of any ideology that requires universal adoption or universal acceptance of a certain belief or creed is genocide.

salem understands this intuitively; when ozma asks her “are we sure that this is right?” she spells it out to him in plain terms that it’s what is necessary to achieve his goal. her implication is that if the end does not justify the means, he needs to reconsider the end. i don’t think she cared either way as long as ozma was happy, until she learned the truth about what he wanted to do and why.

as i’ve said before, i believe her final statement—why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans when we can replace them with what they could never be?—a) reiterates her longstanding dream of humankind overthrowing their “old masters” and claiming the power of creation for themselves to “perfect their own design” and b) quotes/paraphrases the closing lines of ‘the shallow sea’ to express this idea because she’s trying to communicate in ozma’s language, through stories.

and i think ozma understood her perfectly well, he just doesn’t think her third option of rejecting the mandate is possible. in the present, oz only suggests salem is out to destroy the world when he’s trying to scare hazel into turning against her; what he tells his inner circle is that salem’s after the relics because she wants to “change the world.” he believes she’s doomed to fail.

anyway, as to the question of what salem wants now: it’s revolution.

pretty… overtly. “your so-called free world.” her protégée was an enslaved child who grew up wearing a shock collar in the gilded heart of ozpin’s crowning achievement some sixty years after the vytal accords abolished slavery, and the huntsman who found her in that situation used her suffering to groom her for the huntsman academy instead of using his authority to help her by enforcing the laws against slavery.

watch WOR: kingdoms. compare the almost tender tone with which salem talks about the democratic councils that represent the people to the utter disdain she has for the huntsmen academies that exist solely to train “the next generation of defenders who will fight and die to protect the lifestyle that they’ve become so accustomed to.”

she wants to defeat the god of light, yes—or at least prevent him from ever returning, i do think Plan A might be “destroy the relics”—but she also wants to tear down the systems ozma built to uphold the divine mandate, systems that turned a blind eye to slavery and injustice and abuse. she wants the whole world to know the truth.

i think she also probably wants humans to coexist in peace with the grimm, and i suspect that will be the biggest sticking point; but salem clearly feels affection for the grimm, and—gestures at menagerie’s lack of a grimm problem—coexistence between people and grimm is possible, and because salem herself is grimm she’s never going to have peace or freedom until the existential war between humans and grimm is ended.

and i think she does intend to make good on her promises to her inner circle, in some form. hazel believes she’s planning to create a “new world order” (which, definitionally, a world with no huntsmen academies and no everlasting war is) and mercury says she’s “promised [them] everything,” which he takes to mean that they’ll be “top dogs in her new world.” but the one thing we know for certain about what salem offers to her followers is very vague; all of them project their own desires to fill in the gaps and come away with wildly disparate ideas about what this ‘new world’ will look like.

what salem has always wanted is freedom. she’s never shown any personal ambition to rule—even her rebellion, she isn’t the one who leads the charge, she walks among them. before ozma returned, she was… just the village witch somewhere. i do think it’s really quite likely that her plan is to tear down everything ozma built, destroy the relics or defeat the god of light, participate in rebuilding from the ashes to ensure that the new world isn’t founded upon lies or subjugation or eternal war against her existence, and then just… find a place where she can live. all she ever wanted was to leave the tower. i don’t think that’s changed.

31 notes · View notes

beautifulpersonpeach · 1 day

Note

I was a bit surprised to see that mhj specifically said that newjeans had approved the statement saying that belift had copied newjeans' concept with illit. I'm not the type of person that thinks that you're a bitch for asserting position or your value, so this isn't where I'm coming from, but, especially in an industry where it's so rare to see groups say anything negative about other groups, particular junior groups I would think, it was quite the strong, swift position to take. Do you foresee newjeans continuing to engage publicly with this scandal, and how would you think taking an active part in this would affect their brand?

Ask 2:

bp in your opinion is there any chance that in this Hybe/MHJ situation there's a buried kind of double-blind motivation?

Like the kind i've seen attributed to E|on Musk, where he creates a big scandal to provide cover when he's doing something much shadier (and then maybe it gets out of hand, like the TwiX thing lol)

You've said you're pretty familar with the corporate side machinations - could Hybe be purposefully airing all this, sure to stick it to MHJ, but also to temporarily drive down stock prices for idk easy shares-repurchasing? Or even allowing a mess they can blame for having to report lower numbers to shareholders for whatever reason: boycott actually impacting profit, hedging against lower-than-predicted bts returning numbers, etc.

Or is this too convoluted of conspiracy thinking and BPD/HYBE/MHJ, and by extension from your recent posts basically 'corporate kpop' entire, are really just that transparent and petty?

Ask 3:

Might be a stupid question because I honestly don't have any clue about corporate businesses and how they work. But in the light of this scandal and how BigHit/Hybe developed over the last years: would you say this is what you get when you become too greedy instead of concentrating on what you were good at?

Ask 4:

in your opinion, is mhj truly an indispensable part of newjeans creative output? Also, do you see any way that hybe would let newjeans leave with its name and discography if they try to break their contract to go with mhj like some people are saying?

Ask 5:

I’m seeing a lot of discussion about whether newjeans will try to leave with mhj and break their contract with hybe, but I don’t see this as a realistic scenario, and I especially don’t see hybe letting them leave with their name and discography. You mentioned that there are a limited set of options now, but is this even one of them? In my mind, newjeans as a concept either stays at hybe, with or without mhj in whatever capacity, or can’t really exist legally

Ask 6:

Also this has given everyone (kpop stans, ARMYs, journalists) the go ahead to drag Newjeans in order to "defend" Illit, BTS, Riize, etc by throwing (again) dozens of plagiarism accusations and trying to discredit everything the group has done and achieved. And it was started by Hybe themselves... I have no words, bpp

***

I think these six asks capture most of the talking points in the asks I've received since yesterday, so I'll use these to answer your questions.

The sheer amount of spin happening in the media right now is ridiculous lmaoo. With the mention of BTS in the "escape files", ARMYs have predictably moved from shady bystanders to actively joining in the negative spin, spreading rumor articles and many are now attacking the girls themselves. But honestly, this is nothing less than what I expected. NewJeans is the most popular group in Korea, the 2nd most valuable IP only behind BTS, and Min Heejin is the brains behind the operation - an achievement she's insisted on taking full credit for since inception. Leaving the only option for whoever is masterminding this from within and outside HYBE, to destroy her reputation as an executive completely to diminish her value to outside investors, and weaken the fan support for NewJeans given how closely they are already associated with MHJ. And that's what is happening. It impacts every group at HYBE and nearly obliterates the viability of NewJeans.

For HYBE, it's a tolerable loss given there's only one year left before BTS returns and closes that earnings gap in mere months. Whoever took this action sees it simply as resulting in a numerical loss that can be soon corrected, but personally, I disagree, for the same reasons I objected to HYBE's acquisition of SM even though on paper it made numerical sense.

Anon in ask 1: I can understand your surprise but sad as it is to say, I expected that response from MHJ. She's a creative, not a PR exec or an MBA-credentialled suit. I'm not sure how familiar you are with ADOR's press releases in general, but anybody who reads them can tell there's almost no corporate doublespeak, no vague allusions, nothing that shows it's written by a typical media-trained PR person. Which is why most people, including you, take that statement to mean NewJeans agrees with MHJ that Illit copied them (it's a possibility), when in reality the language shows it could refer to them agreeing with MHJ's assertion that HYBE hasn't duly responded to her requests about inter-label discrimination, or other related matters. That's the kind of detail a trained PR person would be sure to include, to minimize the fallout to NJ, but just as with the press release on Cookie, the one on Minji's rival sasaeng, the response to Hyein's veneer rumours, and practically every press release ADOR has put out, the language is unsophisticated.

"Do you foresee newjeans continuing to engage publicly with this scandal, and how would you think taking an active part in this would affect their brand?"

NewJeans has so far not engaged publicly with this scandal. MHJ has mentioned them to signal any separation between them will likely be contested. It's leverage. If they do take an active part in this scandal, it will completely destroy their brand. Like, it's already on life support. Anything more and we might as well say their last rites.

Anon in ask 2: I'd say that's not a conspiracy exactly but it is kinda pushing it. Anytime there's a stock dip it's a buying opportunity, and HYBE is always guaranteed to be a Buy so long as BTS is slated to return within 12 months of the stock event. But we simply don't have any clear indications that's the case now given the timing doesn't quite line up. If anything, that is more like the 4th order side-effect.

And yeah, people on the corporate side, not just in k-pop, are many times just that petty. But it's also true this case has been sensationalized in particular ways to appeal to k-pop stans specifically.

Anons in ask 4 & 5: The options available are:

MHJ leaves HYBE and NewJeans stays in HYBE

MHJ leaves HYBE and NewJeans leaves with her

MHJ stays in HYBE but is demoted from her exec role and NewJeans stays in HYBE

MHJ stays in HYBE and keeps her exec role and NewJeans stays in HYBE

None of these options are good, but the worst of these evils is option 2. If the members attempt to leave with her, there's no pretty way to say this, but they'll be done. I'm not even going to waste time writing all the ways HYBE and k-pop stans as a whole will rip them to shreds, all I'll say is that whoever is attached to these girls should consider taking a 6 months sabbatical away from k-pop entirely once that news breaks. The law is not on their side and public opinion, especially after all the 'leaks' and spin from HYBE in the last 72 hours, certainly isn't on their side either. It would be career suicide.

"in your opinion, is mhj truly an indispensable part of newjeans creative output?"

Personally, I think yes. Every label at HYBE had similar initial monetary investment as NewJeans and ADOR had, and other groups from the Big 3 have had even bigger investments and resources at their disposal. There isn't a single group, both within HYBE and outside HYBE, that has yielded the same results as NewJeans in the same period of time. Illit comes close, but even with their achievements they haven't reached the same (positive) notoriety as NewJeans did at debut. All HYBE groups have access to HYBE's youtube channel, connections and resources, and yet the achievements of BOYNEXTDOOR, LE SSERAFIM, ENHYPEN, and even ILLIT, are nowhere near comparable to that of NewJeans. And I agree with MHJ that she's the primary reason why. Having access to resources is only one part of the equation. How you allocate those resources and what you do with it is far more important, and this is where MHJ and ADOR excels relative to other sub-labels.

NewJeans without MHJ will not be nearly as threatening to everyone else in k-pop, and I suspect this is one reason there have been calls for her to be removed from managing the group since their debut.

Anons in ask 3 & 6: Yeah there's a fair bit of greed on show here. Generally, for a lot of people in this industry, greed is good... unless the greedy person is a woman. Because the only thing more central to nasty corporate tussles like this, more than greed, is ego.

I'm not trying to play the gender card, but sometimes I do wonder why there are no articles like this about people like Jaden Jeong and Simon Jakob given the reputation those men have in corporate circles, where top officials (in this case, within HYBE) are saying they cannot possibly work with MHJ because she is "overly and excessively opinionated". I'm highlighting this article because despite the initial paragraphs of spin, that bit is the only thing consistent with MHJ's claim that this attack from HYBE started because she'd filed a whistleblowing report on toxic inter-label competition and followed up an email that said quote:

"..is this deliberate obtuseness and unapologetic behaviour consistent with HYBE's founding philosophy of rebelling against unfair practices in the entertainment industry?"

I mean... in corporate Korea, I can see how they were sick of her shit and it was only a matter of time before she got the boot.

The insidious thing about spin is that it mixes the truth with lies, making it easy for people to accept it wholly. It's entirely possible that MHJ wants more compensation, more autonomy and independence, feels that Belift and other companies borrowed her ideas without full credit, and that she was unsupported by HYBE HQ. It's entirely possible that she took actions such as monitoring fan feedback of the group(s) she suspects and filing a whistleblowing report to build a case - according to both MHJ and others at HYBE, these are complaints she's apparently had since last year, but none of those things would justify HYBE's response nor is it enough to turn people against her.

