#I don't know why I put myself through these books even when I realize early on that they're not my cup of tea

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

Hi ! can you make a chuuya x reader. Reader is studying late at night cramping for her exam which is in the morning and chuuya is at work and accidently calls the reader instead of his worker because the worker did something wrong and some other men reported it to chuuya and when reader picks it up she hears chuuya scoulding and then she tells he dialed the wrong no. And chuuya apologizes and asks why she is late awake and she tells the reasons and while chuuya is talking to her he tells his men to go out because he doesn't want to be seen all soft in front of them and then tells reader to not stay awake late and she should be asleep when he comes home .Sorry for any grammatical mistake.thanks and have a good day/night!

Sleep or Study -Chuuya Nakahara

Oneshot: Where Chuuya accidently dials you in the middle of the night. Genre: Fluff A/N: OML SUCH A GOOD IDEA 10/10 LOVED IT!! →Masterlist

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp, casting long shadows across the pages of textbooks and notes sprawled out in front of you.You were very tired and weary, studying late into the night, cramping for an exam that was scheduled for the early hours of the morning. Outside, the world was quiet, save for the occasional passing car and the distant hum of the city.

Unexpectedly, your phone's ringtone was heard across the room which statled you a little, before you shove the piles of paper and notes here and there to find your phone.

It was Chuuya calling you. You recieve the phone before putting up on speaker, the dim litted room silient at night.

Chuuya's voice crackled through the phone, sharp and scolding. "I told you idiots to be careful! Do I have to do everything myself?" His frustration was evident, and you couldn't help but feel a sympathy for whoever was suppose to be on the other end of the line.

Just as he launched into another verbal attack, you interrupted, trying to keep your voice steady despite being taken off guard. "Uh, Chuuya? I think you dialed the wrong number."

There was a brief pause before you hear Chuuya's sharp inhale. "Ah, damn it. Sorry about that," he muttered, his tone softening slightly. "I'm dealing with some work issues. What are you doing up so late?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you glanced at your textbooks scattered across the table. "I have an exam tomorrow, well today um……and I'm trying to cram as much as I can. I'll be honest; it's not going well."

Chuuya's voice softened even more, a rare gentleness spread through his usual hothead personality. "You shouldn't be up this late, especially with an exam tomorrow. You need rest," he scolded, concern lacing his words.

You could hear muffled voices and footsteps in the background, and Chuuya, realizing he was still on duty, barked at his men, eying each one of them, "Get out, all of you. I don't need an audience for this."

After a few moments of shuffling and grumbling, the background noise faded away, leaving just Chuuya's voice and a sense of privacy. "Look, I know exams are important, but your health matters too. Promise me you'll get some rest after this call. I don't want you falling asleep over your books."

His caring words warmed your heart, and you couldn't help but smile, even though he couldn't see it. "I promise, Chuuya. I'll go to bed soon. You should come home soon you know? Its late for you too. But you should get back to your work now. I don't want to distract you."

There was a soft huff on the other end of the line. "Don't worry about me. I can handle my idiots here. Just take care of yourself, okay? I'll be home as soon as I can."

You nodded, though he couldn't see it. "I will. Good luck with your work, Chuuya. And thanks for caring."

A rare, genuine chuckle escaped him. "Someone has to make sure you're taking care of yourself, right? Now, get some rest. I'll talk to you soon."

After a moment of silence, Chuuya spoke again, his voice filled with genuine care. "Goodnight. Sleep well love, I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight," you said, hanging up the phone and feeling a sense of comfort wash over yourself. Chuuya's unexpected call had momentarily lifted your spirits, and you couldnt help but smile at the conversation you had with him in the past minute.

You looked at your books before a debating question filled your mind, should you sleep or study?

Taglist: @averagehisoilluenjoyer, @high-on-dazai @ruru-kiss Join or remove your user here.

#bsd x reader #bsd #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya fluff #chuuyabsd #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #bsd manga #bsd drabbles #chuuya drabbles #drabbles #sbd chuuya asks #requests to sbd

[ladykiller-yt]

JUST TO HURT YOU 4

After speaking with Maggie, Nina and Muriel it is now clear to me what I have to do even if it will be very difficult. But I have to do it, I can't put it off any longer. But I'm scared and very scared. I keep thinking about his words, so full of resentment and at the same time full of sadness and then the absurd story of taking other people to bed, Crowley would never do something like that, not to me... at least I hope so. Maybe I should also take into account his possible rejection and I would probably understand it very well but... I don't want it to happen, I don't want it to end between us, I don't want to lose what we have created in 6000 years, all the laughter, the dinners, the smiles , miracles. Because this is ultimately the truth, my truth... I don't want to lose Crowley. Only now do I realize it, only now do I see the reality. Only now do I realize what his words meant that morning in the library. I have to go back to his house and tell him these same words, no hesitation, no shame and no hidden words. Only clarity and sincerity.

– –

After these careful reflections made while walking throughout the library, sometimes speaking in a loud voice, Aziraphale took courage and left the library to go towards the demon's house, he could also have performed a small miracle to get there as quickly as possible but he decided to walk a little.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, a red-haired demon had woken up from his post-crying sleep, his hair was disheveled and he was half-naked wrapped in black sheets that covered his nakedness. He still felt guilty for the words that had come out of his mouth but he didn't want to think about it, the phrase 'nothing lasts forever' was still clear in his head, what a bad phrase to say and even more so to hear . A beautiful response phrase would have been 'but we do!', this would have been a fabulous catchphrase that, perhaps, would have changed things... or perhaps not. It was too late now.

– –

All this is driving me crazy, it makes me mad and nervous at the same time. It makes me feel frustrated and gives me an indescribable sense of annoyance. I had never felt like this before, not even my fall was so tragic, I had learned to accept it early on, being a fallen angel wasn't that bad, damnation suits me very much. I am free to do what I want to whoever I want and with WHO I want. So why do I feel so damn guilty?! Why don't I feel free to act as I want?! My head is pounding and I want so much to relax and not think about anything. I need time to reflect and think. I don't want humans around me, I don't want angels around me and, in particular, I don't want Aziraphale to be near me, I'm fed up with his bullshit, actions or words. I don't want to deny the fact that I miss that stupid angel, because that would be a lie, but I need some peace of mind right now.

While I reflect to myself, an old acquaintance of mine comes to mind, an old...friendship, if we want to call it that. She would be a great comfort to me at this time.

I take my cell phone from the bedside table and scroll through my address book and after several searches I finally find it among the latest contacts with the letter W. I don't remember why I saved it like that. We haven't spoken to each other for years and I don't even remember when the last time we saw each other was.

I start the call and after a few beeps he finally answers me.

<<Hello, traitor.>>

<<Oh, you know that too, huh?>>

<<Obviously, everyone in hell knows what you did. But you know what, you did well.>>

<<You believe?>>

<<Of course, my dear Crowley. I was tired of always going to war with the forces of Heaven but you and your little friend found a solution that will work for several millennia.>>

<<Yes well... he and I had an argument and now we don't talk to each other anymore. We've done each other wrongs and now we're on the fence with our friendship and I don't know what to do.>>

<<I imagine you want a friend right now and maybe even 'other'.>>

<<You certainly know me well.>>

<<Give me 10 minutes and I'll be at your place. I was taking care of some business in Hell.>>

<<I'll wait for you.>>

Maybe with her I will be able to relax for a few hours.

#crowley #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowleyxaziraphale #ineffable lovers #love quotes #crowley x aziraphale #crowley good omens #aziracrow

[of-solitude-past-and-present]

YOUR WRITING>>>>>

I don't know how you came up with Naga Scaramouche but I've been brain rotting for days now 😩

Do you have any ideas how'd he'd react if someone goes out of their way to look for reader after they disappeared?

Especially if they mightve been a love interest at some point or the person clearly has feelings for them 👀

(referring to this)

A friend of mine actually came up with the idea for naga scara!! Together, we fleshed out the plot. It wasn't originally a fic, though, it was just a rp that got me brainrotting afterwards. I couldn't stop thinking about the whole concept until I finished writing Hidden in the Sands. The fic literally wouldn't leave me alone unless I was working on it LMAO

I'm going to take this as an excuse to talk a bit about the behind the scenes here (you have NO idea how much I've wanted to infodump about this fic)–originally, the reader was actually my friend's interpretation of Lumine and Sanad was originally my Alhaitham. I also played the part of Kuni himself. It was a bit awkward, actually, because Alhaitham and Kuni had to talk to each other a little bit and it felt like I was talking to myself.

I've changed the personalities of the reader and Sanad greatly, as you might have already guessed, since Sanad behaves nothing like Alhaitham; Sanad's more like one of those "prime examples" that Alhaitham talks about when he says, "Book learning alone is not enough to cultivate intelligence." Sanad is, intentionally, a very flawed but still reasonably likeable character. I want to talk about him too. Oh boy, looking back on this I sure did talk a lot about an OC I don't think anyone genuinely cares about.

I wanted to make him come off as normal, like an actual human person. He really is just a regular dude, he's just been kinda brainwashed by the Akademiya, as shown by the lines, "The Akademiya has declared them to be just baseless nonsense, so of course I don't think they actually exist." and "Desert dwellers tend to be... fearless." He's absorbed many commonly held beliefs (and biases) in the Akademiya, a textbook example of someone who's been taught what to think rather than how to think. I wanted him to be realistic. However, he's still funny, charming, and overall good-willed, even if he's spineless and very easily led.

I've greatly changed the fic from the original rp, and only the base premise (yandere!naga!scara and the whole "commissioned to find the culprit for some strange murders in the Hadramaveth") remains the same. It went through several versions at first. In fact, before I came up with Sanad, I was going to have Cyno replace Alhaitham! But ultimately, I realized Cyno was actually competent and I might have had to write a proper fight scene, which I did not want to do. You can still see a remnant of the first draft I chose to leave in (from when Cyno was the disposable companion) in the bad joke Sanad tells at the beginning of the story.

Using Sanad also had other benefits that I feel helped pull the fic together!! His cowardly nature gave reader a chance to endear themselves to Kunikuzushi, for refusing to abandon Sanad even after he (frankly, understandably) ran away. Even this early on, I had decided that whatever backstory naga Kuni might have had, it absolutely had to revolve around betrayal since canon Kuni's backstory is so deeply tied to it.

It's a really minor pet peeve of mine, and it doesn't bother me too much, but I usually don't really like it when the yandere starts to fixate on the object of their obsession for no reason than, like, "love at first sight" or "they simply caught my eye for some vague reason I cannot put into words." It's not bad, per se, and it's not even a solid rule of mine! I can think of several fics I love that don't give a solid reason, though the characters in those have such a dynamic that you still understand why one became so interested in the other to begin with... (I'm making this more complicated than it is, I think, but I'm beginning to think it's just I just don't care for it when the MC has the depth of a piece of paper.) Anyway, I'm getting derailed again, but I chose to give Kuni a reason to empathize with the reader in the form of Sanad and his "betrayal" because of this preference of mine.

