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ursuburbanmother · 27 days

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I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Four

Pairings: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: did you guys know fifty dollars back in ‘66 was like five hundred dollars??? I didn’t and now I wish I never did. Anyway I kinda just wanted to explore more of Angus and Y/n relationship before the event of the holdovers. So a little backstory on this one. I maybe got carried away. Also this is a long ish chapter cause I have MAJOR exams to take so yeah :0 it might be while till I update again.

Word Count: ~7.5k

Enjoy!

Four Years Before - June 12th, 1966

Your parents had fled to Barbados for a destination wedding which they would follow with a cruise they claimed to deserve. Although it was one of those rare occasions where they had extended an invitation, you had declined. The prospect of being able to stretch your legs on the couch without worrying if you would be crushing some unknown guest, or to be able to walk into rooms without crashing into a waiter passing out shrimp puffs, was much more appealing. You had been left behind with fifty dollars for your fun fund, as your mother called it, and a kiss on the forehead. The nanny your parents kept on retainer would check up on you occasionally only to find you were much better at cleaning up after your messes and doing ordinary tasks than your parents. She’d leave after a few hours and then over the course of the first week she stopped coming.

You had prepared yourself for a month of solitude after Angus had announced he’d be spending his vacation at a tennis camp in Montauk. You must have been reorganizing your bookshelf for the third time that day (once by alphabet, then by color, and finally by size) when you heard a knock at the door. The sun had just begun to set, the sky colored a purple-blue, and you cautiously decided to take your fathers golf club. You dropped the club shortly after opening the front door to find not the face of Norman Bates but of your best friend. You scanned his tear-stained face. His eyes were glossy and his cheeks rosy, like when one stands in the snow and is attacked by the harsh winds that nip at your skin.

He collapsed into your arms, and you are quick to hold him steady. He was crouched over, having had a growth spurt a few months earlier, making it hard for you to look at him eye to eye.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

It was the summer of ‘66, where paranoid parents were starting to believe rock music would possess you. Ironically, it was the year Pet Sounds came out and you couldn’t stop rewinding the songs on your turntable. And most significantly it was the summer you spent with Angus.

He broke the news through jumbled words and choked down tears. How his father had been placed in a Mental Health hospital and how taking him to camp was just an excuse to make sure he wouldn’t be there when the people from the hospital came to pick his father up. They had apparently come early, mixing the dates up.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” You asked, hugging his torso.

“No. I'm sure she’ll be coming to check soon though,” he sniffled, “She’ll probably try to drag me to Montauk anyway and say that ‘it’ll be good for me’.”

You kiss his curls, “What if you stay here?”

He lifts his head up, “I’m not sure she’ll let me.”

“I think she will,” you reassured, “I am a very good guilt-tripper.”

“You can try if you want. How much did your parent’s leave you anyway?”

“Enough for both of us, don't worry. Even if we run out, we could whip something up to eat.”

His eyes widened, “Let's stick to take-out.”

Your house was the first place Angus’s mother looked in, just like he had predicted. He hid at the top of the stairs, staying away from his mom's line of sight as she pressed you for his whereabouts. You had been truthful about how he wanted to spend the next few nights here.

“Are you serious? I’m not going to leave two fourteen-year-olds alone, unattended, unsupervised! God knows what you’ll get up to.”

“We’re not going to do anything!” you argued, “We’re smart enough to not light the house on fire and to dial 911, in case we happen to. Angus just wants to be away for a little while. You should understand why,” you glared.

She looked down, shuffling her heeled feet.

“Besides, you take him away now he’s just to keep coming back here,” you sighed, stating the obvious.

She cleared her throat, coughing as she nodded, “Fine. Alright. Uhm- just make sure he calls me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you do your best to stop yourself from slamming the door in her face. "Bye.”

“The coast is clear,” you shout to Angus who came barreling down the stairs, skipping the last few steps.

“Did she look mad?”

You shrug, “A little. But she'll move on.”

He hums, agreeing as his eyes flicker around the room. He’s looking at the house he must have been at least a thousand times, whether because you invited him or because your parents did. And for the first time in either of your lives… it was completely silent. …

That first night Angus slept on your bedroom floor on a mattress you had dragged from the guest room. You had only your lamp on, and your window was open just wide enough to bring in the refreshing summer air. You were reading a few pages of your book to Angus, and when you glanced down you saw his eyes beginning to close.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. You have a nice voice is all.”

“Thank you. You do want to go to sleep though,” you observe.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” He says almost immediately. He lifts himself up slightly so he can reach your bedside table and waits for your permission to turn it off.

“Yes please.” You settle deep into your duvet. You turn to the side that faces Angus and wish him goodnight.

A few minutes later he speaks up again in a whisper. “Thank you again. For letting me stay here. I'll be out of here by next week, swear.”

“If you could, I would want you to stay here your whole life.” He scoffs at your words as you lean up with the support of your elbows to stare him down. “I’m serious. I only wish I could live in a house with you. Except somewhere far away from here.”

“By the beach,” he adds.

“Yeah. On a beach so obscure they can’t even send us mail because no one will know our address.”

“Oh no. How would your parents ever send you the invitation for your debutante ball?”

“I guess they’ll just have to throw it without me.”

“Shame,” Angus sighs. “I would love to see you in a white dress.”

You pause and then crash down back into your bed. You admire the garland that hangs above you. It’s made of postcards your parents sent you during their many endeavors. In that moment you're reminded of them and turn to Angus. “Oh. About that. My mom told me to tell you to prepare to be my escort in a few years.”

“Already?!” …

You and Angus had fallen into a routine. He’d sleep way later than you, sometimes until noon, and you’d wake him when you got too impatient and hungry for breakfast. He’d stir and groan to the point that it was obvious he was faking before finally getting up.

You would carry what you could from your kitchen pantry onto the backyard patio and eat under the summer sun. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet of fig jam, English muffins and sometimes pears from the tree that stretched over your neighbor's fence. Afterward you and Angus continued your day in the green grass. He would sprawl himself out on a picnic blanket and read a comic book, wearing shades that were on the verge of tipping off his nose. Meanwhile you would tend to your mother's garden. You’d put on her straw hat too, just to make it feel like you were with her.

When you were little, you’d pull the weeds out of flower beds as your mom pruned her lavender. It was her dearest plant, and she treated them so, regularly nursing it to keep it alive. She’d motion for you to come with her and pick up the shears from the gardening shed. Eagerly obedient, you did as she said, and you would work together until called for lunch. Your mother was always a vivaciously elegant woman, always knowing the right things to say and charming anyone she met. You often wondered why you hadn’t inherited her brilliance, the one that made her seem as if she was glowing in any room she inhabited. It was odd that she’d often claim her ability to converse was her greatest ability when the two got along best when moving in silence.

You did your best to care for the plant too. Before you mom left, she asked to handle their upkeep. You took your duty seriously, checking in on them every day until you saw one sign of disarray.

That summer was like playing house. And although you never admit, for the fear that he’d read too much into and freak, it was exactly as you had often dreamed it to be. June and July passed quickly, and you hadn’t even noticed it. You imagined a life where it could just be you two forever, away from your parents and outside of stifling Massachusetts.

You imagined a life in an apartment described as ‘quaint,’ by the realtor to disguise the incredible small square footage. You wondered if he would like to be in a city like New York or Chicago. Somewhere that was always busy, and the chirping of morning birds was replaced by honking cars.

By the time August had rolled around, you could practically hear the unmistakable sound of the school bell ringing in your ear, warning you of its proximity. Thoughts about the future had you asking Angus one bleary Sunday afternoon, “Are you nervous about starting high school?”

Angus was pushing you on the tire swing, trying to give you motion sickness by twisting the ropes of the swing and letting them untangle a second later.

“Not really. It’ll be like eighth grade just with more tests.”

“I guess. But aren’t you nervous about making new friends and stuff? What if we tangled ourselves into a web so deep that we can’t talk to other people normally.”

“Then I have done my job of keeping you to myself.”

“Haha,” you deadpan, “Seriously though. Won’t you miss having me to talk to?”

“Of course I will. But you’ll write to me and crap… right?”

“Of course,” you echo his words back to him, “You’ll visit me when you get the chance too, correct?”

“Eh. If I’m not busy.”

“Angus!”

“Yes! Obviously, I will.” He pushes you a little harder.

“I do want you to be more out there though. Don’t go sulking in corners like you always do. People would really like you if you let them talk to you for more than one minute.”

“You’re starting to sound like my mother Y/n.”

“Seriously though. Did you notice we’re always addressed as ‘Y/n and Angus’ by teachers. Never just Y/n and never just Angus.”

“Yeah. But I like it. It’s like Bonnie and Clyde. You can’t separate them because then it sounds plain wrong.”

“Okay Clyde,” you roll your eyes. You stop swinging, scraping your shoes through the dirt until you are still.

“I’m giving us two weeks before we break down to each other over the phone.” You lose the hold you have on the tire swings and let them drop onto your lap. You simmer under the sun and enjoy the breeze that flows through your hair.

“Don’t go replacing me when you get to your school.”

“Don’t worry, you got a head start seven years ago. No one else will be able to catch up,” you smile teasingly. “Maybe I’ll find myself a boyfriend though. About time for the both of us, don’t you think?”

He frowns, “You don’t need a boyfriend.”

“Yes, I do. Everyone else does.”

“Since when do you do what other people do? I think you should stop talking to people who peer pressure you,” he flicks your forehead.

“Why?” You rub your forehead, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” You smirk.

“Gross! No! I was just kidding. Get a boyfriend, I don’t care.”

“You wouldn’t care if I got a boyfriend?” You look at him skeptically.

“As long as he treats you nice and shit,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s just that we do everything together Angus. There are some things I would like to get over with that I can’t do with you.”

“Like what?” Angus wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“Like hold hands and go to bowling alleys or whatever.”

“We’ve done that.”

“I like…kiss,” you whisper, fidgeting with your hands.

“Oh,” he chuckles awkwardly. “So would you want to do that … now?”

“What!” You shout, leaping off the swing and walking a few steps away from him. “I’m not asking you to,” you clarify, shaking your head.

“No, but I would like to be over and done with it too… so maybe we should just…” He motions his finger between you two.

“Uhm,” you laugh, tilting your head, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’ll be just to check it off the list,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Um, yeah, okay,” you move closer to him in small timid strides. “You lean in though. I read that the guy is supposed to do that in my mother's Cosmopolitan.”

“Right, right,” he nods eagerly, interlocking your fingers together. With hesitancy he leans his head down and pulls you even closer to the point where you are bumping your noses. You close your eyes, and it's like your brain begins to spin like those show wheels with choices on them. Your brain tries to land on a feeling but loops on endlessly. His lips are softened by the humidity, and you don’t even notice it is over until a couple seconds after he pulls away.

When you think back on it, it really was the most 'first kiss moment’ to ever exist. It was more of a peck, both of you were bright red and shortly after you were as stiff as statues. Not knowing what else to do, Angus clears his throat and removes his hands from yours to wipe them on his shirt. “So, uh, what does your mothers Cosmo say to do afterward?”

You let out a breathy laugh, “I don’t know. I didn’t read that far.”

…

Christmas Eve - December 24th, 1970

After that summer, when you shared a weepy goodbye and headed off to your own high schools, it was undeniable that something had shifted between you both. Even if it often went unspoken. Neither you nor Angus had brought it up, but on occasion you would acknowledge it. Like last night after leaving the auditorium to return to the common room and pick up the dishes, your eyes drifted to the TV where a cheesy kiss scene was happening on screen. The two of you shared a knowing look that said, “That’s not how ours went down,” before shutting the television off and helping Mary into a more comfortable sleeping position.

You tried not to dwell on the past, but it was hard not to when the only thing in your childhood that had always been good, always been constant, was Angus. Every time you looked into his eyes it was like the decade you had spent together flashed by in a sequence of blurs. All he had to do was breathe a specific way in his sleep to remind you of some obscure memory that had died but he had brought back to life.

This morning you felt like you were ten again and Angus was trying to steal your bread rolls at Thanksgiving dinner. Except today he tried swiping your bacon as you shoved him off playfully.

“Get your own Angus,” you say playfully.

“I’ll trade you for my toast,” he offers.

Rolling your eyes you accept, grabbing the bacon and shoving it in his mouth, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he says, muffled.

You munch on your toast and catch Mr. Hunhams stare.

“I see you two finally made up,” he comments with a sly smile on his face.

“Mm-hmm,” you cover your mouth with your hand as you chew and turn away embarrassed.

Mary joins you all a second later, emerging as usual with her coffee and a cigarette. She switches between eyeing the two men infront of her, “Why’d you two miss supper last night?”

Mr. Hunham and Angus freeze. “We went into town on, uh, some school-related business.”

“And you couldn’t call? You left me and Y/n out in the cold.”

“Yeah Angus,” you pout at him as he nudges your ankle under the table.

“Sorry,” Hunham turned to you, “And to Ms. L/n.”

“No worries. Really. I had fun,” you smile up at Mary who pats your shoulders gently.

Danny, a man you had been introduced to a few days ago, enters with a mop and bucket. You wave to him which he acknowledges with a slight bow of his head.

“Good morning, everybody.”

“Hi, Danny,” Mr. Hunham greets.

“Good morning. You can go on in and make yourself a plate,” Mary points to the kitchen.

“I just saw something funny,” Danny focuses onto your friend. “I walked into the gym, and somebody had vomited in there.”

Mary and you raise your eyebrows in sync.

“You don’t say. I don’t know anything about that,” Mr. Hunham feigns surprise.

“Yeah, me neither,” Angus wipes his mouth as he speaks.

“I’ll look into that right away. Thank you,” he dismisses the conversation.

“Mm-hmm. I see how it is. Trying to leave us out of your boy's club,” Mary tsks. Danny places the custodian supplies beside Angus' chair and walks away.

“Gross Angus,” you say, like it's his full name. You shake your head in disappointment. He nudges your ankle harder, shaking the silverware above. You fight back, beginning to use your hands as a defense. You two are soon in a game of tug of war.

