#I’m so angry on her behalf because SOMEONE SHOULD BE

[emmaspolaroid]

i will explode this man with my mind mark my fucking words

#tell me how you’re going to leave your sick and very pregnant wife and your two year old alone in the city while you go to the lake house #ostensibly to do repairs and work and shit but i am not buying it because I’m a fucking hater i think he ~needed a break~ from them 😒 #she’ll start so many sentences with “(he) got mad at me for” like I’m sorry ??? #the baby is due at the end of next month and I’m going to be watching this man like a hawk don’t you dare make her a married single mother #I’m so angry on her behalf because SOMEONE SHOULD BE #i don’t want to gossip but all the moms i work for are friends and it’s so hard to not drop hints that i hate this man lol #fwiw 90% of the dads are awesome like they love their kids and their wives and are so so so involved!! so this is jarring to say the least #also that man tried to correct me about anime (specifically JJK) a few months ago and i think my eyes caught fire lol WHOMST

[pianokantzart]

YES! GOOD! I’m going to just going to analyze the whole dinner scene, because it’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. 

Mario and Luigi walk in, and immediately the whole room lights up to greet them. Despite everything that follows, one thing is clear: The Mario Brothers are happy to see their family, and the family is happy to see them. 

The whole family confirms that they watched their commercial. Everyone except their mom insists the commercial was a bad idea, but the fact that they all watched it speaks to the fact that there is no indifference regarding Mario and Luigi’s dream. They’re eager to see where this endeavor leads, even if they think it’s going to end in failure. 

The moment Mario and Luigi sit down at the table, their uncles begin laying into them like it’s open season on financially struggling plumbers. Just full blown, no-holds-barred roast mode on their nephews.

Mario is on the defensive, but he doesn’t get angry, he’s just trying to argue his side. Clearly this is typical behavior for Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur. They’re loud, overly honest, and obnoxiously confident in their opinions. Uncle Arthur, thankfully, has his wife to keep him in check. Uncle Tony, however, who is seated next to poor Luigi, is an absolute menace.

Luigi ignores all the teasing. He is only interested in getting food, but this is not an easy task. Tony’s verbal arguments are all directed at Mario, but Luigi is the one who gets prodded and shoved around, and that makes getting dinner next to impossible.

Luigi attempts to serve himself salad, attempts to ask for a roll, attempts to eat the mushrooms being put on his plate, and at every turn he’s either pushed away or talked over. He is clearly very soft spoken compared to the other men in his family, and never quite had the strength to stand up for himself... after all, everyone means well, they just lack self awareness. It isn’t worth the fight. 

Thankfully, Luigi’s mom comes to the rescue, and puts a bowl of soup in front of her boy. She’s the queen of the caretaker role, making sure all the loose ends are tied up and that everybody eats.

But on the flip side, it’s interesting to note that once the uncles start tearing into Mario, Mario’s Dad serves him up a plate of food. He may have just been serving the person next to him because that was the polite thing to do, but I have a theory...

I think that this wasn’t the first night that Mario and his uncles went at each other. I think Mario’s Dad read the room, and figured that if Mario was going to spend dinner playing defense, he should at least remember to eat while doing so.

It also speaks volumes that Mario’s Dad doesn’t voice his disapproval until Mario asks for his opinion. Before then he avoids the subject and lets everyone else do the talking, but so long as he’s being questioned directly, he can’t help but be honest.

“I think... you’re nuts. You don’t quit a steady job for some crazy dream.” This sounds like a voice of experience. Mario’s Dad has the figure of someone who has worked physical labor for a good portion of his life (look the size of those arms). He may have had dreams of his own when he was younger, but he had a wife and kids to worry about, and family took priority. 

Speaking of family taking priority: “... and the worst part? You’re bringing your brother down with you.” That settles it. The conversation has gone from a casual roast session to dead serious. The entire room falls quiet as Mario puts down his fork and storms off. 

“What’d I say?” Everybody at the table (except the niece, she’s long since checked out) gives Mario’s Dad different versions of the look™. Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur have the same “Jesus Christ bro, you didn’t have to go there” expression, and Luigi just looks hurt on Mario’s behalf. His Dad, however, is just confused.  

He didn’t get the gravity of what he said. His relationship with his own brothers– loudmouthed schmucks who call their own shots – is completely alien to what Luigi and Mario have. He probably knows Mario is protective of Luigi, but he doesn’t realize the depth of responsibility Mario feels for him. Anyone can see that Luigi is loyal to his brother, but Mario alone knows how loyal he is, and the implication that he’s betraying that loyalty is intensely painful. 

I doubt Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tony truly relate to Mario and Luigi’s relationship either, but they’ve probably teased Mario enough to understand one thing: bringing Luigi into it is a line you do not cross.

Conclusion:

There is a lot of love in the Mario family.

Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur are definitely the most insufferable of the bunch, but there is no malice in their teasing. While they are brash and overbearing, it’s all in good fun, and they get visibly uncomfortable when things go too far and someone actually ends up hurt. 

Luigi seems to take after his mother; kind, nonconfrontational, and happily invested in a supporting role. While his Mom cares for and assists the family, Luigi cares for and assists his brother, both emotionally and in his business ventures.

Mario, in the meantime, takes after his Dad, who appears to be the oldest of the three brothers. He doesn’t always think before speaking, but he isn’t constantly running his mouth like Arthur or Tony, and acts with the gravity of someone who bears a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t quite “get” his sons, but he knows enough to see that Luigi follows his brother everywhere, and Mario does not always think before jumping into things. Despite what Mario may believe, his Dad doesn’t see him as a “joke” so much as he sees him as an impulsive young man who doesn’t grasp the consequences of his actions. But Mario does understand the consequences of his actions, he just dreams big, and... thanks to Luigi... actually has the support he needs to pursue those dreams. 

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #super mario brothers movie #Luigi #Mario #Not Art #mario commentary #This got a lot longer than I thought it would #There were a lot of thoughts #Super Mario Brothers #Long Post

[luveline]

Hi jade I have a hotch request! But u can do with any of the other boys too if you prefer! It's a bit personal but a few years ago someone kissed and then groped me without my consent and now I'm too anxious to kiss anyone even when it's someone I like :( would be willing to write a cute lil hotch comfort fic where may be he goes to kiss reader and she seizes up and just hotch being so patient but also angry on her behalf

Hotch sees you, and he gets this unshakeable happiness that starts in his hands and moves its way through him. He feels young, like he could take you dancing, or send you drinks from across the bar. 

You might accept them. You’re smiling at him from around the stem of a cherry, the corners of your eyes crushed together in a dark smudge of lashes. He waits a beat before taking the stem and pulling against your lips, where it snaps. This is hilarious to you —you giggle infectiously behind your hand, turning away from him and back again, almost like you’d wanted to do something and thought better of it. 

He’s doing that all the time lately. He wants to kiss you more than anything, feel the bubble of your laughter on his lips, and taste the sweetness of your drink where it lingers. Your mouth is stained black cherry as you swallow, and touch his arm in thanks. 

Now, he thinks to himself carefully, is the time. There’s no better time to kiss you than this. You’ve said yes to the date, teased him in the car about his being the nervous one, and you’re smiling at him with that slight sparkle of excitement. He assumes it to be an invitation, and it’s his mistake. 

Hotch takes your cheek into his hand, too focused on remembering how it feels to want to kiss someone to realise the look on your face until you’re turning into his hand. Not just turning, hiding, angling your shoulder away from him, and then pulling away from his hand completely. 

Hotch thinks, oh. Thinks, fuck. Thinks he should’ve asked first, because now you’re trembling, the most minute of shakes wracking your arm where it’s still on the bar, your fingers white wrapped around your glass. He caught you off guard. He’s missed something big. 

Hotch drops his hand from your face. For a moment, there’s a raw quiet between you, like you’re trying to decide who should talk first but neither is brave enough to actually decide. 

He knows this might be wrong again, but he touches your arm, resting his fingers flat and gentle against your skin. Slowly, he rubs a line over your skin and the fine hairs on your wrist. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. It can’t be about him. Hotch is confident in his ability to profile emotion even if he’s messed this up, so he knows it’s not necessarily him. You’re upset. “Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises without reluctance. Even if your reaction isn’t purely from his action, it is him who spurred it on. 

You touch his wrist with your pinky finger. He doesn’t know if it’s purposeful or accidental. 

“Honey, are you alright? You’re shaking.” 

You don’t talk for a while. He can almost see you putting your words together, blushed lips parting before you speak. “A few months ago, this man I’d never met kissed me, and then he grabbed me. I mean, he groped me,” —you mumble the last part, eyes steadfast on his chest— “so I don’t think you’re gonna do that to me, but I get stressed out sometimes.” 

“You’re anxious it will happen again.” 

“It wasn’t fun.” 

“No, I wouldn’t think so.” 

He cares about you beyond wanting to kiss you, and hearing someone’s hurt you makes him furious, but it also makes him sorry. He has to tamp down the urge to hug you. He reminds himself to ask. 

“Honey, can I hug you?”

“Sorry, I’m being awkward,” you say. He shakes his head. You take a half step forward. “Please.” 