However, and I think I've touched on this a bit in a previous post, this wasn't the only reason Kuni decided to spare them. In fact, even after he decided to leave you for last, he still thought he was going to come back to kill you. What really interested him was your insistence on saving Sanad even after what Kuni perceived as a betrayal. Why would you try to help someone who didn't even make an attempt to help you? It doesn't make sense. You're too soft, it's endearing.

Whether or not Sanad's actions are justified is debatable, though I personally understand them. He's never fought in his whole life. If you, the experienced monster-fighting adventurer couldn't do it, how could he? He doesn't even have a sword. It's certainly cowardly and rude to say the least, but given the circumstances, I think it's the choice most people would make in that situation. Of course, it's absolutely something Kunikuzushi could have (and did) twist into something completely different. I think I made it pretty obvious, but contrary to what Kuni said, Sanad had no such malicious thoughts when he left you there. Kuni is extremely jaded; his perception of the world has been mostly shaped by the betrayals he's experienced, and he's no different in this AU. As I said before, Sanad's not a terrible person, just terribly average. If he had survived, he absolutely would have had survivors' guilt.

Anyway!!! I'm not sorry about the infodump, thank you for giving me the slightest reason to tell you all about it. Here's what you actually asked for.

Kuni views most people as inconsequential, little more than helpless ants. He doesn't care about them in the slightest. If anything, they irritate him. So when someone shows up–an old friend, a crush, anyone–his first thought is to get rid of them if they venture too far in, and especially if they see him. Even if he doesn't know that they know you. If he lets them go, more will come. If he finds out they're looking for you, specifically... well, it doesn't really change his plans. He's going to kill them no matter what.

It does motivate him though, to be a bit crueler, to make it last a bit longer. What they are to you doesn't change the outcome, but it might sour his mood a bit more if they were anything more than friends or family. It's not likely that he'll leave them be long enough to find this out, though. Logically speaking, they're probably not going to tell a monster like him all about the friend/family/crush they're looking for in this desert, especially not when he's clearly unfriendly.

It's not totally impossible, though. This hypothetical person would have heard all about the strange attacks (as mentioned in the fic), so seeing a large half-snake person could make them realize that Kuni was most likely the cause for your disappearance (even though they'd assume it was murder and not kidnapping). Even so, I doubt they'd have a little chat over tea about who all Kuni has murdered recently.

Anyway, I digress. Assuming he figures it out somehow, whether or not he tells you about them depends on his mood and your behavior. Unfortunately for you, dealing with people irritates him. Especially when they're specifically looking to take what's his from him.

He'll come back covered in blood either way, but if he's in a bad mood, or you haven't been on your best behavior, he'll tell you all about what they looked like. He makes sure to mention that they were looking for you, and describe in detail everything he did to them.

"I'm going to leave his corpse out to rot in the sun," he hissed into your ear, pulling away to look you in the eye, "for the vultures and serpents to feast on. It serves him right. He was on a fool's errand; it's impossible to retrieve what's lost to the sands."

#naga scara #yandere scaramouche #genshin impact #the first part of Kuni's dialogue at the end of the post is actually ripped right from the rp #alhaitham met the same fate as sanad #thank u for letting me infodump about it. it's the neurodivergency #I like sanad a lot despite his many flaws #oh my word i came back tk this and 2/3 of this post isnt even what you were asking for #id say im sorry but genuinely i am not #i really did see ''idk how you came up with naga scara'' and just went ham huh #tumblr messed up my tags LMAO sorry if they didnt make sense before

[landwriter]

Are you doing the Spotify wrapped thing as well? If so, could I ask for the Nr. 4? If not, just ignore this, it's just that I have resigned myself to appear as the greedy being I apparently am and figured I'd just ask.

greedy beings unite <3

this is the incredible, perfect, flawless Hot Knife by Fiona Apple. i would write a meta/personal history on it

originally i was going to sort of throw up my hands and say it's just oaths - it is so incredibly oaths: two people who are very much a bit unhinged by one another, both hot knife and butter at once, hearts made cinemascopes etc.

BUT - butter, okay, hot knives, ok, perhaps - Hob is a scruffy professional baker who owns a little patisserie and Dream is a miserable IP lawyer at his family's law firm, which is incidentally located only two blocks away on the other side of a small city park.

Perhaps - one day a harried Matthew bursts in to Hob's bakery and says, since it's empty, and he has a flair of the dramatic, "I need all of your croissants for my lawyers." The caterer hadn't shown up and Matthew had actually been jogging down the street in his dress shoes and panicking when he saw Hob's storefront. The meeting starts in ten minutes.

"How many?" asks Hob.

"Lawyers, or croissants?"

And so Matthew leaves three minutes later with two dozen croissants, muffins, and a couple palmiers for good measure, as well as a sympathetic grin. When Dream, who is hanging on by, and I cannot stress this enough, an absolute thread, absent-mindedly shoves a blueberry muffin in his mouth, he pulls out his phone right in the prep meeting and texts Matthew at his desk: Who made these

Matthew writes a very hot dude who had flour on his face and then decides he likes his job, actually, and texts Dream the name and address of Hob's shop.

Dream means to go, but work comes first, and he keeps finishing long after they're closed. One day he finishes so late it's actually close to the bakery's opening hours, so, exhausted, he decides to show up.

Hob normally wouldn't answer the door except anyone who can knock loud enough to be heard over his music is probably the cops or the fire department - which is enough to get him out of the kitchen, and then when he sees Dream, he decides to open up anyways. He can tell this man isn't up early at 6 AM, he's up late, Hob knows the look - and also, well, he's beautiful, so he unlocks the door while Exodus' Toxic Waltz is blaring from the back, is halfway through apologizing for the mess and music (Why is apologizing? He's not even open yet.)

Dream blinks once, slowly, and when he opens his eyes again he understands he's fallen in love. He puts this knowledge aside for the moment, and stiffly offers his hand to shake (Oh, shit, sorry, yeah, let me just - oh god I've gotten flour on your suit) and introduces himself. "Do you have any more blueberry muffins?"

Hob, even though he has a thousand other things to do, for some reason hears himself saying, "For sure, yeah. I mean. Not right now. But I could. If you want to come in and sit?" and then mortifyingly continuing to say, "I have a coffee machine - I mean, I don't use it, but I have it, I'm pretty sure it works - do you want a coffee, are you going for the full 24 hours thing, or if not, I do also have a shitty couch in the office, you can nap?"

Then he realizes he needs to let go Dream's hand.

And so begins our love story, in the liminal hours between night and day, when Hob wakes up early to bake and Dream finishes work late. They make a routine of it, and although Hob is a little freaked out by Dream's apparently work-life balance and sleeping schedule, he doesn't mind the company, doesn't mind it either when Dream just shuffles to his back room and curls up on his sofa, because at least he's sleeping sometime.

They both try and impress the other - Dream by requesting increasingly obscure confectionery, Hob by nonchalantly making it perfectly. (He thinks he's found the culinary history book Dream is using and is staying one recipe ahead, in secret.) They both challenge each other and get under each other's skin, and think about the other person far, far, too much than appropriate. I think this one would be mostly sweet (ha) but with some proper actual We Can't Be Together Because of X or Y obstacles. I think this is the sort of story where they actually have a huge blowout argument in the second act about, like, the protestant work ethic, because they might be nursing massive crushes, but they also both are nursing massive proprietary feelings as a result, and have very different values surrounding work and hedonism and a life well-lived etc. Do they work it out! I think so! I don't think they can stay apart! And every chapter would be titled after a thematic baked good.

(p.s. alternative song mood for this fic: The National's Fake Empire) (p.p.s. i do imagine dream in this as one of those lawyers who makes buckets of money and drops a LOT of it on his version of therapy, which is gradual progress on like, an entire gorgeous tattoo bodypiece, some gorgeous hyper surreal cosmology thing, and i do think hob accidentally walks into a post one day when he glances into a tattoo shop where dream happens to be having his monthly session)

#the sandman #dreamling #my writing #spotify wrapped prompt #lawyer baker au #a timeless classic #the Miserable Lawyer trope delivered with apologies to any non-miserable lawyers reading this #also baking professionally is just insane work but guess what! hob is insane in this fic #as he is in all my fics #at least a little

[oh-my-damn]

You know what, I read through all your post yesterday and today and I want to thank you for shining a light on this problematic behavior. I also want to thank you for allowing me to see his relationship with Jenny from a different perspective.

Jenny like Alba was agreeable in the beginning. I mean she ended her marriage so she could be with Chris. It was all puppy love and dream seventh grade boyfriend at the start. She enjoys being around him and his circle. She loves that she include in everything from Vegas to Disney. I’m her mind she got the quarterback at the price of altering her personality to fit his.

Eventually all puppy love fades and that’s where couples struggle. She begins to question his fuckboy behavior. Why he feels the need to constantly party, go to strip clubs, but the majority of their time together is spent at his house doing what he wants spewing his pseudo intellectual bullshit.

He really fooled Jenny too. She was in a vulnerable time in her life after ending her marriage. It looks like he love bombed her by showing up to her premiere, confer shows and book reading. Spending time with her support system was easy because it’s a few suburbs over so he really doesn’t need to put much effort in.

She starts causing too much trouble and becoming less agreeable so he ends it. He goes back to his fuckboy ways and now Jenny is stuck with the realization that she left her husband for this douche. They talk about each other in interviews, looked awkward AF at the premiere and that’s that.

Until late summer/early fall when the realization hits Chris that he doesn’t need to pick up women and have a FWB rotation with ATL women if he just apologizes. I’m sure he hit her with the it’ll be different this time, I promise to change speech and she fell for it. Nothing changes. It’s just the same shit different day. They continue their relationship because their both in ATL working so it’s easy and convenient. Then they both wrap and the curtains lift up and she realizes she got duped again.

Once a fuckboy always a fuckboy. Chris strikes me as the guy who expects his meat and potatoes on the table when he gets home. I partially blame his upbringing because that’s how he was raised. He had a stay at home mom who did everything for her family and I think he wants the same for himself. If he’s going after an independent woman it’s strictly for the purposes of stripping her independence away from her because I think he gets a big thrill from it. It’s clear he likes being in control. Being in control gives him power over you and your life. If he’s the sole breadwinner then you have to depend on him and can’t really leave. He boxes them in without them even realizing it.

THIS. I COULD NOT HAVE SAID IT BETTER MYSELF.

And the end part !!