“Knock it off you two! You are acting like fractious children!” Mr. Hunham scolds and stands up from his seat. Across the table, he tries to part your hands. “This is not how young scholarly men and women behave!”

You and Angus are too drunk on laughter to care. …

You and Angus are in a search for Mr. Hunham who stomped away upon realizing stopping you two was a fruitless cause. You intend to apologize; Angus intends to nod along as you speak. You follow the chatter you hear coming from the kitchen to find Mary replacing you as you as her sous chef.

“Hey that's my job,” you point at the potatoes Mr. Hunham is peeling.

“That’s the culinary industry for you. It’s cut-throat. You still want to be a part of it?” Mary peers over her glasses.

You run a hand through your hair, shrugging. “Um. Mr. Hunham?”

He stops his task, “Yes Miss L/n?”

“I want to apologize for my-,” Angus clears his throat, “Our behavior. You were right. It was very inappropriate. Emily Post would turn in her grave.”

“She certainly would. I accept your apology, however unnecessary. I understand it was that childlike spirit in you that is still intact that came out.”

You shoot him a quizzical look. “Uh yeah…”

Angus gasps behind you as he notices the tray of brownies on a table beside him.

“Brownies? God, yes. I want all of these.”

“Each of you just take one. The rest are for the Christmas party tonight.”

Angus snags you a brownie before practically chomping his down.

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He perks up like a dog being told he’s going out for a walk.

“Yeah, at Miss Crane’s house. I’m only gonna go for a little bit, show my face and say I was there. You know Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

“Who’s Miss Crane?” You ask, inspecting the brownie and wondering what Mary does so differently to get it to taste so good.

“School secretary,” said Angus with a full mouth. “Just one of the loveliest faculty members at Barton,” said Mr. Hunham at the same time.

A beat passed as you all noted the flustered expression that passed through Mr. Hunham face.

“Ah- anyways, she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

“If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take them.”

“Mary can take us,” problem solved, Angus thinks.

“Oh! Okay… so we are going! I packed a dress that’s been collecting dust in my luggage.”

“No, that’s not how it works. You’re under my supervision,” Mr. Hunham reminds.

“Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around reading books all day, but I am losing my goddamn mind! Jesus!” Angus' suddenness makes you flinch. You avoid the flying brownie as he storms past you.

“Hey! Watch your mouth, young man. Not on Christmas Eve!” Mary yells after him.

“You, see?” Mr. Hunham points at his retreating figure. “I can’t trust him in a social situation.”

“Mr. Hunham, if you’re too chickenshit to go to that party, then just say so. But don’t fuck it up for the little asshole or his sweet little angel of a friend! What’s wrong with you? It’s just a party. What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Hunham said so quietly you could hardly hear him.

“Shit. Now you’ve got me nervous,” Mary wipes her hands on her apron.

You’re still standing there until they hear you go retreat the brownie and throw it in a nearby waste bin. “I could replace those?” You laugh uncomfortably.

“That’s alright sweetie. I want to come out of this party with my reputation intact,” Mary winks.

“Ouch,” you clutch your heart jokingly. “So can I go get dolled up?” …

Someway, somehow, Mary had gotten Hunham to take you to the party. You got ready in the room Ye-Joon and Alex had occupied before. You hadn’t anticipated wearing anything fancy, so the dress you had was a relatively simple one. It was red which fit the Christmas theme well enough and ended just above your knees. You hoped Mr. Hunham wouldn’t make a big deal out of it like Ms. Orchard probably would. You wore flats and did your hair the best you could without products. Although you had managed to give it some more volume by using some leftover soda cans that had yet to be thrown out. It was a common hack all Janie Patrick School girls learned in their freshman year. It was practically a seminar, as the senior girls taught you how to roll them into your hair just right.

You waltz out of your room, feeling as fresh as a daisy and catch Angus shaving. You sneak up behind him, putting your hands on his shoulder and looking at him through the mirror. “What is there to shave Augie? You’re as clean shaven as a newborn baby,” you tease.

You try to check your makeup and feel Angus stiffen under your touch. You remove your hands and see him staring at you open-mouthed.

“What?” You panic. Had you screwed up your hair? Was your mascara too clumpy on your lashes?

“Nothing,” he gives you a once over as he gulps. “You just, you look, you… you look pretty.”

“Oh,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, “Thank you. It’s just the makeup.”

“No, it’s not that. You always look pretty; I just never have a reason to tell you. But I can… today.”

“You look handsome everyday too…” you fidget with your hands.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him bashfully. Quickly you take the razor from his hands, “even more handsome once you change. We’re going to be late."

You run back to your room and try to regulate your breathing. In the reflection of the fogged-up window, you admire yourself momentarily. You suppose you do look pretty tonight. …

You four travel in Mr. Hunhams rickety car. You awe at the town Christmas lights before arriving in front of what you assumed to be Miss Cranes house. One by one you all enter, lingering by the front door like wallflowers. You inch closer to Angus, self-conscious suddenly. You loop your arms together when Miss Crane enters to greet you.

“Oh, hi. Oh, you made it! Welcome,” she pauses to address you and Angus, “Aw hi!”

“I'm so glad you're here,” she tells Mary.

She laughs at the flattery and refers to the brownies, “Where should I put these?”

“Um, oh,” Miss Crane lifts the cloth draped over the tray and gasps, “Those, I’ll be putting on my bedside table.”

“Oh! You're a wicked woman.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she takes the tray off Mary's hands.

“Certainly a lot of people here,” Hunham comments, surveying the room. It is lively with Christmas classics blasting on the radio and kids running around playing tag. The entire house is decked out, almost looking like the spirit of Christmas had barfed out the decorations. Some adults take a swing of their liquor, others smoke, others do both as they chat.

“Yeah, yeah. Some family, friends from town. Only you guys from work.”

“That’s my mom on the couch,” She points to an older lady sitting by the silver and blue Christmas tree. Next to the woman dancing with her toddler who wears no pants. “Uh, that’s my sister Kathy and her son Marvin.”

As she continues to point out each invitee you wander with Angus further into the living room. He seems captivated by a snow globe on a mantel. He shakes it and watches as the snow falls around Santa. You too are enchanted by the sweet melody that plays from it.

“Angus!” Miss Crane snaps you both from your trance. Miss Crane stands next to a girl who appears to be around your age.

“This is Angus Tully. He’s one of our students at Barton. Angus, this is my niece, Elise,” she introduces.

“Niece Elise. Nice,” he glances at you, hoping you got the joke as Elise rolls her eyes at his word play. You give him a tight-lipped smile. “And is his friend Y/n L/n. She goes to the school across the lake from Barton. Janie Patrick’s.”

“Nice to meet you,” you stretch out your hand for her to shake. She does so awkwardly.

“And this is Mr. Hunham. He’s one of our finest teachers. History, right?

“Ancient Civilizations, yes”.

“And this is Mary Lamb. She’s the manager of the cafeteria.”

You don’t know why, but you start chewing your nails. A habit you had thought you had broken in the seventh grade. You bite down particularly hard every time Angus glances at Elise.

“Hey, why don’t you take Angus down to the basement and introduce him to our family tradition?” Miss Crane has a hint of something you can’t identify in her voice.

“Come on,” Elise tilts her head and hesitantly he seems to follow.

“Um. What about Y/n? Can’t she come?”

“Don't worry about that! I have someone I think she would like to meet,” Miss Crane nudges you forward.

“Oh?” you say worriedly.

Elise takes Angus away by the hand and distantly you hear him call out, “Wait what?”

“His name is Joseph Leery. He’s a freshman at Yale!” she gushes.

“Oh? Great? Go bulldogs? That’s the mascot, right?”

“Honey, save your charm for him!”

…

Angus descends downstairs. He repeatedly glances behind him, desperately searching for the remaining bits of your voice. “Um. Maybe I should go back upstairs? My friend Y/n doesn’t do so well with crowds so.”

“Nonsense! She’ll be fine. If I know Auntie Lydia, she’s probably introducing her to the Leery's son, Joe.”

“Joe?” Angus scowls at the name.

“Yeah. Family friend of ours.”

Elise leads him to an arts and craft table, full of scattered red, green, silver and white pipe cleaners. Glitter is spilled everywhere, and the kids take their time decorating their popsicle sticks.

“This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I grew up playing down here during my aunt’s parties. I think it’s kind of cool. There’s a purity to it. I mean, every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up. Picasso said that.”

“Picasso’s cool,” Angus digs his hand further into his front pockets, “I saw Guérnica once. You know, the big mural, with the horse,” He tries to mimic it as best he can.

“Yeah, I know Guérnica. You really saw it?”

“Yeah. At the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It’s huge. My dad took me.” And Y/n too, he wants to say. Although if what Elise said was true, that Miss Crane fancied herself a modern-day cupid, then he figures he should try not to scare her off by bringing up another girl.

Although it's hard not to think of you when he thinks of his dad. His dad liked puzzles which you happened to have a plethora of that your parents had bought you to keep you entertained during long plane rides. This was before they trusted you enough to leave home alone.

In the winter you’d sit by the fireplace and lay out the puzzles of Monet’s Water Lilies. Then when the spring would offer you limited warmth, you’d all be found in the backyard of Angus’s house trying to piece together Van Gogh's Starry Night.

So many art inspired puzzles eventually had Angus’s father turn to you both and asking, “How would you guys like to see these in real life?”

That easter break had you three crammed into a yellow taxicab and enjoying New York pizza slices.

“Hey Guérnica,” she breaks through his nostalgia plagued mind, “You just gave me an idea,” she smiles.

…

Mr. Hunham stands by the funky-looking Christmas tree when he feels someone’s lips crash onto his cheek.

“Oh!” He says shocked. He feels as if he had just been dumped into a cold bucket of water.

“Mistletoe!” Miss Crane laughs, pointing at the little green and red plant that hangs on the ceiling. She hands him the Jim Beam he asked for earlier as she wipes the side of his face clean to get rid of any lipstick that might have been transferred.

“Yes, of course,” he laughs along, unsure of what else to do but to let her caress his face. “I didn’t you know you were quite the mastermind.”

Miss Crane tilts her head and motions him to elaborate

“Playing matchmaker for Mr. Tully and Ms. L/n.”

“Oh! Well, when Angus said they weren’t an item I figured they’d were itching for a chance to mingle outside of their little circle. I hope I didn’t overstep anything. After all I imagine they don’t get many opportunities to openly chat with people of the opposite sex! Dating is crucial in shaping character.”

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Mr. Hunham agrees, unsure if that is fact or fiction. He is awful at letting silence just be silence, so he does what he does best. Spew nonsensical facts.

“You know, it’s interesting. Aeneas carried mistletoe with him when he descended into Hades in search of his father.”

“Oh. Huh…” Now it is Miss Crane who is unsure of what to do with that.

“Um. Anyways. I like your tree. It’s really space age,” he comments and is hit slightly in the shoulder by her enthusiastic hand.

“I brought it to commemorate the moon landing!”

“Really? Wow.”

Miss Crane takes a sip of her punch, “So where is your family this Christmas.”

“Nowhere. I’m an only child. My mother died when I was young.”

“And your father?”

“Let's just say I left home when I was fifteen.” If Mr. Hunham had known this was what small talk topics had evolved into, then he must have been right in avoiding social functions all this time.

“You ran away?” She guesses.

“Worse. I got a scholarship to Barton. And from there, I went to college and never looked back.”

“But you did a little,” she points out.

“Hmm?”

“I mean you came back here.”

“Ah.” He really did not feel like being questioned so heavily tonight. Not to pat himself in the back, but he believes he's credible enough to label himself as a decent writer, able to handle the equal weight of a pen and his words with ease. But as a conversationalist, he figures even one of the dimwits in his Ancient Civilization classes have him beat.

“It feels kind of like home I guess,” he muses, “and I guess I thought I could make a difference. I mean, I used to think I could prepare them for the world even a little. Provide standard and grounding that Dr. Greene always drilled into us.”

Mr. Hunham can feel himself run out of breath, “But, uh the world doesn’t make sense anymore. I mean it's on fire. The rich don’t give a shit. Poor kids are cannon fodder. Integrity is a punchline. Trust is just the name of a bank.”

“Well…” Miss Crane tries to soothe him by running her hand back and forth on his arm, “look, if that's all true then now is when they most need someone like you.”

Mr. Hunham knows when he is being humored and told what people he wants to hear. He looks at Miss. Crane and for the first time in a while he is looked back at with genuineness.

…

Elise and Angus finger paint on a wide piece of blank paper. He’s mixing the colors, and they all tend to come out looking a sickly brown. Elise covers her side with an untainted red. She seems to be more into it than him as she incorporates real swirls and shapes onto their canvas.

“Am I doing this right?”

“There is no right or wrong,” she reassures. He feels her stare linger on him for a second. He is scared to look up. “Are you okay? You seem… gloomy.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. But, uh, tell me about this Joe guy.”

She looks at him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Just curious. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of him around my school is all.”

“Well probably because he graduated over a year ago.”

“So, he’s in college.”

“Yes. A freshman at Yale.”

“Yale!” He shouts loud enough for even the kids to glare at him for disturbing their fun. “Sorry,” he apologies to them.

“Would you say he’s cool,” he asks a millisecond later.

Elise tries not to laugh at his blatant desperation, “Yeah I would say so.”

“Funny?”

“He's basically Gene Wilder.”

“The dude from The Producers?!”

“Yes, and he was also a football quarterback.”

“What.”

“And valedictorian, and the heir to the Campbell Soup Company.”

“What the hell? Is this guy superman or,” Angus takes a minute to recognize the smug face on Elise. Finally, she breaks out in a loud giggle.

“Oh,” Angus sighs in relief, “You’re messing with me.”

“A little,” she says through fits of laughter. “Anyways if you’re so worried why don’t you go back up there?”

“I was just worried that he would try something. But technically he sounds alright.”