What I find particularly interesting about this case, is that everything that decisively incriminates her of the more sensational and sinister allegations, comes from the person of VP L or CEO A - a person who only joined ADOR in January 2024, shortly after which HYBE received their first tip-off that MHJ was planning to escape. It's VP L who titles documents with the equivalent of "TOP SECRET DO NOT TOUCH" on company computers... the same guy that's supposedly a double agent working in favour of MHJ and ADOR but is situated within ADOR, not HYBE, where simple logic shows he'd be most useful. Unless he's situated right where he's supposed to be.

Anyway...

HYBE has requested for a shareholder meeting on April 30th where they'll likely table the motion for MHJ to resign regardless of what's found in the audit. Far as I know, she's completed the audit questionnaire but not surrendered her laptop as HYBE has requested. Given the play is for HYBE to kick her out while continuing to manage NJ, I can see how she'd rather die than surrender her laptop and hand over her ideas (and potentially incriminating info) to HYBE on a silver platter for them to use in her wake.

Every way this shakes out is bad news for HYBE groups IMO. So long as NewJeans keeps quiet and sides with HYBE, they'll be somewhat okay. But regardless of the fallout from HYBE cannibalizing itself, all HYBE groups have no choice but to take it on the chin and bide their time until BTS comes back to capture the attention back to them.

I hope I answered all your questions. IMO there's really no point talking more about this until there's a firm conclusion.

#min heejin #newjeans #ador #hybe #bang pd #kpop #kpop industry #kpop business #belift

32 notes · View notes

an0ther1 · 1 day

Text

Untitled pt.2

Leah x OC

A/N: A little more in my current project. I’m still getting a feel for my characters. Feedback/thoughts welcome.

“What are we at, one more week?” Kim adjusted the weight on the bench press bar.

“Abouts yeah. I make it to the end of the week without any pain and things feel normal, I’ll get to run on the grass with everyone next.”

Kim laid down on the bench. “Well I’m sure you know what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. Don’t do anything stupid and listen to your body. If something is off, waiting an extra day or 2 isn’t going to kill you.” She pushed the bar up off the rack. “Trust me.” She grunted as she lowered the bar to her chest.

“I hear you. And I won’t.”

“Hey Caps.” Beth came bouncing to the end of the bench. “Le, what time do we have the venue for Saturday?”

“Umm, 9 until whenever really. Though I told ‘em it would probably wrap up around 5. 6 hours for a baby shower seemed like more than enough.” Leah answered as she spotted Kim.

“Probably right on that. So we have 2 hours to decorate? That should be plenty. I think Steph has the catering scheduled for between 10 and 11.” Beth twisted her lips as she tried to remember.

“What did I do?”

“Catering. What time is that showing up?”

“Ah, yeah. 10:30 bouts. I’ll call and confirm on Thursday though.”

Kim put the bar back on the rack and sat up. “If we can get in at 9, I’ll schedule the cake and sweets to come around 10.”

“So we just need all the girls to show up at 9 to set up?” Leah switched with Kim after removing a few pounds from either end of the bar.

“Yeah, that should be about it. Caitlin promised that she kept a check on Katie and the games, but Stina is going to claim that she will be the one running the games so she can see what she came up with.”

“Good idea Meado. When Katie called dibs on games and said she was going to use a few “McCabe family classics” I was a bit worried about what those would entail. You really never know what you might get with an Irish family that large.” Kim helped Leah lift the bar to start her set.

“I thought most of Katie’s siblings were younger than her?” Steph asked.

“Ask her to name all her cousins some time.” Lotte interjected as she joined the group. “We talking about Erin’s baby shower?” The group nodded. “You know she’s right there.” Lotte pointed across the room to Erin, their social media content creator, who was sitting in a chair with a laptop balanced on a very round belly. “I thought this was supposed to be a surprise.”

“She has her headphones in editing. She can’t hear anything.” Beth shrugged. “You have everything worked out with Dylan?”

“Yeah. Him and Tao have some plan that Dylan swears Erin will fall for. They’re going to tell her I have a children’s event to attend so I can help set up.”

“Great. And Viv has been talking to Erin’s family, she just needs to confirm the time with them.” Beth added.

“What about Dylan’s family?” Leah said as she finished her set in the bench press. “I know they're American, but is Dylan’s parents planning on being here when Gemma is born? They might be in by then.”

Lotte shook her head. “Dylan told me and Tao he doesn’t talk to anyone in his family besides his cousin Rose.”

“Wait, isn’t that the middle name they’re giving Gemma?” Steph asked.

“Yeah. Rose is the cousin he grew up with. Dylan talks about her like a sister. I think she’s a year or two older. But she’ll be there. So he’ll at least have some family.” Lotte finished.

“Sounds like this is going to be a fantastic party for our little Gooner and her mum.” Kim looked around the group. “But now, finish up your reps. We’re on the pitch in 30.”

Everyone saluted their captain before dispersing.

**************************

The week for the most part had gone smoothly. The team didn’t have their first January game for another 10 days. But Leah was finally going to be able to join team trainings next week, after almost 9 months, and the anticipation was wearing her thin. Several times she was asked if she was excited, or nervous, and repeatedly reminded that the wait was almost over. Almost. She was sure Saturday was going to be full of the same, though the full Arsenal staff and then some would be at Erin’s baby shower, so Leah would hear it ten fold. She needed a break. Which is how she found herself out to dinner on a Friday night, alone, sitting at the end of the bar top of the restaurant she had come to the previous week. She had come in a little earlier this time though, hoping it would be less crowded before the dinner rush, and she had been right, allowing her to get the same seat at the end with her back to everyone else. Tonight she would be any other diner. Not soon to return from injury, Leah Williamson.

Leah greeted Colin as she took her seat, ordering a glass of Chardonnay. The bar keep was placing the glass in front of Leah with a menu before she had even gotten comfortable.

“Would you like the chicken again?” The ginger asked.

“Might do an app first. Take my time and do some reading on my phone if it’s no bother.” Leah smiled.

“Not at all. I’d say the hummus is great. That and the pitas are made in house.”

“Yeah? Alright. I’ll start with that, thanks.” Leah pushed the menu back towards Colin. “And I’ll order the chicken a little later.”

Colin reached for the menu. “I’ll have that right out.”

Leah leaned back in her chair and pulled up the book she was reading on her phone. Picking the wine glass up off the bar, she took a small sip and relaxed. Colin placed a plate in front of her a short time later and for the next 20 minutes or so, she enjoyed her wine and appetizer completely uninterrupted while she read. The noise in the restaurant slowly rose as the main dining area filled and the seats at the bar top were taken one by one. Colin had just refilled her wine and was putting in her dinner order when someone finally claimed the last seat next to her.

“Is this seat taken, miss?”

Leah had heard that voice before. She lowered her phone. “No it’s not. By all means.” She smiled at the new guest. “Hello again RJ.”

“Miss Williamson.” RJ smiled softly as they pulled out the chair before placing their coat over the back. “Nice seeing you here again.”

“Will you be watching another football match?” Leah asked as she watched RJ prop their phone up on top of the bar.

“I was planning on finally watching Sinclair’s last international match. Figured if I did it in public I wouldn’t cry.” RJ waved at Colin and gave him a thumbs up. Clearly not needing words to order.

“Are you Canadian?”

RJ chuckled and shook their head slightly. “No. But as a kid I just kind of decided she was my favorite player and that was that. Figured after a month I should finally just bite the bullet and watch the damn game.”

“Mmmm, yeah, retirement games are hard to watch. She’s still playing one more year for the Thorns though, yeah?” Leah finished the last of her wine and caught Colin’s eye, signally for another glass.

“She is. But that doesn’t make watching this any easier.” RJ picked up their phone and waved it before unlocking it. Leah couldn’t help but notice that their background looked like an abstract black and white print of some sort. Once RJ had the game queued up they set it back on the bar top. “You’re welcome to watch. But I won’t bother you if you wish to continue what you were doing.” They hit the play button on the screen.

“Thank you. I think I might try to finish this chapter of the book I was reading.” Leah turned back to her phone as Colin placed RJ’s drink down and refilled Leah’s wine glass. The pair sat in companionable silence as Leah continued reading.

“Who do you think is going to take the armband in the future?” Leah broke the silence after putting her phone down. “Sinc has been captain far longer than I can remember.”

“Fleming.” JR’s said with a seconds hesitation.

“Seriously? She’s so young?”

RJ turned in their chair and looked Leah straight in the eye. “Really?” They paused for a moment. “You, the youngest captain in England history, is going to say that Jessie Fleming, who is 25, is too young.”

“Oh. Yeah I see your point.”

“Aside from her age.” RJ turned back. “She’s been a regular fixture on the national team for about 9 years. When Sinc and Schmidt stepped off this field she was the 4th longest tenured player on the team.” RJ took a sip of their drink.

“You aren’t just a casual fan, are you?

RJ side-eyed Leah. “What makes you say that?”

“A casual fan generally doesn’t know those types of statistics for a player who don’t play for their team”

“How do you know she doesn’t play for “my team”?” RJ used air quotes. “She may not play for the US, but.”

“Ew. You’re a Chelsea fan?” Leah dramatically recoiled further from RJ who just laughed.

“No.” RJ smiled. A full bright, cheerful smile. “I am a fan of the players individually, especially Fishel and Macario. But not the team as a whole.”

“Do you even have a WSL team?” Leah raised an eyebrow.

“I do.” RJ smirked. “And don’t worry. They wear the right shade of red.” They leaned back in their seat. “Can I ask you something? None football related and not terribly personal.” They rushed out the last bit. “And you obviously don’t have to answer.”

“Well with those conditions, sure.”

RJ tilted their head. “If you hadn’t become a pro footballer, what would you have chosen to do?”

“Probably an accountant or something like that. I’m pretty good with numbers and enjoy that there is always an answer to any problem.”

“Figures.”

“What’s that s’pose to me?” Leah asked, offended by the assumption, regardless of what it was.

“You play football like a mathematician, calculated.”

“Oh.” Leah adjusted in her seat, sitting up a bit straighter. “Thank you.”

RJ just hummed in response.

“What about you? You obviously know what I do and now what I would do.” Leah relaxed a bit in her chair. “Colin said you did something in media, I think.”

RJ glanced down the bar at the mentioned bartender. “Digital media.”

“What do you do in digital media? That seems like a, a very broad field. And do you work for a company in the UK?”

RJ took a long slow sip of their drink, clearly stalling as they then swirled the liquid in the glass before answering. “The company is US based. I do a lot of behind the scenes stuff, sometimes editing, camera work, desk stuff.”

Leah picked up her phone. “Must be a small company if you’re doing all of that. Is there an Insta page I can check out? Give a like.”

“Yes, we have an Instagram account.”

“Okay. What’s the name of the company?” Leah had the app open and was just waiting.

RJ had their glass to their lips when they answered. “-third.”

“What was that?”

“Attacking Third.” RJ repeated.

“Really? That’s the show that covers the NWSL, right?” Leah started looking at the company's account on their app. “If they cover the NSWL, what are you doing here? Covering former NWSL players or something?”

“Something like that.”

Colin approached with a plate in hand. “Ms. Williamson, your chicken.” He slid the plate onto the bartop. “Enjoy. RJ, did you want anything?” RJ raised their now empty glass. “Be right back.”

After Colin dropped off the drink, the pair continued watching the game in silence as Leah ate her meal. Her plate was finished and cleared away when the match hit halftime. “I should get going. I have an event I need to be at tomorrow morning with the girls that will be far more mentally draining than 90 minutes on the pitch.”