I actually mused over this not too long ago bc as you may or may not know, I started writing a book (before all of this) about Chris in a secret relationship and it is still ongoing and when this came out it really spun me for a loop and I couldn't write it for a long time.

Anyway, in it, she's a lawyer, so not in the industry, and they keep it quiet to protect her.

But I had this written down before the articles came out and stuff in my drafts, its an interaction with them that is SO REAL to me bc this is legit what everyone should remember when in a relationship (I know I'm more aware of this due to law school but its an important lesson)

I'm so sorry this is long but I didn't know how to cut it down without losing the point of it, so I'm gonna put it under a cut.

I don't think many of my readers realized how important a conversation like this in a relationship where one partner makes a hell of a lot more money than the other. It's easy to get swept up and give in to it, but then what happens when its over? You're alone, standing there, having given up on your dreams, your safety net, for what? A boyfriend?

Any lawyer knows to never do this because we've seen the cases but I can tell you that it happens way more often than it should.

Anyway, here it is, read if you want, my point is that I agree with everything you said so much !!!!

This is the excerpt from the stranger with the money/work dynamic talk:

"Fuck work," he grumbles sleepily, his voice deep and groggy, "Stay." 

I let out a small laugh, pushing my back into his chest as he wraps a long leg over my hip to press into me more insistently. 

"I can't," I reply with a smile, finding one of his hands and entwining our fingers, "I need to work." 

"Why?" He half whines, huffing against my neck, "Work is no fun, stay here with me. I promise to give you a good time." 

I chuckle, "Well, I need work for money. And you know, that's without mentioning that entire 'I want to achieve my dreams' thing." 

"I have money," Chris murmurs against my neck, "Take some of mine." 

I snort out a laugh, shaking my head in response, "I don't want your money, I want my own money." 

Chris huffs jokingly, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck, "Are you saying my money's no good?"

"Mhmm," I giggle, "That's exactly what I'm saying." 

"How dare you," Chris grumbles, his arms releasing their hold for only a moment before he turns me onto my back. He leans on his forearm to hover over me, a teasing glint in his cerulean blues, "What's wrong with my money?"

I grin as I look up at him, reaching up to card my fingers through his mussed up morning hair, "I didn't earn your money. I earned mine." 

"So?" He questions, leaning down to nudge my nose with his own, "If I wanted to share my money with you, it would technically become yours." 

"Yeah, but that's not how it works," I chuckle, my hand trailing down the side of his face to stroke his beard, "I wouldn't feel comfortable spending money that wasn't my own." 

That makes his brows furrow. He tilts his head, blue eyes gazing over my face before he asks, "You don't think you'd.. ever, feel comfortable with that?"

I mirror his curious look, letting my fingers trail over his cheek, "What do you mean?" 

"Weeelllll...." he drags out the word, maneuvering around until he can place his beefy body between my legs. His upper body hovers over mine, leaning on his forearms, as I let my fingers run through his soft locks. 

"What if," he continues, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "For example, hypothetically, we were married. Would you still feel weird about it?"

I let out a surprised chuckle, tilting my head as I look up at him. My fingers card through his hair as I shake my head, "No, if we were married it would be different." 

"Why's that?" he muses, leaning into my touch with a soft smile on his face. 

"Because then we'd be married," I reply with a smile, "Being married is a whole different type of security. I wouldn't have to worry about becoming reliant on you, or your money, or your lifestyle, and risk that you'd be able to pull the rug out from under me suddenly."

His brows furrow, and I quickly add, "Not that I think you would! Of course not, I just mean logistically, like, rationally, as a lawyer, we know the pitfalls in these types of situations. Becoming reliant on your boyfriend is never a good idea." 

#mandy answers #and she uses her own writing to make a point lmao #what else is new #the stranger #chramelia

[akatsuki-shin]

When reading a book, have you :

a. Finish a book, even when you dislike the mc until the end but love the story (What book?)

b. Finish a book, even when you dislike the story but love the mc (what book?)

c.Finish a book, even when you dislike the mc and story but love the worldbuilding (what book?)

d. Finish a book, even when you dislike the mc, story, worldbuilding but still finish it for whatever reason (what book?)

Since it's the internet, I feel compelled to put up a disclaimer for this kind of question first before answering:

"Whatever answer I'm gonna put down here is solely my personal opinion. If I happen to dislike something you like, it doesn't mean I'm badmouthing your favorites; we just happen to have different preferences. I'm not going to entertain any questions or statements through whatever channels that are criticizing me for liking or not liking certain things. Thank you for your understanding."

Now, with that already out of the way...

a. Harry Potter. I think this is caused by my age when I first knew about it, and my age when I actually read the original book.

I got into HP through the first movie, which was in 2001, so I was in 3rd or 4th grade at the time, and I kept following the movies until the final one in 2011. I've always loved fantasy stories because I grew up reading a lot of fairy tales, so it wasn't hard for me to instantly fell in love with HP.

That said, I didn't have the money to buy the book back then. I was able to purchase the books much later when I was almost 30 years old. When I read it, I actually didn't like the main character (and some other characters) that much, even though I didn't have that problem at all when following the movies in the past. Later, I realized it's because I could no longer relate to a lot of the characters' emotions and logics because the books are originally meant for young audience and I was simply too old to relate to the characters at this age. 😂

b. I couldn't come up with any titles even though I'm pretty sure there must be at least one or two. I'm the kind of person who "characters > story" so even though the story may not be as good, as long as I like the characters, I usually would still be able to enjoy it until the end.

c. TGCF. Rather than dislike, I think I probably went into it with too much expectation in my head that when it's not like what I imagined it to be, the entire experience ends up feeling underwhelming.

I've read SVSS and MDZS, and I love both of them. So when I saw a lot of people hyping up TGCF, I imagined it would be more "WOAH" than the first two, especially because I also got art-baited by STARember's manhua illustrations. That said, I do like several characters other than the main characters (I ship FengQing and QuanYin) and I always love MXTX's worldbuilding since they're so vivid and amazing to explore.

(And if I have extra money this year, I'm still gonna complete my San Lang cosplay because I've already cosplayed Luo Binghe and Lan Wangji, and my OCD definitely isn't gonna let me leave out the last one, lmao).

d. Guardian/Zhen Hun by Priest.

Ironically, Priest is my favorite danmei author but even though a lot of my favorite danmei are written by her, the danmei I don't like the most is also hers. 😂

I really don't know if it's because the fan-translation I read wasn't pretty clear in translating the stories or not (I mean, I can't complain about it since I'm reading for free), but I just can't bring myself to like any of it, the story, the characters, the world, until the final page.

The reason why I finished it is because I don't want to to jump to early conclusions before actually reading the whole thing. Unfortunately, my impression of it does not improve even after finishing the story.

#book #danmei #novel

[obstinaterixatrix]

so something sondheim did was he’d sometimes ask the book writer to write a monologue that sondheim would use as inspiration for a song, and that’s what happened for ‘talent’ and it’s really cool being able to see that in execution, here’s the monologue that weidman wrote for paris in an early draft of the script:

Ever since I was a boy, I've had a passion. For the arts. The theater, the ballet. When I was still at school, I was convinced that I'd grow up to be a painter. Turned out I didn't have the—I don't know, the talent, the dedication, it doesn't matter. Because when I stepped off that train in Palm Beach and looked around, I realized what I was meant to be. Not an artist, but a patron of the arts. I had a vision. I saw it all, right there in front of me. An entire community, spread out along the seashore. The finest artists colony in all the world! And do you know what had revealed it to me? It was the light. The light off the Atlantic. It was like no light I'd ever seen before. Hard-edged. Unsentimental. It was ours. It was American. And in that light—in that luminescence—I saw painters, sculptors, artists of every type, working at the absolute height of their powers, laboring to bring forth a new art for a New World. And I saw myself, too. Wandering among them, urging them on, setting their genius free. Me. Paris Singer. Savoring the satisfaction of delivering their brilliant work into the brilliant light... That was my dream. It still is.

I'm linking the version from wise guys because I'm biased, here are the lyrics for ‘talent’, unchanged through all three iterations of the show:

When I was a tyke I said, "What I like Is art I know I'm a boy But what I enjoy Is art."

Looking at paintings, going to plays Music and books informing my days Filling my mind Flooding my heart With art!

I had this dream of becoming an artist A painter, a poet, who knows? I had a nice little talent for drawing And a natural feeling for prose I even began to compose

So many talents Wasn't I blessed? All of them good A few of them better None of them best

Just enough talent To know that I hadn't the talent So I put my dream And my self-esteem To rest

I couldn't decide Then one day I spied Palm Beach A speck on the map No more than a gap Palm beach

Jungle and seashore, muddy and raw But in a flash I suddenly saw What it would take What I could make Palm Beach!

I had this dream of a city of artists Versailles by the Florida sea A sort of world congregation of artists All encouraged to set themselves free I knew what I wanted to be!

I'd be their host and supporter The patron saint Of the things that they'd write And compose and paint

I shall wander among them with lavish praise As they carve their statues Construct their plays Design their buildings Recite their rhymes Making modern art Fit for modern times!

So many talents Gathered en masse! Painters and poets Artists and dreamers Watered like grass

And if the talent I have Is for nurturing talent Then succeed or fail I will see they sail First class

And my father can go stick it up his ass!

I think it's really interesting to compare the monologue with the lyrics, and it's super cool to get the chance to... weidman's monologue briefly touches on the talent aspect but mostly centers The Vision whereas sondheim spends a lot more time on that idea of lacking A Certain Something to truly achieve (perceived) greatness in art. another thing that sticks out to me is that the song is composed to evoke a train, so it makes sense to me why sondheim would center more of the momentum of paris' dream rather than the visuals or american ideals. (sidenote, it's interesting that both of sondheim and weidman's shows has a deeply American(tm) core to it, assassins links the various assassins through the [distortion of?] american ideals they represent while wise guys has the dogged pursuit and--to some extent--failure to realize the american ideals expressed by their parents) (actually, tangentially, when I say 'distortion' of american ideals, I don't think it's a *true* distortion per se--manifest destiny is a core american ideal and the assassins essentially carry out the logical conclusion of the idea that Everything Belongs To Me As Is My Divine Right) (so 'distortion' as in going beyond the 'benign' or any positive interpretation of american ideals) ok as I was typing this, I think rather than de-emphasizing the american ideals exhibited in weidman's monologue, sondheim works it into the music and lyrics (train motif, emphasis on forward momentum)--which is ALSO interesting because while paris is initially presented as a down on his luck ex-heir striking out on his own to follow his dream, when things get tough paris goes back to his father (lol). I really like this song, it's a great introduction to a character that's completely sincere but also. a huge misrepresentation by the character of himself.