“Ah. So, you’re jealous?”

Angus rolls his eyes, “No. I’m a concerned friend.”

“I’m not sure about that. Concerned friends don’t start interrogating the girl they are on a hypothetical date with.”

She leans down to point at a glob of paint in the corner of the paper, “I think you even doodled her name.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, going over it and trying to cover it up along with his embarrassment.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like this was going to go be framed at the MET.”

“What are you implying anyway,” he narrows his eyes.

“You’re going crazy being gone from her for two minutes. What do you think I’m implying?”

Angus slumps his shoulders and admits what had been ignoring. It's like a message in a bottle he threw into the sea, desperately trying to avoid the shore. Even when it does reach land, the cap is tightly sealed, clinging on to the bottle and doing it best to remain unread. When it does pop open and the paper is unfolded, although it might be difficult to read, the message still exists. It still exists even though time fought so hard to destroy it.

“I do think about her that way. Sometimes. Then the rational side comes out and tells me that it's human nature for a girl and guy friend to think about each other that way.”

“Well, does she know you think about her that way?”

“No. Sometimes I imagine she feels the same, but you’d have to know her to understand why I’m so confused. She’s the most thoughtful, kind, and perfect person in the world. It's hard to tell if she’s showing that side to everyone or if I’m special enough for her to give me that treatment.”

“You know Picasso also said that ‘Everything you can imagine is real’.”

“Are you Picasso's biographer?”

Without missing a beat, Elise smirks and says, “Yes.”

Angus is up the stairs without having thanking her, too fueled by adrenaline to practice basic manners. He’ll have to tell Miss Crane to pass on the memo. He’s on the hunt for you but is yanked into the house's kitchen by a mysterious hand.

“Hey?” He asks, disoriented.

Danny is staring straight at him, with both hands on either side of his shoulder.

“I need you to find Mr. Hunham,” he orders. Angus looks past the man to see Mary weeping heavily into the sink. Understanding, he nods firmly and is back out the door.

…

Joseph Leery is not half bad. He’s kind of funny, clever and not a bad person to pass the time with. You sit in the back of Miss Crane's living room on a couch all to yourselves. He tells you how he’s majoring in English in hopes of becoming a journalist.

“What kind of journalist?”

“Investigative. I would love to be the next Upton Sinclair. Or Seymour Hersch.”

“Ew! The Jungle made me so sick for a week after. It was so gross.”

“I know but that's what made it so great. Exposing the meat packing industry probably put him on a few hit lists too.”

“Oh yeah definitely. So, then who are you planning to expose?”

He laughs, “I don’t know yet. Is there any chance you’re planning on becoming some corrupt politician?”

“Not in the foreseeable future. I’ll let you know if I ever do,” you giggle.

“What are you planning to do then?”

“Then? Um... Like as president? I don’t know. Fund schools-.”

“No,” he laughs harder, “I mean like with college and life. Do you have anything planned out?”

“Erm, not really. My parents probably want me to go to the Ivy Leagues and crap. I should have a plan, I know, but I guess I’ve been putting it on the back burner.”

“Why?”

You shift in your seat. “I have this friend. He’s sort of had this rocky life, not I haven’t, and I know it's stupid to mold your entire life to fit around one person’s but for him I would.”

Joseph sniffs and straightens his posture. “Sorry. Lydia didn’t mention you having a boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t,” you stress, “I just really care for him, you know. We’ve known each other for so long. He’s important to me.”

“Y/n have you ever read Persuasion?” he asked suddenly.

“Um, not yet. I know the gist of it.”

“Well, it's ultimately about regret, right? Anne spends eight years longing for Wentworth when she could have been with him instead, had she not given into pressures. The point of the novel is not to wait to love the person you’re sure is it for you.”

“Love?” You hear someone say above you. You look up to see Angus, his arms stiff by his side. He glowers at Joseph. You jump off the seat and on operating on some strange reflex you go to fix his shirt collar that has stood up.

“What's wrong?”

“What were you guys talking about?” he interrogates.

“Books. Why?”

Angus doesn’t buy it but ignores the gnawing feeling in his gut, “Mary needs us in the kitchen. Go ahead, I still need to get Hunham.”

“Oh…Alright,” you turn and wave to your brief companion. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah maybe,” Joseph lifts his canned soda as if to say cheers.

You walk on ahead as Angus loiters behind, silently scrutinizing him.

Joseph takes a sip from his coke and points towards the direction you disappeared to. “Your girl went that way man.”

Angus rolls his eyes but leaves, nonetheless.

…

Miss Crane and Paul are sitting next to each other, their drink half-finished. They can feel the red tinge on their cheeks and themselves becoming looser.

“Are you planning anything special for tomorrow?” Lydia inquires.

“No. Why? Are you having a…”

“No, I just thought maybe you’d be doing something special for Angus and Y/n.”

Mr. Hunham shakes his head and Miss Crane lets out a small gasp, “You should! Help preserve some of the magic. Angus may be a little difficult, but he’s still just a kid. So is Y/n. And life catches up to them so fast. Them,” she stares at her lap, contemplating. “Ha. Us!”

“You’re a very sweet person, Miss Crane,” he compliments.

Miss Crane melts, “So are you, when you want to be,” she quips, “and it’s Lydia.”

He enjoys the feeling of camaraderie between them. He feels a cool breeze at the back of his neck and the sound of the door opening.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Miss Crane gets up and moves past him.

Mr. Hunham turns in time to see a man take off his coat, a gift under his arm. A moment later Miss Crane is there to receive him with a kiss. Together they walk away, and Mr. Hunham is left alone. Once again.

“Mr. Hunham, could you come with me, please?” Angus nearly trips as he stumbles over to the teacher.

“Yeah, what is it?” He sighs as he gets up with a groan.

“Come on, it's serious,” Angus leaps away. Peeking at him at the corner to see is Hunham is following, “Come on.”

Mr. Hunham is dragged into the kitchen, where he spots Mary, crying quietly to herself. Danny is next to her. You’re across the room biting your nails and hinting at Mr. Hunham to do something.

“Mary? You alright?” he questions, even though he knows it's in vain.

“Just leave me alone,” She mumbles.

“Want me to take you home?” Danny offers, placing what he thinks is a consoling hand on her back.

“Back off! Back off!” Mary whisper-shouts, her hands shaking down in anger. Mr. Hunham shuts the door, giving her privacy if nothing else.

“He’s gone,” she erupts into full on sobs. The mask comes off and she’s no longer Mary, the woman who appears to deal with grief like it was nothing but a bump on the road. Instead, it's Mary, who lost a son and whose grief has entirely consumed her until she can no longer breathe.

…

Angus and Mr. Hunham support Mary on both sides, as they make their way to the car. “I was right. This is why I hate parties. That was a disaster. Total disaster!”

“Speak for yourself. I was having a pretty profound conversation. I was about to make some serious life altering moves,” he blurts, angry and unable to believe his window opportunity was slammed shut. He had an internal plan. That'd he’d whisk you away from stupid Joseph and ask you to dance, maybe lead you to a mistletoe and see where it goes.

“With whom? The niece? Are you kidding me? This poor woman is bereft, and all you can think about is some silly girl.”

“I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“I’m not talking about Elise; I'm just saying this is the first good thing that came from being in this prison with you.”

“Need I remind you it’s not my fault you’re stuck here? Do you think I want to babysit you? I was praying to the God I don’t believe in that your mother would pick up the phone, or your father would arrive in a helicopter or a submarine or a flying fucking saucer to take you-.”

“My father’s dead,”

“Angus-,” he hears you say but he holds up his hand for you to stop speaking.

Mr. Hunham stops dead in his rant, “But I thought your father-.”

“That’s just some rich guy my mom married. Give me your keys,” he sticks out his hand.

“It’s unlocked.”

Furiously, Angus stomps away. You excuse yourself from the two adults before doing your damnedest to not slip on the ice. Flats at this time of the year were not your best idea.

“Angus,” you reach him, tugging at the back of his jacket so that he’ll slow down. “Why did you say that?”

“Say what?”

“The thing about your dad,” you mumble.

“The way my mom and Stanley talk about him, he might as well be don’t you think?”

“You don’t mean that,” you scold. “What happened? Are you really this mad about Elise?”

“No. Damn it. I don’t even like Elise.”

“Oh,” despite the circumstance, you can’t help but feel giddy. “Then what is it?”

“You seemed to be having a pretty good time yourself with Joe on that couch.”

“Joe?” You cross your arms. “You mean Joseph?”

“Oh great. You have a nickname for him.”

“Angus, Joseph is his legal name, that's the opposite of a nickname.”

“I don’t want to talk about Joe,” he says. You both reach the end of the block where Hunhams car is parked. In the distance you see them come closer, their feet crushing the white snow.

“You brought him up,” you massage your temple. You think back of the endless list of books you have read, or the many movies you’ve watched. You scour through the genres. You think of how Joseph managed to connect to life. You think of the rewatch of Cactus Flower with Mary. How envious Ingrid Bergman character was every time she saw Julian talk to Toni.

“Angus, were you jealous of Joseph?”

He stops his ongoing struggle with the car handle, finally prying it open.

“Were you jealous of Elise?” he asks you.

You frown and fixate on the pavement; your nails dig into your palm as your hands turn into fists. Deafening silence engulfs you before Angus exhales heavily. Before you can speak, Mr. Hunham arrives and motions for you to scooch over so he can open the passenger side for Mary.

“Sorry,” you apologize and get in the backseat.

“Straight to bed you hear me,” Mr. Hunham warns once you are all buckled in. “Enough theatrics for one day.”

“Mmhmm,” Angus responds, but all he is doing is looking at you.

#angus tully #the holdovers #angus tully x reader

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verxca · 6 months

Text

Reiner Braun X Fem!Reader

Hands Up Pt. 2 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Summary: An evening in the town changed into something different when someone spots you ₊ ⊹

Warnings: None! ₊ ⊹

Spending time alone, outside, was always something you cherished. Being able to just enjoy nature without having to worry about anything else was rare for you. Even though you did love to observe the scenery; going on strolls in the forest, swims in the lake, etc; Today you had decided to wander in the market.

You walked through the streets of Trost, smiling at mothers and kids when they walked by, smelling the delicious foods and goods merchants were selling. You looked up at the sky; admiring the orange coloured clouds as your mind wondered with thought.

You couldn’t help but keep thinking back to your old mission, to Reiner. It was scary, of course, but you were still mad at yourself that you didn’t retrieve the files. Though you knew it would’ve been hard to without putting up a damn good fight. Even from that short time you saw him, you knew Reiner could easily overpower you.

You kept imagining different ways it could have played out, different methods you could have used to trick him. You came to the conclusion that it was just unfortunate… all of it. That you happened to come a little later. That you happened to not bring a weapon. You sighed. It was still such a bummer, you needed that money. It wasn’t for drugs or fancy clothes, rather just to support your family.

Suddenly, you got a tap on your shoulder.

You instinctively flinched a bit, not predicting anyone would have come up to talk to you. You quickly turned around and saw him; Reiner. Your face immediately dropped in shock, eyes widened and brows furrowed.

“Reiner…”

You didn’t know what to say or do. You couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, either. You knew he was a scout because of his uniform, so then was this it? Was he going to arrest you? Did you need to run? With everything on your mind, conflicted thoughts and an indecisive brain caused you to take a couple steps back.

“Hey, easy, easy. I’m not here to get you in trouble, or anything.”

Your shoulders immediately relaxed and you took another step forward, closing the distance.

“Oh- Sorry, you scared me”

You nervously chuckle, still unsure of how this was all going to play out.

“I was just heading back, but then spotted you. Figured I’d come say hello”

You relax even more as his gentle words soothe your anxiety. Even though you hadn’t met on the best terms; you prayed to god that you two could become closer.

In full honesty; You liked Reiner. He was just a sweet dude, his charming attitude couldn’t help but make you feel at ease, even in the most dire of situations. You smiled.

“That’s nice… How are you doing?” You asked him innocently.

He was relieved, happy to have not freaked you out too much.

“Good, you? Holding up ok after that? Hopefully I didn’t scare you too much.”

You playfully chuckled back as you and Reiner begun to walk side by side.

“Oh- No, Im all good. You were just doing your duty, after all.”

He smiles, looking down at you.

“Sooo, what are you doing out here?”

You look back up, thinking for a moment. It felt nice to talk to him like this normally. You didn’t have too many friends, didn’t know too many people that would strike up a conversation like this.

“Just came on a walk, nothing special. I was planning on heading back too-”

He looked away, contemplating wether or not to say it. A blush so faint it wasn’t noticeable appeared on his cheeks.

“Care if I walk you home?”

Reiner says so sweetly, so casually that you couldn’t tell if he was flirting, or just being a gentleman like always.

“Sure… I’d love that.”

You continued to walk for another couple seconds in silence.

“So what’d you end up buying? Anything fancy?”

He asks, genuinely curious. One part of him wanting to know more about you, one part just wanting to hear that pretty voice of your’s once more.

“Well- I didn’t get anything, actually…”

You admit, aware you sound disappointing.

“Oh, really? Are you hungry? I could buy us food if you’d like.”

Oh god. You were staring to fall for him, you could feel it. You looked down and fiddled with your thumbs nervously.

“Well… sure, if it isn’t too much of a hassle”

He smiles once more and looks at you.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, s’my treat.”

You started to scan around the street. Since it was getting late, some people were starting to close, the lights in bars shutting off. Though, some merchants remained.

You now scouted out one to buy, not just to observe like earlier. Reiner also looked around, trying to figure out what little treat to buy the both of you.

“Here.”

He says bluntly, almost sternly as he walks over to one of the stalls. Without an ounce of hesitation, you follow him.

The merchant before your eyes was selling freshly picked fruit. Your mouth watered just looking at it, craving the array of neat sweets right in front of you. The merchant spotted you; a middle aged man with a kind smile.

“Oh, what can I get this lovely couple?”