Hotch is careful to hug you kindly. No squeezing or rough hands, just a hug. “I’m sorry for trying to kiss you without asking. I thought you… I read the situation wrongly.” 

“No, Hotch, I did want you to kiss me. I still do.” You curl your hand at his side. “Sorry. I just need some warning.” 

“I can tell you days in advance,” he promises. 

“You aren’t mad?” 

“Of course not. Not at you… I don’t suppose you know the man who assaulted you?” 

You pull away from him ever so slightly, bringing your gaze to his face with a similar shade of tentativeness. “Does it matter?” 

“Only if you wanted me to do something about it,” he says. “But otherwise, no, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry either way. You deserve to be treated with dignity and respect and it’s not fair that that happened to you.” 

“Kind of heavy for a first date,” you laugh. 

To his relief, it’s a real laugh. He thinks he might’ve said the right thing, and he’s glad for it, his arm still held carefully behind your back, the lights of the bar hot against his neck. This would’ve been an unfortunate time and place to have upset you worse, and to express his regret.

“I really am sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do.” 

You lift up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I’d love another drink, if that’s okay.” 

He orders you another cherry vodka sour with extra cherries, and after a warm half an hour in which he tries to prove he can be trusted to treat you gently, you fold your arm behind his back.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[kimbappykidding]

Imagine overhearing your crush, Jongho, getting rudely shut down by a mean idol and deciding to do something about it.

You thought there was nothing worse in the world than watching your crush ask out another girl but you were wrong. 

You'd known Jongho had a crush on Maisie even since he checked her out at an award show and the boys never let him forget it. So when you saw him heading towards her you knew what was going to happen and even though you were sad because he was asking out another girl he was your best friend so you just wanted him to be happy. You were stood on a platform near the girl and so you could hear the whole conversation. You went to move away until you heard her reply and it made you very angry indeed. "I'm sorry I'm just way too pretty for you" Maisie said and your jaw dropped. It's fine for a girl to say no to a guy but there's no reason to be rude about it. Sure if Jongho had been harassing her you'd be praising her for telling him how it is but he'd been nothing but respectful and nice to her. There was no reason for her to hurt him like this. "She did not just say that" you said and your fellow Dreamcatcher member Yoohyeon looked at you "what did she say?" but you shushed her because the conversation was carrying on. Jongho must've also been confused because she was now being even ruder. "Look I only date guys who are at least as good-looking as me and you're not so later" and she walked away. You saw she was actually smiling and felt anger surge through you "I'm going after her" you said but your members, who finally realised what was happening, knew in your current state that probably wasn't a good idea. "Y/n just wait a minute" Dami said and JiU nodded "yeah just take a moment to calm down" when Siyeon grabbed your arm "Y/n you have bigger issues, Jongho". You looked over to where he'd been and froze to see him making a beeline for the door clearly upset and rattled. "Shit" you swore "text Hongjoong and tell him I'll make sure Jongho gets home okay" and you rushed after him.

You found Jongho outside just sitting on the curb staring into space. "Jongho" you called and he looked up but didn't meet your eye. "Hey Y/n I just wanted some air" he said flatly and you nodded coming to sit beside him "okay". You'd known Jongho for 4 years now and in that time learned you just had to let him speak when he was ready. Jongho was silent for a few seconds before he sighed "you know don't you?". You paused before nodding "yeah I heard but Jongho please don't be upset, she's horrible and should be ashamed of herself". Jongho buried his head in his hands not speaking and you looked at him unsure of what to do. "Jongho?" you asked "do you want me to take you home?" and he nodded "yes please". You got him in your car and then paused. "I don't want to talk about it" Jongho said pre-empting your next question and you nodded "okay" and drove home in silence.

Once you got to Jongho's place you came inside and watched tv with him until his members came home. He was quiet all night and the guys asked what happened but he wouldn't tell them. They then asked you once he'd gone to bed and you shook your head "it's Jongho's story to tell, someone was just incredibly rude to him so he might be a little down the next few days. So just keep an eye on him and big him up as much as you can". The boys assured you they would and thanked you for being with him. "I'll always be there for Jongho" you replied and San smiled "Y/n where can I find a woman like you?" and you laughed "with that smile of yours you'll find one easily" and you said goodnight to them all before driving home. Your members were all anxious to know how Jongho was and were furious on his behalf. They didn't know exactly what Maisie said but could guess and all promised the next time they saw Jongho they'd be extra kind to him. You appreciated all their support and texted Jongho before you went to bed telling him you were here if he needed you but didn't get any reply. When you next saw Jongho he acted like that night never happened and you figured he was trying to move on so went along with it. Maisie didn't come up in your everyday conversation anyway so it was easy to pretend she never existed but there was an event looming on the horizon. The yearly Isac games. You knew Maisie’s group Porcelain was going to be there because you got a list of the attending groups a week before. You asked Jongho about the event and he didn't say much about it but you knew he was worried about seeing her again. He hadn't been at many events, especially not the socials afterwards since that night so this would be the first time he saw her. His members had worked out which group it was and which member and promised you they'd keep an eye on him. You saw Maisie enter before you saw Jongho and you tensed up watching her. She looked so happy and carefree and that bugged you. Gahyeon hugged you telling you to ignore her and you nodded taking her hand "yeah...I won't let her ruin my day" but of course she was everywhere you went. When you went to go grab a bib she was in front of you. When you were lining up on the track her group was right behind you. You kept hearing her annoying laugh, the same one she'd used when she rejected Jongho, and it bothered you insanely. So when you found out your group was facing Porcelain in a football match you were more than ready. You were competitive anyway but JiU made you promise to behave. "Don't start a fight with her or anything, not because I think you wouldn't win but more like I know you'd kick her ass and get told off" and you laughed "I would, wouldn't I?" and the girls chuckled. You were pretty good at football so were the striker and it just so happened Maisie was a defender. You sighed when you saw the position she'd been given, meaning she'd be with you all the time and Siyeon rubbed your arm "it's okay, you can beat her but just don't be excessive" and you nodded "okay". Anytime Maisie got the ball you dispossessed her and it was honestly quite cathartic but to be honest she didn't get the ball much because she acted like this was 50 years ago and screamed anytime the ball came near her. She'd then look around to see if anyone had noticed her reaction and adjust her hair telling you she wasn't really scared but was doing that annoying thing of pretending to be weak to appear more girly as if being weak had anything to do with being a woman. So you started marking other players because she was clearly no threat and you didn't want to be beside her any more than you had to be. You managed to score twice and were winning 3 - 1 when the literal golden opportunity arrived. They were playing music in the background and an Ateez song came on making you glance to where the boys were standing, cheering you in the stands. Then there was a scuffle on the pitch where one of Maisie's members pushed Handong nearly making her fall. The ball rolled away from the group of girls and directly to Maisie. She got the ball but didn't see you directly behind her. She actually giggled thinking she was in the clear and it was so perfect you smiled. You sprinted towards her and her fans started trying to warn her but it was too late. You tackled the ball from her, not even touching her, but with enough momentum, she was knocked to the floor with a child-like scream. You proceeded to the goal and shot it into the top right corner and your fans erupted into screams. Your teammates all cheered and you did a celebration dance. Maisie was furious because there was now mud on her face and she claimed you pushed her. The referee kept telling her you hadn't even touched her and that made her actually shriek. "God what a mess" Sua said and you giggled. You knew it was mean but after that, you tried to annoy Maisie as much as you could. You'd purposefully bump into her and anytime she so much as went near the ball you were there. She was clearly getting really annoyed with you and you actually heard her comment that girls like that shouldn't be allowed to play with normal girls. "If she falls on me she could literally injure me!" you heard her tell one of her members and you grinned "then maybe try and stay on your feet? Hard I know but give it a go" and you ran off. The hilarious part was she actually did try challenging you a few times too but you easily outmanoeuvred her by being faster, stronger and more skilled. You were enjoying this way too much but thankfully the whistle was called and you won. You didn't gloat too much but did cheer with your members. "Y/n you murdered her!" Handong cried and you laughed "well I guess it was just payback for Jongho" and they all nodded. "Plus revenge for knocking you down" you said to Handong who blushed and smiled. Nobody messed with the people you cared about. When you saw Ateez later the boys were similarly pleased with your performance and congratulated you. "Way to take out the trash Y/n!" Wooyoung cried and Seonghwa nodded "I thought she was actually going to try and fight you at one point". "Yeah like she'd be dumb enough to try that!" Yunho cried and you laughed thanking them all but one member was suspiciously quiet. Jongho. You figured he might just be quiet because of the circumstance but even later on when the event ended he still hadn't spoken to you. You thought this was odd so managed to find him backstage. "Hey" you said waving to him "how are you? I haven't seen you all day". Jongho nodded "fine" but didn't look up from his phone. You frowned "are you sure? You don't seem fine". "I'm fine" he repeated not coldly but firmly so you let it drop. After Isac Ateez were having a party and they invited your group and a few others. You went and noticed Jongho wasn't joining in. He claimed he was getting changed but spent nearly 2 hours in his room and when he appeared he just went outside so you followed him. "Hey" you called and Jongho nodded "hi". "So... you sure you're still okay?” you asked and Jongho just nodded. "Jongho look it's okay you're upset to see her. It's going to be awkward the first few times but it must've been great watching us beat her". Jongho sighed "yeah sure...watching your friend fight your battles feels great". You paused "what? I wasn't fighting your battle just giving her a taste of her own medicine”. Jongho shook his head "didn't look like it to me. Looked like I was too pathetic to act so you did instead". "Jongho people aren't going to think that” you argued but he shook his head "yes they are! People know we're friends and you made it so obvious you had a problem with Maisie. They can easily connect the dots". You frowned "I...well I don't think I embarrassed you. We're friends, why wouldn't I want to defend you?" you asked. Jongho sighed "but it makes me look so weak y/n!". "Why because a girl was defending you?" you asked. "No of course not! I've watched you beat Wooyoung up tons of times and cheered you on. I know you're strong and have no issues with that". "So what about me was so embarrassing?" you asked. When Jongho couldn't reply you shook your head "sorry for trying to help" you said "next time I won't so I won't humiliate you" and stormed away. Jongho watched you go and lasted 10 seconds before he rushed after you, the guilt setting in but you’s disappeared!The house was pretty full but he spotted your members and approached them. They just wordlessly pointed to the front door and he receded out of it. He thought he might have to chase after your car but he found you sitting at the bench at the end of the path. "Mind if I sit?" he asked and you shook your head. "I'm sorry" he said "you're not embarrassing. You always have my corner and I'm so grateful for that". "So what made you so upset?" you asked. Jongho sighed "I guess because you confronting her confirmed it happened. I know it did but I just pretend it didn't in public. That's why I've never confronted her, I'm too embarrassed to but you going head to head with her...I felt like it made it more real. It wasn't something I could just pretend didn't happen and that embarrassed me. I was embarrassed of myself" he clarified "for being such an idiot to think a girl like that would be into me". You shook your head "don't do that, don't put yourself down for her". "But it's true!" Jongho said "I was feeling good that night because I'd got compliments from lots of idols about the high note I reached and my body was the best I'd ever seen. I was feeling confident so I tried my luck but I overshot. No matter how good a singer I am I still don't look like Wooyoung". "Stop it" you said "I didn't kick Maisie's ass today for you to think you're not good-looking. I did it to prove to her you were. That there are people out there who disagree with her and think you're a great guy. You're strong, handsome and have a beautiful kind face any girl with a brain would want". "That's sweet but you're probably the only person who thinks that and you're my best friend so you just see me in the perfect non-sexy way friends view one another". You looked down and shook your head "guess I'm not a friend then" and Jongho looked at you "what?". "I think you're hot Jongho, I have for a while" you admitted and Jongho's eyes widened "what?". "I'm attracted to you" you admitted "which is partly why it angered me so much to hear Maisie say that stuff to you and how it affected you. I hated that it made your confidence dip because to me... you're beautiful". Jongho blushed and looked down "I had no idea...". "Yeah well it was something I kept hidden" you admitted "I wasn't going to melt anytime you walked in the room". Jongho smiled "no you're way too cool for that" making you pause and blush. "So you're telling me all this time I could've had a girl like you and I was after Maisie?" Jongho asked. You paused "I guess" and he shook his head "wow now I'm really glad she rejected me because nobodies better than you". You blushed "wait so you...". "I like you too" Jongho admitted shooting you one of his beautiful smiles "you've always showered me with care and love and I want to do the same with you. I think I can make you happy" he said placing a hand on your face making you blush even more. "I think you can too" you admitted and you both leaned forwards at once. "Hey has anyone seen Jongho?" Seonghwa asked the group assembled before him "he's not in his room". "He went after Y/n like an hour ago, is he not back yet?" Siyeon asked. "No, I hope he's okay" Yunho sighed when Sua started laughing. "What's so funny?" Hongjoong asked and the girl turned around smiling. "Neither of them got very far, look" Sua said stepping away from the window and they all rushed forwards...to see the two of you wrapped up together on the bench. Jongho had an arm around you and you were leaving against his chest. Jongho was leaning his head against yours and the two of you looked so cute. "Finally!" Wooyoung cheered and all the members laughed before gasping realising the other group knew all along too. They all began debating which one of you had fallen for the other first but you and Jongho were far away. Wrapped up with each other nothing else in the world mattered because you'd finally found each other. _____ Okay so I heard a rumour something similar to what I described at the start of this story really happened to Jongho. I'm not saying the rumour is true and I changed the idol's name to not accuse her, but the idea alone made me so sad and angry so I created this!