#long post #talking abt musicals #Youtube #wiseguys quest

[greatwyrmgold]

Community College Hero: Trial By Fire

...is a video game I played for four and a half hours back in January 2017. It's an "interactive novel" wherein You get a scholarship to superhero college and do stuff.

The Steam page talks about romancing one of six characters, investigating a new villain, property damage liability, and character customization. It also lists two different word counts (168,000 and 176,000), which makes me wonder how you count words for this kind of narrative in the first place.

I don't remember much about it, but I decided to replay it and write up some thoughts.

Conclusion

A lot of this post is rambly and stream-of-consciousness, so I figured I should put this first.

There are absolutely parts I like, particularly the characters. None of them are deep, but as a supporting cast, they work well enough. I could see myself liking them if they were in a better context. But their context is a text adventure with slow pacing and a poor attention span.

I just can't find any angle to enjoy this from. The plot progresses too slowly for me to get invested in it. The character-conversation scenes are short and shallow, and at least in the early game it splits its focus between about a dozen characters instead of focusing on a smaller cast you can spend more time with. And neither the world nor prose are good enough to enjoy just soaking in the superhero community college atmosphere.

Gameplay

It's a very basic game, more complicated than a CYOA book but less complicated than many visual novels. It's told almost entirely through text, with the occasional piece of art. There's zero audio, not even a looping royalty-free track from Kevin MacCleod or something. (It's probably an engine limitation, because boy is this engine limited.)

The publisher has an extensive library of such games, the earliest being Choice of the Dragon. I feel like the format fits a freemium mobile game better than a $5 Steam title, but I bought CCH, so what do I know.

The game has stats, but unlike most crunchier visual novels, it doesn't do much to convey what affects them or what effects they have. It doesn't help that the stats are named things like "Thud" and "Yay" and "Hmmm"—defense, popularity, and awareness, respectively. There's a list explaining what the stats mean at the bottom of your character sheet, but it's not particularly near your stat list. Also: If you realize the character sheet needs to remind players which stat is what, you should rename at least some of the stats.

And balance seems off; at one point in the early game, I glanced at my character sheet and noticed that I had inflated Yay to 23 when the other seven summed to 19. I wasn't trying to be super-popular at the expense of everything else, I just kept being a nice/cool guy and stumbled into obscene popularity.

Relationships with various characters are tracked, but it's not always clear what raises or lowers them. Unlike the stats, you can usually take an educated guess; agreeing with your classmate makes them like you more, criticizing a teacher's lesson plan and general approach to teaching makes them like you less, even if you're obviously right. But sometimes, I would just have no clue. Why does Professor Downfall hate me more than the teachers who I've ignored or criticized when the worst I've done in her class is get beaten up?

Choice

In this kind of game, layer choice and expression is the most important aspect of the game. And while there are some positives, I found the game rather restrictive.

First, some positives. When you pick your gender, you can pick "neither" as well as male/female, and you can independently pick your sexuality (with "bi "both" and "neither" as options). It's no 2064: Read Only Memories, but it's pretty solid.

The game also gives you a bit of flexibility in how you develop relationships with other characters. You might need to remind the game that you're trying to be friendly two or three times in a row, but being friendly doesn't lock you into any particular romance, which is nice.

However, the game occasionally just decides to have you do stuff. If I was given the option, I'd have gladly volunteered at the children's hospital with my paper classmate, but the game didn't give me the option. Stuff like that makes the design feel less polished than it should, considering that the game is 99% text.

It doesn't help that some dialogue options are very bluntly playing into four superhero personality archetypes—Brooder, Charmer, Jokester, Traditionalist. The game doesn't encourage you to pick one "alignment" and stick with it, but there's a certain...lack of nuance in the options. For instance: When one of your classmates suggests a rather ineffective-sounding study plan of "look at clouds and ask quiz questions," your options are to call it dumb, say it sounds nice, or go along with it silently.

And even if it's not a "What kind of hero are you?" question, there are still times when you're provided with two extreme, specific options without any kind of middle ground. Lots of games with a focus on that sort of choice run into this problem. It's still annoying.

It's also more prominent, because most games offer this kind of question when you need to do or say something. CCH:TBF, on the other hand, sometimes asks what you think about something another character says, absent such action. There might be multiple options which involve caring about it for various reasons, but "I don't have a strong opinion" is often not an option. And again, sometimes the options are very specific.

Though on the bright side, when you're asked about your intentions, you are allowed to lie.

Structure/Pacing

After character creation, you go into a long section that's literally just conversations with other characters, meant to establish their character traits (and possibly figure out what romance you're angling for). Most good visual novels would try to mix these in with some form of exposition or plot advancement; if they couldn't do multiple things per scene, they'd at least alternate between different kinds of scene, or make you pick a couple characters to talk to, or something.

It doesn't help that the pacing of the main plot is extremely slow, bogged down by all these aimless scholastic vignettes. If you want to see how that in medias res opening goes down, or what's going on with the Contrarian, or see how the protagonist's background comes to bite him, you need to wade through hours of fluff for crumbs of plot.

And even if you like visual novel fluff, you're liable to walk away disappointed. The scenes tend to be short and low on detail, with many conversations reduced to a few key lines and a summary. And worse, it's impossible to focus on the parts you like. If you get a couple scenes with characters you like in a row, they'll be followed by characters you don't have an opinion of, classwork, crumbs of plot, a meeting with the Dean, etc.

I tried to give CCH the best chance it could have. Tried to meet it on its own terms. One of us failed, and I'm inclined to blame the game. I can't see why it would be appealing to sit down and play.

Maybe the problem is that I was sitting down to play it on my PC. Maybe it would work better if I was playing a scene at a time on my phone or something. But this game was sold on Steam. The new platform should have been considered when designing the game.

Saves

There aren't really any. You can close the game or turn off your PC and progress will be saved, but you boot up right on the "page" where you left off, no menu or anything. You can't maintain multiple saves, or save right before a dialogue choice in case the writer wrote you saying something unexpected, or undo a transition if you accidentally skip past an entire page, or anything. Your only options are to continue or restart, erasing all your progress.

It's a very basic system that works well for games you can complete in a couple hours, but less well for games where you're still in the prologue by then.

Worldbuilding

Zeeple

This world's term for metahumans is "Z-person," which is dumb in a way that would be charming if it didn't also feel kinda lazy. But it's not as bad as it sounds; they're named after Zenith Shields, which are a...unique origin for metahumans.

Basically, SDI worked in this universe, resulting in nine of the USA's biggest cities getting shields that "purportedly protected [them] from nuclear strikes". Apparently those nine cities hold 20% of the population, which sounds wrong (NYC has <5%, and it's way bigger than most cities), but I convinced myself not to crunch the numbers. Especially since there's a bigger problem.

RIots broke out in unprotected cities and the economy stalled for over a decade. In addition, those living in shielded cities were physically unable to leave (emphasis mine). Z-Cities were arguably safe from nuclear attacks, but they were prisons.

How does this work?? Putting aside questions of why the Zenith Shields can't be lowered when there's no imminent danger of attack, how do these cities function? To date, humanity has not built a single city which can fulfill all its needs using only facilities within city limits. Food alone would be an impossible challenge with modern tech, unless we urban-renewal'd Manhattan. Do the Zenith Shields cordon off the tri-county area? (Is that how they cover 20% of the population?)

Anyways, the Cold War lasted until 1996, by which time a whole generation of city kids had grown up absorbing Zenith Shield radiation. Starting in 1997, the media noticed that some of those people developed "unique abilities"; these became known as Zenith People, Z-People, Zeniths, or Z's. In my opinion, they should've lead with Zeniths and dropped Z-People and maybe Z's.

The game obviously never calls Zenith People zeeple, but I will, because I think it's funny to do so.

Anyways, the Zeniths have an official Power Grade system, which I think is kinda goofy. Each grade is about twice as powerful as the last; Grade 1 is presumed capable of defeating five "standard humans," with each grade thereafter doubling that. Grade-2 zeeple can defeat 10 people each, Grade-3 20, Grade-5 80, Grade-10 a bit over 2,500. Grade-10 zeeple are considered global threats.

Now, "defeat X standard humans" is a pretty wibbly-wobbly kind of power level. But I think most people would agree that a "global threat" should be able to defeat at least half a division of ordinary soldiers, and it doesn't sound like that's necessarily the case.

This is just a very silly power level system, one where the provided details make things sillier.

Cape Institutions

Prestige University for Heroes was founded in 1997, right after people learned zeeple were a thing. Apparently Mega Cat (one of the first famous zeeple) worked to found it, along with "federal and state agencies".

PUH trains and educates heroes, and also "has worked with the government to test Zeniths and objectively measure their power levels". I assume PUH started as a research institution and became a hero training facility once there were more heroes who needed training, but that's 100% benefit of the doubt.

There are two other hero programs noted. Savior School in San Fransisco, like PUH, offers a four-year hero degree. But this isn't Ivy League Hero, this is Community College Hero. Speck Community College (in unremarkable Speck, Nebraska) offers a four-semester program that will give you an Associate in Arts degree and prepare you for a potential transfer to PUH or SS.

The different hero degree programs have different requirements. For instance, Savior School won't accept any applicants below Grade 3, and most of their "advanced students" are Grade-4. PUH requires Grade 5, while SCC will accept anyone of at least Grade-1. Good luck transferring out with that kind of score, though.

Savior School's founders, Booksmart and Streetsmart, founded their school about seven years ago, with two stated motivations. First, they want to broaden the range of students accepted to hero training programs, both in terms of power levels and in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. Second, they want there to be multiple hero training programs; previously, Mega Cat and PUH had a monopoly that Booksmart and Streetsmart want to break. (It also sounds like Streetsmart thinks Mega Cat is a wimp.)

There's also the Diabolical Dozen, "the world's premier group of villains based somewhere in southern Florida" (of course). They also have a minimum Grade requirement of 8, which means they could potentially be defeated by a small crowd if they attacked a high school graduation. Well, the text says they could defeat an entire division of over 15,000 soldiers, but I assume that most of that comes from the more powerful members, like Lady Ash (who I assume is the Siberian to the D12's Slaughterhouse Nine).

The Dozen haven't been super active recently, but the in medias res opening has the main character fighting three members, so that won't last long.

Cape Culture

The application process for Speck Community College's hero program is pretty impractical. You're not allowed to give them identifying information like name or address, meaning that just submitting an application requires a bunch of spy movie bullplop. I can only imagine how bad the big universities are. Anyways, this continues when you actually start attending classes; you're required to wear your costume basically whenever you aren't alone.

Characters

%charname

The second-person main character (who i will herein call Yuu, after P4's similarly blank slate) is a zerson geek. That's the one personality trait the game assigns you, and it's a pretty extreme one. Victoria Dallon and Izuku Midoriya think he should tone it down.