Your face immediately turned red; starting to realize that this really did look like you two were on a date. Your mind flashed images of Reiner, picturing him as you boyfriend.

You were brought back to reality when Reiner looked down at you with an open jaw, like he was unable to speak as well. You could actually see the blush on his face this time, just causing the butterflies in your own stomach to flutter even more.

You could hear Reiner say something, but it just came out as an incoherent murmur for you. You were overwhelmed at just the slightest of situations. It was more funny than anything, really. You had committed numerous crimes before, of course guilt followed, but you never actually felt like this.

This was a new feeling… not of embarrassment, but of ecstasy.

You looked back around and realized Reiner had already payed, and was handing you a ripe, red apple. You could already feel how it tasted on your tongue, grabbing it quickly as he leads you back away.

Even though the interaction was short, it was sweet; The slightest compliment from a stranger could change your perception. You eagerly took a bite of the apple, instantly tasting its sweet juice.

“Good?”

You looked back up at him, apple in hand. Reiner had already taken a bite, and was silently chewing his slice.

“Wow… Thank You, yes, it’s good-”

You were so preoccupied with feelings that the words just splurged out into a panicked drabble. Reiner found your nervousness cute, noticing the blush on your face.

“So, how far do you live from here, by the way? I don’t mind walking, really”

He said, again like such a gentleman; His mother must have raised him so well, you thought. You had also forgotten why you were with him in the first place, it was just an escort, really. You checked around your surroundings once more; the streets were beginning to empty out.

“Oh- It’s not too far from here, not at all. Just around that corner.”

You said with a hint of relief in your voice, pointing with your free hand to the direction you were indicating.

“Goch’a”

Reiner said with a sly smile. As you walked side by side once more, you couldn’t help but take a step back from everything.

What was this, really? Just a kind act, or blatent flirting? Either way… He was a scout. Even being friends with someone affiliated with the military could be risky for you. After all; Crime was the life you had to resort too.

A wave of sadness hit you, knowing this could never work out.

“I dont live too far from here, either. Surprised I haven’t seen you around.”

He hums, almost trying to be oblivious to this whole thing. You looked up at him, taking another bite of the apple.

“Well… I’m around.”

You smile; leaving a vague tone in your voice. Reiner smirked once more.

“Hey, you’re with the scouts, right?”

You ask innocently, feeling comfortable yet nervous. You hadn’t even thought it over, if saying that was a good idea. After all, you had no idea if Reiner had ever reported the incident to his superiors. You eyed the ground anxiously as you awaited his reply.

“You’ve got a keen eye, pretty”

Your cheeks flush up with a bit more red; He was definitely trying to start something with you. You averted your gaze back to him, noticing the definite non-threatening expression that his face conveyed.

“Well… I had just recognized your uniform”

Reiner observed you intently, remarking your flushed cheeks and red ears. Again, he knew what he was doing, and knew that it was working. Simple words and nicknames with sensual undertones clearly got you worked up in some way.

You eventually realized it was your stop. You gradually started to slow your walking pace, Reiner looking up to see where you lived. It was an old, battered apartment complex. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sad for you, starting to catch onto your situation.

“Thank you for the walk, Reiner”

He blushed a bit as you adresses him by his name. You begun to walk backwards, smiling at him still as you kept eye contact.

“No problem, Y/N. Have a good night, I’ll see you around.”

He jokes, referring to your past conversation. You let out a little chuckle before waving goodbye, opening the door.

He stared at your figure, admiring your expressions and bodily language. He truly hoped that you would be the one he could call his one day.

#verxca ❀˖°#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner x you #aot #attack on titan

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shini--chan · 2 years

Note

👋Hello I love your work, it's so detailed! If I may request the England, Germany, Norway and Romano with a darling who has gone almost catatonic; not eating not reacting to anything even pain. Or the same group with a darling who refuses to kiss them. I read a story a while ago where a young lady was in an abusive relationship and one of the only things she could control was her kisses, something she refused to give. Interesting how something so simple can hold such power. Thank you for your wonderful work and I hope life goes well for you.😄

Now that is an interesting story – mind sending in the link somehow? Also, thanks for the kind words

Yandere Hetalia – Limited Affection

England

“I don’t know what you want to achieve through this, but it is becoming extremely frustrating”, Arthur commented, as you drew back. He had attempted to kiss you when you had bent down to set the tea tray in front of him, only for you to stubbornly tilt your face up, causing his lips to clumsily land on your chin. Now his grey-green eyes were narrowed to a glare and an unpleasant sneer lay on his lips as he regarded you. Of course, his hair-trigger temper was neigh to rearing its ugly head, but for now he was just irritated, for now you were relatively safe.

Sucking in a deep breath as discreetly as you could, you maintained eye contact. Arthur Kirkland frightened you, very much at times, yet you couldn’t allow it to show, because like a lion, he would maul you if he sensed fear.

“I could say the same about your doings”, you countered evenly, making sure to speak slowly and carefully. In return, he raised a thick eyebrow and snaped at you:

“Transparent excuses and deflections! Matters between us could be so lovely, yet you insist on being petty. Affection is something all humans crave, and if you want to have some, you better start bringing your own share to the table. Kiss me back when I wish to kiss you, or I’m cancelling that trip any future outings until further notice!”

England wouldn’t deal well with you refusing to kiss him. At first, he would let it slide, ignoring it in order to focus on more imminent problems, such as your manners and your general reaction to him. Though, as time, would pass, he would become more and more annoyed until one day he would lash out at you. Aren’t couples supposed to kiss and cuddle? Then why aren’t you doing it with him? Why would you insist on being so difficult?

He would start issuing ultimatums and if those threats wouldn’t work, he would start revoking rights. This would either culminate in a torture session in the cellar or somebody from your old life being harmed.

Germany

Ludwig leaned over to your side of the bed, fully intent on stealing himself a goodnight kiss, only for you to guess his intentions and curl in on yourself, burying your face in your arms. The sharp sting of rejection nestled itself in his heart. This wasn’t something new, yet it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. If anything, it was like dripping acid in a festering wound.

“Good night”, you said, the words muffled by how you had positioned yourself. He laid back down on the bed, tugging the duvet up to his chin. For a few forlorn minutes he just stared at the celling, listing to how your breathing eventually evened out as you drifted into uneasy sleep. You generally didn’t sleep well when you shared a bed with him, yet he did, and that was why he insisted that you stayed with him.

You were still upset with him. Of course, he had tried to make the transition from having a social circle to just having him, yet the whole operation had gone wrong. The cuts hadn’t been clean, and he had had to pull a fair amount of strings to get law enforcement to back off. Emotions were already hard to deal with when it were just his own; the problematic grew exponentially when having to deal with other people’s emotions. It wouldn’t be the first time where he had asked whey humans couldn’t be more like machines, following cold, hard logic and operating along predictable tangents. Then he could easily fix your attitude towards him – greasing the gears, swapping the burned through resistors and using a more flexible steel alloy for upgrades to the hard mechanics. Yet that wasn’t the case.

He rolled up to his side and curled into a fetal position.

It would rouse Ludwig’s guilt over the situation. He would be cognizant over the fact that what he would be doing would be illegal and immoral. It would gnaw at his conscience until he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Yet that wouldn’t be enough to persuade him to let you go. After all, you would be only one person, not a whole population. After all, wouldn’t he deserve a little something for having reformed so well?

If you could make him wallow in his guilt even more, then maybe you could convince him to let you go. That wouldn’t be achieved through kicking and screaming but rather through small acts of defiance and pointed observations. While he would be extremely self-critical, there would still be a hefty dose of anger and pride simmering underneath it all.

Norway

Lukas keenly followed you with his eyes as you drifted about the kitchen, gathering ingredients for a cake. As always, when you were nervous, you resorted to busying yourself with some menial task to distract yourself from your own thoughts. This time was because he had told about the publicity stunt that he had in mind. He was going to propose to you, and you knew well what that meant. It meant that you had have say yes and act overjoyed, embracing him and kissing him. You had have to kiss him, something you had avoided doing all this time.

You set down the glass jar with the sugar with far more force that needed. Oh yes, you didn’t like the idea of officially becoming his fiancée at all, and what made it worse was that you were well aware of the repercussions to openly rejecting him.

You knew that if allowed any of your true feelings to seep through, that the lives of your loved ones would take a drastic turn for the worse. Not to mention that most of your time would then be spent in a deary white room.

Lukas wouldn’t demand kisses from you in day-to-day life, and he wouldn’t mind that much if you would refuse to kiss him at all. He would simply patiently wait for the day where you would finally open up to him. Yet, he would also have a certain love for rituals, and some of them would involve kisses. While he wouldn’t outwardly show it very much, he would be very upset if you wouldn’t play along and there be severe repercussions.

South Italy

There was the smell of wine on his breath and his eyes were glazed over as he stared at you. At this point you didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or your rejection for simple affections – it could be both for all you knew. After all, he could become very emotional after a glass to many.

“My love, why not be a bit nicer for once?”, he asked, his gait becoming slower due to his bad mood. You had your arms hooked together for a night time stroll by the beach. You were sure if this had been another person, somebody that wasn’t twistedly obsessive and possessive when it came to you, somebody that didn’t insist that you were beholden to him in every possible way, then you would be besotted.

You do what you can to soften your features, swallowing your distain, you said cooly: “Tit for that.”

This time you had gone too far. He stopped entirely, glaring at you and then snarling angerly: “Bullshit. You are ungrateful, obnoxious, selfish, frigid … and just terrible an ungrateful brat. Where do you get off saying such cruel things?”

Your refusals would dig at the insecurities that Romano would harbour. For a time, he would actually believe that you only wouldn’t want to kiss him because you were seeing somebody else without his knowledge or permission. As such, he could frequently lock you in your room or keep your unconscious for extended periods of time.

On the other hand, this could also cause him to revise his behaviour around you. Kisses are very important to South Italy, so he would try to find ways to earn your affections. If you wouldn’t go to far, then you could even use this to make him comply with many of your wishes.

#yandere hetalia #yandere england #yandere germany #yandere norway #yandere romano #x reader

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k20spock · 4 months

Note

whats ur favorite princess from the princess game and why (in detail if you want)

OK uhhhhh so I think for favorites it’s either the razor or the witch. I think the razor‘s route is my favorite and the witch is my favorite princess if that makes sense. I’ll talk about both though because I feel like it. You’re lucky I’m not talking about like half of them because I love them all so much and there’s so many I could go on about.

You get the razor by, during chapter one, either questioning whether or not the princess is armed before you attempt to slay her, or successfully slaying her and then checking to make sure she’s dead. In either case, she’ll produce a knife out of nowhere and stab you.

Starting the razor route, you’ll find her in the basement trying very hard to pretend like she’s never met you before and would never stab you to death. And for unrelated reasons you should get close to her so you can free her!!

I’ll be honest the main reason I like the razor is that she’s so fucking funny. She’s trying so hard and she’s such a terrible actor. If you tell her you don’t have a key so there’s no point in getting close to free her anyway, she’ll just start convincing you to come closely stare at the keyhole so you know what the key looks like. At one point, if you ask her if there’s any nonviolent activities she’d like to do if she gets out of here, she’ll very unconvincingly tell you she would like to look at a bird or touch a tree. And then the voice of the hero will just go listen. I would like to look at a bird.

Anyway, no matter what you do, you’ll end up getting stabbed (predictably). This sets you into a loop of trying to “beat” her as she repeatedly skewers you. You’ll get the opportunity to try a bunch of different stuff (including flirting with her. she reciprocates. this does not change her desire to stab you). None of it works and you die over and over again as she gains more and more blades.

Eventually, she becomes completely made of blades with only her heart remaining. It’s a sick design. The razor is so fucking cool. At this point, you rid yourself of all thoughts and either beat her in combat with your blade, or she destroys herself against you if you don’t have the blade. You both agree it’s a good ending.

ANYWAY WITCH

I love her design so much….. kitty girl…. Women with hairy arms and legs… shes just a critter and I love her

You get the witch by in some way betraying her in chapter one. Promising to free her, and then trying to kill her. When you return to the cabin again after dying, you find the witch huddled in a basement that’s really more of a hole in the dirt than a basement. She’s naturally upset at you for what happened last time, but is willing to reluctantly let bygones be bygones because she’s unable to leave the cabin without you.

Except she’s not. No matter what you do in the chapter, neither of you can get out of the cabin. Either she wills the cabin itself to crush the two of you, she pulls the two of you down the stairs and you both break your backs, she locks you in the basement and stays upstairs, or she just stabs you after you give her the blade in an attempt to show her you mean her no harm this time. In her own words more than willing to suffer as long as she knows you’re suffering too. Which is interesting to me, cause some princesses are ok with suffering if it makes you suffer too, but in the context of pursuing freedom. The wraith doesn’t care how much it hurts her, you’ve got it worse and she’ll see freedom eventually. The witch is the only one who’s so bitter she doesn’t want anything good for herself anymore, she just hates you and she’s insistent neither of you can get better because if you can change, so can she and she doesn’t want to confront that idea.

The differing ways you can make peace with her in the next loop (if you get another one) are really interesting to me but this is long so maybe if you want later I’ll talk about that.

It is important to note that I do also like the witch because she’s funny. If you get in a fight with her, she’ll just toss dirt in your eyes and bite you. If she locks you in the basement, when you see her again she’ll freak out because she wasn’t expecting to see you ever again and her tail puffs up.

Honestly id also say the prisoner and the den are some of my favorites too but this is long!! Maybe later.

#SORRY THIS GOT SO LONH #AND THERES MORE I CSN SAY #but thank you for indulging me bestie #asks

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shion-yu · 7 months

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Day 29 - "The Easy Way or the Hard Way"

Summary: Rey gets kidnapped. Felix gets mad, mostly at Rey. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Rey - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741197.rey. This one is about as PG as kidnapping gets haha, enjoy some more lighthearted banter.