RJ chuckled. “I can only imagine.”

The footballer gave the other patron a soft smile. “It was good to see you again. Maybe we’ll get lucky again.”

“I’ll get my hopes up.” They smiled. “Have a good evening Ms. Williamson.”

#leah williamson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso soccer

30 notes · View notes

theroyalthornoliachronicles · 2 days

Text

Château de Clèrisseau: 23 Mai 1850, 14:15

Marquis de Clèrisseau: I'll be back in time to change for dinner, Auclair. I'll need to be if not to receive another lecture from-Roquefort?

Vicomte de Vignieu: Bonne journée, Valery.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Bonne journée....that'll be all, Auclair.

Valet: Monsieur. [Leaves]

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Well this is certainly a surprise. What possibly brings you by? Surely it's too early to call on-

Vicomte de Vignieu: Oh, non...I actually came to speak with le Duc.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: [Sighs Dramatically] I suppose it was inevitable...

Vicomte de Vignieu: Pardon?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just off in my own thoughts I suppose....lots to do, people to see...I'm sure you of all people can understand.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Has anyone bothered to mention how tiresome you can be?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Perhaps...though I suppose hearing it once more from you couldn't hurt.

Vicomte de Vignieu: [Scoffs] I do not have time to verbally spar with you this afternoon, Valery. I was told le Duc would be in this afternoon?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: You were misinformed.

Vicomte de Vignieu: I sincerely doubt that.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: And just what, might I ask, has you so insistent to see him at this hour? He is a very busy man, after all.

Vicomte de Vignieu: If you must know, I've called on him to ask for Eleanor's hand.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: ...

Vicomte de Vignieu: I don't think I've ever seen you without words, Ernest. Cat got your tongue, perhaps?

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Have you truly thought this through, Albert?

Vicomte de Vignieu: I don't know what you're insin-

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Don't lie to me, Roquefort. It's clear as day to anyone with eyes. My sister is not a pawn for your jealous squabbles with-

Vicomte de Vignieu: I never said she was-

Marquis de Clèrisseau: And yet you stand here waiting to ask for her hand.

Vicomte de Vignieu: I do not need to explain myself to you.

Marquis de Clèrisseau: Non....because the answer is obvious. You need to-

Duc de Clèrisseau: Ah, Vicomte.

Duc de Clèrisseau: I do hope not to have kept you waiting.

Vicomte de Vignieu: Of course not, Monsieur. Bonne journée. Your delay allowed me the opportunity to catch up with Ernest, here. It has been quite a while since we've had the chance to connect.

Duc de Clèrisseau: Ah, oui, oui. All of you used to be so close back in the day...but I suppose I have kept you waiting long enough. Shall we?

Previous | Beginning | Next

37 notes · View notes

tinydefector · 2 days

Note

I feel like it's so hard finding anyone who writes for male reader so I am SO happy I've come across your blog. I was wondering if I could ask for a one shot maybe of Rung with a gn!reader who also makes miniature models? I enjoy making miniature dioramas and things and was wondering if you could write for it. Thank you so much!

Star Ships

Rung x Human reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none

_____________________________

The human sits watching Rung as he wanders about his office, the mech mumbles to himself as he types away on a data pad taking notes after his last session with Whirl. His smaller companion had taken the opportunity to surprise him with a cube of energon as they sat drinking their own beverage.

their eyes slowly move from him to take in the small model spaceships that are along the shelves, the last time they had been in here the area was rather bare while now it was filled with small models. "You collect model ships?" They ask while admiring them from afar.

Rung's optics sparkled with a mix of surprise and delight as their gaze wandered over the small model spaceships adorning the shelves of his office. He followed their line of sight, observing the meticulously crafted replicas that he had collected over the years.

"Why, yes," Rung replied, a warm smile gracing his lips. "I do have a fondness for model ships. Each one tells its own story, representing different eras, factions, and adventures." He explains stepping closer to the shelves, his fingers lightly grazing the smooth surface of one of the models. His optics softened with a nostalgic twinkle as he recalled the memories associated with each ship.

"You see, collecting model ships has become a personal hobby of mine," Rung explained, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "Over the millennias it's been my way of keeping pre war things, small glimpses of hope, for so much lost to war." As he spoke, Rung's gaze shifted to one particular model ship, a sleek vessel with elegant lines. It held a special place in his collection, representing a significant chapter of his own life.

"And this one," Rung continued, his voice filled with fondness, "is a replica of the Lost Light, our beloved ship. The model took me quite a while to figure out the design and craft it out, but I have to say it's almost a replica." Rung's smile widened, a touch of playfulness entering his voice.

"I must admit, I've been known to name these models as well," he confessed, his tone laced with gentle amusement. "It adds a personal touch, you see. They become more than just inanimate objects; they become companions, each with their own personality and history." His optics shifted back to the human, a warm curiosity evident in his gaze.

A soft laugh leaves them as they look over the model. "They kinda remind me of some of the dioramas I used to make, haven't made many after leaving earth, kinda hard to get the right things to make them, but the model ships do seem rather fun, I might have to get you to teach me how to do these ships" they state, fingers lightly dancing over the model ship.

Rung's optics widened with genuine interest, his smile grew, a blend of curiosity and anticipation evident on his faceplate. "Dioramas, you say?" Rung replied, his voice tinged with genuine enthusiasm. "How fascinating! I'd love to hear more about them. What kind of scenes did you recreate in your dioramas?"

He leaned closer, his attention fully focused on them. Rung's curiosity was piqued, wondering what stories and landscapes the human had brought to life through their creative endeavours. He had always appreciated the artistry and attention to detail that went into crafting dioramas.

"I liked making scenes from movies, books and occasionally just landscapes" it really depended on what had my interest at the time " they answer before handing the model ship back. They continue looking at the other ships. “ I have a shelf like yours back home, just filled with little dioramas, models and figures” His optics sparkled with a mixture of warmth.

"Creating scenes from movies and books must have allowed you to immerse yourself in those beloved narratives, to recreate the emotions and atmospheres that made them so captivating," Rung mused, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Dioramas have a way of preserving those cherished memories, like frozen moments in time that we can revisit whenever we please."

"You know," Rung continued, his voice filled with gentle curiosity, "I find it intriguing how dioramas and model ships can both capture a moment in time, allowing us to explore different worlds and narratives. It's as if we're the architects of our own miniature universes, shaping them to reflect our imagination and experiences."

"Please, do tell me more about your dioramas," Rung encouraged, his voice soft and inviting. "What inspired you to create them?"

“well for me it's mainly the fact that each piece is a different memory, and well it's easier to remember things when you have a visually reminder, some are happy memories others sad but each people has a memory or emotional attachment, even the ones I make for other people” He glanced back at the shelves adorned with model spaceships, contemplating the connection between his own collection and the human's dioramas.

"In a way, our hobbies share a similarity," Rung continued, his tone thoughtful. "Model ships and dioramas both allow us to capture and preserve pieces of our imagination and experiences. They become tangible reminders of the stories that have shaped us, evoking emotions and memories with each glance."

Rung's optics met the human's gaze, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Do you have a favourite piece?” he inquires softly. It takes them a moment to think. “my first ever one would be my favourite, not for the beauty but for the fact the first time ever making something means you at least tired your hand at the craft”

"I can try and make you a diorama at some point if I can get the right stuff " they offer,

Rung's optics widened in surprise. His usual composer faltered for a moment, replaced by a mix of curiosity and intrigue. He leaned forward slightly, his voice laced with genuine interest.

"A diorama made specifically for me?" Rung echoed, a hint of anticipation colouring his words. "That's a thoughtful gesture, and I must say” He paused for a moment, considering the implications of such a gift. While Rung appreciated the sentiment and the effort it would require, he also didn't want to impose on the human's time and resources.

"However," Rung continued, his voice polite yet tinged with a touch of caution, "I wouldn't want you to go to great lengths or expense on my behalf. Acquiring the necessary materials can be quite a task, and I wouldn't want to burden you with that. Your offer is certainly kind, but please don't feel obligated to fulfil it."

“Rung it's a hobby of mine, it's not a burden, it also gives me the opportunity to try and source materials, who knows how long we will be out here with limited things to do” they hum. It makes Rung smile softly. “Very well I'd be honoured than to see your crafts”

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers idw #transformers lost light #rung mtmte #rung transformers #mtmte rung #idw rung #transformers rung #rung #rung tf #mtmte transformers #mtmte #tf mtmte #transformers mtmte #idw mtmte #idw transformers #tf idw

36 notes · View notes

epicbuddieficrecs · 3 days

Text

Fic rec for my BFF, pt.2 : Seasons 4-5

Here's the next part of my "fic rec for my BFF who's watching 9-1-1" series, covering seasons 4 and 5!

Season 4

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Post-S4, Marriage of convenience | 44K | Explicit

After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: Marry Buck.

Eddie: Let's get married! In a platonic way! 😆

it's blue (the feeling i got) series by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck

Post-Shooting | 4 works, Complete | 37K

don't want no other shade of blue but you (Post-S4E14 | 11K | Teen): “You can’t go see your son like this.” That gives Buck pause. “He’s not—he’s not my son.” “Isn’t he, though?” she says. And part of Buck wants to argue, but a bigger part of him thinks, isn’t he, though? Not by blood, sure, or legally, but in all the ways that matter, Christopher is as good as his son. if your cascade ocean-wave blues come (Post-S4, Getting Together | 16K | Mature): “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” Ana sounds disappointed, but not all too surprised.“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Sorry.” “It’s because of Buck,” she says, barely a question. “Isn’t it?” “Um,” Eddie says, because he doesn’t really know how to answer that when Buck is flipping pancakes at the stove three feet away from him. in my eyes, my heart, my soul (Fluff | 2K | General): “We made you pancakes for Father’s Day,” Christopher says. Eddie watches the expressions that cross Buck’s face. Surprise, confusion, then a careful kind of joy like he’s beginning to put together exactly what Christopher means. “For—for me?” Buck asks, so quiet Eddie barely hears it. “Yeah,” Christopher says. “I want you to be my other dad. If… if you want to be.” the blues, and then purple-pink skies (Established Buddie, Secret Relationship | 8K | Teen): OR: three times Buck and Eddie (think they) manage to hide their relationship, and one time the truth comes out.

Stucky has Post-Winter Soldier recovery fics, Steddie has post-Upside Down recovery fics, and Buddie has Post-Shooting-Buck-moves-in-with-the-Diazes fic! 😆

this must be the place by euadnes/ @kananjarus

Canon Divergent, Post-Shooting | 75K | Teen

Every life altering event is often led up to with a series of other important events. In this case, there were at least three: An unstoppable fire. An afternoon spent underneath a blanket of California blue sky. But firstly, and maybe the most important of all: There was the impeccable aiming of an ex-sharpshooter. Or, the Buck is also shot by the sniper AU that no one asked for.

Benign Fatality by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden

Time Loop AU, Season 2-4 | 23K | Teen

Eddie noticed it like this; Sometimes, when Buck’s done a day too many times, he forgets that this day might be the real day, the one that continues on into the rest of his life. It’s exhausting dying and waking up just to go die again. And the thing was, when a death was to do with work, he knew he could just ask to be man behind, or not go into work, but - but who would he be condemning to die in his place if he didn’t go in and try to avoid it? Maybe no one, yes, but maybe someone. Buck repeats days until he doesn't die in them, has an underdeveloped sense of self worth, and Eddie is the one who wants to step in with him.