#jongho #jongho fic #jongho imagine #jongho x reader #jongho x female reader #jongho x you #ateez fic #ateez imagine #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez x female reader #ateez jongho #jongho ateez #kpop #kpop ateez #hongjoong #wooyoung #seonghwa #dreamcatcher #handong #dami #sua #siyeon #jiu #gahyeon #ateez jongho imagine #ateez jongho fic #ateez jongho x reader #ateez jongho x female reader #ateez jongho x you

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 12

And here we are at the end. Thank you so much for being on this journey with me.

Here we have Steve's POV of the last scene from last week, he talks to Hopper and Steve's uncle further proves he'd be a better parent than Clint Harrington.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11

****

Steve watched Eddie march to the truck and let out a shuddering breath. He thought that they had really connected here. But now as they were going back to Hawkins it appeared that Eddie was just going to leave that here in Ashland.

He got to his car and looked at the sad little cooler and just lost it. He started cursing and hitting the steer wheel.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he hissed. “You never did hear a name, did you, Harrington? Apparently he was in love with someone else all this time and was only being nice because you were having a mental break down.”

He could feel the tears stream down his face. Bitter and angry. “You should have been supporting him not the other way round. That’s probably why he’s soooo pissed at you. Because he was grieving and you made it all about you. Like you always do. Fuck!”

Just then the passenger side door was wrenched open and Eddie slid in.

The tears dried up instantly in his surprise. “Eds?”

And then Eddie proceeded to just knock all his intrusive thoughts out of the fucking ballpark. Just sent them running like a scared dog with its tail between its legs.

Then kissed him about it.

They still needed to have a proper conversation but that could wait until they were back in Hawkins.

Steve could live with that.

*

When they got home they had that talk. Eddie learned about all the different girls who had propositioned him and was pissed on his behalf.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” he said. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Steve shrugged. “You had enough on your plate. Plus, I sicced Uncle Danny after them.”

Eddie blinked. “Oh. I think I would have paid good money to see that.”

“I didn’t have to send anyone after Beth though,” Steve said with a grin, “Lauren did that all on her own.”

“I’m so glad you two got along,” Eddie murmured. “But in the future, you tell me these things. I want to protect you, the way you protect everyone else, okay?”

Steve agreed.

Wayne walked into the new house provided by the government, wiping his hands on an old rag.

“Everything is in the garage for us to sort and place later,” he told Eddie.

“You two going to be wanting help getting everything in?” Steve asked.

Wayne shook his head. “Lauren and her Uncle Hal are coming out next week to help out.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully. “Yeah? I didn’t hear about that.”

Wayne had the presence of mind to blush. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve and Eddie said together.

Wayne cleared his throat. “So I’m going to be seeing you a lot more now that you and Ed are together?”

Steve grinned, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and putting his head on his shoulder. “I’ll be here so often, you’ll think I live here.”

Wayne hummed. “We’ll come back to that in a few months.”

Eddie blushed. “Nice to know you aren’t planning the wedding already, old man.”

Wayne blinked innocently. “Oh I am, but I’m thinking fall of next year or the year after.”

Eddie coughed and sputtered as Steve laughed.

He turned to Steve. “Why aren’t you defending me against this?” He waved at Wayne’s smug expression.

“Because I’m already coming up with arguments for a late spring early summer wedding instead.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “That’s some confidence you got there, darlin’. What makes you think I’ll say yes.”

Steve kissed him, slow and searing.

Eddie blushed. “Yup. Okay. Uh-huh. Point made.”

Wayne just smiled fondly.

*

Steve was really starting to regret setting the party on his Uncles Percy and David.

Robin, El, and Will had kidnapped Percy, while Dustin, Mike, and Nancy had absconded with David somewhere.

Eddie, Lauren, and Jonathan were talking to Hal and Lucas, Max, and Erica were talking to Wayne.

Hopper came up to Steve and put his arm around his shoulders.

Steve relaxed into the embrace.

“You did good, kid,” Hopper said. “I’m proud of you.”

Steve nodded and then rubbed the end of his nose, trying to fight back the tears.

“I had a long talk with Joyce about some of her choices that she made while I was gone,” he continued. “I’m glad I’m out of that hell hole, but she should have made sure everyone was safe first.”

“She had a lot on her plate,” Steve murmured.

Hopped cuffed the back of his head. “Don’t you go forgiving her without her apologizing first. I had to go back to California because apparently some fucked up general decided to shoot up the Byers house in Lenora.”

Steve looked over at Hopper in shock. “They did what now?”

Hopper nodded. “It was a complete shit show. But you have to know, I wouldn’t have just left you behind if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“I know, I just...”

“Just wish you didn’t have to handle it?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I getcha. I wish you didn’t have to either. But I trust you to take care of everyone here, because I know they’re in safe hands with you.”