Yuu isn't a zerson; they're the one normal human in the SCC hero course. But that's not the only unique thing about them; they were raised by a petty supervillain! A fact that the game doesn't dwell on.

You are given a wide variety of character customization options, though many of the choices are a bit...limited. You can type in whatever you like for your names, but you're limited in most other details to options the developers picked.

My %charname

A marksman with an anarchist streak, named Marxman. In his civilian identity, he's a Japanese kid named Hei Yuu, because I like dumb puns. He tries to present as a classical superhero, clad in red/white/blue spandex with a half-mask. He's still intensely distrustful of most formal authorities, though. Marxman tries to be cordial with all of his peers who aren't asshats, hoping to befriend them.

In my head, he's hoping to start a superhero team with his classmates who aren't accepted to PUH or Savior School—a team which will ultimately be open to anyone with a good heart and strong arm, including ones left out by even the SCC program. But obviously this isn't gonna come up in the game.

This section was mostly an excuse to share a couple terrible puns. Though while I'm here, I might as well share other details.

The weapon Marxman was given is a slingshot. I guess Hawkeye and Green Arrow were a bit too obviously murder-capable for the kind of stories they wanted to tell.

He did well at his law midterm, but got Ds in the others due to varying combinations of being a shitty close-quarters fighter and refusing to accept the premise of the tests.

Fellow Students

There are a bunch of them, and the game doesn't do much to help you remember which is which.

Tress is not a death octopus in a prosthetic body. She's a chipper redhead who can control her hair and make it grow. Like the other Tress, her powers are useful in the capture-the-flag teambuilding exercise her group goes through.

There's also a character named Rain, who I mention here because that's also a Breakthrough name. This Rain is a girl with water powers.

Dirty Girl seems like she'd have an interesting character design if this was an actual visual novel with...art. Anyways, her powers make big clouds of smoke. She has a pragmatic streak and little respect for authority, so I feel like she makes a good teammate for Marxman. One represents the philosophical, reasoned kind of anarchy; the other represents the primal, emotional kind.

Stunner is a big gold-armored guy who makes shockwaves. The first impression he left was when he got mad that we tried to console Tress about losing capture-the-flag instead of apologizing for our lackluster performance. Part of that lackluster performance is that Marxman's weapons are a bit too injurious for a lighthearted training exercise, but that didn't stop Stunner from going all-out. I don't like him much. He's paragon enough to refuse to spy on his classmates for a grade, though.

Origami is one of the younger students (19 instead of the early 20's most students claim to be), and the one who volunteers at the children's hospital. She's optimistic and kindhearted in a remarkably generic manner. I can't tell if the game is intending to frame her as someone who drags her classmates to charitable volunteer activities or if that's just a side effect of the rough game design; it would provide her some much-needed texture.

Stoic is a seemingly emotionless girl. Her power seems to be a force-field-based invulnerability, reminiscent of Victoria Dallon, if it didn't turn off and also made her immobile. Stunner hates fighting her, which he has to do amusingly often.

Combat Wombat is a dork in impractically large power armor. Which resembles a turtle more than a wombat; it stands for Wondrously Original Mobile Brute with Advanced Tech. The bulk and clumsiness of the armor is frequently the butt of jokes, which...fair. But he's also the butt of a few jokes for being a video-game-playing nerd, which feels like a weird shot to make.

SCC Educators & Faculty

Professor Sandy McCormick is a mundane lawyer. She's the no-nonsense professor, who doesn't approve of having a bunch of untrained zeeple Zeniths running around on municipal property. Imagine the potential liability lawsuits! Her first class starts with a big PowerPoint slide reading "Welcome to HELL (Hero & Enemy Law & Liability)", so she can't be all bad.

Professor Downfall, like most of the SCC hero teachers, is a superhero. She wears paramilitary gear and has a spartan attitude to match. As far as she's concerned, the most important thing for a superhero to learn is how to break people and things.

Professor Hedonist (who looks like a well-dressed marble statue) takes the polar opposite point. He seems kinda sleazy, but serves as a philosophical counterpoint to Downfall. The professors do a pretty good job in that regard (aside from Nil). Anyways, he's a transfer from Savior School who teaches "Basics of Defense".

Professor Nil is mysterious. That's his whole deal. His class is all about protecting and uncovering secrets. He's annoying—partly because he's such a nothing character, partly because what bits of personality he shows aren't great.

Nil tells the class that his class involves trying to learn other students' secrets, and then mocks anyone who steps forward when he asks if they'll try to learn other students' secrets. ("Who will trust you now?") So he's mocking you for saying you'll actually do assignments in his stupid class. Also: Basically his entire class is built around digging up your classmates secrets, which is both psychotic and clashes with the fact that students aren't supposed to even let their classmates see their face.

The Dean, Meg Tolly, had intense "wants to be the cool teacher" vibes during orientation. She mostly sticks to those overcompensatingly cheery vibes, but gets serious when the circumstances dictate. Like when telling her new students not to investigate the dangerous new supervillain (who the plot dictates we investigate).

The worst thing I can say about Meg Tolly is that she puts up with Nil's lesson plans. And possibly Hedonist's conduct? It's not clear whether the writers think he's being subtle about it or not.

Villains

Doctor Stench is a backstory villain—specifically, Yuu's father. He was a perfume scientist who became obsessed with the emergence of zeeple. His villainous actions are variely-defined, but he apparently used weird-smelling chemicals and had a nose-themed costume. I'm not sure whether this is a universal feature or a side effect of my choices for why Yuu admired him, but Doctor Stench's villain philosophy had a distinctly anti-capitalist streak, explicitly telling his child that the capitalists are the real supervillains.

The description of his crime reminds me of Mouse Protector. The local "high-wage earners" started getting defenses not to protect themselves, per se, but because being victimized by this nosy dork with a stench ray was embarrassing. Eventually, Stench was captured, at which point he promptly tattled on every crook and villain he'd ever worked with. Including a few scraps of information on the infamous DIabolical Dozen, which lead to him getting stabbed twelve times in jail.

The Contrarian comes off as someone who couldn't decide whether she wanted to be The Joker or The Riddler, without having the talent or charisma to pull either off. You know what she does have, though? Pipe bombs. Also spray paint. Her first attack (during SCC hero orientation) hit a fast food joint and came with graffiti'd anti-consumerist-sounding word salad, her second hit a church and came with some teen-atheist-sounding word salad. ("Just pray to a pie!") She comes off as a faux-nihilist/faux-anarchist sort of troublemaker.

#video games #choice of games #community college hero

[fulloflovingechoes]

Labyrinth of Solitude, Time, Superman Etc.

I am finding myself once again BOGGED DOWN by the flow of time. I am filling my time. I am managing my time. I have a little blue planner that I picked up at the art store for $6.95 on the sales rack - 17 months. I would only be needing the back 10 or so. I made a joke with the clerk that I wouldn't be buying a planner so late, if I had a planner. They laughed politely.

I have 2 jobs now. An oppressive thought, but the good news is that my jobs are right next to each other, separated by a single restaurant. Most every day on my calendar has something to do. Go here, go there, do this, see them, do that. Keep up now, keep up! This is important for me. I use my free time as an excuse to ruminate on misdeeds, and am a well trained prison guard. I believe, on my therapy intake, I referred to it as a self stylized "Panopticon of Nihilism," so they know exactly what manner of douchery they're unpacking. Staying busy is how I'm trying to build a better me.

I'd like to move to the neighborhood where I work, and remove my commute entirely. One of my major hesitations is the recent sighting of an old friend. I've seen her every shift I've worked in the past week, which can only mean one thing: she lives there now. I don't know when she moved to the area. Also, "friend" doesn't exactly cut it. She was closer than that: a best friend. Although any time I said the phrase out loud she would let it hang in the air - all Damocles. She's a writer and a musician. A great actor, whip quick, and one of the smartest people I've ever met. Absurdly funny. One of the funniest people I've ever met. I love her a lot. Even now.

We stopped talking a year ago. It's my fault.

I took all of her for granted. I was so deep in self-hatred (read: narcissism) that I couldn't see her, and let all my agony pour out onto her. I was a bad friend to her. Horrible, actually. I'd minimize her troubles, and dismiss her outright. Even after she listened to me whine and complain and lament. I was difficult to be around. She put up with it for years. She was my main confidant and probably the person I trusted most. I wasn't in therapy, obviously. She kept me alive, and she told me hard truths. She loved me when I didn't. The shit I put her through while I wanted to die.

Thing is, I don't want to die anymore. I'm still depressed, but I want to live. I think the last year of my life, coincidentally the last year of my 20s, has been pretty eye opening. I am so fucking done with a lot of my self-hatred. One of the last things she told me before we stopped speaking was "you need to find a way to love yourself, because you deserve it. Even if we're not friends after this, I still love you." We hung out front of my apartment in the night for a while playing guitar. At the time I didn't realize it would be one of the last times we'd hang out. I headed in kind of early, I had an early shift the next morning. I thought I'd have more time.

There are things here, in me, I can love. It's hard to see them sometimes. I realize that it isn't just a voice of discontent within me yelling self-hatred, but a chorus line, kicking a can-can of "fuck yous," and "please-die-now"s. Some of those voices are variations of me, but a lot aren't. There are so many people here that love me too. I am finding out more more lately as to why. It's a bit like a wave. It gets easier and then harder again. Each time it shaves a little sand off the sea.

I've been reading Octavio Paz's Labyrinth of Solitude, which has been pretty eye opening. For anyone who stumbles across this, just a heads up: you are made. Like a massive portion of you is inborn - nature or whatever, but the nurture is so inseparable from the equation. How much the self is cultural, how much of it is history? How much have I sacrificed to assimilation? To read a book that reads you back is a weird thing, especially one that's targeted culturally. Here I am written. It's outdated in many ways, to be sure, but each sentence is like a homing missile on my identity.

The world is bigger than you are, and you are often powerless in the face of it. Nihilism seems to be the expected summation to that equation. It was my answer for the longest time, and in some days I found it my power. Nothing matters, so who gives a shit? But it's a cop out. At least to me it is. Nothing matters? Bullshit. Everything does. It fucking matters to me, and the people I care about. I can wax philosophical all the live long day about why something does or doesn't exist, about the solipsistic angle of it all. Meditate on the agony of knowing or not knowing, but if I have the excuse of "nothing matters," then nothing can. It's just another mask to hide behind, a trick to obscure.

I've been trying to fill my days with more hope. Fill my eye line with things of brighter nature. Changed the background on my phone to Superman, the best guy. What a little sweetie pie- ya' know? Just a goofy dude, out here giving a shit. Listening to a lot of Stevie Wonder. Have you ever tried being sad listening to Stevie Wonder? Try it. Throw on I Was Made to Love Her, and try frowning. You can't. Impossible. Staying open, especially when it's hard, that's the hard part of all this.