Amazing fic, such an interesting concept!!

i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove/ @hattalove

S4, Post-Buck Begins | 32K | Teen

She turns to Eddie and says something else, but Buck is busy fighting the headrush he gets at the sound of Ana Flores calling Eddie and Christopher 'the boys'. Like they belong to her already. God, what’s wrong with him? What is this? or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

A Classic by the always amazing hattalove!!

everything (nothing) has changed by bizarrestars

Post-S4, Love Confessions | 48K | Explicit

Buck breathes for a moment, then sets his shoulders. "Eddie, there's something I have to tell you." "Do you?" Eddie asks flatly, still alarmed and doing his best to hide it. "I would've never guessed." Buck swallows. "Eddie, I love you." "Are you softening the blow, or buttering me up? Because, I've got to tell you, I'm still very worried regardless," Eddie tells him. "No, you don't understand. I love you. I'm currently in love with you," Buck says as evenly as possible, and even then, his voice wobbles precariously there for a moment. He exhales. "You don't have to worry about it, though, because I've processed it and decided to—to find relief in telling you before moving on and moving forward." Eddie stares at him. No response at all. Well, at least he's not freaking out. Or: After Eddie gets shot, Buck confesses his love. From there, things get a little out of hand.

Literally only just read it but the idiocy in this is CHEF'S KISS 😘👌 (#eddie said: get over me??? youre gonnna get over ME??? dont think so, <- love this tag 😂)

Those Two Firefighters by DarkFairytale

S4 to S6, Social Media/Outsider POV | 64K | Teen

#thosetwofirefighters starts to gather a following on social media, as everyone tries to figure out if those two cute firefighters from the 118 in LA are a thing or not.

Just a fun crack-y "social media" fic with some outsider POV mixed in (plus some 911LS!)!

Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint) by extasiswings/ @extasiswings

Post-S5, Friends with Benefits | 42K | Explicit

“Sounds like the problem is you think casual sex with a stranger or finding someone new to date are your only options.” Eddie’s brow furrows. “Aren’t they?” “I mean, there’s always…someone you already know. Who you’re already comfortable with.” “Because my pool of male friends who are single and who would be interested in having sex with me has so many options?” “Well, I don’t know about many, but you only need one,” Buck points out. “And who would that be?” “Me, of course.” [Or: Frank gives Eddie therapy homework, Eddie misunderstands the assignment, and Buck is just a really supportive friend...right?]

Have some more FWB, as a treat 😌

Season 5

The Aftermath of Liberation and Love Confessions by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress

Post S5E9: Past is Prologue, Coming Out, Getting Together | 17K | Teen

After a very long year of one terrible thing after another, Eddie has a brand new life strategy. It’s called not giving a shit. There’s the fire of a challenge in Buck’s eyes and a clench in the set of his jaw, and come on, it’s not as if Eddie forced Buck into dating the reporter. Not like he pays it any mind whatsoever. It was doomed from the start. She’s not good enough for him. She’s a terrible fit for him. Buck’s clearly been miserable for months. Still, Buck says, “Yeah, Eddie. Why don’t you teach us. What would you say if you were professing your love?” You mean something besides, “In the event of my untimely death, I made you legal guardian of my child”? In which Eddie comes out, sexuality is complicated but coffee is not, Buck makes an excessive salad and is also roasted, everyone has a love confession, and December is the most dramatic time of year.

Eddie not giving a shit is A Mood 👌 worth reading just for the scene from the summary 😆

Courtship Behaviors of the Southern Coastal Husbro by Mad_Lori/ @madlori

Post-S5, Queer Platonic Relationship, Getting Together | 49K | Explicit

“I want you in my family, I want us to be a family. Officially. A family can be a guy, his son, and his best friend, right?” Buck’s lower lip was trembling. “You’re really asking me to be your…what, now?” “Frank called it ‘platonic life partners.’” Buck looked stunned, and also…hopeful. “We could really do that?” - Buck and Eddie decide to become platonic domestic partners and co-parents. They are 100% super normal about it and absolutely nothing is awakened in them, except a mutual annoyance at being referred to as "husbros."

Love love love this series!!!

everything's coming up milhouse by hammersmiths/ @bucktommys

Post S5E10: Wrapped In Red, LAFD Liaison Eddie | 10K | Teen

LAFD Updates (@L*A*F*D_Metro) LAFD Alert: Red-level traffic on Gardiner Road this morning. If you are trying to get into the city centre consider taking Westerley Lane. buck 🔥🔥 (@firebuck) so true bestie or, Eddie mans the LAFD Twitter account. Buck tries to be supportive.

THE Twitter Eddie fic <3 just a funny social media fic but it's real cute!

let's hear it for the boy by hattalove/ @hattalove

Post-Season 5, Eddie Coming Out | 56K | Teen

in which eddie attends a self-empowerment group for gbtq men to supplement his therapy, and is empowered to: forgive himself, say "i'm gay" to his own reflection in the mirror, accidentally adopt an adult, make fried rice, and tell his straight best friend that he's in love with him. not necessarily in that order.

Such an amazing Eddie character study/coming out fic, so good <3

The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Post-S5, Fake Relationship | 43K | Explicit

The Buckleys are celebrating their 50th Anniversary, and Maddie and Buck are both expected to come. To take the heat off Maddie, Buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new. Obviously, there's only one solution: bring Eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. No problem, except for the, uh. "Pretend" part. Oops.

Excellent fake relationship fic!! it's got it all! Pining! Practice kissing! There was only one bed!!

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania/ @hmslusitania

Post-S5, Missing Presumed Dead, Amnesia | 44K | Mature

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says. “Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says. “I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies. “Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.” An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

The angst is SO GOOD!!!! A re-read favorite.

Plus or Minus by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress

S5 | 10K | General

"Chris said you were crying. You came home, hugged him, and cried more than he’s ever seen.” Eddie considers for a moment but then shrugs and continues neatly stacking mugs in the cupboard. “It happens. Sometimes. I’ve been told I’m supposed to let it out instead of bottle it up. So. There you go.” “Why are you cleaning out the kitchen? Why is my stuff in boxes?” Eddie slows, then stops. “Figured you’d want it back.” It’s quieter. Pained. When he says it. “I haven’t decided anything. So unless you’re kicking me out—” “Buck. Come on.” He’s not angry or snapping. It’s still quiet, and somehow that hurts even more. He’s resigned and defeated, and Buck is a scooped out, gutted, hollow shell. “I know how this ends the same way you do. You want to be loved, you want to be married. You’re going to leave. Might as well…” His voice cracks before he can finish and get it under control. “Shouldn’t drag it out.” ~ Taylor is offered a job across the country and asks Buck to go with her. Buck has to figure out if he wants to start over or if he has a reason to stay right where he is.

The notes on my bookmark are: pining so good it gives you chest pains 🥺

Canon Divergent/AUs

Even in Winter There is Eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Inspired by Hades&Persephone, Mythological AU | 45K | Explicit

Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

my words are paper tigers by hattalove/ @hattalove

Time Loop, Canon Divergent | 20K | Teen

He wakes up with Eddie's arm thrown over his waist. There's a pit in his stomach as soon as he opens his eyes, because the alarm is on again, the same radio station, the same song. The sunlight streaming into the room is buttery-soft, brand new because it's early. The alarm is ringing so they can take Chris to school. And— He reaches out for the bedside table on his side of the bed they share, clumsily unplugs his phone one-handed. The screen lights up to a familiar wallpaper, and it's right there, just above the top of Buck's head: Wednesday. or: buck breaks up with eddie, even if it means losing a part of himself, because it's the right thing to do. the universe decides to test that conviction.

I fucking love time loop fics!!! 👌

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston/ @ebjameston

Canon Divergent, S2, Ghost Buck, Witch Eddie | 41K | Teen

Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

I know you love witchy vibes and I really enjoyed this one! There's also a great podfic if you like that.

#favorites #epic buddie fic rec #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fanart #buddie fic

34 notes · View notes

sheikfangirl · 2 days

Text

LoZ Ask Game

I am so sorry @nyxierqse, I accidently deleted your question in my inbox!! But i had copy/ pasted it in a note pad so **** yes, catastrophe aborded! Alright, let's do this:

🕹️ What’s the first Zelda game you ever played?

The original NES game. Yup, I am this old. Been obsessing over the franchise ever since.

(That's really my copy. It's been played a lot)👇

🥰 What character do you most ship with Link? (Malon, Revali, Sidon, Zelda, etc.)

..........My answer might surprise you....👇

🐦 Any Opinions or Headcanon(s) about a certain Zelda Race?

I like to think there are differents Zora ethnicities, which would explain why Zora's from OoT, BotW and ALttP looks so different from one another. The Zora's from ALttP are agressive and the others are peaceful which suggest they have very different cultures. I'm also wondering if maybe Lady Yona is a descendant from ALttP's Zoras, or maybe she is a metis? IDK...im just brain rotting over pixel art from 30 years ago lol👇

Cheers!

#legend of zelda #loz ask game #sheik fangirl

20 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY TWO

in which eddie is honest. for real, this time.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, discussion of/allusions to smut from last chapter, angst, not edited (what's new though), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.1k+

→ a/n: welp. this... yeah, this is a lot. i truly hope it's worth it. in the waiting, anticipation, and length. if it isn't... my bad. i'm sorry in advance. also, please note, pov change only applies to the memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

22:00 ──────────────ㅇ─ 24:00

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

—

HOUR TWENTY TWO – 1:00 PM

You can’t speak. It’s as if you’re frozen; every muscle, including your tongue, has gone rigid. Every racing thought escapes just beyond your reach. Every single one of the last twenty two hours pound behind your rib cage, and you think you might just faint. Right here, right now. The blood rushes your ears as your body goes ice cold, and even the railing cutting into your palm seems to drift away from you.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t even try to deny it. He knows you heard what he said – he can’t take it back. It’s written plainly on his face that if he could, he would swallow back down those disastrous words. He’d grab that destruction four letter word right out of the air, no doubt, and set it aflame. He’d blow away the ash if he could guarantee you would have never heard it.

But he can’t. You heard him.

I’ve loved you for so long.

Everything is heavy. The air, your limbs, your godforsaken tongue.

“Say something,” he suddenly begs. You’ve never seen Eddie look so desperate, eyes wet and voice cracking, “Anything.”

You want to answer him. Your bones ache with the need – the need to reply, the need to question, the need to do anything but stare at him with what he must surely mistake for horror.

Were you horrified? Were you?

You don’t know.

It’s why you can’t answer him.

“I-” he starts up again, breaking down even further right before your eyes. You want to reach out, to coddle him, to tell him it’s fine. But it’s not fine.

You don’t even get the chance to ruminate on just how not fine it is, or that heat beginning to come to a boil in the pit of your stomach, because the sound of one of the neighbors exiting out onto their own balcony interrupts the infinitely delicate moment.

“Hey there, Eds-” You don’t know what actually interrupts the gruff man that steps out, who exudes familiarity with Eddie until he takes in the scene before him.

Eddie, completely fucking naked. You, with only a shirt on. If it weren’t for the moment at hand and the trembling emotions coming to fruition inside of you, you’d probably find it comical. You’d probably find a way to join in the old man’s single guffaw before the two of you meet each other’s gaze and become aware of what exactly is happening.

But it’s not funny. You’re both fucking naked — physically and emotionally — and it’s not funny.

You’re mortified as both of you are scrambling across the balcony, a whirlwind of discarded clothes fisted and nearly tripping over each other to shove back into Eddie’s living room. That embarrassment now trickles down into the start of a boil, everything in you becoming red-hot from how flustered you’ve become and the way you can’t have a second to just process it all.

When you turn to face Eddie once the sliding door has slammed shut, his cheeks are the brightest pink imaginable.