Steve choked back a sob. “Thanks, Hop.”

“Still can’t believe you’re dating that Munson kid,” he teased.

Steve pushed Hop way playfully. “Oh fuck off. He’s a good man.”

Hop looked over at him talking to Jonathan and Hal. “If he gets you to take care yourself or at least does it for you, he gets a pass from me.”

Steve blushed. “He takes care of me. It’s incredible how easy he makes it look.”

“I know your family was shit growing up,” Hop said. “But look at it now.”

Steve looked out at the fifteen-sixteen people out there lounging around the swimming pool with fondness.

“I always wanted a big family,” he said softly. “Who would have thought that all it would take is some extra-dimensional monsters to make it happen.”

Hopper chuckled. “I feel you kid. Before I started all this, I had lost my daughter to cancer and my wife to divorce. Now, not only do I have another daughter to take care of, I have a woman I love and her two boys that are like her sons to me.”

Steve made a grimace. “Does that mean Jonathan is my step-brother, because ew.”

“I heard that Harrington!” Jonathan called out.

Steve and Hopper laughed.

Eddie came bounding up to Steve. “I’m not sure I want the Chief as a father-in-law, babe.”

Steve smiled. “Oh that is going to make for some very awkward family dinners.

Percy came up behind Eddie.

“Hello, I’m Steve’s uncle, Percy,” he said extending his hand to Hopper to shake.

“Yeah,” Hopper said. “I’ve been hearing all about you. I’m sorry Clint Harrington kept you away from Steve for all this time.”

Percy nodded. “Jasper being an idiot didn’t help, unfortunately. But I’m in Steve’s life for good. There’s nothing that his parents could do that would change that.”

Steve gave Percy a hug in gratitude.

“Welcome to Hawkins then,” Hopper said with a smile. “It’s bit of a mess at the moment, but it’s home.”

“Well,” Percy said with a smile, “the welcome so far has been amazing I’m happy Steven has a support system now.” He turned to Steve. “May I pull you away for a moment. There’s something I would like to talk to you about.”

Steve looked at Hopper and Eddie who both shrugged. “Sure, lead the way.”

Percy went inside the kitchen and sat down at the counter. “When you told me that you didn’t get into the colleges and universities you applied for, I called around.”

Steve frowned. “Why? My grades slipped after Christmas my senior year. I ended at 2.76 GPA. I figured that wasn’t good enough to get in.”

“Yes,” Percy said. “If they only looked at your senior year. But they don’t. They look at a cumulative GPA from all your years at high school. You had a cumulative GPA of 3.16. Which is more than enough to get into any college you wanted. Especially with you still winning medals in swimming.”

His frown deepened. “But Dad said that I didn’t get into any of those schools.”

“Yes, which I thought was odd,” Percy further explained. “Which is why I called. Steven, you got accepted into two thirds of the schools you applied for.”

Steve leaned back. “What? That’s not possible.”

“I’m guessing Clint only showed you the one third you didn’t get into and told you the rest was the same.”

“Why?” he breathed. “Why would he do that?”

“Because the schools you got into weren’t the ones he wanted you to go to is my next guess.”

“I can go to college?” Steve asked, his lip quivering. “I don’t have to be stuck here my whole life?”

Percy shook his head. “You are a smart young man, and David and I are very committed to helping you get to where you want to go in life. Your parents mail have failed you, but I promise we won’t.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “Thank you so much.”

Percy got up and hugged him. “Now go back out to your boy, he’ll be worried about you.”

Steve nodded and walked back out.

Percy followed close behind and wrapped his arm around David’s waist.

“You think they’re going to be okay?” David asked as they watch Steve and Eddie cling to each other.

“Oh yes,” Percy said. “It may have taken a tragedy to get them here, but they are smart boys with a great support system. There is nothing those boys can’t do now.”

“I’m happy to have met them,” David said.

“Me too.”

****

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #minor character death #dealing with grief

[saylor-twift]

alright, so first off. This is my first time doing a req to a creator/author/writer I admire so much so hopefully I won't cause any confusion— ">-< but could you uhh do a wanderer x reader unrequited love? (eg: wanderer prefers someone over reader) I really want more angst to read and also with this topic. You don't have to take this request if you're not comfortable!

(❄️. SHON)

Yes yes I can!! This is such a coincidence cause I just recently made a very similar request to one of my mutuals haha. Recently I’ve lowkey had this brain rot of Wanderer having feelings for the traveler (Lumine) because i’ve been reading so much Scaralumi lmfao and it lowkey makes me kinda salty even tho i love them to death so that’s kinda the direction this will take :) Thanks so much for asking!!

side note: I’m so fking angry i literally had this whole thing proofread and totally ready like an hour and a half ago when my tumblr fucking shuts down and deletes all my work and I had already deleted it off the google doc so I could paste the version from tumblr so i had to go restore the google doc and ughhh it caused me an extra hour of work cause i had to proofread everything again. anyways, please enjoy :)

Live is to Love, as Love is to Hurt

word count: 6801

also heads up for anyone who doesn’t know, I like to refer to Wanderer as Kunimitsu cause that’s the name I gave him :)

Everyone knows, or should know at least, that when one decides to accept something, anything, that they are also agreeing to take on each and every single thing that comes with it. To look forward to the rebirth of spring means also accepting that the barren, frosty breath of winter will indeed return, turning the once lush gardens of the world into sharp, jagged blades of grass and trees devoid of green. The same is true when you decide to accept somebody into your life. You must know that no matter how benevolent and perfect to you they may seem, fate has its mishaps, and doesn’t always play a fair game. And yet there’s one more thing, one might think after learning all these things that the way they will be better off is to never take risks. And supposedly yes, maybe you won’t get hurt, but you also won’t live. Because to live is to love, to live is to hurt, to live is to heal.

This current chapter of life feels strikingly similar to one of those slice of life novels you’d expect to find at the bookstore on the corner of the street. Only it wasn’t something you read whilst sipping tea on a sunday afternoon, it’s more like the type of heart-breaking piece of literature you finish late on friday nights, the kind that leaves you restless and contemplating the rest of the weekend. Or in this case, the rest of the month. And instead of seeing yourself in the life of the main character and mourning for them as if they were your own, the one who hurts is you, and it feels like nobody from the sidelines is mourning on your behalf. It’s almost ridiculous the amount of times you’ve mentally punched yourself for being this distraught, doesn’t everybody experience heartbreak at least once in their life? Maybe they do, but not everyone feels it this hard. Not everyone devotes every single inch of love in their hearts towards one singular person, only to have it blown out like the candles on a birthday cake, because the candles of the one you love burn for somebody who isn’t you.

And maybe if you were younger, if you were less understanding, if you had less control… you would be vengeful, heart full of nothing but envy for the lovely woman whose presence has his full attention. But you’re not, because you’ve grown. You’re older, you’re wiser, you understand. You understand the kind of pain such a mindset would inflict not only on the people around you, but also yourself. It’s truly hard to feel hate for that beautiful woman. She’s ever so kind, and strong, and beautiful and perfect and everything you’ve somehow convinced yourself that you’re not. She’s never wronged you, it’s not her fault. Truthfully, it’s not anyone’s fault. But that won’t change the fact that it hurts. In fact, it maims your very soul more than any pain you could have felt before. Most people would wonder why you even felt for him in the first place if they knew the history the two of you had. Yet the answer comes clear as day. To feel such comfort around him is something that rarely comes from other people. You know you can speak your mind on a bad day without scaring him off, and he knows, you hope he knows, that you’d put up with and listen to him as much as he needed as well. You love the way you always have to stifle a laugh whenever he makes an inappropriate comment, or how he’s unafraid to let you know when you’re wrong. How he always has to ponder the mysteries of the world at such a deep level, never taking things at face-value. And how he always hears you out from your perspective, never making you feel crazy or out of place for your seemingly otherworldly ideas.

Maybe it irked you at first, his insouciant and immature behavior, but it’s difficult to keep lying to yourself when really you knew deep down how endearing it felt, to have someone close enough to share such experiences with. And yet, through all of this, it seemed you had read him all wrong. This was the first time you had ever loved someone this deeply, let alone loved at all. People these days, especially young people, seem to lack the mental complexities you’d prefer in a partner. You wanted someone you could love and understand, not just some accessory at the hip to just brag and boast about. Even with all the times he’d berated you with insults and poked fun at your mishaps, he still possessed a sort of depth to his mentality, the kind that honestly made you fawn over the way you could hold meaningful conversations without feeling like you didn’t belong. If you recall correctly, he did mention once that he wasn’t a fan of small talk. Maybe that was just the way he was, or maybe it came as a result of his seemingly never ending history of trauma. (it made your heart clench just thinking about it, but you rarely brought it up. You knew all too well he wasn’t fond of the subject)

It only made sense he managed to snatch your heart right up into an unbreakable death grip. You were in love with him, for sure and certain. And it was likely that undying inferno, clouding your correct judgment in a cloud of smoke and ash, that led you to be here in this scene, the very moment that truly broke your heart, for the very first time.