He never should have let Rey out of his sight. Felix had spent the better part of the last several months hypervigilant about keeping Rey safe. His insomnia turned out to be extremely useful because there were very few times Felix even allowed an opening for sudden danger to occur. But he’d let his guard slip just for a moment. They were simply sitting around the campfire before bed when Rey had announced he was going to take a piss. It was all of two minutes of silence before Felix heard the loud snap of branches and a howling scream that belonged to his prince.

Felix bolted towards the direction of the woods where Rey had gone to relieve himself, but all he found was a splatter of blood. They couldn’t have gone far, Felix thought to himself desperately. But it was dark and Felix couldn’t hear anything that indicated what direction Rey may have been taken in. Swearing, Felix abandoned their things in favor of throwing himself over their horse and galloping the perimeter for clues. Again, nothing.

He swore and wracked his brain for who might have done this. They’d spent last night at an inn, but Felix didn’t remember speaking to anyone except the waitress. Rey had been by his side the whole time, right? They’d slept without interruption, set out that afternoon again, run into no one except a beggar...

Shit. That had to be it. Despite Felix telling Rey time and time again to be mindful of what he gave people on the streets, the prince seemed to have an affinity for those needing charity and loved shoving little gold pieces in peoples’ hands without explanation. Felix had told him time and time again that he was going to cause problems for himself or blow his own cover, but Rey ignored him. He’d never let Rey give a beggar a damn thing again, Felix thought angrily to himself as he raced back to the village they’d been in that morning.

Thankfully they weren’t terribly far and Felix made it in a number of hours. He returned to the inn and badgered every soul for details about the beggar last night, only to find that the villagers already knew the man to be an unscrupulous thief. It wasn’t that hard to find him after that - these types had a way of being predictable and rarely did they wander too far from what they knew.

Felix found him at the market, not even bothering to disguise himself as he shamelessly sold the signet ring that Rey always wore. Well, he was attempting to but hadn’t succeeded yet as the stall keeper insisted they wouldn’t buy such suspicious goods. Felix grabbed him in one tremendous show of strength and hauled him off to the alleyway, throwing him down mercilessly.

“Who the hell?!” The beggar screeched, but then he recognized Felix from yesterday and his eyes flashed greedily. Felix kicked him in the stomach hard to show he wasn’t playing this game today.

“Where is he?” Felix growled, towering over the groaning, pathetic excuse for a man.

“I don’t-” Another pointed kick.

“Don’t play with me,” Felix growled, grabbing the man by the collar and pressing him against the wall. “I will kill you. So we can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“And if I choose the hard way?” The man spat back, but he didn’t look like he was planning on keeping his resolve for much longer.

“I’ll peel off every one of your fingernails and shove them in your fucking eyeballs,” Felix snapped. It was oddly specific, but the most threatening thing that came to his mind in a moment. He wasn’t exactly used to playing the bad guy.

It worked though, and the beggar revealed that Rey was in an abandoned house down the road. “Rich people aren’t worth the guard dogs,” the man muttered. Felix broke his nose for good measure before he departed.

He found Rey soon after, tied up and gagged but otherwise not in too bad a shape other than the giant goose egg on his forehead from where the man had clubbed him. Freya was on his shoulder chattering nervously away. At least Rey’d had her for company - her presence had doubtlessly kept Rey calm. He untied Rey’s bindings and then yanked the cloth out of his mouth last. Rey’s spluttered and coughed before glaring at Felix.

“Took you long enough. You couldn’t have done that first?” Rey exclaimed.

“I wanted to delay hearing your smart mouth or else I might have been tempted to leave you tied up here for another day,” Felix snapped back. “How many times have I told you to stop being such a sucker! Not every unfortunate soul you pass by on the street needs to know how goddamn loaded you are.”

“I don’t like being kidnapped,” Rey whined.

“Could have fooled me,” Felix shot back. “You’re awfully good at it.” He regretted saying that even in anger a second later, although Rey just looked pissed. “I didn’t mean-”

“-Shut up. I’m not that fragile,” Rey snapped. Felix didn’t think now was a good time to point out that occasionally Rey was, indeed, that fragile. “I’m starving. Can we please get something to eat and forget about this?” He looked petulant.

Felix shook his head and picked Rey up bridal style without another word. Rey flailed in Felix’s arms in protest. “What are you doing?! Felix, put me down, I’m fine.” Felix shut him up by hugging him very, very tightly.

“It’s not all about you you know,” Felix muttered quietly. “I was really scared.”

Rey grew quiet for several long seconds and then let out a small huff of frustration. “Fine. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Felix said, releasing his grip on the man and setting him down. Rey immediately fell to the ground. Felix stared at him blankly.

Rey looked away, crossing his arms and looking away guiltily. “I may have sprained my ankle,” he mumbled. Felix rolled his eyes and threw Rey over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Hopeless. You’re going to be the death of me,” he grumbled as he carried Rey back to the stables where he’d left the horse.

“Lucky you,” Rey said.

#ShionWrites #oc: Rey #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday29 #ailesswhumptober #day 29 #whump #kidnapping #ptsd #male whump #hurt comfort #angst

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thebadgerssett · 1 year

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Replies!

Gosh, thank you so much!! That’s very true; COVID and everything succeeding it have left most of us in a ‘bleh’ place, and I'm sorry you've been experiencing the same. Focusing on the good interactions is what I’ve been doing too, and it’s working pretty well! In a lot of ways I’m doing better, but there’s still a lot of worry, especially around monetizing/commissions, i.e. THE FUTURE. My own local art community falling apart, and my feelings of alienation are definitely not helping either lmao Feels like everything is crumbling, but every generation goes through this in some manner, I guess, so I know it’s not the literal end or anything. It’s just all very unsettling.

Tumblr (and even dA, etc.) was fairly predictable and consistent in my experience, (I can’t speak for twitter ‘cause I wasn’t really using it prior to 2021), but the keyword is “was,” haha. 2018/2019 is when I started noticing things slowing down, but it wasn’t super pronounced so I chalked it up to the banning of nsfw. During COVID is where I really noticed it get quiet and hard to figure out when people were active, including on other websites. It seemed, and still seems quite random. I feel it’s mostly because of the panic/confusion and burnout COVID and everything else caused; lots of people’s schedules and lives changed (mine included), many for long-term, I’m sure. Twitter is more active since most people are there currently, but I find it’s an even wilder ‘beast’ at times, haha

Honestly, that’s pretty fair, considering the trouble that sharing my art has caused on occasion, haha. While I’m not as evil as I’ve been made out to be, I’m very aware that because I do a variety of work and have liberal opinions about art, I’m just gonna have to put up with the fact that it can get me 'iced out'. I just wish people wouldn’t take it so far. At the same time, I've been pretty lucky it hasn't gone past as certain point (other artists have not been so lucky).

It does make me sad, but I value being myself, and doing the work I want to do, higher than anything else. No matter what though, I’m thankful for the people who’ve liked and shared my work, whether they’ve followed me for a long time or like… 5 seconds haha

#replies

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sakarrie-creates · 1 year

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2022 Fic Round-Up/Reflection

Am I over a month late? Yes. Is that going to stop me? Nnnnnnope.

Another year gone and another end of year summary! Yeash, it’s been a rough creative year haha. I’ve practically done nothing but school and work, which has certainly been problematic for writing. It’s been a productive adulting year though, so hopefully this dead period will help me find more opportunities down the line. My gosh I’m ready to be done with school already.

Since I’ve really not written much this year, this will be an abridged version of my reflection from last year’s template. That being said, I’m still very rambly so you can see the details below the cut!

2022 Stats:

Fics Started: 11 Fics Fully Written: 3 Fics Posted: 2 New WIPs: 7 Total WIPs: 20 (ish?) Words Written: 25,950 (33,176 if including documents of pure brainstorm ramble lol) Words Posted: 9,541 Fandoms Written For: 2 Events: 2 (+1)

Posted Fics

Carmen Sandiego (Gen): 1

So Long As You're With Me (7,804): It's been several months since Team Red rescued Player from the clutches of VILE and snapped him out of their control... mostly. His base personality is back, but he still doesn't remember them from anything other than the false memories VILE created for him. And it's just their luck that VILE painted Carmen and company in such a way that Player thinks that their attempts to help him is all some elaborate form for torture, and it doesn't help that he's currently recovering from an injury she caused. Carmen is near her wit's end, but she refuses to give up on her oldest and best friend.

Supernatural (Gen): 1

Still the Same (1,737): After a hunt, Sam and Dean watch the stars for the first time since Dean came back from Hell. Things are finally starting to fall back into place between them, but it's impossible to ignore the ways things have changed.

Specifics:

Events Participated In:

SPN Summergen, Player Appreciation Week (Fic and Art), Code Secret Santa (Art), Miraculous Magic Zine (Revamp Fic), and Fandom Trumps Hate (Offered Art/Fic).

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Oof, hard to answer. Definitely less than I’d hoped and maybe still a fair bit less than I expected, but I did know that my life was about to get swallowed by school and I wasn’t wrong. I definitely wish I had been able to participate in more events for sure and I’ve had a lot of inspiration for all sorts of stuff that I just haven’t had the brain power for unfortunately. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I mean, looking at posting, I only have two options lol. In general though, I stuck fairly close to my norm for all that. I poked around time travel AUs which was fun but most of that was brainstorming/animatic storyboarding rather than writing.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Definitely So Long As You're With Me! That AU lives in my head rent free and boy howdy I’d love to share it all one day but there’s just so much to it. I swear, the pieces I have shared are hardly recognisable as the same story haha. Anyway, it’s definitely a little rushed at some points, but it was a very crammed piece that just kept getting longer, so I’ll take it!

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

Since I’ve only posted two new works this year, we’re going to go overall. Which would definitely still be Fragmentation. It’s got 20.3k views!! That’s only 400 less than it’s total word count and it seems like the hit count keeps going up slowly, which is wild to consider it’s on FF.net in a faded fandom and has been complete for like a year. Next up would be The Problem With Good Intentions at 11k, which also blows me away a bit cause Merlin ended a decade ago but I’m proud of the fandom for staying alive! XD

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Probably still A Letter to Never Be Read on FF.net. It’s a pretty niche fic, so I can’t really be surprised but I felt artsy writing it way back when lol.

Most overdue story?

Welp, It’s Only Natural is certainly overdue, but I don’t think anyone is really following that one so it’s not in a rush. A Long Ways Home on the other hand drives me crazy cause I’ve actually been wanting to write for it, but brainpower’s been too low from school. Can’t believe it’s been a year. :’(

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Tbh, not really? I pushed myself in what I did, but it was all relatively in my comfort zone. I guess I tried writing in S4 of Supernatural in Still the Same, but that doesn’t feel much like a risk. I also tried out some writing from screenshot prompts which was super fun and interesting, but unfortunately that was sniped by lack of time/energy too. So I guess not really this year.

How’d this year compare to your goals of last year?

Oh boy, I’m so intimidated to read these paragraphs haha. I bet I did like none of them. We’ll start with the bullet list though since that should be fairly straightforward. -Unfortunately, prioritizing school is honestly my biggest writing goal this year. So if I do that all successfully and get through any more than like, 1-2 of these, it will be a success haha.

-A Long Ways Home (Gonna break it up into Chapter 3, Chapter 4, and if that’s not the epilogue, then an epilogue. I’m determined and really think it’s doable, I just need to be careful not to overestimate again) WIP Bang if not done by Summer. -SPN Summergen -PAB if enough interest -February week event -Loyalties AU Plotting/Drafting -SQZ Zines -Comments

If crazy inspired year: -Gencest Bang -WIP Bang with It’s Only Natural -Post More CS One-shots -Other Zines

Okay, so some of those crossings are a little generous, but I wanted to at least check off the school one haha. Tbh, though, it wasn’t as bad as I expected! I did a decent job of having low expectations lol.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Oh boy. See I wish that this last year being so sad would mean this year would be back to creative rush, but I’m already a month in and I haven’t even tried writing anything other than school papers. I’ve been getting surprisingly into Huntlow (omg, Sakarrie having a romantic ship that she’s like legit into????? whacK), so it’d be fun to experiment with some fic there! Willow needs more angst fic to balance out our traumatized golden boi. Trying to find some zines would also be fun! And I’ll be sad if I ever have to miss Summergen cause it’s 100% my favorite event of the year. Oh, and of course I’m hoping to be able to participate more in Player Appreciation Week this coming month!! Shameless plug.

I’d also like to make some progress on A Long Ways Home, so hopefully in my Summer break I’ll finally have a chance to sit down and write. I’m not going to be dumb enough to put time frame estimations on it again though haha. I also am not a huge fan of having WIPs just sitting out there so if I could knock off It’s Only Natural sometime, that’d be great, but it’s honestly not a priority and I haven’t been feeling Voltron for a bit.

As for other plans, Loyalties AU and EverYOnE is bROkeN AU both haunt me at night and then there’s the time travel au that just has my brain zooming whenever I think about it. They just all get so intense and I WANT to share that intensity cause I know they could be epic, but first I gotta finalize the details, then I gotta have the skills to pull it off, then I gotta actually write sooooooooooooo we’ll see where those get me.

Okay so comments. Bah that project is such a mindset monster haha. I want to be supportive and express thanks to those who write and comment, but also the more pressure I put on it, the harder it gets. I feel like it makes reading new fics very intimidating and makes leaving chill comments harder. I think it would be nice to get through, but I think my goal for this year is to let my 1000 tabs go and just comment/respond in the moment whenever I can and not overthink it. I do want to catch up on replies though so that can be my comment goal for this year. In terms of my numbers, though, I did meet my generous goal of 20k written and 10k posted this year! (Rounding a little but close enough.) And I met my ultimate wc goal if brainstorming essays count!

Bullet list time!

2023:

-Unfortunately, keeping my scholarship has to be my biggest goal this year again so gonna put that here in case it's the only thing I can check off come December. -A Long Ways Home (at least 1 new chapter) -SPN Summergen -At least 3/7 Player Appreciation Week days -Catch up on comment replies -At least do some more brainstorming for bigger CS aus -Huntlow/Owl House fics? -One zine?