“What the fuck,” you whisper out, trying to steady your breathing, trying to take it all in.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your adrenaline is almost making you sick.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he catches your whisper amongst your stoic silence and seems to forget the moment that his neighbor had just shattered, voice clear as day as he pulls his curtains shut. You swear you catch the old man still staring, still laughing, and you’re just grateful that you’re not the one completely nude, “I had no idea Mr. Jenkins would come outside, usually none of those fuckers see the light of day before sundow-”

“Your neighbor just saw us naked,” you almost scream. You want to shout, want to throw everything in sight. You crave to flip that coffee table in the center of the room and throw a fit that outdoes even the most petulant of toddlers.

“I know, I-“

“If you say sorry again, I’m walking back out there,” you take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm you’re shaking body, “And I’m throwing myself off the fucking balcony.”

Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about it in five years. A year, even. Hell, a month or as soon as next week. But you can’t right now; all you want to do is cry.

Some random man just saw you naked. Eddie apparently fucking loves you.

It might be the sleep deprivation and it might be the fact that it feels like the Universe is laughing in your face at every turn right now. Whatever higher power exists seems to be waiting around every corner for the chance to kick you repeatedly as you stumble to this finish line. And you can’t fucking take it.

So you give in. You give in to that childish need to stomp your feet and scream until you’re blue in your lips.

“I just- Fuck!” Eddie jumps a bit at your exclamation, he’s still naked, “I can’t catch a break! I can’t catch a fucking break. First, I’m showing up here, and I’m stuck with you for twenty four hours. I’m stuck with the man I hate for a whole fucking day,” you’re full on pacing, not caring how ridiculous this scene would appear to anyone. Your hands wave erratically in the space around you, and all Eddie can do is stare, tense with wide eyes, “And I cry in front of you, have full breakdowns in front of you. I listen to you remind me over and over how much you truly despise only to now suddenly find out that, hey! I actually love you! And do I get to process that? No. Because now, some fucking old man that lives next door to you has seen my goddamn vag-“

Eddie’s entire demeanor collapses. “Oh, so now I’m back to being the man you hate?”

You pause your ranting, realizing what you’ve said.

You’re just angry. You should have thought before you spoke, before you opened your mouth and began to spew your venom, because you can see the way the words have struck Eddie. Not your intention.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you said that,” he flatly argues back.

Your stomach twists.

“I’m just-“ your tongue is back to being heavy as the two of you face one another. Feet apart, worlds apart. “I’m fucking embarrassed, Eddie.”

“You think I’m not?” he scowls, and you try to tell your racing heart it’s a good sign. But it’s not. You almost preferred his walls dividing the two of you, “Shit fucking happens. We got caught — we fucking dirty talked about getting caught! Big fucking deal! Karmic justice or whatever bullshit people spew. It doesn’t mean I’m going to- It doesn’t change-“ he’s stuttering now, matching that exasperation that had you pacing just moments before. He huffs, a hand reaching up and dragging his bangs upward, harsh at the root as he finally drops his hands in his own defeat, palms slapping his sides, “Everything changes. You said that, not me. You said everything changes, and all it takes is a little bit of fucking embarrassment to go back on your word?”

He’s still fucking naked. You still can’t think.

“I’m not having this conversation with you naked,” you whisper, almost in disbelief as you shake your head, “I’m- Put your fucking clothes on. Please.”

“Put my clothes on?” he scoffs, taking a step closer to you, “Put my clothes on? Do you mean the same clothes you just insisted I take off not even ten minutes ago?”

“We were having sex!” you yell. You’re sure if the old man is no longer on his balcony, he can hear you through the walls. Hell, even if he is still outside, it’s likely he hears the screaming match beginning, “Why- Why are you turning this on me right now? You just said you fucking love me! The least of our issues right now is me telling you to get fucking dressed!”

“Why are you lashing out at me right now?” Eddie’s voice is louder than yours, something more broken inside of it, “I-“

“Clothes,” you grit out, avoiding his eyes as you start to yank your panties on violently, “Now.”

You can still feel him. His essence is dripping between your thighs. And you don’t find any sense of enjoyment in it, you don’t savor that quick-fading warmth nor the reminder of the pleasure he’d just brought you. It just reminds you of the words he had said all while not even looking you in the eyes. He couldn’t even face you as he had admitted it.

One thing at a time, you try to remind yourself. One fucking thing at a time.

Eddie’s own redressing is another sight that maybe, hopefully, one day you’ll look back on and laugh at. But right now, it can’t spark any amusement in you. Not as all your emotions slam back into you at full force.

You’re embarrassed. You’re confused. You’re angry.

“Happy?” he spits out once his boxers are on, shirt tugged back on so hard over his head that his curls frizz up.

“No,” your eyes are burning, and you feel it again. All those desperate emotions. Like a wild animal inside of you has begun to claw at your insides, making you bleed from the inside out.

Eddie loves you — and he has, for a long time, apparently.

Eddie’s neighbor has seen you naked. Saw your full bottom half exposed.

You’ve managed to hurt Eddie’s feelings, again.

Eddie fucking loves you and never thought to mention it. He has for a long time.

All your tempered strings snap, that wild and stricken thing inside of you finally cutting loose.

You don’t know what you’re angry at. You’re angry at him, and yet you’re not. You’re angry at the situation, and yet you’re not. You are bitter from words withheld and you are sour from every moment that paves the road that brought you two to this very moment.

You’re just angry.

“What did you mean?” the question comes out sharply enough to make his own defiant anger fade ever so slightly as he physically flinches, “I- I need to know what the Hell you meant, Eddie.”

Anger is metallic on your tongue. It seeps from your skin, floods the air, only further dampens everything already so heavy.

The longer he doesn’t answer you, the more smothering the entirety of the apartment becomes.

“Just tell me. Make it make sense, because right now?” you pause for a deep and shaky breath. Your eyesight is blurry now. Eyes red rimmed with tears that will surely sear your cheeks if they find the nerve to be shed, “Right now, I don’t get it. Over and over and over again, you have reminded me that you hate me. Prior to tonight, it was safe to assume that scorning my existence was one of your favorite pastimes. And I know, I get it — everything has changed. But- But-“

How can anything change if you weren’t honest to begin with?

Did anything change for him? While you were discovering and tending to sore feelings that had been festering for a while but had never seen the light of day, was he only nursing an old wound?

“But what?” his voice drops low. His entire demeanor has dropped, cowering down before you. His head dips down, his shoulders droop with prepared rejection, you watch the man before you, the man you had just let defile you and the man you had just worshiped on your goddamn knees, turn to dust.

A shaky gasp. Wobbly knees. The blood rushes through your ears again, flushing out any noise except the two of you breathing out of sync. His deep breaths, accepting and welcoming a rejection he was so sure he was receiving. Your shallow breaths, panting and rapid and trying to just get everything to slow the fuck down.

You were right. Once the tears shed, they burn a trail of Hellish fury right down the center of each cheek. “When I say everything has changed between us, what does that mean to you?”

He’s undressing an old wound, an open slash that seems to be unable to form a scab. You’re pressing on bruises, aching parts of you that had purpled from his neglect long ago. It’s clear as day now — the difference.

You no longer care about the embarrassment of being caught.

“What do you want it to mean?”

“Don’t do that,” the tears fall faster now. You can’t even begin to dig into this chasm of emotions. Are you angry at him? Are you disappointed by the circumstances? Do you love him? “I want an answer — I need your answer. You promised me your honesty, so give me it. Now.”

His eyes meet yours, and your entire world seems to fold into itself, “It… doesn’t mean much. It doesn’t change much.”

Everything has only changed for you.

“So it means nothing, then? You have me at your disposal, you have me on my fucking knees for you, you tell me you fucking love me, and it all means nothing?”

You’re twisting his words and you know it. But you can’t help it, can’t stop it.

“I never said that!” his voice is no longer low and quiet. Sudden worry creases beside his eyes as his mouth goes slack in shock, “I never said it meant nothing.”

“But it doesn’t mean much, right?” You hate your wet cheeks. You hate the way everything in you is somehow slow-breaking, yet suddenly shattering. An unnerving juxtaposition that is drowning you and sending you reeling over and over again, “It doesn’t change much, right? Because when I said that, Eddie, I meant it – everything fucking changed for me. It wasn’t- It’s not- This isn’t just some throwaway thing to me. Not even a day ago, I thought I had to hate you with everything I had. I thought I had to hate you.”

And I don’t. Not even a little bit. Even right now, when I should.

“Is that what you think I’m saying?” his voice is low where your voice has risen, his face calm where yours has gone stormy.

Where you’re on fire, he’s treading still waters. The opposite dilemma that has always existed, and the one you had the nerve to see as poetic. But water meeting flames is never poetic. It never ends well. You should have seen that coming from a mile away.

“What am I supposed to think?” you also quiet your tone to match his. You wonder if the neighbors really had heard a thing. You almost hope they had, that this argument is affecting someone else’s day the way it’s affecting you, “You’re standing here, and you’re telling me it doesn’t mean much, and-“

“It doesn’t change much,” he corrects, and you’re now the one flinching at the crack in his voice. “Not for me. Not when I-“

Not when I’ve loved you for so long.

He can’t even finish his own sentence.

“So what does it change?” you throw your hands out in exasperation, “If it doesn’t change much, what has it changed?”

There it is again — his silence, your anger.

“Is it not enough to just know it changes something?”

If you were stupid, you’d take his tone as pleading. You’d mistake it for begging. But you can’t. For all your fury, you can’t believe that he’s actually stooped so low as to beg for you, especially after what he’s just said. Time and time again, you had repeatedly cracked yourself wide open for him, and he’d managed to rip your heart right out of your chest with such a simply yet damning statement. The most casually cruel bit of honesty he had offered you yet tonight: that nothing changes.

“We’re back to square one,” you choke out in realization, “I- Fuck. This entire time, you weren’t honest with me.”

He opens his mouth quickly, and for a second you believe he’ll offer an explanation that can soothe over the ache. He’ll come up with an excuse that you can buy, he’ll explain himself in a way that proves you wrong, and the sweet oblivious bliss can return.

“No,” he says instead after careful consideration, “I wasn’t honest with you.”

Your tears are running rampant as you only nod slowly, pressing your lips together in defeat, “Awesome. Great,” you reach up, sniffling as you swipe at your nose, still silently quiet but no longer awarding him with any display of your rage, of your hurt, of anything but your acceptance, “No, really, that’s- Cool. Nothing changes. I get it.”

I’ve loved you for so long.

It didn’t make sense, but you don’t have it in you to dissect it any further. He had loved you the entire time, and still set out to make you bleed. His grand admission doesn’t change a single fucking thing.

You don’t say another word as you grab your pair of jeans up into your fist, being sure to move slowly and not in the haste every nerve in your body calls for. You need to leave – you need out of this apartment, and you need to never see Eddie Munson again. It wouldn’t be a far leap from what your friends already deal with. If the friendships take blows of damage from it, so be it-

“Where are you going?” he asks, standing stiller than a statue as he watches you.

You grab your bag, “I’m leaving. The deal’s off. Or- I don’t know. Tell them the bet’s off-”

“The bet is not off-”

“It is,” you turn to him, absolutely frozen in your resolution, “It really, really is. You can even fucking lie to them if you want, I don’t care. Figure out a way to get the money but I don’t want it. I’m done.”

“So that’s it?” he scoffs in disbelief. When you pull on your jeans, when you sling your bag back over your shoulder and begin to walk to the counter where your phone was left, he realizes that it’s really happening. He realizes you’re truly done, “No questions? I just told you I wasn’t fucking honest, and you’re just going to walk away, not even demand I tell the tru-”

“I’m tired of pulling the truth from you,” you finally move with some of the aggression you felt, hand smacking the counter beside your phone, “If you care so much, if you love me, I shouldn’t have to beg until my knees bleed for you to actually be honest with me,” you take your phone, shoving it into your back pocket before you look at him, “I can’t keep doing this. You were always right. They’re your friends. Congratulations, you got what you always said you wanted. You won’t have to deal with me anymore – consider this a farewell from your life. I’ll make sure no one invites you to my fucking funeral.”