You’d seen him with the girl a number of times, and to be fair, neither of them had ever confirmed any affection for the other, so perhaps you were just overthinking it all. Maybe to think such things would only be setting yourself up for disappointment, but for now, that could be left to the future. Maybe, if you were to get over your fears and doubts for just a moment, you would tell him. Maybe plan something for just the two of you, like they do in those cheap romance novels, and over a glass of zaytun peach lemonade, you look him in the eyes and say, “I love you.” And he would reply with, “Yes, so do I.” And the day would end however the author of said cheap romance novel sees fit.

And so you decide to do exactly that.

You find yourself sitting in immense regret as you wait outside the doors to the Akedemiya, anxiously picking at the cuticle of one of your nails as the unforgiving sun beats down on the back of your head. You’ll likely never fully get used to Sumeru’s weather. Typically at this time of the week, he attends the usual Vahumana lecture, begrudgingly of course. That was one of the things he was fond of complaining to you about, specifically the professor, whom he described as a “sulking old wench on the verge of death.” Maybe the description was a little much, but it elicited little giggles out of you nonetheless. And as the clock hits two in the afternoon, your anticipation only increases as you watch the door open and close, pairs of students leaving in intervals. You instantly perk up as you see his slender figure push its way out from the large wooden doors, making a beeline directly away from where everyone else was heading. Caught up in simply admiring him as he strolls away, lost in a daze, you suddenly snap out of your daydream as the realization hits you that he’s the reason you’re here. If he gets away, you’ll lose your chance.

With one last quick, deep breath of reassurance, you jog up to his side before he’s too far away, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Hey, hold on!” You call out, cheeks instantly redding as he cocks his head in your direction with a (thankfully) only mildly annoyed expression. Having a crush is so much more mortifying than you would have ever anticipated. “Hey-“

“What?” He interrupts, clearly already exasperated with whatever antics he thinks you intend to throw his way. “How was school?” You inquire, jogging up to his side again as he quickens his pace out of annoyance. “Don’t ask questions like that, I’m not your child.”

“Fine, my fault for wanting to know how you’re doing. I have a request for you.” You press on, not wanting to waste much time with his brashness. “I’m going to decline.” He insists. “No, you won’t. Well, maybe you will. But i’m politely requesting that you accept.”

“Well, you have to tell me what it even is first, no?”

You mentally roll your eyes. He always had to be like this, didn’t he? “I’m getting there. I was, um.. wondering if you were going to be busy this afternoon?” You question, cringing at the way the words failed to come out as smoothly as you had originally intended. He scoffs at this, followed by a laugh. “You’re hilarious. What do you actually want from me?”

“..what do you mean? I’m asking if you have any plans for the rest of today.”

“Why? Is Kusanali being overly dependent on her little errand boy again? I would’ve thought she would tell me herself, not send some messenger.”

This causes you to cringe. Despite the immense progress he’s made, he still can’t comprehend the fact that there are people who actually care for him and don’t see him as just some sort of a tool. “Oh come on, is that really the conclusion you’re going to jump to?” You ask with a hand on your hip. “What other reasons could you possibly have for seeking me out? Don’t tell me you actually want to spend time with me?” He quirks an eyebrow in amusement as he crosses his arms. He enjoys messing with you, he really does. “And what if I do?” You respond with an equally smug expression, seemingly forgetting about your previous nervousness and relishing in the fact that you can lightheartedly tease each other like this. “Then I’d tell you that you’re a fool. I don’t see any possible way you could benefit from being around me.”

“Why do you do this? Is it really so difficult to imagine that people enjoy being around you? Haven’t you spent enough time around me to know I’m not joking?”

He sighs, half in exasperation and half in defeat. “So you’re really saying you came all the way out here because you want to waste your afternoon on me? If I agree to whatever escapade you have planned, will you leave me alone then?” His voice is only slightly, but definitely noticeably softer than it was before. “I wouldn’t call it a waste. Please give yourself some credit.” You insist. “Fine, I’ll indulge you this once. But I better not hear any more of this.” He says, only mildly displeased. You smile madly to yourself, biting a lip as you fight to contain yourself, at least for the time required to form your next sentence. “Okay well, I’m not letting you back out now. Can we agree to meet somewhere then?”

“..if you insist.”

And not much longer after that, the two of you had agreed to meet a few hours later in the evening outside of the Grand Bazaar. Zubayr Theater had planned that day to host a small festival in honor of what Nilou liked to call it’s “grand reopening”. Following recent events, the matra of the Akedemiya had decided to lay back on some of their laws and views regarding the arts, meaning that the theater was free to perform as openly as it liked, with some rules, of course. Needless to say, Nilou was absolutely ecstatic. She’d choreographed a whole show solely for the sake of reopening, and the streets of Sumeru City were plastered with all of the posters and flyers. Not only were you more than happy to come and support your good friend and her passions, you were also quite fond of the arts and always enjoyed a good performance. Not to mention it made a decent first date spot for two aspiring lovers. (“Date” was a strong word, and you were fully aware of the fact that a date was not what this was. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but daydream about such things.)

You’d graciously purchased a ticket for yourself as well as for him, much to his surprise. “And what if I hadn’t decided to show up? What would you do with your wasted money then?” He quirks as the two of you walk inside the theater, breathing in the scent of spices mixed with floral perfumes. “Well you’re here aren’t you? That means I don’t have to worry about that. But if for some crazy reason you did decide to ditch me, I’d just find some lucky unsuspecting stranger who’d appreciate a theater ticket much more.” You reply. “Of course you would. Always so generous.” He quips, not lacking his usual sarcasm. “Well what would you rather I do with it?” You question curiously. He scoffs. “That's not what I meant, your answer was fine. I’m just saying it’s so very like you.”

“Whatever, just come on. I think you might actually enjoy this, Nilou is very talented!” You chirp, skipping ahead to the doors of the auditorium, your enthusiasm showing right through. In truth, you had decided to bring him to a quiet place such as a theater as an excuse to not have to make too much conversation with him. The long performances would give you plenty of time to come up with what you were going to say once the time came. As guilty as it made you feel, you really only paid a fraction of attention to the lovely performance as your thoughts were lost elsewhere. It was finally beginning to dawn on you how anxious you really were, and a pool of regret starts forming in your chest as your mind conjures up all of the worst possible scenarios. He’s not exactly known for being the most compassionate person, so fear of rejection was only worse in this case. Would he ridicule you, or would he simply spit venom in your face like there’s no tomorrow? Either way, whether this night would turn out for the worse or for the better, you were too far in to turn back now. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

He didn’t seem to have much to say himself either, only making a snide remark as the curtains opened and remaining mostly silent for the rest of the performance. You’d almost say he was enamored with the dancers, watching them with a lovely sort of infatuation, almost as if he was also lost in his own little world. You find yourself continuously sneaking glances at him, whether to try and catch some sort of emotion on his face or simply just to look at him, you weren’t entirely sure. If he notices your constant little glances, he makes no comment. With a final flourish of sounds, music and lights that snaps you out of your anxiety-filled little daze, you zone back into the stage as the audience roars with applause and the curtains slowly come to a close. You breath in deep for your nose, realizing that you can no longer hide in the darkness and music of the theater. And for the first time since the beginning of the whole show, he speaks up. “You know, I might have doubted you a bit too much. It would be a lie to say that wasn’t a little enjoyable. You’re right, that girl does have some talent.”

Taking a minute to actually process that he was speaking to you, you blink a couple of times before turning to face him. “O-oh! See? I told you. Are you realizing now that you don’t always have to be so pessimistic?” He quirks an eyebrow at the way you appear to be so startled, but chooses to make no mention of it. “I hate to break it to you, but one night of little dance performances isn’t going to change my philosophy, no matter how much you want it to.” He chuckles as the two of you start to filter out with the rest of the crowd. “Maybe not tonight, but I bet one day I will.”

“Mhm. Good luck with that.”

By the time you exit the theater, the sun has almost completely gone down, only casting the city in the faintest remnants of orange and yellows. The ambience of the night can only be described as tranquil with the way it bathes the buildings in its warm purples and cooler blues. It fits him so well, you think. So well, you don’t even realize you’re staring. The moonlight illuminates the carefully sculpted features of his face, making him appear as if he were straight from one of the paintings of the masters. The artist clearly has a steady hand, with each brush stroke being carefully placed to exact precision, the colors fading into each other absolutely beautifully. It truly is a once in a lifetime experience to get the chance to lay eyes on somebody this breathtaking. You’re a sight for eyes, Kunimitsu. Are the words your brain decides to conjure up following this butterfly-inducing observation. But of course, such moments can only live so long as he decides to cut you off with a rather embarrassing reality check. “You’re staring. Something you want to say?”

The blush attacks your cheeks faster than you can even blink, eyes widening for but a moment. You’ve been caught red handed, nothing you can do about that. Instead of averting your gaze in shyness, you grasp tightly to that little sliver of confidence left from the beginning of this whole endeavor, using it as assistance for crafting your next words. “Hmm.. maybe there is.” The words fall out flawlessly, gaze never leaving his. And then there it is again, that familiar feeling of teeny tiny butterflies making themselves at home in the pit of your stomach with the way his eyes meet yours. “Then I think we should go find a place to sit. There’s… actually something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you as well.” He replies, with him being the one to break eye contact instead of you. If you strain your ears just hard enough, you swear he sounds uncharacteristically softer than usual, and you instantly wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are. And with the way he immediately follows by tilting his hat down to cover his expression and quickens his pace, he has to be, you think. “Good. I wanted a drink, anyway.”