If crazy inspired year: -All of A Long Ways Home -All Player Appreciation Week Days -WIP Bang with It’s Only Natural -Post More CS One-shots -Write out more big AU scenes -Other Zines

So with that, I’m gonna set my word count bar pretty low again haha. In fact, I think I’ll just leave it as it was last year.

Easy Goal Word Count Goal: 20k (at least 10k posted)

Stretch Goal (aka, if I don’t die from school): 40k (at least 25k posted)

Ultimate 2023 Word Count Goal: 30k

#sakarrie's fic #carmen sandiego #supernatural #gen #ao3 #fic list #2022 fics #end of year reflection #2022 fic roundup

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keefwho · 10 months

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July 21 - 2023 Friday

7:18 AM

Time to cover some embarrassing feelings since the weekend is approaching. They are leftovers of becoming too lost in my thoughts and current situation. The best thing I can do is admit them and work through them, I should not be ashamed. I’ve felt good knowing I always have bestie time in the evenings even if just for a little bit. I should know in my heart that there will always be a next time even if those times end up few and far between. The weekends throw that up in the air because how much she likes to do and socialize. I get worried that I won’t get the time I want. Even more embarrassing is I worry about how close she might get to someone else in case I get outperformed which seems easy.

Both of these feelings have to do with how detached I’ve gotten lately. I more or less fell into the thought that we’re a couple when we aren’t and was behaving unhealthy in a way that wasn’t fair to myself or the relationship. Even if only briefly, I was re-understanding the importance of being on my own more and letting things be what they are naturally. It is easy for me to fall back down though, especially this early into figuring things out. I gotta stay vigilant and catch what I can. All I can expect from myself is my best.

Step one is to realize I’m already setting myself up for failure by thinking I’m going to repeat the same cycles or that everything is going to work against me. I’m already inherently predicting failure and it would be helpful if I could keep catching thoughts that actively work against me.

8:35 AM

The big goal is not to hinge my entire existence on one person or group like I’ve done in the past.

5:51 PM

Oops, I’m thinking too hard again. It’s stuff I’ve heard before. I’m having thoughts like “What the point of trying, it won’t work out,” or “I must be a real lose, look at the state of my life.” Two very powerful thoughts that I know can make me go down a pretty wicked spiral. I think I just need to talk to someone about it, anyone I feel comfortable with. Someone who will listen. I’m also trying to defuse on my own first.

6:47 PM

At least I’m aware of the state my mind is in even if I’m finding it hard to defuse. It almost feels hopeless but I know thats just another thought. I really just need someone to talk to but I’m having trouble picking who.

9:49 PM

Too often I am not true to myself. I don’t let my desires be known and I fester. I try to placate everyone. It’s hard to remember I’m valid too.

I crave reassurance in different forms but I know better than to give into it unless I’m coming from a genuine place. Often times I want to hear certain things to make me feel better about myself but it’s a temporary solution, a mask. I know my issues run deep and have to be confronted no matter how hard or scary it might be.

10:48 PM

It might just be the intoxication but my entire being is screaming at me to tell my friend how much I want to discuss things. I always have something heavy to talk about, too much I feel. I know it can be an unstable thing to always be addressing struggles, especially when a lot of them are repeats caused completely by me. It’s hard to tell if my feelings should be taken seriously sometimes. Because they can also come from a place that only wants to cover up things I don’t like about myself. It takes a lot of restraint to keep things inside that might not be legitimate. Like an alcoholic avoiding a drink when it’s all he craves.

8:13 AM (The Next Day)

I forgot to do a journal entry which I think is important now that I’m trying to look at what I’m proud of doing and what I could have done better. I already don’t remember a lot about how I felt but I’ll summarize what I can.

Breakfast was half a totinos pizza and a granola bar while I watched Twitch until work time. I did my warmups slowly and had to stop doing the commission because I just didn’t have the brain power to do it justice for some reason. I couldn’t focus on anything or tell if I was doing a good job. Instead I worked on my VR bathroom world and finished the last of the animations. After stream I skipped my boxing workout on account of my still strained back but I did make the spontaneous decision to go out with mom to see a nearby wildfire. It was a very short trip but a trip nonetheless. I ended up cleaning the area around my toilet despite not feeling like cleaning. I took an extra thorough shower for no particular reason. I just wanted to give a little extra care to my body today. Lunch was a nice little chicken burger with some doritos. Despite my still suffering mental capacity, I worked on and finished an emote set for someone and almost finished the next one too. Then I worked a little bit more on the world. I started to emotionally slip in the afternoon and was saved by some Zelda time with the bestie. After she fell asleep I finished my drink while watching MoonMoon.

I can say I was proud of getting a lot of things done today despite the mental hurdle. I didn’t have to work on anything after putting off the commission. I also didn’t have to clean or work on those emotes or anything else but I did anyways. Thats one thing I’ve been getting good at, doing my best even though I know it might not be very good. The point is that I did anything at all. I’m also proud of recognizing that some of m strong feelings last night didn’t need to be broadcasted or entertained because I knew they weren’t genuine and I would calm down. Acting on some feelings will do more harm than good. It’s hard identifying which ones are like that though.

As for what I could have done better, I don’t know what could have prevented me from slipping in the evening. I was trying not to go too far. Maybe I could have picked something to do to occupy myself because I know I was sort of letting it happen by doing nothing. I want to make sure I’m not running from it though. Its hard to keep those feelings in awareness and also do something else in the meantime.

#journal #diary #feelings #stress

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matildashoney · 2 years

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I’m back bestie 🤭 sorry it took so long, I’m the worlds slowest reader lol but I can proudly say I am just as invested in Harry and Hera as I am Harry and Ames (and that is saying A LOT) but you’re just that good! Also, prepare for a long novel, just like you gave us 😘

The way you wrote this beginning scene of them wrapped up together in bed makes me so soft and cozy. Our house. Still not over it. And the smut. Ugh. As always, perfect perfect perfect.

Isla waiting on the front steps lmao and her saying Harry is stealing her like girlfriend isn’t about to get married 😂 also, not me forgetting Hera’s first name is actually June whoops. Hera saying she thinks her and Grant are fine, but I have a feeling those not so fine feelings of his are about to come OUT. I love love love Hera and Isla’s friendship. I need that 🥹

Bad Bunny! Go Hera!! Also, why do I feel like Grant is going to say something to Harry and then shit is gonna go down….and maybe not even intentionally or maliciously, but I just feel it. I am happy to see that he is so happy for her though!

I am so sad that that moment with Harry on stage was ruined by that phone call. He is always there at the right time and is so so good to her. Her chosen family the just the best 😭

I’m scared to know what will happen when Harry finds out she’ll be touring with Bad Bunny and not him…And her thinking she’ll tell him at the wedding. I just know grant will say something…. Watch me be wrong 🤪

That speech was SO good 😭 and the hug after 😭 and the way Harry supports her 😭

God I fucking knew it!! What an asshole…but I’m so glad it didn’t cause the stir that I know grant wanted (and that I thought). They are so perfect together and their communication during this is just pure love and respect.

I need to get drunk with Hera 😂 she’s so funny and Harry is so sweet on her. And her continually asking if he’s still mad at her lol

That secret is so sad…that she’d miss her best friends wedding bc seeing Harry with another girl would absolutely break her

I like your nose ajsjdbns same, Hera. They are the actual dream. I love them as much as they love each other ♥️

MY LOVE! MY NOVELIST LOVE! (I NEED TO START TAGGING YOU AS NOVEL ANON SO I CAN COME BACK AND READ YOUR SWEET COMMENTS ALL THE TIME! I HOPE THAT'S OKAY!) OKAY, HERE ARE ALL MY THOUGHTS ON YOUR THOUGHTS.

you are literally the sweetest ever. i was always really afraid coming out of the harry and ames high that i wouldn't ever make people as invested in a story as i had with theirs, and it makes me so happy that people are just as invested, if not more. totally makes my day.

you are so cute. in the initial outline for the chapter there was no smut, but something unholy happened to me and there we have it

isla is getting married but that doesn't mean harry can steal her best friend! she had her first! also, her first name is hera! she just introduces herself to most people as june because that's what her parents always called her. it's a bit of a long story, but i'm sure i'll write about it later on. only certain people call her hera: harry (and his family) and isla (and her family). yes, grant is "fine", so she says! hera and isla's friendship is something i want all of us to have. it's just so pure and sweet.

hera is living her best life with the best artists in the game. she deserves the world for all her hard work!

harry really knows how to comfort hera in those moments, more than anyone else ever could, i think.

your predictions! you were right!

isla's speech made me tear up a little, i can't lie to you.

harry definitely had to control himself more than he wanted to, for the sake of hera and keeping her calm. harry will have his moment with grant, don't you worry.

writing hera drunk was actually the funniest part of this chapter. like anything i thought she might say was written down. she was just spilling her guts the whole time.

hera was destroyed after the breakup. we, obviously, don't see much of it and i think people thought she was doing way better than she was because of everything with grant, but hera was so broken. it was one of the worst times for her.

the 'i like your nose' part came as a joke at first, but then i thought about how much he kisses her nose and she kisses his and it felt so real for her to be like, i just like your nose.

ah! i am so happy you loved the chapter, and i can't wait for you all to see what's coming with the next one.

also, i wonder if any of you got the easter egg / hint about where all the drama is going to go down in the middle of the story ...

#delicate point of view asks #ask matildashoney #i got imagines for a heart #submit to matildashoney

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semicharmedliving · 3 months

Text

Not Having a Baja Blast

CW: colostomy bag

Well, as predicted, I’m not so great with this. The keeping up. But I’m still making an effort. Trying to anyway. Still in the hospital—been since Feb 8th; yesterday was the first time I was outside in all that time. Admittedly I was a Grumpy Gus about it. Whatever they did with the drain on my abscess had me in such horrible pain it was even hard to talk. It felt like my insides were being gutted by the toy plastic jack-o-lantern carving kits. Of course we had started weaning my painkillers bc I wasn’t needing them as frequently; then getting reapproved for more is a whole rigmarole. On top of that I had a doctor in here trying to convince me to eat something (that’s my real last hurdle to leave, being fully on a regular diet and not the TPN—the IV supplemental/complete nutrition); sure, guy, my insides are rebelling but let me eat this grilled cheese.

But yeah, I did the Healing Garden thing yesterday (that was the pic I last posted). I didn’t walk—I was in way too much pain for that—but I got wheeled down. It’s a tad underwhelming cause it’s only March yet, so the only place that really has anything is the area you enter with all the daffodils. The rest has some sprouts and signs of them beginning the garden. That didn’t do much to contribute to my mood, admittedly. Sitting in a wheelchair amongst barren plants when I’m not even someone who likes outdoors very much in the first place just felt stupid and silly. However, they had to get it approved for the wheelchair and the excursion, and for someone from hospital staff to escort me because you can’t leave without a chaperone, as though you’re planning on running away (I know it’s more for safety reasons but I like thinking that they’re afraid all 95lbs of me is gonna spring up out of my wheelchair, toss my IV pole with 4 different bags on it over my shoulder, and run screaming into the night.). So this girl had to take time out of her day to be out with dad and me. And then there’s the dad of it all. I know it was important to him that I do the good mental health thing, and that it was hard for him seeing me like that. I must have looked like a little old lady in a nursing home in my wheelchair with the blanket over me, and so thin and all. That can’t be an easy sight for a parent. None of this is; I’m gonna feel badly about the period where I was delirious for a while. So there I was, in pain, annoyed, angry even, but trying to be grateful and graceful about the whole thing. Which is a difficult feat. I hope I passed with at least a C-.

Today’s walk was a lot more promising til it wasn’t. It’s warmer and sunnier, and I was actually walking around. But then my colostomy bag leaked. One of my biggest fears: realized. Lived. And with dad here. I know he fears that for me too. I haven’t quite processed it yet. I tried to play it cool for everyone. It was really shitty though. Pun intended. Having shit just kind of pouring down your side uncontrollably isn’t something I would recommend for self-esteem. I’m honestly surprised I didn’t cry. Probably cause dad was here. I don’t want him to regret this even more than he already does. I’ll probably cry later on tonight. I know that I’ll be okay though. I will. I mean, I did get through it in the end. Of course the fear is that it’ll happen in public, but that’s something I’ll work on. And can prepare for.

It’s a beautiful day. I have visitors coming. Lively ones too, so it’ll be a nice distraction. I’m in a strange mood actually. Which makes sense. Coming off of a day of excruciating pain, then all that. My life is weird. But that’s okay.

I’ll probably write later. Or try, I should say. For now, cheers I guess.

Wednesday, March 16, 2024

#cancer #healing #recovery #positivity

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star-scrambled · 2 years

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do u think there will be a shadow end credit scene like they did for tails ?

Yeah, sure! It’s easily up there as one of the Top 3 most plausible things to happen for the movie’s post-credits scene! I’d also put Metal Sonic as a possibility, however over the past while I’ve become fonder of the concept of us not getting a movie-version of the modern Metal, but instead a Silver or Mecha Sonic comeback, which will either be in this film or the next one. People tend to say that Shadow happening would be “too soon” in the movie universe, and I used to agree, but then I realized some things.

1. What’s between S3&K and SA2 that’s unbelievably important AND would benefit the movie universe? Sonic Adventure. However, the game’s story mainly focuses on Chaos and his relation to Knuckles’ late clan and the Emeralds. “But wouldn’t that be cool to have in the movies!” Oh my gosh- TOTALLY. But....here’s where my next point comes in.