You assume he grabs you due to your cruel reference to his insult from the very beginning of the night, that he’s going to fight you for that bit of your oddly calm speech. But when his hands wrap around your bicep, and you face him with those silent tears still racing, what comes out of his mouth stuns you.

“I’ll be honest,” he is pleading, he is begging, “Stay, and I’ll tell you everything. I don’t even fucking care about the bet — we can call off, everyone else can go to Hell. I don’t care about the money, I don’t care about the bet, I just-” he pauses, and you watch the desperation building taller and taller within him, “Stay and let me explain.”

You should tell him no. You should tell him to go to Hell. If you stay and hear him out, it will only end in pain for you. You should leave.

Instead, your bag begins to slip off your shoulder.

“You have ten minutes,” you whisper as his hand finally releases its grip, “Explain.”

—

SIX MONTHS EARLIER - EDDIE’S POV

If he were smart, Eddie would’ve kept his word.

He’d told them he wasn’t showing up. He’d told them he had work (not a complete lie), and that he wouldn’t make it tonight. He just hadn’t felt like drinking anymore — not since two weeks prior, when he’d gotten black out drunk while hanging out with Nancy, throwing his own personal pity party.

Pathetic.

It wasn’t just that killer headache that had been haunting Eddie since that night. It was much more than that; it was solid and palpable regret. He’d thrown back too many beers, mixed it with some sort of wine coolers that Nancy offered him once he started to feel the buzz. All it took was just a bit too much alcohol in his system, and suddenly, his rant that Nancy had agreed to indulge him in became so much more. One moment, he was just complaining about you. And the next, he was rambling, letting less harsh words slip between the complaints, more compliments than things he wanted you to change. One wine cooler in, and he was no longer complaining about the way everyone had been fawning over you after a full six months of friendship, but instead the way that your sad eyes and pouting lips following him around a room was cosmically unfair.

He didn’t remember much of the rest of the night, and he was glad when Nancy had given him a pitiful look over the cups of coffee she offered.

He’d told her. He knew he’d admitted his stupid, annoying, despicable crush on you to her. Probably whined about the way you and Harrington had clearly had something going on. Definitely spoke too much about how badly he wanted to experience your gentle hand in his calloused one, or to feel your arms wrap around his neck in greeting rather than daggers from your glare every time he entered a room. Hell, he’s sure there was a good thirty minute period amongst the fuzzy memories where he’d sat on the edge of tears as he continued to mumble about how he wasn’t good enough for you.

Nancy Wheeler, his best friend, finally knew. Six fucking months of keeping it under wraps, and Eddie Munson had finally slipped up.

And she clearly hasn’t forgotten as Eddie had prayed she would every single night as she’s the one to answer his knocks on Steve’s door, grinning with the hidden knowledge.

She’d texted him with one last plea for him to show up. Insisted everyone was here. Went so far as to make him a list, and made sure to add your name at the end. It had been phrased like an afterthought on the screen, but he knew her too well. He knew Nancy purposefully mentioned you.

“Munson! Finally! It took you long enough,” she squeals, clearly already halfway to drunk before she quiets down, “And you said you weren’t coming. Wonder what, or who, changed your mind.”

“Fuck off.”

It had been a bad day. Work, classes, a phone call with Wayne that had just left Eddie disheartened and terribly homesick. It was selfish, but the thought of seeing you in passing tonight, even if you did seem to dislike him just as he had intended, made it all a bit more bearable.

Coming home. Seeing you felt like coming home, even if you’d slammed the front door on his face.

He follows Nancy down the hall, a pit growing in the bottom of his stomach, heavy as ever. He shouldn’t have even wanted to see you. The last time he had seen you, you’d been out for blood, blatantly ruining a date he’d managed to bag with Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy, who never gave him the time of day in high school. Chrissy, who was clearly set on using him as a rebound during yet another break from Jason. Chrissy, who’s only flaw wasn't just the fact that she wasn’t you.

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle greets Eddie the moment he enters the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, Jonathan to his right and a space where Nancy clearly had occupied now empty.

Eddie nods, still feeling the week weighing him down. No sight of you yet, “Hey, man.”

He just wanted to see you. One glimpse, preferably before you’ve caught sight of him, and he’d be fine. He’d learned to live with those fleeting moments the last six months, he could keep it up for just a bit longer.

He’d get over you eventually. Even if it killed him.

He had to give his plan time to work. So far, he’d done well, easily offering you a cold shoulder and nothing more after that first night. It wasn’t easy — he doesn’t think anyone would find the task of being cool towards someone as radiant as you easy — but he’d done it. Brick by brick, his wall of invincibility was standing tall and strong between you two. It was safer this way, he had to remind himself. It was better to run off of brief glances of your smiles and laughter never directed at him than to risk anything more. He’d only disappoint you, or you’d magically disappoint him, and it would end in bloodshed. Someone like you, someone so good and kind and easy to gravitate towards, would leave Eddie broken beyond damage.

You didn’t go for guys like Eddie. Steve had made that clear since day one.

Eddie takes the loveseat as Nancy returns to Jonathan’s side. He tries to make it subtle, the way he twists his head to glance around the room as he removes his jacket, eyes roaming until he finds you. In the kitchen, with Steve and Robin, tense back telling him you’d already noticed his arrival.

So much for seeing you smile.

He tries to keep up with the conversation going on. Argyle and Jonathan are having some sort of debate about aliens, nothing short of heated and passionate, and he’d normally be jumping in without hesitation. But his eyes can’t stop flickering to the kitchen and each time, he can see you downing even more alcohol. He knows you don’t like him, but did you hate him that much?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Nancy leans over to whisper as Jonathan grows in volume about another branch of a conspiracy theory.

“Just tired,” he flatly replies. He’s suddenly itching to get his hands onto some alcohol of his own. Fuck the lessons he should’ve learned a few weeks ago. Fuck his regret in confiding in Nancy.

“Was work rough?”

He hums pathetically in response, eyes glued to the kitchen still. To you.

Nancy’s eyes finally follow his focus, “Have you… I don’t know, ever tried just talking to her?”

He snaps from his daze at that, head turning quickly to Nancy, “I talk to her all the time.”

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

“Never nicely,” she points out, narrowing her eyes, “You’re like a little boy on the playground, tugging on her pigtails until she figures it ou-“

“I don’t want her to figure it out,” he cuts off the assumption, eyes widening in horror at the thought, “Christ, Nance. I thought I made that clear when I ended up shitfaced on your couch.”

Nancy softens. She can see what’s happening here, see every dampening thought that weighs Eddie down. He might not remember his drunken rambles, but she does.

“The only thing you made clear is what a spectacular ass you’re making out of yourself,” her words hold no bite, only truth, “Who cares what Steve said that night? He was drunk.”

“So was I,” Eddie’s eyes are back on you, palms running up his outer thighs until he curls them to fists by his hips, “I was drunk when I talked to you about her. Forget about it.”

Surprisingly, his stubborn best friend leaves it be. Puts the pointless argument to rest.

Eddie’s feelings can’t rest, though.

Every night, he tells himself it’ll all go away. The distance will make his heart grow harder, and he’ll eventually be able to wash himself of you one of these days. And every night, all the feelings you’ve sprouted inside of him only teem their way higher, up into his throat and choking him with every last breath before he falls asleep. He can’t forget those first few weeks, the way you seemed to think his coldness was a phase. You’d tried so desperately to seek him out at every function, sparked so many failed conversations with him that left him to burn. Every smile you’d offered him during that time, he’d taken for granted.

Even last week, when you’d interrupted his date, he’d let himself relish in the memory of your attention. Pathetic.

Had you been jealous? Had you just been spiteful, finally giving him a taste of his own medicine? He couldn’t decide, wouldn’t let himself linger on the reasoning. But he’d remembered your touch, could still feel it scarring his skin wherever your palm of fingertips had rested as you’d scared off Chrissy. He’d even hesitated in the shower that night, pausing for a moment before washing over the shoulder you’d gripped when you’d first approached their table and embarrassed him without care.

He deserved your spite.

And he deserves to have to overhear the conversation you’re currently having in the kitchen. You’re going on and on about all the men you’ve had dates with, detailing out every one night stand for Steve and Robin who listen with eager ears.

It makes his stomach churn and twist sharply. Each new man you bring to your roster makes his throat burn with jealousy, plain and simple. And he knows it written all over his face when Nancy leans over and puts a hand on his knee, giving him a concerned look.

Even the change of topic between Argyle and Jonathan on goddamn Bigfoot can’t overtake the sharp cut of your bragging.

“I’ve never seen your eyes so green, Eddie.”

He’s about to snipe back that his eyes are brown, and be unnecessarily cruel from his sour mood, when he realizes what she means.

“I’m not jealous,” he lies through his teeth.

“You very much are.”

He doesn’t have it in him to bicker back and forth about this again. Not about you, and not with Nancy, “What does it matter? Like I said, me and her? Never gonna happen.”

He had said that. He remembers that, at least, from his drunken confession. He’s sure he reiterated that point several times once he’d made it past the point of coherency.

“She’s lying,” Nancy casually whispers, pulling her hand back, “She- Us girls talk, you know? Just… she’s lying.”

“I went on a date with Chrissy. It doesn’t matter.”

And she has no clue how fucking hung up on her I am. She’ll never know if I have anything to do with it.

“You can keep saying that,” Nancy glances, making sure their other two friends on the couch are still too deep in conversation to listen in, “But we both know that’s not true.”

Unsurprising. Even if Nancy hadn’t listened to him cry that night about all his miserable yearning, all his unrequited feelings born out of a mess he got himself into, she would have known. Eddie has tried to guard himself when it comes to you, but there’s some times his leashed affection can’t help but seep out.

Whenever you stumble on sidewalks beside him, his arms and hands are the first to fly out. Whenever the group has gone out to bars altogether, he watches you like a hawk, almost daring the men surrounding you to disrespect you. Whenever your birthday came around, he’d bought that damn gift card to his favorite coffee shop, all because he saw you frequent it twice. Although, to be fair, he’d made Harrington be the messenger there. He wouldn’t have been able to look you in your eye, wouldn’t have been able to put up the bitter persona on a day that should be special to you. He didn’t want to ruin your birthday, so he’d simply sat on the sidelines. Let everyone else go out and celebrate with you. Let everyone else pour enough affection into your cup, even when he wishes his own could have been the final drops to cause it to overfill.

He had to tread carefully. It’d be too easy — to let himself pour out all these silly feelings and meaningless attraction. One wrong move, and he’d cause his own undoing. His own destruction. It doesn’t matter if it would be by your hand; he’d only have himself to blame at the end of the day.

He’s lost in thought, still itching for a drink, when Nancy is suddenly standing over him. “We’re going out for a smoke, you in?”

He shakes his head numbly. His mind is far away now, getting lost in all that he’s done wrong, all that he can’t have.

He’s homesick. He’s watched the way you’ve interacted with Robin and Steve the entire night, and he’s goddamn homesick for a home that he’ll never hold the keys to.

“You sure, man?” Argyle asks him, wiggling his brows, “I brought the good shit.”

Numbing his mind with drugs. It’s tempting.

“I’m good,” he reaffirms, still speaking in monotone. He doesn’t have the energy to put up a brave face, too focused on his heavy chest and that miserable pit in his gut still.

And everyone leaves. He’s sure there’s something poetic for his stormy mind to pick up on there, as he watches his friends gather without him and exit to the outside, but he’s more focused on a miniscule detail.