I need to reach out to my old friend. It might not go well, but that's not something I can control. We can't just keep almost bumping into each other, and not saying anything. It's not a turf war, and we're both adults. I guess my thing is that she's a writer, and she knows that you're supposed to "show not tell." I wanted to show her I was getting better, not just tell her. Maybe we're not at the place to be friends again yet, but we should at least talk. Got to find some free time to talk. The girl at the newsstand thinks it's a sign we should talk. Maybe she's right.

#blog #self love #self hatred #growth #depression #literature #hope #superman #nihilism #stevie wonder #assimilation #identity

[shadowjtrev]

if some day you do come back to look upon these words, i just wanted to say that I'm sorry, for all my writings..

after thinking so many things through, in the end I found and realized that you were the only person I'd ever do this to/for, and I thought to the reasons why. when we were together, about early on in our relationship, we had a loving conversation about our feelings for eachother and I asked if I wrote a book about my love for you, would you read it, and of course you said yes, and then you one-upd me by saying you would create a library of your love for me and idk, it was little moments like that which just stuck with me because I took them genuinely.

so I did, wether it was to you directly, or on paper, or some other form, I expressed and Immortalized my love for you, so that in the future or if you were having bad days or if you missed me, you'd have these little momentos to look at, it's why I made us that playlist, it's why I put the work that I put in on your anniversary gift, it's why I gave you that promise ring, which l'm not sure is even in your possession anymore..

you have always been my muse since the moment we met and I just wanted to capture and remember every single moment with you because even early on I always knew I wanted to have a future with you. that's why it hurt when you didn't believe my words, or when I was called crazy, because I made it a point in our relationship to just remember everything, and I say this jokingly but you were always a little forgetful, so I wanted to make sure i kept the truth for you, for when it mattered most.

funny enough, I always made sure to remember the things you told me during the beginning of our relationship because you started these little pop quizzes for me and I'd always get so nervous.. but I always passed. I remember too that it wasn't long ago that you told me you thought I was the one that started those quizzes. it was just moments like that which made me worried and wonder what else you had forgotten or had remembered differently.. and then I wonder if any of my words even matter anymore..

you know I only ever started writing here because you were slipping more and more away from me and I knew that one day you would stop seeing and talking to me, even though you promised otherwise. you always went through this process of blocking me and then adding me back and I knew youd block me on here so thats why I pinned that very message you see at the top.. of course you found all of this way too early than I wanted to but at the same time I didnt mind itbecause at the end, it gave me more time with you. still this was a place where if couldn't speak these words to you, well then I atleast could write them in hopes that you would read them one day.

Elizabeth, you were all that I ever had most days, all that I had to talk to, all that I had to look forward to anything with, when I loved you, I loved you with everything I had because I spent a long life being alone and people telling me "you'll find someone you'll find someone" even the women that have rejected me. but then you came along and you embraced me as much as I did you and idk.. maybe it was the product of my first real relationship that I fell so hard, I tried hard to play it cool and be on my toes but themoment I realized my love for you and the moment I said I love you, I didn't realize how much of myself I was giving to you..

and some days I'm fine, some days are really good to me when there's enough distractions, but others.. I can see and feel, how empty and lonely I am, even just hearing your voice over the phone was something that made my days whole and now I don't have that anymore, and then again Isee just how much I gave you because I don't see or feel those parts of myself anymore. andwith you gone I don't see any point of continuing anymore.so I decided I'm going to write once more, on the page Itold you about if you remember, that had our anniversary date..from there l'I close this book that I thought id never put down, you made it very clear you want nothing to dowith me and thats ok, I always knew you were going to say goodbye one day, but I never thought it would've ended the way that It did..

but anyways, I'm sorry Elizabeth for everything, I hope one day we can just talk, for hours and hours like we always did, but until then.. please don't forget about me, or us, at least the good parts. 'l do the same, because as it stands you still inhabit my mind, my dreams, and I'Il always think ofyou and wonder if you're having good days, that you're sleeping well and having good dreams, and that you're drinking enough water and having good meals to eat, even when i don't want to, I know my mind will find you in the smallest things l do.

I always hated that he said I was obsessed, when I never was. I just really loved you, you were everything to me and all I was, was a heart broken man who knew he was losing the love of his life little by little.

I love you, Cara Mia, please know im always a call away.

#she

[1introvertedsage]

Writer Sub Wednesday

Musings of a Modern Day Mind Marauder

I think I scare myself sometimes. So I look outside for validation to tell me I'm not crazy. It seems like everyone I try to tell, ask or try to compare notes with pretty much looks at me like I'm a freak.

I guess that is to be expected, I have been the freak my whole life. The blackest sheep. People think they are the black sheep. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. Others know they are the black sheep their family and society make it obvious to them. Whenever they get the chance. Probably unbeknownst to them.

I have come to accept it. Not to say it doesn't have its impressions. It has been this way for as long as I can remember. Ostracized from and by the people who were supposed to accept me at every turn in my life. Then the same with the rest of the world, or the spheres I have operated in.

It tells me this was all for a cause. I am slowly beginning to understand what that means. I struggle because I feel like who really cares. So many have those stories, so just take a number and stand to the side right.. But this is a crack in the shades to mine. And if no one reads it all the way through, that will save me the inner anguish of agreeing to this.

I really don't try to look for trouble. It always seems to find me. No matter what I am doing. How I am doing. So I try to stay away. From everyone and everything now. It is easier this way. I have me, my books, my music, paper and this head of mine.

I always felt different. From any early memory I can bring up. Every one that I actually have, something was happening to me because I was different. I don't think I looked different. I mean, I have never seen anyone that looks like me. But, like I don't think I have any features that make me stand out from anyone else.

I wasn't a bad kid but it was put on me. Always reminded of the boy who cried wolf. Assumed to be a liar or thief up front. Not allowed to tell an adult they were lying or doing something wrong because I was a child and what did I know of right and wrong. Never allowed to be me.

I knew to make sure I was giving off the best possible impression. Like some kind of show pony. Most live by what they see. If they see and assume everything is good on the surface, they won't take the time to notice the storms. Now I limit my interactions with people. Limit what I say. Can't be misunderstood, mistaken or assumed like that. But that is wrong too. The need to not be seen seems to always point the spotlight right on me. Where ever I go.

I was always quiet, to myself, inside my head. That may be where or why I guess I had so many issues. People couldn't or didn't want to understand how I could just sit, as a kid in silence for hours.

When I sat in silence, it was never quiet for me. Like my physical body was still, I was quiet but I was never really 'there' I guess. So maybe that is why I don't remember much of my childhood. Only getting snapped back into that reality by trauma occurring to me or around me.

I have a few good memories, but nothing that stands out that I can remember. Nothing like, this was such a great thing when I was a kid. I don't have that. Besides the things that apparently never happened.

Since I have had to learn to hide my true emotion when I try to explain it to someone I get flustered, nervous, shaky, hot and I'm usually crying. It won't even need to be about anything 'sad'. I am coming to realize how these things are tied to the nervous system in my physical body. So, I am learning to work through and with them.

It has been a long process and I am no where near where I have been. But since I have to work through it here, I am learning to write some of the things that happen. I have to take breaks, get myself centered. I have to control it.

I think I am pretty much over the things in my childhood. A few things have come up recently that I had forgotten about. No one brought them up, I just get flashes of 'remember when'.

It was traumatizing reliving it. Obviously. I have come to realize these people were 'living their path'. I just happened to cross it as a lesson for them and me. I understand that more now as an adult.

It is now easier to forgive people. I will probably never see them again in my life. I get to a place of being thankful for the lessons even though most up to this point have been painful. They were lessons learned.

I am reminded I don't have to suffer. So I go back and forth wondering if I am creating the suffering in my head, or I am learning another lesson. I guess it could be both. I am starting to see the lessons I need, and then the people just show up. As much as I hermit. I go no where. I have no friends. Some how, these people are thrust into my life, when I need them most. Then they are gone.

I think I ask for it. It really is all in what or how the lesson needs to be learned for proper understanding I guess. Sometimes I repeat the same things. As soon as I think I have learned, here comes another smack in the face to remind me how simple I was to think that.

So I tried a different way. Subconsciously. I have been calling 'my people' towards me. Since I am reminded I am not the only person who thinks they are crazy with all that is happening to them. So I said I would try to find the ones that are like me, and I found this.

The thing that I guess is the most reassuring being here, is that there are others. I have been alone my whole life. Meaning, I have never met anyone even remotely relatable to me. At all. Not even relatively on my wave. It could be the hermit thing. But I don't think so. I feel like I literally think about, or dream about or wish about something and then it shows up. Good. Bad. Indifferent. I bring all of the lessons I guess I need right to myself.

If I go with this, and keep telling myself I am not crazy, I can work it out. Finding others to relate to is a human or creature comfort. Needing or feeling the need to be validated by someone or something outside of yourself. I feel the duality. Human secretly wants it and needs it and craves it. I could care less. Not that I don't care about people. I love people. Probably too much. I just think the way I set up my love to be given vs. the way I receive love has been an issue for me. So I block all of that out.

I can show love, and I think people can feel the love I am showing and giving them. So that is what I am here for. I am learning. To help them see themselves. To feel the kind of love I guess I have to give. When I say it like that, I feel delusional but you remind me I am telling myself I am not crazy. How can it be madness, when everything I have said since I was a kid is, now or has been a reality I dealt with.

So now that I am getting better at "controlling my life", or I think I am, I feel like I can learn people in ways other than how I have known them to be. If I am bringing this all to myself. I am creating the people I want to interact with and the lessons, how I want to learn them.

Then I ask myself, if I am creating who I need, would or could someone be creating me? Then, I hope not.

~R.L.S~

#writer sub wednesday #writer sub Wednesday #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #musings of a modern day mind marauder #muse #journal sub #mind marauder #creative writing #spilled ink #write blog #thank you Rubs for the sub #Ruby Lake peeking out #write blogging #original #original content #talk it out #write it out #free verse #musing #black sheep #1introvertedsage #nerves #nervous system #your nervous system is where your power is #the secrets we keep #Mercury #thank Mercury for today #being yourself #RLS

[trumanlilac]

/ / c h a p t e r - t w e l v e / /

Kissing Matty was probably the best thing that's happened to me in years...or maybe ever, besides graduating high school of course. I don't know what I felt at that exact moment, but I know that as soon as his lips touched mine, my heart stopped racing. I stopped being so nervous, and everything was okay. The way he caressed me, so gently...I felt like someone actually cared about me.

I know I'm probably just another girl to him--

I put my pen down and closed my book as there was a knock at my bedroom door.