2. We need to look at this from a more general standpoint. Who are the most recognizable Sonic characters to an audience that aren’t huge fans? Chaos is off the table, at least for a main antagonist role, so I doubt they would spend their next movie going full Adventure 1 mode (UNLESS of course they merge the two Adventure games but we’ll get to that). Metal Sonic is, again, pretty highly applicable here. However, again, let’s be realistic. Some people are insisting the next movie will be based on Sonic CD since they “skipped it”, but think about it. Sonic CD isn’t as highly regarded by fans as other games or Sonic media, let alone have most outsiders probably heard of it. Most importantly.....it sounds like a total downgrade to go from an INSANE second movie taking inspiration from multiple sources and introducing TAILS and KNUCKLES amongst other important Sonic things......to a third movie that’s only based on this One Story with characters that seem arguably less cool (NO OFFENCE TO AMY AND METAL I LOVE THEM SO DEARLY). Not saying they wouldn’t work in this universe, because there can totally be a place for them! Basically, what I’m trying to say is, a lot of things in between S3&K and SA2 probably wouldn’t be able to achieve a balance of recognizability to all audiences and an increased level of hype in comparison to the previous movie if they were to drive the entire next film with a source-accurate story (which wouldn’t even happen anyway, as seen in the upcoming sequel).

And 3. I realized that these same people are the one’s that INSISTED that “Sonic movie 2 is for Tails and Sonic movie 3 is for Knuckles” before he was confirmed for the sequel. It didn’t take a genius to piece together that they could make putting both in the same film could work perfectly fine without any clashing, let alone a new fan that’s barely been in the community for a month. If the sequel DID stick strictly to the Sonic 2 game’s source material, it would have direct-to-DVD energy and, at best, do as well as the first movie, but nothing notably better. Also, it would’ve been SO BAD on their part if they were teasing Knuckles through the Echidna in the first film WITHOUT the intention of addressing it in the next two years 😭 I don’t think they can just plonk G.U.N here and not talk about it next time.

Everyone’s gonna wanna see Super Shadow and Super Sonic in an epic final battle NEXT MOVIE (Shadow addition also may give them an excuse to utilize more human characters again, including a movie version of Maria !!), and I think it’d be the best decision to make in order to keep the movie franchise Alive and Successful.

ON A DIFFERENT, ANTI-CLIMACTIC, AND MORE-COHERENT NOTE: If there’s one thing that’s gonna be spoiled immediately when this movie releases as soon as March 30th in a million different countries, it’s who they’ve introduced in the credits. And if it’s Shadow, then BOY is that the one thing I will most likely go to the theatre knowing about.

#do not kill me for any of my takes here btw this was probably TERRIBLY phrased lmao #I’m good and down with anything!!! hard to predict much though cause like #the first movie had All the fuel to go ‘TAILS AND KNUCKLES’ when it released in full #I’m sure this movie will be no exception #however! it’s not out yet! and the first movie has NADA hints for anything beyond the 2nd movie hints!#Either way I’m gonna appreciate the time spent eyeballing this movie before the third one whisks us away #😢 knuckles enjoy ur fame while it lasts sweetie #vics silly brain zone #sonic #sonic movie 2 #sonic the hedgehog 2

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sturchling · 3 years

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Based on that salt trope where Marinette gets kicked off the class trip so she decides not to help plan for it or do fundraisers? Then the trip ends up not happening due to not raising the money or not preparing anything? The class always gets angry at Mariette for not helping them, but what if Marinette pointed out that it was Bustier's job to help them, not hers?

Marinette was furious. Lila was up to her old tricks. She had convinced the entire class to kick Marinette off the trip. She had told them that she didn't feel comfortable going on the end of the year trip if Marinette was going too. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause trouble. But she has been so mean to me, I think I'll just sit this out." The class, however, was quick to offer a different solution. They decided to get Marinette kicked off the trip. They approached Mrs. Bustier and explained everything.

The next day, at the end of the school day, Mrs. Bustier made a very public announcement of her decision. "Class may I have your attention? Marinette, it was brought to my attention that some members of the class aren't comfortable with you being on the end of the year trip with us. With that in mind, I want to ask you to be the bigger person and sit this trip out." Marinette was very upset. This was supposed to be the biggest trip yet. A week long trip to Los Angeles, with a lot of fun activities all over the city. And besides, Marinette is the class rep and Mrs. Bustier would expect her to fundraise for this trip! "But Mrs. Bustier I-"

"No buts Marinette. Now, I am asking nicely and for you to be the bigger person. Be an example for the class, and do the mature thing and skip the trip so everyone else can enjoy it. If you don't, I will just go to Mr. Damocles and have you officially removed from the trip, but I am giving you this chance, please don't make me regret it." Marinette wanted to argue, but knew it wouldn't get her anywhere. So, she just quietly nodded her head. The class snickered as the bell rang and they were dismissed.

Marinette raced home, clearly upset. Her parents saw her face as she rushed in and knew they needed to speak with their daughter. So they finished with the few customers they had, and closed the bakery for a little while to check on her. They found her in her room, crying on her chaise. It didn't take much prodding from them for Marinette to tell them everything. They were livid at how Mrs. Bustier had spoken to their daughter and what she had asked of her. It was completely unfair, and wrong of her to ask that in front of the class. "And the worst part is she is going to expect me to still help with the fundraising even though they won't let me go!" Marinette dissolved into a new round of tears, as her parents thought of what to say. Finally, Sabine spoke up. "Marinette, you don't have to help with anything. If you aren't going, than you aren't helping pay for it, simple as that." Marinette whipped her head up and stared at her mom. "But mom, I'm the class rep, I have to help-" Tom stepped in, "No, you don't have to help. If they don't want you on the trip then they do not deserve your help. Besides, it is your teacher's job to help with fundraising. She will handle it."

After a little more back and forth, where Sabine and Tom learned the extent of the extra work Mrs. Bustier had been giving to Marinette, they finally convinced Marinette not to help with fundraising. So, for the next several weeks, the class went about their lives, thinking they were going to have a great trip. but then they got the shock of their lives.

At the half way point of the year, they had a meeting to go over the trip. Marinette sat in the back, just reading a book and ignoring their conversation, determined to stay out of it. Mrs. Bustier started off the meeting, asking how much money the class had raised. They reported their numbers, which was about the same they had made last year. Of course, now that Marinette wasn't over working herself to make up the difference, they were significantly short of their goal. The class started to worry about money and why they didn't have enough this year. It always worked out and they made the same amount as last year, so why were they so short? "Don't worry class. I am sure that Marinette has gone above and beyond like she always does and can cover the difference. Just like I am sure she has made reservations for everything and has a great trip planned."

The class looked up at her expectantly. They may have kicked her off the trip and think she is a horrible bully, but they had to admit that the girl was the best at fundraising and planning. But they didn't get the reassurances they were hoping for. Instead, Marinette just disinterestedly looked up from her book, and said "No." before returning to her reading. The whole class was stunned. Mrs. Bustier recovered and forced a smile. "What do you mean 'No' Marinette?" Marinette sighed, placing a bookmark in her page before gathering her things to leave. "I mean no. No I haven't raised any money, and no I have made any reservations or plans." The class was horrified and instantly started yelling.

They called Marinette every horrible name they could think of. Saying how selfish she was and she should have been working just as hard as them all this time. Marinette, feeling frustrated, slammed her book down on the desk. "Why should I have done anything for this trip? You all kicked me off of it, remember? Why should I spend my time raising money and planning a trip that I won't be a part of. Besides, that isn't my job. Mrs. Bustier is the one who is supposed to help with fundraising and she is the one who is supposed to make the reservations, not me. I only ever did it, because I knew she wouldn't. But that isn't my problem this year. Good luck getting everything ready. This late in the year and this far behind, you will need all the luck you can get." With that said, Marinette grabbed her things and left, leaving the class in horrified silence.

They hadn't realized that Marinette wouldn't help with fundraising after they told her not to come on the trip. They thought she would be mad, but still help to try and convince them to let her come. They supposed that was a bit naïve of them. But now what are they supposed to do? Mrs. Bustier was just as lost as they were. When Chloe was rep, her father always handled everything. And when Marinette became rep, she took on all the extra responsibilities Mrs. Bustier didn't want, specifically funding and planning the class trip. They would be hard pressed to get everything set up for their trip to LA with the time they had left. The class bombarded Mrs. Bustier with questions, that she had no answers to. Now what would they do?

As Mrs. Bustier predicted, they weren't able to salvage their amazing trip to LA. They tried, and raised a lot more money, but it wasn't enough. They ended up having to settle on spending a few days at Disney World Paris. It was an okay trip, but not nearly as cool as LA would have been. When the class got back to school, they were ready to tear into Marinette for ruining their trip. But when they arrived, they found that Marinette had transferred out of their class and had made a bunch of new friends in her new class. For a long time, anything the class tried became a disaster, as Mrs. Bustier hadn't had to do any of this kind of work in a very long time. Lila was left stewing in her rage. When she got Marinette kicked off the trip, she never expected things to go this wrong. Her dreams of an amazing adventure in LA with Adrien and the class were destroyed, and any dreams she had of amazing future trips were likely going to remain simply dreams. All because she got Marinette kicked off of a trip.

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pyroclastic727 · 4 years

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Is Amity autistic?

In the Owl House fandom, we hear a lot about how Luz is written to be ADHD. Now I would like to present the flipside: Amity is coded as autistic.

Here’s the breakdown.

Amity is touch-averse. “BuT aMiTy ToUcHeS LuZ aLL tHe TiMe” nice try. The key to autistic touch-aversion is only being okay with touch when she initiates it. And that totally matches up with Amity. See, Amity is really happy when she initiates touch with Luz. She’s also cool with it when Luz holds her hand after standing near her for enough time that Amity can predict an incoming touch. That’s because Amity consents to that touch and expects it.

But when other people touch her? She doesn’t take kindly to that. When Luz initially bumped into her at Covention, she snapped at her and degraded her. Even when she bumped into Luz in Enchanting Grom Fright, her initial instinct was to snap at Luz, since she didn’t expect to be touched. When Hooty touched Amity’s face without consent, she flipped out and beat him up. Not even Lilith beat Hooty up when he wrapped her up in his mucus-filled tube, but Amity gave Hooty the injuries we all wanted to see him with, because he breached her boundaries without her consent. Even as late as the last episode, Amity fell over when her face got close to Luz’s on the bleachers, because she didn’t expect it.

Amity stims. Okay, this one took me a while to catch, since most of the time, Amity is very controlled with her actions. This symptom isn’t very intense; her senses aren’t understimulated too often, and she really only does it when she’s really excited.

Mainly, when Luz offered to carry her. While she adorably scrambled for words, she also flapped her hands against her legs. At first I thought it was just a cute thing she did, but there’s more to it. She was so excited to be held by Luz that it showed up in her hands flapping...a common stim. With Amity feeling more comfortable around her new friends than the old ones, I wouldn’t be surprised to see more stimming in the future.

Amity always has The Mask as her expression. You know, the one with her eyes half-lidded, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly downturned. I also call it the Resting Blight Face, for...reasons.

At first I thought it was just a way to hide her true emotions, since her parents are assholes. But even though Luz makes her feel accepted, she keeps doing it. It’s more like...you know that feeling when you’re thinking really hard, or uncomfortable, or ashamed, or even just relaxed, and you can’t think of which expression to wear quickly enough, so you put on an unreadable one to tide people over? Apparently most people don’t do that, since allistic people tend to have expressions for those feelings, ones that arise naturally.

Another symptom of autism is having hard-to-read expressions, or being less expressive. In Amity’s case, it’s the fact that she doesn’t see a need to have an expression in calmer moments, so she just uses her usual expression.

Amity hyperfixates. This has several facets, so I’ll break this down.

She initially hyperfixated on school. And that’s how she became top student. Amity Blight is who you would mistake for a “gifted student.” But make no mistake...she is not gifted, and gifted is a bullshit label used to overexert people and force them to keep school as their special interest for their entire lives (and I may have a bit of a vendetta against it). Anyways, we already know she’s a perfectionist. My theory is that Amity originally was hyperfocused on school--the Abominations track, to be exact--and that’s part of how she got so good. Then, her focus shifted, but the school expected her to keep being top student. Cue the perfectionism; she was no longer able to focus on school like she wanted to, but everyone expected her to, so she got insecure about it.

She hyperfixates on Azura, just like Luz did. Yeah, she keeps it secret from the world, for most of the time. But she definitely likes Azura a lot. I mean, she started to reconsider her opinion on Luz when Luz offered her an Azura book. She destroyed her jock career because she tried to use an Azura move in real-life Grudgby. Her interest in Azura is long-lived, starting about the time that her interest in school would have expired (which would explain why she stayed closeted). And we can’t ignore the fact that she sees Azura in Luz and is definitely enjoying the parallels between herself and her fictional counterpart. (Which might not be a coincidence, but that’s an entirely different theory).

She hyperfixates on Luz. Yes, part of this is a crush. But a lot of us have watched Amity’s personality go from alpha bitch to cutest little bean in the Boiling Isles, all thanks to Luz’s influence. Lumity is not a rivals-to-lovers speedrun due to bad writing, it’s due to Amity hyperfixating. She’s already extremely introspective, going so far as to keep a diary where she analyzes and makes sense of herself. It’s not a stretch to say that she identified the faults that kept her from Luz and worked hard to change those off-screen.

Amity keeps a journal. To me, this seems like masking. You see, Amity is what people would consider to be high-functioning, since she can pass for allistic. But in order to do this, she has to put in significant effort on her part. See, when she does something that makes it so she doesn’t pass, she just sees it as a problem (since she probably doesn’t know about autism, and she passes well enough that she would totally be undiagnosed). Then she tries to fix the problem, in order to keep being perfect.

Amity has awkward body language. Thanks to the journal and other ways of masking, you don’t see this early on. But once she feels comfortable enough around Luz to let her guard down...she completely forgets boundaries. To review: in episodes 15-17, she throws herself at Luz, holds her formal rival’s hand for 24.71 seconds, blushes every time she sees Luz, and loudly declares her thirsty thoughts about Luz in uniform before literally running away. While some of this can be seen as normal gal pal things or crush things...you’d think a repressed wlw like Amity would try very hard not to touch Luz, so as to avoid being outed. Or at least she would do less of that stuff, so as to respect Luz’s boundaries the way she wants her boundaries to be respected. But that’s not the case, since she straight-up misses a lot of social cues. And since she feels comfortable around Luz, she doesn’t feel the pressure to be so paranoid about the cues, and can be her awkward self. From her point of view, she probably sees it as being freed from her parents’ judgment.