You imagine yourself being patted on the shoulder reassuringly, it’s truly now or never. You’re by yourself again, waiting in a surprisingly short line for lemonade. Disappointingly, the clearly under-staffed lemonade stand had quickly run out of many of the good flavors, including your favorite, zaytun peach. Deciding not to let it get you down, you settle on two glasses of plain lemonade, figuring that the Wanderer would prefer that kind anyway. You still hadn’t figured out what his deal was when it came to food. He didn’t seem like a picky eater, but he always grimaced anytime anyone made a comment regarding anything gooey and sweet. You hadn’t quite figured out if he hated all sweet things, or if it was just sweet things that also happened to be sticky… but no matter, if the citrus drink happened to not be to his liking, that was the least important concern on your mind at the moment. With annoyingly shaky hands and an increased heart rate, you take the two cool glasses of lemonade and make your way over to where your companion has already claimed a spot at a table, shaded and secluded away from the rest of the festival-goers.

You set the cups down, which he barely even acknowledges. Neither do you, practically forgetting about their entire existence the moment your legs hit the smooth wooden structure of the chair. He shifts in his seat, almost uncomfortably, you note, turning to face you. Much to your chagrin, he decides not to say anything, leaving the two of you in a dreadfully uncomfortable silence. “So-“

“You wanted to tell me something?” You interrupt. Truly you weren’t sure why, though it was most likely because you were trying to find some last minute way to further procrastinate your confession. He pauses for a moment, before inhaling sharply, followed by an unnecessarily long exhale. “I… suppose I do. I’ve given this quite a bit of thought, and I’ve decided that despite the way you annoy me and your persistent show of naivety, I still think you’d have a good outlook on my predicament.” Usually when he makes quips like this, you’d playfully roll your eyes, followed by a witty retort of your own. But it seems that at this point into the night, you’ve already spent up all your previously prepared confidence. Your hands are under the table, one finger working nonstop at picking a loose cuticle, already turning pink and uncomfortable and raw from the friction. “I’ll… try my best. What exactly is it?” Your voice comes out smaller than intended, and you wonder if he can sense your anticipation.

He makes an ‘ugh’ sound as his head drops forward, the bridge of his nose coming to land directly in between his pointer and thumb. “I just… I’m conflicted. I don’t…” This causes you to furrow your brows together at his odd display of vulnerability. It seems he’s at a loss for words, the first time you’ve ever witnessed such a thing. “About… what?” You query, clasping your hands together underneath the table. He squeezes his eyes shut and a forced exhale leaves his nose, and it’s the first time you think you’ve ever seen him willingly show that much emotion around you. “I’ve been… trying to come to terms with something as of late. And I’m just not understanding how all you mortals endure these kinds of things every day, it’s honestly appalling.” He lifts his head up from between his fingers, looking at you concernedly, as if he really was being honest about how he felt. “Okay, well first of all, I doubt that you actually feel things any less than the ordinary human, you just like to hide it. Second, what is it that’s bothering you even? You’re concerning me.” You comment. He scoffs. “The amount I feel is not the point. I am incredibly disturbed by this, and you are the only person I feel can advise me on what to do. You’re quite the expert on emotions, after all.”

You’re not quite sure whether he’s giving you a compliment or calling you emotional, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he’s even coming to you about something that clearly means so much to him hints at the fact that there might be some greater feeling lingering behind all of this. You’re about to open your mouth to ask once again what he means by all this, but he beats you to it, and you swear you see the apples of his cheeks turn a dusty rose color. “I keep having this reoccurring thought, about a person… that I may hold some sort of fondness for..”

Your breath hitches. This whole time your well-thought out (more like impulsive, but you digress) plan was to get him alone so that you would have to work up the courage on your own to confess to him. But now, was he going to do it for you? Would you be getting the happy ending you’d daydreamed about for so long? You zone out for the better part of his speech, attention only coming back for the last few words.

“…your friend, actually. You know, the one with the (color) hair? Surely you’ve noticed? That’s why I’m telling you, you’re the only one I feel even remotely comfortable with giving this information.”

What.

With those words, you swear you could literally feel your face turn white . Could you perhaps have misheard? Is he alluding to something else? It’s almost like you’re in denial. The only physical reaction this confession seems to get out of you is a blank stare, while your mind on the other hand is practically on a wild rampage. The man you love more than anything, more than life, more than the sun, more than yourself, sitting in front of you, telling you directly to your face that his heart belongs to somebody whose name is not yours. Whose whole persona you wish so dearly could be your own. And the audacity to ask for advice on what to do was really just the cherry on top. You feel absolutely mortified, like there’s a sizzling flame, a light in your stomach making you feel like you’d vomit the entirety of your organs at any given moment. He couldn’t possibly be lying either, with the way his whole demeanor seems to change to a completely different person when he speaks about her. He seems so oddly vulnerable telling you about how he feels. At the very least, he trusts you more than most to be so willingly sharing his thoughts with you. That’s something, at least.

After a short moment too long of silence, you blink away your surprise, putting on a soft expression that reads ‘congratulations, I’m so happy for you’ despite the ache forming in your heart. “Ah, is that so? You know, I think it’s great you’re allowing yourself this. She’s a beautiful girl, I’m sure she loves you just as much.” Gods, that hurt more than anything else you’ve ever had to say before. He pauses for a moment before speaking again, and you fear it’s because he’s noticed your trepidation. “You’re very perceptive for a mortal, you know. That much I’ve picked up on, if not anything else. So is that really what you think then? That she could really harbor any sort of affection for me, despite what I’ve done?” And if that doesn’t hurt even more. The first reason being that he clearly loves this girl even deeper than you’d originally thought, the second being that he still believes himself to be so inherently undesirable that he has to ask you for confirmation that another could love him back. And of course he’s lovable, he’s literally taken your very soul and intertwined it with his own.

“Kunimitsu, how could she not? Do you really not see anything in yourself of any value? Of course you’re loved. Despite what you think of yourself, and what you think others should think, you are meant to be cared for just as you are. I- she can see the way you’ve changed, and your efforts to heal and become better. If someone like you cares for her, there isn’t any possible way you aren’t dear to her as well.” The reason these words come out so easily can only be explained by the feelings you harbor so deeply for him. Maybe it sounds too much like a confession of your own, and despite trying to make yourself believe you say it for his own good, you know deep down it’s really because you want to relieve some of that ache for yourself. He looks at you in a relieved sort of way, almost endearing, yet still not fully believing. “Do I really deserve this..?” His eyes are by far the softest you’ve ever seen as he practically begs you to confirm it for him again. And damn it if you didn’t love him so much, if you weren’t so eager to please him. “You do. You really, truly do.” If only he knew how good you’d treat him if you were the one he longed for. If only he knew how hot your flame burned for him, if only he knew the way you longed to hold, caress, and simply just love him. And so you decide you can bear to look at him no longer, lest you break down in tears. “It’s getting a bit late, I think. I hope you think about what I told you. Good night, Kuni.”

You stand up, not really caring anymore if you seemed to end the night too abruptly. Maybe it was selfish to leave just like that, and maybe he could tell you were upset, but none of that mattered. Right now, you really wanted to just put yourself first for once. Nearly the instant you consider yourself far enough away from him or anyone else, you begin to break down. You roughly cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to cover the sound of a pathetic little sob that escapes your vocal chords. A shaky inhale follows as large droplets of salty tears quickly make their way down your cheeks from the corners of your eyes. Your other arm wraps around your midsection at a subconscious attempt at self comfort. You collapse against the slide of a building, sliding down the wall until you’re fully seated on the ground, allowing your emotions to fully take a hold of you. For what feels almost never ending, you cry and cry and cry until you don’t have it in you to produce anything more. You take another shaky breath, whether to calm yourself down or to replace all the oxygen lost, you’re not sure. It doesn’t really help either way.

After several more minutes of just sitting there, hugging your knees to your chest and looking up absentmindedly at the night sky, quite literally contemplating everything about your life, you’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sounds of soft footsteps coming down the cobblestone road. You panic, desperately not wanting anyone to see you in such a state. Upon further inspection, the sounds of the approaching person become clearer. It sounds as if the owner isn’t wearing any shoes. Instead, there’s also the faintest sound of jingling bells. Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch a glimpse of exactly who seems to be approaching, and you sigh in relief. You actually wouldn’t mind a little company from this person, if they even notice you hiding in the depths of your despair. The little dendro archon strolls casually down the street, seeming to be thinking of nothing but how tranquil the ambience is. Part of you wants to step out from your hiding place and greet her, the other urging you to curl away even further. Neither of the thoughts win, resulting in you staying exactly where you are.

The white-haired little sprout hums an old Sumeruen tune as she bounces on the balls of her feet, not a care in the world. Your heart warms a little at the sight. Just as the thought finishes passing through your love-sick mind, she cocks her head to the side, noticing your presence. With a little pleased gasp, she bounces right over to you. “(Name), I’ve been looking all over for you! Why are you sitting all alone?”