"Come in." I turned around.

My dad came through the door, handing me a large plastic bag. I looked at it, seeing a bunch of spiral notebooks and packs of pens inside through the transparency of the bag.

"Oh, thanks." I smiled, "you really didn't have to, I could've gone to get my supplies myself." I nodded, then realizing that I had sounded ungrateful, "but thank you, again." I smiled even wider this time.

"You're welcome. Glad to see you getting an early start on your studies, too." He looked at my desk.

He was wrong. My books were indeed beside me, but I'd been writing in my journal about Matty for the third time today. I then realized that maybe I should get to reading.

"I was wondering if you weren't too busy if you wanted to go get ice cream." He asked.

I looked at him, then out of the window behind me. It was freezing outside, and he wanted to go get ice cream?

"Dad, it's too cold for ice cream." I chuckled, grabbing my journal. Somehow I felt like he was going to grab it and read it. Even though I knew he wouldn't.

"Right." He nodded. He sat down on the edge of my bed, sighing.

My eyes followed him, I felt awkward.

He stuck his hands into his pockets, I always wished my jeans were loose enough for me to do the same.

"I remember when you were a little girl you would go crazy for ice cream." He said, looking around my bedroom as if it were his first time in it. "You wanted it any time of the day, any season. You wanted it for dinner even." He laughed softly, "I remember one time I let you have it, too. And your mother came home and got all mad at me."

I smiled, I didn't know why he was saying these things...he was being weird.

"I don't know what to do with you anymore...I don't know what to do with me." He shrugged.

I didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry if I'm being the antagonist here, I just really, really don't know how to be a father to you anymore." He confessed, "and you're hanging out with weird older men and you're a young woman so I can't tell you not to."

I smiled again as he referred to George and Matty as weird older men.

"Dad, they're not weird."

"Yes they are." He shook his head, "I don't want to see either one of them in this house again. I'd prefer if you didn't see them anymore, either. I'm not telling you not to...just that I prefer it." He shrugged, I could tell he was trying his best to reason with me.

I sighed and turned back around, opening one of my figure drawing books for the class I'd be taking.

I could hear him getting up, and walking out of the room.

"I love you." He said as he shut the door.

"Love you too." I said.

I felt sorry for him. I wanted to make things better, but I didn't know how. I didn't even like to talk to him on such a serious level in the first place. As I turned the pages to the book I noticed it was more of a visual book than textual. Hm, hopefully classes will be as simple as this book.

-----------------------------------------------------

"All of my clients seem to have one thing in common." Elaine mumbled as she wrote in her book.

I sat up slightly in my seat, "what?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd been thinking out loud." She shook her head, clicking her pen and putting her focus back on me.

I thought about Matty, he was one of her clients...did he fit into her category of "all," or was she just saying it to be saying it? I had just told her about how I'd been spending time with someone I had just met. His name, anonymous. I didn't want her to know, since she knew Matty already. But I think she could tell, from the way I described him.

"I think the main obstacle that we've been trying to help you overcome, is being overcome...but I wouldn't know that unless you agreed." She said, taking her glasses off and setting them aside.

Social anxiety.

Had it been?

I hadn't realized.

I thought about all of the recent events in my life, the party, talking to people and being okay about it, George, and Matty.

"I guess so." I said, wowed.

She smiled, I looked up to her like a mother. She had that sort of vibe. She was much older than I, for one thing. In her forties at least. And she was very warm, I could let her know everything and be just fine...unlike the first day I'd met her, and I felt as if with every word she judged me. That wasn't true. I was very self-conscious at the time. I still could be.

"You're brilliant." I laughed a little, so did she.

"Last question, before I go." I stood up, grabbing my hoodie and throwing it over my head.

"Go ahead." She said.

I waited until my face was free from the darkness inside of my hoodie as it went over my head, then pulled my hood down.

"Do you think your clients are crazy?" I asked.

She laughed softly, "not at all, darling. I too saw a psychologist when I was young." She shrugged, "that's how I became so interested in psychology. It's not like I'm in a psychiatric ward."

"When I had met Black ," that was the incognito name I'd given Matty for Elaine. Yeah, it sounded funny, I know. But it was a pretty good nickname. "He told me he wasn't crazy, for seeing a psychologist. It was one of the first things he told me.."

"And what did you say?" Elaine got up from her seat, tossing some crumbled papers into the trash.

"I told him neither was I."

"And trust me, dear, you aren't. You're just crippled. From some of the things you've mentioned to me, I can tell you are. Crippled from things that had negative outcomes in your teenage years...but that can be fixed. I promise you, but before you can fix any of those things, you'll have to be willing to let them be fixed at all. Which you've shown me that you are, and I'm proud of you."

I smiled again, "thanks, Elaine."

She nodded.

#omg! a matty healy fanfic #trumanlilac #the 1975 #matty healy #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writer on tumblr

[missingpants]

#F*ck #I'm in my Twenties #book cover #It really is a product of its times #Very late 00s early 10s white Tumblr hipster #I don't know why I put myself through these books even when I realize early on that they're not my cup of tea #Other than to help me identify more clearly what I don't like/enjoy/feel/aspire to #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #Anyhoo it's done

[letarasstuff]

She makes me a better Man

(A/N): Yeah, I wanted to write this in so long and here we are. It's a little hearwarming something for the dropping temperatures outside

Summary: Spencer talks to a stranger about his daughter (and it's totally cute)

Warnings: Mentions of food and irregular eating/bad diet, Mentions of childhood traume, sappy feelings

Wordcount: 1k

✨Masterlist✨ ______________________________

At this point Spencer already is awake for well over 24 hours. The only thing he wants at this point is sitting at home with his one year old daughter, playing with one of the many toys Penelope (and Derek) gifted to her or reading a book with her sitting in his lap and drooling all over his sweater vest and cardigan. Instead he is out in Kansas City in the middle of the night, freezing and asking high risk people if they have seen something suspicious happening on the streets. So far, being out there for several hours, they were unsuccessful.

It's what feels like the hundredth prostitute Spencer talks to that night. "And are you sure you haven't seen anything odd around here?" He asks to make sure they don't miss anything and maybe it does call something in the lady's memory. "No, I would remember, just like I would remember seeing you around. Maybe I can show you what I will do to someone handsome and cute like you when you get off duty?" Hotch has to bite back a laugh, since this isn't the first woman to offer her services to the young genius this night. Once again tonight Spencer turns beet red and tries to stumble out a respectfully No.

"Uhm, thank you, b-but I got someone at home, who, who calls me Daddy and waits for me as-as soon as I get, uhm, off duty." Now Hotch can't help himself and has to turn around in order to conceal the laugh as a cough (and fails miserably). The lady looks impressed. "A bit Kinky, aren't we?" She chuckles.

At this moment Spencer realizes how his words can be interpreted without providing any further context.

"No! No, not like that. I'm talking about my daughter, who is in D.C. with her babysitter and I can't wait to see her again. M-my daughter, (Y/N), I mean, not her babysitter, even though she is a wonderful and ambitious young woman trying to get through life on her own. B-but I love my daughter dearly, she may be only a year old, but in the whole time of her existence she has already made me a better man. Thanks to (Y/N) I was finally able to get my priorities right and sorted and I still do. I know now that time spent with my family is invaluable and that the 20th book of the day can wait, because my baby girl is only, well, now a baby. She just started talking. Nothing major, just simple words like Papa, Dada and Daddy as of last week and it's my favorite sound in the world. I can't get enough of being called Papa by my daughter, it's the best kind of addiction I can have. Also thanks to (Y/N) I learned to take care of myself. There is someone depending on me, someone completely helpless without me. If I am not able to function fully and properly, I’ll put her in danger. And I promised to her the day she was born to protect her until the day I die and beyond that. I intend on keeping that promise. I also get the recommended amount of sleep at night. I started eating more and better, expanding my diet beyond sugary coffee and an occasional donut or take out. I started doing light exercises. I go to therapy, because I have to work through my own trauma. I am the one to break the circle in order for (Y/N) to be able to thrive to her true self later in life. I lay the foundation for that in her early childhood, so I have to be in balance with myself and my own childhood.

"So yeah, my daughter made a better man out of me and she still does every day she exists and smiles at me. That's why no, I don't want you to show me anything when I get off duty, because I can't wait to get back to my (Y/N)." Spencer finally finishes his minutes long monolog and takes a deep breath.

Hotch has to turn around again. This time to hide the tears glistening in his eyes. He feels every single word his youngest agent (and kind of child) said deep in his bones, knowing the sensation of emotions coming with the whole child package. The lady on the other hand doesn't even try to hide hers.

"You are the most honorable man I have met. Please, get home to your baby girl safely. Give her a kiss from me." She blows her nose with a tissue while walking away, no doubt trying to look presentable again for the next men.

Spencer and Hotch go back to the regrouping spot in silence, sharing the mutual feeling of not talking about the heartfelt moment. That is until Derek asks them if they were more successful than the others.

"I don't think so, but Reid made a prostitute cry and he wasn't talking about the UnSub by that." This is all Derek needs to be able to tease his pretty boy the whole remainder of the case and the following plane ride.

But Spencer doesn't care if it means he was able to boast about his daughter to someone.

Given the fact that they landed the next day in the early evening, he rushes home to (Y/N), who is waiting for him while her babysitter watches her. "DADDY!" She screams as her father opens the door. As fast as her chubby baby legs are able to carry her she runs towards him. He immediately falls down to his knees and opens his arms. "Ahhh, incoming!" He acts like the force of her colliding with his chest brings him down, rolling around with a giggling (Y/N) in his arms.

Spencer is sure that her laughter is his second favorite, but not less addictive by any means, sound in the world.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #x reader #x daughter!reader #x child!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #x reid!reader

[svucarisiaddict]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write a Sonny x reader angst/happy/smut ending. She is unsure/scared of where the relationship is headed. She doesnt have link with him jobwise, she isn't Rollins (she knows he had a crush on), she is still finding her feet in the ship & he's ahead of her talking long term. She desperately loves him but thinks maybe its better for her to walk away so he can be happy with someone she thinks is more suited & she doesn't want more of a broken heart. Thankyou so much

+ Hi, absolutely ❤ your writing and cant get enough of Sonny at the moment. The more i read the more i want so bad 😰. Can I request maybe a little angst using prompt 36 please with a Sonny x reader? Thx you so much.

+ Hi, I'm new to the fanfic world and absolutely loving your writing. After my awful day, I need myself some angst and was wondering if I could request prompt 49. “I love you and I’m terrified.” with Sonny.... Thank you so much.

Thank you all for your asks and love!

As you stood around listening to Sonny, Liv, Amanda, and other members of the squad you realized how much history was between them. It made you feel like you were intruding.