You’re not with them.

Meaning you’re still in the kitchen.

And God, he really should know better. He should stay planted in his seat and he should sit in his misery until they all return. Only trouble can come from not doing so. But then his body moves to its own accord, fueled by something wickedly cruel and terribly homesick as he grabs one of the bottles of beer off the coffee table. It’s Nancy’s, he’s sure of it. Her lipstick stains the opposite side of the rim he takes a swig from. The beer has long since gone lukewarm, but beggars can’t be choosers. He clears his throat as the bitter lingers on his tongue.

He should know better.

But he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t as he enters the kitchen. You’re on your phone as he stands in the doorway, and there’s no time to hide what you’d been glancing over.

A dating app.

You spin to face him, and he imagines a world where your eyes land on him and light up. Something akin to that first night, to those first few weeks. Where you look at him with purpose, and he sees relief flood your irises rather than irritation or fear.

No such luck. He only has himself to blame.

He can’t think of anything else to say, so like an idiot, he gestures vaguely with the bottle of beer towards your phone, “Those apps fucking suck.”

That jealousy is still gnawing at him. Hateful, painful, reckless.

You look down at your phone for a second, and click to exit whatever messages you’d been on. And then you look back up at him.

“You’ve used them in the past?” you question him, but he’s still stuck on all the recounts of your escapades he’d overheard tonight. Whether or not they were true didn’t matter. All he sees when he closes his eyes is you, with other men. You, looking at someone else with purpose, relieved eyes awarded to someone more worthy.

He’s lucky he can choke out a short, “Nope,” and make it not sound strangled.

“Okay,” your attention returns to your phone screen, and Eddie’s returns to his internal battle.

He’s jealous. So goddamn jealous it’s insufferable. It’s not your fault – he chose to push you away, he chose to lash out like a child for his own sanity and his own safety. You’d ruin him; you’ve already ruined him without even trying. If he gave up on the act, on this carefully thought out plan, he’d be beyond leftover rubble of a man. He’d be gone beyond recognition, reduced to ash and smoke. A nameless, forgotten whisper of dust that people would only point to and say, see? Look at that. That’s what becomes of you when you never learn.

He’s pined enough in his lifetime after girls like you. Girls who were too good for him. He’d done it with Chrissy, and it was still causing him nothing but trouble.

That burden didn’t hang over Chrissy, or over you. It was all Eddie’s own fault. Neither of you could help that he wasn’t good enough; it wasn’t either of your jobs to fix him or lower your standards for him. You’d even been kind, you’d even nearly fallen into that trap.

It was for the better. All of it was for the better this way.

And yet the jealousy remains. The anger still thrives between his ribs, and begs for release.

“Why are you even still on them?” he should think over his words more carefully as they begin to roll off his tongues. He knows he’s in the wrong before he even continues, “I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.”

Each word is sharpened so intentionally, glinting from raking against that anger inside of him. You don’t deserve their prick. Really, he should just be comforting you the way the others do – how Robin surely was, how Steve must be.

But it’s part of the plan. So he tampers down the jealousy and he feeds into the anger, lets it consume him. Because making you hate him is easier than letting you like him. It’s easier to watch the one you can’t have sneer at you like the enemy than let them smile at you like you’re just a friend.

“I-” you falter in your words, and he decides to straighten his back, takes a deep breath as he slips the mask on effortlessly. He hates how easy it’s become. He hates how quickly he turns everything with you into a fight, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.”

Sometimes, it’s like a game. And he can pretend that your hatred, your distaste, is also all a facade. Like the both of you are two sides of the same coin. A playful banter rather than an actual argument between two people who can’t even call themselves friends. When he looks at it like that, blinded by his delusion, it makes the ache dull. Sends it away for a few fleeting seconds, convinces himself he really can carry on this way.

“You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all, tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the boy count you’ve got there, player,” he forces a grin as he leans on the counter, watching his words get under your skin exactly as he had intended.

You’re cute like this. Clearly drunk, getting flustered. He revels in the way your face physically scrunches in annoyance, the way he can watch you gear up to fight fire with fire. A sick, twisted game of cat and mouse that always can entertain him in the moment and haunt him at night.

“You’re bluffing. You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.”

He wonders, for a second, if you’d caught him staring at any point. He wonders if you’d even care.

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying.”

You cross your arms, and he can’t help but watch the way they push your chest up. He can’t help but ponder on how much better it would all feel if this were really playful banter.

He has to refrain from physically shaking the thought from his mind.

It’s for the better.

He narrows his eyes, he grips onto the anger again, that hidden jealousy. He should know better. He should stop it. The words even feel heavy on his tongue, terribly forced. Because his anger isn’t at you.

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” and oh, how ironic, for the liar to be calling out someone’s little white lies, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up,” the words come out a bit easier when imagines the barrel of the gun pointed at himself, as if he were speaking so casually cruelly into a mirror rather than at you, “Everyone strikes ou-”

He’s clearly struck a nerve. And it aches, but he reminds himself that that’s the point. That’s his goal.

“I’m pathetic? Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.”

He wasn’t trying to avoid you. He was trying to avoid Nancy after his entire drunken confession fiasco.

“I did!” he continues to lie. Even with no one to show for, he piles up his lies high. Buries himself beneath them, beneath his pathetic act and worthless reasons. It’s probably for the best that you had assumed that he was avoiding you.

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.”

The act cracks for a moment as he freezes. Why did you know about his apartment’s pet policy?

“How do you know that?”

It can’t be because you care, or even get curious about him. He’s done everything in his power to cause the exact opposite, to make you be repulsed by him and to run the other way if you can help it.

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” He doesn’t even react to the roll of your eyes, unable to get riled up as he usually would at that. It clicks for him; it makes sense, because Nancy had stormed down his door not even a day later, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Eddie does feel guilty about that. He doesn’t mean for his own self-destructive behavior to leach out to his friends, or even you. His goal has always been to make it so that when he’s not around, he’s not even an afterthought to you. But selfishly, part of him preens at the idea of you being reminded of him, of you thinking of him when he’s not in the room with you. It’s a conundrum. It’s almost deadlier than his other option.

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” he grumbles like a damn child, almost pouting in his guilt. There’s another selfish sliver of him that’s also upset at that – upset at the fact everyone else gets to bloom with your friendship and positive attention, but not him. Once again, it’s his own doing. He really shouldn’t be angry at you about it.

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.”

Times like these make him want to give it all up. He has to physically tense his body, tick his jaw and bite his tongue to avoid throwing the entire act to the side. He wants nothing more than to grab you by your shoulders and shake you, scream that sometimes it is your fault. But you don’t know it – you can’t read his mind, see past his intentions.

You don’t know what Steve had so generously reminded him of that very first night.

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice is devoid of all emotion despite the storm brewing inside of him. He can’t even blame it on alcohol – he wishes he could, but his tolerance to beer can handle the single sip he’s taken. He crosses his arms, wrapping them around his body, trying to protect that terrible vulnerability only he’s aware of. When your position mirrors his, he wonders for a moment if you’re also feeling it.

But you’ve been drinking. This entire conversation, every emotion, can be blamed on that. You’re luckier than Eddie.

“I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment.”

He lets a reaction at his own irony slip through for a brief second, eyebrows furrowing as the voice inside him screams hypocrite! Hypocrite! Hypocrite!

He wishes he could pretend to be oblivious to why he can’t stop bringing Steve up, but he knows better. He can bury the jealousy alive, but it still bites all the same.

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going? We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?”

We aren’t exactly friends.

He should relish that confirmation that his plan is working, that you truly don’t see him as a friend, but it just fucking stings. He swallows hard physically, as if it can help him swallow down the truth any better, but it does nothing for him. The truth only continues to choke him up. His tongue has momentarily frozen over in his mouth as he tries to push past the painful reminder and wrap up this conversation. He feels it, that sharp burn of an unattended wound, and he realizes at the wrong moment that whether or not he keeps you at an arm's length, bloodshed will always occur.

At least this way, he tells himself it’s protecting himself. This way, the knife isn’t pointed at his own heart.

“You’re right. We aren’t friends,” the words are poison on his tongue. They taste of dirt and rust, like a grave that screams to be dug up but he has no shovel. He’d tossed it once he’d sealed the tomb, like a fool, “But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?”

At least he wasn’t lying to you for a brief moment. Nance had told him. He’d throw you that bone, at least.

“Well-” and with your own pause, you seemingly return the favor. You’re handing him yet another opportunity on a silver platter; exposing an insecurity that he should let live and let die, but he won’t for the sake of the wall he has bled to put up between you two, “You say that as if Nancy and I aren’t friends.”

“Are you?”

He’ll regret that taunt for the rest of his days. Two simple words, and he’s damned himself. The conversation that follows, about Instagram and followers and social standards of friendship, doesn’t even matter to him. It’s just a routine. Constant knives, clashing swords of words, lie after lie piling up with the bile in his throat as he shoots for kills. He hands over reason after reason for you to resent him, and makes sure that each punch lands. Ignores the ache, the one billowing in his knuckles as if each subtle insult he tosses your way doesn’t bruise his innards all the same way. By the end of the back and forth, it should be enough, for both of you. He’s accomplished the same thing he always sets out to do with every conversation: he pisses you off, putting another inch in that stretch between you two.

But then you turn your back on him. And he deserves it. God, he deserves it. But he’s still full of bad ideas tonight, the awfulness of the last few days still suffocating him, and so he makes another decision to regret. He walks up behind you.

You open your phone, and he sees it. You’re on the dating app again, and the screen flashes with the face of your latest contender.

He knows that face. He schools his face to remain even, but he fucking knows that face.

The bartender at his local haunt. The only other person besides Nancy who had ever seen Eddie so miserable over you. He had been drinking alone that night, and the whiskey had him pouring out his guts to the poor guy. Slurred words of the girl who had slipped between his fingers, of the one who got away, of you.

And that same bartender had been the one to sympathize with Eddie, claiming he understood. That he knew that feeling – dating around and doing anything in your power to get the girl you truly want off your mind. He said he had one of his own. He’d told Eddie that his pain-riddled speeches helped him make up his mind, that he was going to go after the girl he really wanted, that Eddie should do the same.

Was this bartender your ex-boyfriend? Had the two of them been discussing the exact same girl?

Bad decisions. Over, and over, and over. It all comes to a rise within Eddie – not just the anger, but the jealousy and the hurt and the goddamn envy of the man on the screen. He hates the bartender, he hates himself, he hates the world at this point.

He tells himself he should add you to that list. But he doesn’t. He can’t.

And it all spirals out of control before he can prove that to himself. Words grow sharper, small kindles of tension between the two of you finally explode to full blown flames, and he’s suddenly saying things he doesn’t mean. Things he’ll linger on for the days and weeks, the months to come.

“You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted, Not by those assholes, not here-”

He’s mid-lie, one finger on the trigger of the gun he assumed was aimed at his own chest, when it finally happens. A snap within both of you. Timed perfectly with the glass that shatters against the wall beside his head.

Eddie learns two things that night.

One, half of his plan worked. He’s succeeded. You hated Eddie Munson’s guts, and instead of him being content in his success, he’s sick to his stomach. It doesn’t bandage the wound inside of him, doesn’t pack away cotton nor cauterize the bleeding. It only worsens it. Widens it, impossibly so. He swears shards of that broken glass fly right into his unsuspecting chest, even if Nancy doesn’t find a trace on him when she comes back inside to see the aftermath. You hate him, he’s proven his point. He has proven himself to be the worst possible version of himself, the most unlovable man he had always seen in the mirror now residing in him staunchly enough that every single one of his friends sees it.