You give her a smile, only half attempting to conceal your distress. You don’t really want her to question you about your misfortune, yet at the same time, it would feel really nice to tell somebody you trusted as much as her about it. “Hi, Nahida. I’m just taking a breather, I guess. It’s really nice out tonight, isn’t it?” Your voice is soft and smooth, as it usually is when making conversation with her. “It is indeed! I was just out taking a walk myself. My intention was actually to find you, I was wondering if you had made it to the festival. It seems I ended up getting a bit distracted… so I’d say it’s actually quite lucky I managed to run into you here. Silly me!” She sits down next to you, bells rustling against each other. Her short legs stick out straight and she rests her hands atop her lap. “You were looking for me? What for exactly?” You curiously ask, resting your cheek on the palm of your hand while your head turns to look at her. Your eyelashes are still clustered together in little points as a result of the river of tears just a few minutes prior.

She taps a finger against her chin, a typical habit of hers reserved for thinking. “To be honest… I don’t think I really had a reason. I was just seeking your company! Ever since I met you and the traveler, I’ve found that I quite enjoy spending time with my friends.” This elicits a giggle from you. She didn’t even intend for it to be a compliment, her comment was pure honesty. But nevertheless it succeeded in making you feel a little better to know that you were on her mind, even if she had no idea what you were feeling at the moment. “Well I’m glad you found me then. Did you go to the festival today?”

“No, I didn’t get the chance to. But…” She trails off, giving you a puzzled yet concerned expression.

“Is there something on your mind? I know I’m not an expert yet on human emotions, but I feel as if you are acting differently than you normally do.”

She sits patiently, waiting for a response. True, she had a bit of a hard time contemplating the more complex emotions of humans, but she was still one of the most empathetic people you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

You sigh, might as well tell her the truth. “Nahida, I… you’re right. I am thinking about something. I just don’t know exactly how to tell you..” Your gaze falls down, suddenly you become more interested in picking at your cuticles than the inquisitive girl beside you. She hums in understanding. “I see...” She sits in silence, words failing to find her. They don’t seem to come to you either.

“..shall I read your mind? Not to intrude, but do you think it would help? Would you like me to know what’s wrong?” She pressed, almost carefully. After a bit of trial and error, the young archon had learned that most people don’t appreciate being bluntly asked for their feelings. So, she’d learned to take things with a bit more heed. Any other day, you probably would have laughed, telling her not to worry herself over you. But, thanks to none other than Nahida herself, you’d begun to slowly become a bit more open with how you felt. She’d advised, after reading some self-help book on managing emotions, that you start telling people when you felt something that made you hurt. And as honestly awkward as it was, it was helping. In lieu of a response, you nod your head in answer to her question with a small ‘mhm’ sound, the words once again failing to come to you.

She nods her head as well, giving your shoulder a gentle pat before ever so softly taking your hand in both of hers, treating it as if it were a fragile glass ornament. She gives it a soft kiss before grasping it more firmly, shutting her eyelids before beginning the process of entering your consciousness. Without even trying, you replay the events of earlier that afternoon in your mind, cringing the whole way through. It brought a tough sort of ache into your chest, sort of like bread dough with too much flour. After only a few more seconds of replaying painful scenes and holding your breath without even realizing, she opens her eyes, but chooses not to release your hand just yet. When her expression meets yours, it can only be described as sorrowfully compassionate.

“Oh…” Is the only sound that escapes her lips. You smile sadly and attempt to laugh in order to lighten the mood, regretting it instantly the second the noise emitted from your throat turns into a sob. You cover your mouth with your hand as the tears return yet again. Nahida stands on her knees to better reach you, wrapping her small arms around your shoulders, patting your back comfortingly. “I am so, so, so sorry (Name). If only I had known… he hadn’t even told me about his feelings for her.” She coos. Speaking through your tears, you make an attempt to defend her position. “It’s not- It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” You let your head hang low with no more energy left to hold it high.

“You know that I’ve never experienced such heartbreak personally, but I can imagine it hurts just as much as you say. Please don’t start to think anything less of yourself because of this, you are still perfect.” She lifts herself from the embrace, holding your head in both of her hands. You look up at her with tear stained cheeks that glisten in the moonlight, giving a watery laugh. “Nahida, you are so nice to me. You think you don’t understand emotions, but you still care about mine more than a lot of people I’ve met.”

“It’s my duty as the Archon of Sumeru, isn’t it? I must attend to all the needs of my people. Political, physical, and I also believe emotional. And as one of my newfound friends, I need to take care of you too.” She smiles, resembling that of a proud child after their mother congratulated them on a well-earned school grade. It makes you smile too. “I guess it is then. Thank you, Nahida. You are really a good friend.”

“And so are you! Now, I want you to promise me something, okay? Go to bed tonight as soon as you can, get lots of good rest. And tomorrow make sure to eat a healthy breakfast and get lots of sunshine. Sunshine is proven to lift moods significantly! Can you do that for me?” She counsels, this time resembling that of a mother caring for her ill child. You nod in agreement. “Sure. I’ll try my best.” You know full well agreeing to her worried demands was only to make her happy. Truthfully, you’re not sure for how long this heartbreak will plague your mind. It’s not everyday the love of your life blatantly states to your face that they love somebody who isn’t you. Some people would get angry when faced with a situation like this. Angry at the boy, angry at the other. Angry at themselves, even. But as of right now, you can’t find it in you to be angry. The feeling lingering behind from the shipwreck only seems to be a deep sort of pain, the kind that hollows out your chest and resides deep in the darkest of corners, it’s shadows seeping out to infest every single inch of you. Despite the sunshine peeking in, maybe from the kind words of a friend such as Nahida, the shadows don’t seem all that repulsed by it. When you were younger, you once told yourself you weren’t interested in the idea of falling in love. After reading so many books, nothing about the topic ever appealed to you. But as most people know, lives hardly go as they are planned, hardly follow along with the intentions. You hadn’t meant to fall in love with him, you hadn’t even tried. And maybe that’s what made it hurt so bad, because it seemed the universe had surprised you with a gift so lovely. You accepted, because who wouldn’t turn down such a generous item? Only to find out the universe had made a mistake, that lovely present tied with a satin bow was not in fact made for you, but rather instead for the lovely person next door with sparkling eyes like diamonds and a heart of gold.

Right now, your eyes feel much too clouded to even have a chance at sparkling, and your heart too heavy to be made of anything but black, crumbling coal. Maybe you’ll get over him, or maybe you won’t. Maybe this will be the kind of first love that stays by your side the rest of your life, the kind you tell stories to your grandchildren about when they ask you if you’ve ever been in love. Or maybe the fates will have a change of heart and decide to grant you the wish you’ve been so desperately clinging on to. Either way, you love him. And there will always be a part of you that hopes, maybe, he’ll love you too.

#genshin impact #wanderer #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID WITH THE LEMONADE #IM SO PROUD #i’m gonna go back and proofread this again cause i think i missed some stuff :(

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

angels cry too // eddie munson

Summary: Some wounds from your past that you thought were healed surfaced after an incident with Eddie.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: reader is self-concious, reader has trust issues, mention to shitty friends from the past, angst, happy ending 

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @coffee-jelly544​ for proofreading this! 

main masterlist

“Hi,” Your soft, yet nervous voice drew the attention of the boys at the table. “Does it bother you if I sit here?” You felt so stupid for asking. You should have saved yourself the embarrassment and just gone to your car to eat your lunch. Even the bathroom seemed like a good option right now.

“Yeah, of course,” said one of the younger boys wearing a baseball cap on behalf of the rest of the table.

You muttered a thank you and sat on the table's edge, trying not to bother them. They kept chatting and didn't seem to mind your presence, until a voice appeared out of nowhere.

“Who's the lady?” A new voice inquired; definitely a male.

“Oh, her? She asked us if she could sit here.”

You could feel his gaze on you; he was hoping you'd turn around and lock eyes with him, but you didn't. “Are you new here?”

You raised an eyebrow at his strange question. “No?” You replied, puzzled, finally taking your gaze away from the tray and meeting the dungeon master's.

“Then why are you sitting here?” Eddie's question came across as impolite, even if that wasn't his intention.

“Dude!” The boy who granted you permission to sit there scolded him.

“I- I'm sorry,” you stammered, quickly gathering your belongings and exiting the cafeteria with your gaze fixed on the floor.

“Way to go, dickhead.”

You decided to skip Mrs. O'Donnell's class because you weren't feeling well after the cafeteria incident. You were aware that it shouldn’t have been such a big deal and that you might be labeled as dramatic, but you couldn't stop yourself. So you went to the woods behind the school and sat on the ground against a tree with your walkman on, enjoying your brief moment of bliss until you noticed a figure in front of you. When you looked up, you noticed Eddie standing there.

You removed your headphones, giving him a half-hearted smile.

His hands were in his pockets, giving you a head nod. “What are you listening to?”

“Black Sabbath.”

“You kidding,” his eyes widened.

“Surprised?”