Everyone made you feel welcome and were friendly but there was a disconnect. You knew nothing about law or law enforcement besides what you had seen on TV.

When there was a break in the conversation you tapped Sonny on the shoulder. "Um, I'm going to go home. I'm really tired."

Sonny set his wine glass on the counter. "Okay. I'll get our coats," he replied.

"Oh, I didn't mean you needed to leave. Stay and have fun with your friends. I'll grab a cab," you said.

Sonny cupped your cheek. "Nonsense. I'm not putting you in a cab, especially this time of night."

"I don't want to ruin your evening," you replied. "I'll be fine. Really."

Sonny leaned in close to your ear. "I'm ready to go anyway. Much rather be alone with you," he whispered into your ear.

“I kinda wanted to be alone,” you confessed meekly.

Sonny furrowed his brow. “Are you upset with me?”

“No. It’s not you. I just-.”

“Hey, you two,” Amanda said. “We’re going to play charades. And we get y/n on our team.” She slipped her arm through yours.

“We were actually on our way out,” Sonny informed her. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”

You looked up at Sonny. It surprised you that he didn’t blame you for leaving early.

Amanda looked at you, then back to Sonny. “Oh, okay. Text me, and we’ll have lunch sometime,” Amanda said to you.

“That would be nice,” you replied with a smile.

After saying your goodbyes to the others, you and Sonny went outside to Sonny’s truck.

Sonny twirled his keys around his finger as you walked the two blocks to the truck. Neither of you said anything. “Do you like the beach?” Sonny asked out of the blue.

“The beach? Who doesn’t like the beach?” you responded.

Sonny smiled. “Good. Good. Because I booked a beachfront house in Miami for a week.”

“You did what? When? Why?” you stopped walking, looking at him.

His smile faltered. “I thought a getaway would be good for you. You’ve-you’ve been stressed, tired, moody.”

“Moody? That’s a nice way to say acting like a bitch," you accused.

"Whoa, whoa. Stop right there. I never said that!" Sonny defended, raising his hand in the air.

Tears stung your eyes, making you look away from Sonny. "Sorry," you apologized softly. Sonny’s words inadvertently triggered you. Your ex always said you were moody and a bitch.

Sonny took your hand in his then tilted your chin, so you were looking up at him. "What's going on?" His eyes studied your face looking for a clue.

As you were getting ready to say something, Sonny’s cell rang. He ignored it at first until it kept ringing.

"Sorry. Its Liv." Sonny walked a few steps away and answered the call. He put his phone back in his coat. "Sorry. I have to go in. I’ll drop you by your place first.”

You nodded and sniffed. "Okay."

The whole week you had ignored Sonny’s calls and just answered texts with one or two words.

On Friday, when he called, you decided to answer.

“Are you feeling better?” Sonny asked, his voice laced with concern. “Maybe you should go to the doctor.”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Maybe,” you answered softly. “I’m just tired. I think I just need some rest.”

There was a stretch of silence. You wanted to be truthful with Sonny but didn’t know how to explain what you were feeling. Hell, you even had trouble understanding yourself.

“If you don’t feel like going out, I could come over. I’ll bring dinner,” he offered.

“I don’t know, Sonny.”

“I just want to see you. Do you not want to see me?” Sonny asked. His voice sounded sad. That, in turn, made you sad. Hurting Sonny was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Of course, I want to see you. I’m just not going to be much fun,” you said.

“Don’t care,” he replied. “I can be there in 30 minutes with dinner, then we can veg out on the couch and watch whatever crap TV you want.”

"Maybe tomorrow, okay?" you countered.

"Yeah, doll. Sure. Whatever you want," Sonny settled. "Good night. I love you."

"Good night, Sonny," you murmured before ending the call.

Just an hour later, someone was knocking on your door. You tossed the TV remote on the sofa before standing to answer the door.

"Sonny," you said, surprised when you opened the door to find him on the other side.

"Haven't I told you to see who is at the door before you open it?" Sonny scoffed as he entered your apartment.

"Please, come in," you snarked.

Sonny shed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. "We need to talk." He turned to face you with his hands on his hips.

"Talk," you said flatly, crossing your arms over your chest.

"What is going on with you? You act like you don't want to be around me. Ignore my calls texts. And when I brought up the Miami trip, you made it sound like it was a crime," Sonny accused. "You didn't even say I love you earlier." His last statement was quieter. “Tell me what I did. I want to fix this disconnect between us.”

“You didn’t do anything, Sonny,” you said softly.

Sonny closed the space between you. “Then what is it? I thought things were going well. If I’m moving too fast. I love you so much.”

You shook your head. “I’m scared, Sonny.”

“Scared? Of what?” Sonny pushed a lock of loose hair behind your ear, then brushed tears from your cheeks.

“I love you, and I’m terrified because I’m afraid that you’ll see me the way I see myself,” you choked back more tears. You were on the verge of losing control.

Sonny furrowed his brow. “And how do you see yourself?”

“I’m broken, Sonny. I’m nowhere near good enough for you,” you sobbed, tears unyielding. “I don’t deserve your love.”

Your ex-fiance was a narcissist and gaslighted you every chance he got. He did a number on your self-esteem. It took several years to get out of that toxic relationship, but it left you jaded. Until you met Sonny, you never thought you could love again.

“Y/N,” Sonny said. Sonny pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. He allowed you to cry into his chest while clutching onto his shirt as your life depended on it. And at that moment, it did. Sonny gently rocked you and whispered soothing words into your ear.

When your sobs had quieted, Sonny leaned back to look down at you. “Y/N, you deserve the world, and I plan on giving you that and so much more. But I also don’t want to push you. So we’ll go at your pace,” Sonny explained. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sonny.”

#sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #asks #law and order: svu #my writing #trust #love

[bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls]

Traditions

Melinda opened the door mid-knock. The man smiled down at her.

"I'm your new neighbor, right next door. I wanted to introduce myself," he said. With a smirking shrug, he swept past her into the apartment. When he spoke again, it sounded breezily rehearsed. "You don't mind if I come in? I like your books. Why don't we sit down?"

She was confused, and almost absentmindedly pushed her door shut before following him down the hall to the living room.

"I'm—" she began, realizing the absurdity of being the one to introduce herself, and yet unable to resist. "I'm Melinda."

"I knew a girl with that name once," he said as he dropped roughly on to her couch. He made himself comfortable and grinned. "I fucking hated her."

Again, she couldn't help herself. "Why? Wh— what did she do?"

"She talked too much," he said flatly, the grin disappearing completely.

"Oh! Oh. Um—" she said, thinking it through.

"But that's not what I hated," he interjected. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared deeply into her eyes. "What I hated was everything I had to do to shut her up. What she made me do.”

Melinda nodded. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Sit," he directed, and she did.

For some reason, she picked the most uncomfortable chair in the room.

"But see, I'm counting on you here." The smile returned, like spring come early. There was a buzzing in her ears. "I'm counting on you to do better than that other Melinda. I'm counting on you to be smart. You can be smart, can't you, Better Melinda?"

Her "yes" was in the air before she'd even considered the question.

"Good. Very good," he said, returning to his relaxed posture. "Do you have traditions, Better Melinda?"

"I—" Her thoughts raced. She had cravings... so, so many cravings. She had habits that regulated the cravings. She had fears that felt ancient and hereditary. But traditions? She couldn't say. It felt wrong, being almost thirty and unable to say. "I'm not sure."

"That's okay. I'm always sure enough for both of us. " He lightly patted the couch cushion next to him. "You probably don't know this, but there's a tradition in this building."

Her eyes narrowed, as if the spell had been broken. "You just moved—"

"I used to live in the building, with my ex." He patted the couch again. "One floor down. I could have moved into one of the units down there, but I told the super that this is as close as I want to get."

She had, as it turned out, a weakness to magic. "Oh."

"I lived there —suffered there, really— for three long years. Longer than you've been here, according to the super." Without warning, his eyes hardened and he brought his hand down on the cushion with a slap that suggested dire things for her face.

She was frozen in place, but a voice inside her knew what to do. She stood —and wobbled, as she realized she was shaking— and moved to his side. He put his arm around her and she settled into the embrace.

If there were any voices screaming at her to run, she couldn't hear them.

"You should really be careful about that guy, the super," he warned. "He told me a lot about you even before I slipped him a hundred bucks. He lets himself into your apartment when you're on campus. Did you know that?"

Her alarm was balanced by his warmth. It had to be wrong, the way she'd gone from feeling afraid to secure in a matter of minutes. It couldn't happen like that, not the right way. But she couldn't think about it too much; she was just too warm.

"No, I didn't know," was all she could reply.

"He goes through your stuff, copies your photos and videos off your iMac, cums in your food... the same stuff he does to all the women in the building." He laughed. "He's an old school pervert. He's always wanted to tell someone. He looked relieved."

"My— what food? Did he— did he say if he— with the videos—?" She felt serene, but her breathing quickened, and tears ran down her otherwise placid face.

He continued to laugh. "Are you talking about your personal collection of shame? Yes, hon. He told me I could buy a copy. (You're not his type, by the way. He wanted me to tell you that, if it ever came up.)" He sighed in exaggerated relief and this task completed. "He was asking a fortune... I suppose he could see I was a motivated buyer."

He sighed again, this time with something like sincerity.

"That's okay, though. I'll even things up with him someday."

"So, now you have—" she began.

"Yes," he said gently. "Now I have."

She appeared to be thinking. She wasn't thinking at all. Months later, when he recalled the moment in conversation, she would wonder for hours why he couldn’t tell. She didn't like wondering about that. It made her sad.

"So in this building, there's a tradition," he said, confident she understood the backstory. "We're not just neighbors. We're partners. We share a wall, we share a duty... we share everything. We swap wifi passwords. We swap keys. We can count on each other."

He patted her thigh just as he'd patted the cushion earlier. She knew if she were slow to act, the escalation would be even swifter. She stood and looked at him curiously.

"Go get me your spare set," he instructed, waving her away with a flick of his wrist. "And write down your password."

She would not remember searching through her junk drawer for the spare set. She would not remember writing down the password for her router. What she would remember was his voice saying, "Y'know what? Just write down all your passwords." She would remember the way her hand would not reach out to offer him the folded piece of paper, no matter how hard she tried. She would remember him leaning close and taking it.

"I obviously don't have to tell you why you're going to do as you're told. You understand your situation." He pulled her back down to the couch with him. "So really, we just have that one big question left to answer."

"What— which question?" she asked.

“The question I should have asked Other Melinda, when we were living downstairs.” He gripped her shoulder tighter, and leaned his face close to hers. She felt the world shrinking.

“Which question?” she whispered, her gaze unfocused.

“How much are you going to make me hate you?”

#stories