He’d done it. He’d diminished any chance he had ever held of being friends with you. And he thought that, without a doubt, that meant he’d diminished any disastrous chance of letting you close enough to risk the chance of any more of his feelings getting involved. He thought it would have meant that he’d done it – he’d protected himself, and in some sick twisted way you, from inevitable bloodshed.

But blood had still been shed. Even if his friends were only cleaning up broken glass in the kitchen, he could still see the stain of red across the floor and walls from you and him. He was bleeding out for you, but he had just driven the knife in deep enough that you would never return the feeling. There was no world where you would be bleeding out for him, only because of him.

The second revelation comes a bit later in the night.

Closer to midnight, hours after the fight, when Eddie finds himself alone as per usual. He stumbles to his usual bar, thankful for the late hours, fully prepared to get so fucking wasted he can’t remember his own name. He’d wish to not remember your face, especially when he had spewed such hateful intent your way, but he knows there’s not a single brand or amount of whiskey out there that can cleanse him of that. Your name is just another ghost to add to the lineup. You’ll haunt him until his dying day. And he deserves that.

But then, when he walks into the bar, he sees the bartender.

The same man who had stood you up just the night before. The same man Eddie simply couldn’t understand. He was clearly on a date, a nice girl sat at the table across from him, laughing at every word he said. Eddie remembers their conversation, although a bit hazy.

“I think you’re onto something, man. Some girls are just… irreplaceable. I’ve got a girl like that of my own – prettiest eyes you’ll ever see, a smile that could cure cancer – and… you know what? I think we should both go for it. Give up on the girls who could never compare.”

He wants to vomit. The bastard had even poured a round of shots on the house, had fucking cheered with Eddie before throwing back the alcohol with him in the promise of moving onto the girls who matter.

He had said cheers to discarding you. Brushing off you. To you being one of the girls who could never compare.

Eddie’s vision goes red, and he knows half of the blame falls on himself. He’d been the reason this asshole stood you up. He had already been the reason for your pain tonight before he’d even said a word to you. His self hatred has never burned so deeply, so viciously.

But you can’t punch yourself. And so instead, Eddie doesn’t hold back when he approaches the table and lands his right knuckles right on the bastard’s cheek bone. Even goes in for a second punch. He would have gotten in a third punch, but the bartender hits back. Not as hard as Eddie, fists fueled by self-defense rather than ravaging guilt and crippling self-hatred, but enough to get deter him until security could gather both men up.

It’s in the alleyway that he has his second revelation. At the hands of the man who had just hurt you. It was like looking in a mirror. Eddie nearly does finally vomit as he leans against the brickwall, security a few paces away, ready to file a police report. But then, the bastard still manages to somehow be better than Eddie, throwing up a hand to stop them from dialing for the cops.

“Don’t,” is all he says, leveling a stare when Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Really?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, pushing his luck. He needs someone to punish him. He needs to be thrown in a cell for the night, to be treated as the degenerate he truly was, “I just rearranged your fucking face and-”

“Why’d you punch me?” the bartender spits out some blood, nose crooked, “You- You’re a fucking regular, dude. How’d I piss in your cheerios?”

Eddie’s feeling vulnerable. All his actual feelings boiling and burning in the back of his throat, begging to be released. He doesn’t need a drop of whiskey this time to be honest.

“The girl,” Eddie rasps, tears threatening to spill as he pictures your face again, “I told you about the girl. The one no one else compared to.”

The bartender’s eyes widen, “Jesus, fuc- are you telling me that we were talking about the same fucking girl? I- Vanessa told me she wasn’t seeing anyone else, I can’t believe she fucking lie-”

“Not her,” Fuck Vanessa, Eddie thinks bitterly, almost laughing. He has no right to say his next words, but he does, and they cause a pain worse than even the most nightmarish hangovers he’s ever experienced, “My girl is the one you stood up for her.”

You weren’t his girl. You never would be his girl.

The bartender only looks more confused, and Eddie’s anger flares a bit more at the thought of him talking to more girls beyond you. The man before him had had everything Eddie wanted: he had had you. And just like Eddie, he had fucked it all up. It was easy to misdirect his anger in the moment.

He says your name out loud, a searing iron in his throat that makes it come out garbled and strangled. Some recognition falls upon the man’s face.

“Oh… her.”

Eddie doesn’t hold back, “Her? That’s all you have to fucking say? You stood her up, you fucking- Jesus Christ, go burn in Hell,” He’s being irrational. He doesn’t care, “Call the cops on me. Tell them to let me rot in a fucking cell. I deserve it – but so do you. That girl… that… her. She’s one in a fucking million, she’s a thousand times better than whatever girl you have waiting on you inside, and you couldn’t see that. You’re a goddamn dick.”

No one makes the move for the call. The bartender just shakes his head again, being far too patient. Eddie opens his mouth, ready to scream now as he demands they punish him. Make him pay for his crimes. Not just the punches, but everything he had broken tonight.

He broke you tonight. He deserves to burn in Hell far more than the man before him.

“I knew you were in love with her, but-”

Eddie cuts him off, “I’m not in love with her.”

He hates the look he receives. It’s the same pity that Nancy now looks at him with. That same hidden judgment, like everyone else knows something that he doesn’t.

“You may hate to hear it,” the bartender is choosing his words very carefully as he swipes in a contrasting carelessness at the blood pouring out of one of his nostrils, “But you don’t throw punches like that for a girl you’re not in love with. So I suggest you mind your business, and if she is as valuable as you keep going on about, you tell her rather than punching the dude he just serves you fucking alcohol.”

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see you anymore. The image of you is clear as day, even with his eyes open. You, broken and vulnerable and full of hatred for him. Just as he had intended.

Success tastes metallic and bitter. Eddie finally empties what little he had in his stomach onto that concrete alleyway.

He doesn’t leave the wall. Not when the bartender goes back inside with one of the bar’s bouncers, not when the remaining bouncer eyes him and nervously steps forward, not when they return with a paper declaring him banned from the bar.

He can’t move. All he sees is you. He hasn’t drank more than that one pitiful swig of beer at Steve’s, but he feels like his world has gone incoherent all the same.

He fucked up.

He crinkles that piece of paper harshly once he’s properly left alone in the alleyway, angry enough that it tears a bit from his force. It doesn’t phase him; he didn’t intend on returning anyways. He carries it with him the entire way home, regardless, rolls it between his palms until it’s gone soft with the sweat of his hands.

It’s for the better. He fucked up, but it’s for the better.

He tosses the wadded ball into the trash when he gets home. Goes through the numb motions of taking off his shoes, tossing his jacket on the counter rather than the hook he’d put up for it, and leaves his bike’s keys beside it. Eventually, he makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth but never once glancing up in the mirror. As a matter of fact, he avoided every single reflective surface in his apartment that night.

He still sees your face, broken and teary, as he turns off his bedroom light and lays on his mattress that night. It doesn’t matter how many times he repeats it to himself, reminds himself over and over, the mantra of it being for the better doesn’t work. It can’t break through. All because of a pathetic revelation.

Eddie learns that night that he is, in fact, in love with you. And it doesn’t matter, because you hate his fucking guts, just as he had intended.

—

You don’t make a single move once Eddie breathlessly finishes his explanation. Not even to breathe.

He’s been in love with you since that night at Steve’s.

You’d known that he had punched the bartender that night. You’d known that he had been banned from his usual bar that night. But you hadn’t known the entire truth. You couldn’t have ever imagined it, ever pieced it together, until now.

And you don’t know if that speaks more on you and how dense you’ve been this entire time, or on Eddie and how dishonest he’s been this entire time.

“God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

It suddenly makes sense. At a sickening and sudden pace, it clicks into place.

“Eddie, I-”

“Don’t,” he stops you, looking you directly in your eyes. You nearly shrink under his attention. Your fury is gone; you just feel empty, “You… You don’t need to say it back. You don’t need to say anything – the bet’s off. I’m not being honest to stop you from leaving,” he admits, every single wall crumbling at both of your feet, “I’m just being honest because you deserve it. I should have told you that night. I should- I actually should have never done any of this. Any of it.”

You remember the girl you once were. In a bar, surrounded by strangers and new friends, with tunnel vision for the boy in front of you. You remember that feeling of coming home, the way you ached for him to let you in and had been fooled for one night that it was possible.

A year later, and he was letting you in, too late.

“Why?” your voice cracks. You should just pick up your bag and go, but you can’t. Not until you stick the final stitches into the wound, seal up this hurt once and for all. For you and for Eddie. “Why would you… Why would you do that? Why would you set out to make me hate you?”

“Because I didn’t deserve you,” he says it like a simple fact, like it doesn’t shatter you apart, “Because I knew if I didn’t create the rift and kept letting you in, I’d fall in love with you. At first, I thought I needed you to hate me to prevent it. Figured you’d be stronger than me about it. If I made you hate me, I was… Honestly, I was saving myself. I’d tell myself it was about saving you, but it wasn’t. I was being fucking selfish.”

You nod silently, swallowing down tears. Tears for what could have been, tears for what you still want so badly that it aches.

“All because of Steve making…” you trail off, head trying to wrap around all the honesty he had just presented you with, “Making some off-handed, drunk comment.”

It was Eddie’s turn to silently nod. To swallow hard and flutter his eyes shut so you couldn’t see the hurt lit within them.

“You said you hated me,” you’re thinking out loud more than you’re properly speaking to him at this point, voice broken and soft, hands fighting the urge to reach out for him. Even after it all. Every reminder of what he had done for you, and now having the pitiful reason behind it all, still couldn’t break what had formed here tonight. Everything has still changed for you, “When I said everything changes, I meant the hate – I didn’t want to hate you anymore.”

“I know,” he bites his lip, as if he’s trying to hold back any careless words. Words that might hurt you, but not for the same reasons as they used to, “That’s why… not much has changed. I never hated you. God knows I wanted to. I told myself I had to hate you, because if I didn’t hate you, I’d love you. And I couldn’t do that again – I couldn’t handle falling in love with someone I couldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t survive loving you when you’d never love me back. It wouldn’t be fair… to either of us.”

“But you did it anyway,” you almost laugh at the awfulness of it all, terribly irony stacking up between you, “You fell in love with me, you said it yourself. You… you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects, eyes now wide open, “I love you. It’s not- It’s not some feeling in the past tense. You should still hate me, because I still love you.”

He’s right, you finally realize. You should hate him for all of this.

“And all of this counted on the first part of your plan working,” he has to take a step closer, whether it be subconscious or due to how low your voice has dropped. The physical distance erased aches. Splinters each of your bones and all of your emotions, “Which you never even asked me if it worked, even now. You just assumed.”

He takes a deep, brave breath before he quietly asks you, “Did it work?”

You both already know the answer now, “No.”

But it changes nothing. You know that, he knows that. It’s just as he said – the point of saying it out loud no longer has anything to do with repairing what’s been damaged just tonight. You’re both being honest only because you both deserve it. You both deserve to finally close this tomb.

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to close it, though. Not truly. Not properly.

“I can’t stay,” you whisper, “I still… I still need to leave.”

Especially now.

“I know you do,” he responds. He’s gentle, understanding.

It doesn’t stop the tear you see break from his lower lashes. He doesn’t draw any attention to it, doesn’t so much as move to clear it from his cheek. As if he’s scared if he does, you’ll notice it if you hadn’t already.

“The bet’s still off,” you continue, unable to meet his gaze as you pick up your bag once more.

“I know it is.”

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. And part of you, this time, wishes he would have as you slip back out the front door of apartment 2C and let the door shut with a quiet click behind you.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #my bad #surprise drop because... i am actually sleeping so peacefully right now haha #also might be more mindful of answering asks with spoilers for this round <3 just to give people a fighting chance to read first!!!#eddie pov truthers please rise because my GOD have i been excited to do this

1K notes · View notes