Amity takes things literally, sometimes. Now, this doesn’t happen all the time, since she isn’t heavily affected by this autistic trait. But when Luz says “I’m picking up what you’re putting down” and Amity says “I’m not putting down anything” and looks down...she not only missed the conclusion Luz drew from her words, but also assumed a literal meaning from her words. I can’t come up with many other instances of this, mostly because this doesn’t happen often. I would assume that Amity missed these a lot early on, and learned how to mask/identify them.

Amity is easily upset when things don’t go as planned. Let’s review these. In the library, she gets really mad at Luz when they end up stitched to a book, and it takes Luz’s sweet personality to get Amity to loosen up and laugh over it. When she goes to practice magic, and Luz steals her wand and uses it to get her siblings kidnapped, Amity locks Luz in a cage and assumes that she will get badly injured if she tries to fix the problems she caused. When Luz comes to her school, she panics and focus on how that doesn’t change anything. When she burns Willow’s mind, she appears absolutely terrified of being punished, flinching and bracing for impact when Luz finds her near the memories, constantly trying to distract Luz as they work together to save Willow, and hiding behind Luz when she confronts the Inner Willow. When Luz asks her to join her in Grudgby, Amity doesn’t initially agree, instead taking much more of the episode to come to terms with her involvement in it.

Amity likes predictability. She’s not attached to routines, but she does like being able to expect things. If she makes a plan for the day, she expects that day to adhere to that plan, and she doesn’t respond well when it changes. When Luz comes to her school, she focus on how that doesn’t change anything...not how that would ruin things or complicate things. Whenever she gets involved in Luz’s shenanigans, she either gets angry, scared, or takes a while to accept it. In a broader sense, she takes a while to accept that Luz and her shenanigans are a permanent fixture in her life--sixteen episodes, to be exact.

Finally, it would make for some excellent representation. An ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist is pretty groundbreaking. But an ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist girl who dates an autistic wlw witch girl from another dimension is exactly the kind of intersectional representation you’d expect to see from an unrestricted Owl House crew.

...Now, this might just be me hardcore projecting. I’m a little scared to post this because I don’t know how much of this is me reading into imaginary things, or trying to convince myself that Amity is like me. Feel free to debate/disprove me or support me in the comments.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

Clementia

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You’d always had a special place in your heart for Lee Minho even though he gives you countless reasons to hate him. How long will your patience last?

Warning: alcohol, sexual assault

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Minho

“Y/N—”

“Go away, Minho.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I said no!”

“Well I said I’m sorry.”

You snap around to face him. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Lee Minho. You screwed up. You. Screwed. Up. I gave you one request, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had my reasons!” he protests.

“Yeah? Well let’s hear them.”

He emits a few noises but can't come up with anything. His face flushes red, but not as red as yours.

“There’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart ever. Remember that.” You turn on your heels and begin walking away until he says something even more repulsive.

“Why do you care so much? She’s not even your real sister!” he calls after you.

You pause, unable to comprehend how such words could ever enter your ears. You then slowly walk back to him as he stiffens with every step you take.

“Not my real sister?” Your voice is soft, but it is effective.

“I mean—”

“You’re saying the girls at Epsilon Phi aren’t sisters?” Your voice begins to rise. “We’re more sisters than you and I were ever friends, Lee Minho! We love each other more than biological families do, but of course you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? All you have in your chest is a cold, hard piece of coal!”

You turn away and break off into a run this time. Tears stream down your face from being insulted and betrayed by someone you held with high esteem.

You like Lee Minho. Of course, you’d never admit that. To the world, he is just some kid of your mom’s friend who annoyed you to no end, but through the arguments and time spent trying to prove each other wrong, your feelings grew bit by bit. When he had a relationship with your very own Little, you held in your feelings and wished them both the best. After all, you love both of them, and their happiness together was good enough for you.

That is, until Minho broke things off as nothing but a fling.

Minho has always been a huge flirt, but he’d promised to take her seriously this time. You made him swear it, and you emphasized how much your Little meant to you. Now, because you’re his family friend, your Little won’t even speak to you. Minho had ruined your and her relationship, and evidently yours and his too.

He didn’t used to be like this, all manipulative and amorous. You remember he used to follow you at the heel, caring about nothing more than sticking gum in your hair. It wasn’t until senior year of high school did he start hanging out with random girls and trying daredevilish things. You missed the old Minho, but you thought you’d accept him for all his changes since you did, after all, like him.

Until this moment, that is.

What he did was too much. What he said was too much. You know he is becoming toxic, and if he is going to continue down this path, even your love isn’t going to bring him back to your heart.

Minho watches your waning back then slams his fist against a nearby tree with a curse. You didn’t give him enough time to explain, not that he would have been able to in front of you.

You’d forgive him though, right? You have to. When he messed up before this, Minho could be sure you would. But now, he isn’t so certain. He has never seen you so angry and disappointed before, and he did that to you. Him. Minho lets out another string of curses and trudges back to his room.

He tries making it up to you the very next morning. He shows up to your 8 AM class with a cup of coffee and slides it onto your desk before sitting down himself.

You don’t even look at him. You just take the cup and slam it down in front of him, causing its contents to spill and burn your fingers. He quickly takes your hand in his and begins wiping it with his sleeve, but you recoil your arm and take out your own napkin.

The next place he tries is at your neighboring frat party. He knows you would be there, so he wears his tightest black jeans and a loose button-up. This trick has worked with other girls, so he hopes it would on you.

He takes the dance floor with his powerful dance moves and charisma. He can see you deliberately turned away from him and chatting with someone else, so he dances towards you. The cheering circle that has formed around him moves as well, engulfing you into the crowd.

You finally turn to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. Minho takes this chance to shoot you a wink which draws the crowd’s attention to you. They cheer and push you towards him despite your protests.

Minho takes your arm and leads you in the dance. You used to like dancing with him; your and his flow matches perfectly, and the two of you could revive a dying party just by dancing together. Today though, you just aren’t having it.

Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and scoops his hips low earning a cheer from the crowd. You can hear them calling your name, anticipating your response. You look down at Minho and immediately recognize his choice of clothing.

I wonder who’s going to have her heart broken tomorrow, you think with a dry laugh. Minho flinches, recognizing that sound. You take his falter as a chance to fling his arm off of you before walking away.

A chorus of oohs fills the room, and the crowd splits like the Red Sea for you.

You hear your name from his lips again. “Y/N!” It is more strained now than it was last night. Desperate. Defeated.

You gave him some thought after hearing the sincerity in his tone, but you are glad you did not turn around that night when you see him in class with some other girl on his lap. Whatever. He’s dead to you now, so why should you care what he’s doing?

Minho watches as you walk farther and farther from him. He pushes the girl off and continues to stare with narrowed eyes at you as you greet your new seat neighbors.

This isn’t how he predicted you would react. Truthfully, he kind of knew this attempt wouldn’t work. For one, it hadn’t worked once since he first tried it in high school. He thought hanging out with other girls would make him more attractive, more desirable by competition. At least, that’s what some then-college kids told him. Once he started, he just found himself unable to stop. It was a self-feeding cycle, really. Holding onto other girls and charming them numbs the void in his chest, but you ignore him whenever he acts like this which only further widens the gap.

What is he to do though? This is the only life he knows, and so, it is the life he leads. Not all love stories can end happily.

And his sure doesn’t seem like it is going to.

Sirens wail in the background. With the amount of girls he’s fooled around with, he kind of had it coming. Minho stares at his wrists, not daring to think, but one thought keeps recurring in his mind: you. He is going to disappoint you yet again. You already hate him, and now you are going to see him handcuffed too.

The cold wind makes him shiver when you, his emergency contact, open the door and step into the station. Your eyes immediately find him, and you make your way over.

“Y/—”

“Are you hurt?” you ask plainly.

Despite your icy tone, those three simple words fill him with a warmth he hasn’t known for a long time.

“I’m okay.” His hands reach forward, wanting to grab yours and keep you with him, but you’ve already walked away to announce your arrival to an officer.

“Miss L/Y Y/N?” a young official greets a little too enthusiastically. She looks familiar, you note.

“Yes, I am she.”

The officer looks pleased by your annoyed attitude towards the defendant. “Mister Lee is here tonight because of an accusation by Miss Choi of assault,” she informs you coyly.

You look at him. “Minho,” you said with a chilled voice. “Is it true?”

“No! Y/N, I wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Excuse me?” the officer sputters.

“I believe him,” you repeat. “He’s been going out with more people than I have fingers, but he never laid a finger on them.”

“But Y/N, that doesn’t mean he can’t start now,” the officer protests. “You’re his contact, but you hate him now. Surely, he’s changed”

“First of all, it’s Miss L/N to you, Officer” —you read her name tag and pieces begin to fall together from her eagerness to convict Minho to the inkling you felt the moment you saw her— “Yoo. And secondly, is it not against the law for you to be working on a case where your cousin’s the accuser?”

“How did you—!”

“Nothing escapes us Epsilon Phi sisters, even news from other sororities. Besides, Minho never plays with the same girl twice. As expected, this report is filed for an incident two months ago. You, Officer Yoo, knew I was his contact and waited for us to get into yet another fight before having your cousin put in the accusation, didn’t you?”

She scoffs in your face. “That’s a bold accusation from yourself towards law enforcement.”

“Where is the accuser right now? Shouldn’t she be here for interrogation as well?”

“Well she—” the officer looks increasingly flustered. “She needs rest after having to relive the memories of what happened. We’ll call her in tomorrow. Anyway, Mr. Lee Minho, I can hear your testimony now in room #3.”

Minho stands obediently.

“Wait. I request someone else interrogate him,” you object.

“We’re busy right now,” Officer Yoo huffs. “We can’t just let you choose who does the job.”

You cross your arms. “Sure. Interrogate him and have the entire case be nulled after I file a conflict of interest.”

Officer Yoo grits her teeth but returns to her station to call for another officer.

In the meantime, you turn to Minho. “Don’t answer anything you don’t want to, especially if they start leading you on with questions. It’s in your rights to remain silent, alright?”

Minho nods numbly at your words, still confused as to why you are so nice to him. Before he can figure it out though, an older man appears from the back and takes him to an interrogation room.

“Mr. Lee Minho?”

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chief Jeon. I’m just going to ask you a few questions today; is that alright?”

“Yes.”

The chief nods and pulls out some papers. “Would you mind describing what happened with Miss Choi?”

“Well I was with—” he gestures towards the papers with his accuser’s name on it— “and we were hitting it off. She bought me a couple of drinks and at some point leaned in to kiss me. I realized something at that point, and I stopped her. She got angry, saying how she spent all that cash on alcohol for me, and threatened to accuse me of assault if I didn’t do what she said, but I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of what you realized?” the chief repeats.

“... Yes.”

“And what was it you realized?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“According to the law, no, but if it can help you with your case, you might want to.”

Minho fidgets with his cuffs. “They can’t hear me from outside, right?”

“No. They most certainly cannot.”

And so, Minho tells him.

Minho turns around while the metal bars clang shut behind him. The chief thinks he has a pretty good chance, but due to the gravity of the accusation, they still decided to keep Minho in holding to give the accuser more time to make her case.

You stare at him from the other side, arms crossed. Minho takes the fact that you’re still here at two in the morning as a good sign for him.

“Thanks for being here,” he tries to start a conversation.

“I didn’t really have a choice.” So cold.

“I’ll change my emergency contact.”

“Please do.”

He winces. “Look… Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for insulting your sisterhood and for hurting your Little. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

He looks at you with those doe-like eyes of his. For once, you don’t feel anything while looking back at them.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. In fact, I’m not even mad,” you tell him. “My Little told me what really happened. She told me that she was actually the one who dumped you after you adamantly refused to kiss her. I asked some other girls you’ve seen and they all said the same thing. That’s why I was so confident with the officer earlier. I guess I owe you an apology for getting angry when you weren’t at fault.”

“Then”—he holds out a hand sheepishly— “truce?”

You look at it but keep your arms crossed. “Taking a step back from you has made me see things I wasn’t able to before, Minho, and that’s made me realize how much you’ve changed. You were my friend, my rival— someone who never failed to get on my nerves but also someone I couldn’t go without. But now” —you drop your arms and shake your head— “I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

You take a step back to leave. You’ve done this many times before, like when he stuck a plastic spider down your shirt or when he called you stupid in front of your crush in fifth grade, but something about this time feels different. Something about this time tells him you aren’t turning back around once you left.

A sudden despair grips Minho and he runs into the bars. “Wait!”

You pause, offering him one last second.

“Your Little,” he gasps, “did she tell you why I wouldn’t kiss her?”

You nod. “The others I asked did too. They said you were thinking about some other girl while you were with them.”

“Not ‘some other’ girl. One other girl.”

“I know.” You begin to walk again.

“Then why are you leaving?” He reaches a hand out, trying to grab any part of you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N, stay.”

You don’t pause a second time. Out of desperation, he cries out, “Y/N, I love you!”

That makes you stop midstep. He holds his breath as you put one foot back then the other next to it to face him. You are so beautiful when you look at him. He melts under your gaze as you focus on him and only him. He’ll cherish you this time when you give him another chance. He’ll quit this playboy lifestyle. He won’t take advantage of your patience anymore. He’ll give you all that his heart has to offer. He’ll make sure you’re the only one in his eyes. He’ll love you. He loves you.

“Minho.” You relax your shoulders and straighten your back. You tilt your head just slightly forward and erase the edge off your tone. “I loved you.”

#lee minho #lee know #stray kids #stray kids fic #minho fic #lee know fic #stray kids imagine #lee know imagine #minho imagine #stray kids angst #lee know angst #skz #enemies to lovers #fem reader #2nd anniversary special #20210815

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