“Kinda,” he admitted, “You don’t strike me as someone who likes Ozzy Osbourne.”

The long-haired boy was met with silence; he wasn't sure if you were still angry at him for unintentionally kicking you out of the cafeteria table or if you simply didn't want to talk to him. Whatever the situation was, it didn't stop him from speaking.

“I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to shake.

“I know who you are.”

“You do?” He frowned. He wasn't the type to forget a beautiful woman, but he couldn't recall seeing you before today.

“We went to middle school together,” you explained. “You left a ‘wanna be my girlfriend’ note on my locker. When I went to say yes, you pulled my ponytail.”

His eyes opened wide, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You gave him a small wave, saying, “The one and only.”

He ran his hand through his hair, shocked. “Oh my goodness! How could I have forgotten?”

You didn't have any classes together because he was two grades ahead of you, but you caught his eye for the first time when you offered him half of your peanut butter sandwich. You simply sat beside him and said nothing, but the small gesture was enough to make his heart race.

Since that day, he always searched for you in the cafeteria or in the hallways, trying to muster the courage to approach you.

“It's okay,” you said softly, “I wouldn't remember me either.”

Eddie chose to ignore your self-deprecating remark and steer the conversation in a different direction. “You look completely different now.”

“So do you.” The boy with a buzzed haircut was nothing like the man in front of you, but he still had those big, kind brown eyes that brought so much peace into your soul.

“What about Harmony and Madison?” Eddie inquired about your middle school friends. “Weren’t you like... best friends? The golden trio.”

“Does such a thing even exist?” You inquired, your gaze fixed on the ground. “A friend is just someone who takes advantage of you until they get bored. They just act as if they care about you, and in the end, you'd do anything for them while they do nothing in return.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, leaving the metalhead speechless. You were nothing like the girl he remembered, always smiling and the literal definition of sunshine. She was now nothing more than a faded memory, vaporized in the air.

The silence was deafening, unbearable. You overstepped your bounds. Eddie didn’t want to listen to your problems, he was just trying to be nice. He wasn’t interested in you or how you’ve been doing all these years. You stood up and began walking away, making the boy feel helpless as he watched your retreating back.

‘I’m so fucking stupid, why can’t I ever do anything right? I’ve ruined everything. He probably thinks I’m some freaking weirdo.’

A heavy sigh left your mouth as you collapsed into your bed. It had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was sleep and wake up to a fresh start. Nonetheless, a flurry of knocks on your window startled you. When you swept aside the curtain and saw what was causing them, you felt your eyes bug out of your head. You pushed the window open quietly, glaring at the long-haired boy who poked his head in.

“Hey, Y/N!” Naturally, he spoke as loudly as he could.

You put your hand over his mouth, not wanting your parents to notice the boy in your room so late at night.

“What is it, Y/N/N?” He asked while using a nickname that no one has called you in years, but for some reason, you didn't call him out on it. “Goblins? Dwarfs? Perhaps a dragon?”

“Worse, grown-ups,” you grumbled. “Come in quietly, Eddie.”

Eddie grinned cheekily, “I'll be stealthy like a ninja.”

You snorted disbelievingly, watching him climb in.

“How did you know where I live?”

“Seriously, Y/N/N?” There was that nickname again, “You have lived here your whole life, and it's not like I've never been here before.”

You squint your eyes at his response. “You were here once, and that was for my tenth birthday party… That was eight years ago!”

Eddie gave you an obnoxious slanted smile, shrugging his shoulders. “I remember important things.”

“You had no idea who I was today. You mistook me for a new student.”

“I knew who you were, I just didn't recognize you because you changed so much,” he defended himself.

“Whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I wanted to check on you. You left too abruptly earlier.”

You crossed your arms, looking away. “Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow to ask me?”

“No,” he said, as if the answer was obvious and the question superfluous.

Eddie made himself at home and sat on the edge of your bed, patting the side beside him, extending an invitation to you.

As long as you can remember, you have been on this path all on your own. You've learned to deal with and solve problems by yourself. You had been duped and betrayed so many times that your guard was always up.

It’s not like you wanted to doubt Eddie or his intentions, but why was he suddenly interested in you after not speaking to you for nearly a decade? He didn't even know who you were today — regardless of his excuses, you knew he didn't remember you. Now he’s made such a big deal out of a brief conversation you had where you —unintentionally— blurted out some thoughts to him that he had to drive to your place in the middle of the night to see how you were.

It was weird. Even for Eddie. There had to be some underlying motives, right? These weren’t just your trust issues taking over your mind.

“Y/N/N,” Eddie snapped his fingers in your face, attempting to get your attention. You blinked, breaking free from your thoughts.

“Eddie, what are you doing here?”

“I already told you. I wanted to see how- ” You didn’t let him finish talking, cutting him off in the middle of the sentence.

“No, I mean, why are you here? We aren't friends, and we never have been. So, why did you drive to my house in the middle of the night, worried about me, after a three-minute conversation we had in school today?”

For a few seconds, the metal-head remained silent, taking in your question. He let out a deep breath, asking, “Is it so difficult to believe that I was genuinely concerned about you?”

You were on the verge of breaking, and the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Eddie Munson, of all people.

“I’m sorry I have trust issues, but when you give someone everything and they throw it away like nothing, something inside of you breaks,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “It's difficult to trust when all you have from the past is proof that you shouldn't.“

You were lonely, but you were a person too, so you always had yourself for company. There are those who are surrounded by people but are truly alone. Some people are so disconnected from the world, from themselves they can never truly connect with others. So even though you appeared to be a loser, you were still yourself. How many people can say that?

“It's late, Eddie; you should go home.” You turned away from him to blink away the tears filling your eyes.

He tried to look at you, saying, “I’m not gonna leave you like this.”

“Why do you care so much?” You were irritated by the boy's persistence. God, you wished you could scream.

You used to think your life was perfect when you were younger. You assumed your friendships would last forever. However, sometimes the light is so bright that you can't see what's in front of you.

Eddie couldn't understand why you wouldn’t accept his help or care for you, even if you tried to explain it to him.

“Do you remember that time I forgot my lunch and you shared your peanut butter sandwich with me?”

You turned to face him, puzzled. “What?”

"You were wearing your typical ponytail and matching pink bow," he recalled. "You brightened every room you entered. And one day, I was sitting alone at a table in the corner when this... angel appeared. She didn't even know who I was, but she sat beside me and shared her lunch with me."

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Cause you always care for others. No matter what. Don’t you think it’s time some cares for you?”

That was your tipping point. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, and you squeezed your eyelids shut in the hope that they would stop. You let out a sob and covered your face with your shaking hands.

You could feel the cold metal of rings and the warmth of a pair of hands on top of yours, gently grabbing and pulling them away from your face. Eddie's tender brown eyes met your bloodshot and puffy ones.

He gently cupped your soaked and sweaty face and wiped your cheeks with his thumb before engulfing you in his embrace. Your nostrils were captivated by the smell of cheap cologne and weed. You nuzzled yourself deeply against his chest while gripping the lapels of his staple denim jacket.

Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around your frame, allowing you to let it all out. You could feel his right hand rubbing your back up and down in a comforting way, attempting to soothe your crying.

He really didn't know what to say; he'd never been particularly good at comforting people, nor did he have people come to him for comfort. But he was genuinely concerned about you. He wanted to protect you from all the evil in this world. So he gave it a shot, hoping for the best. “It’s gonna be okay.” He cringed at the cliche phrase, but his gaze focused on you when he heard a light chuckle.

“You suck at this, y’know?” You drew back from his chest, rubbing your checks with your hand, wiping away any remaining tears.

“I’m sorry. Knowing what to do when a pretty girl is crying in my arms isn’t on my list of skills.”

Your lips curved into a small smile.“So you can fight monsters, but this is too much for you?” Because of the crying, your voice was still raspy.

“Maybe I need a little more experience in this field,” he speculated. “Would you be willing to help?”

You wore a confused look on your face, not really understanding what he was saying. Eddie seemed to catch on, and he continued to explain himself further. “Maybe on a date at Rosie’s with strawberry milkshakes and fries?” He paused for a moment, realizing how forward he was being. “You still like those, right?”

You blushed, giving him a dazed nod.

"So, what do you think?" The boy tried to hide his nervousness; he wasn't usually this confident when talking to a girl. To be honest, this is the first time in his twenty years on this planet that he has asked a girl out in person. Who also happens to be the girl he asked out on a scribbled note in middle school. You gave him a sense of security and assurance. Even after all these years, you still had this aura about you that brought a lot of peace to the people around you.

"Will you pull my ponytail if I say yes?" You tried to make a joke.

"I'm going to do something better," Eddie said, closing the gap between you two and kissing you softly on the lips.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn

[stabbydragon]

*clears throat* Can we just talk about how unfair it was that Cordelia was the one who got to kill Tatiana? Like there were a million other people who were way more qualified.

I’m pretty sure most people, like me, were rooting for Grace. After all, she was the one that Tatiana hurt most by physically abusing her, making her into a weapon, forcing her to brainwash James which made everyone she cares about mad at her, etc. Not to mention that Christopher, one of her only friends, the only person who defended her, and the one who encouraged her to pursue her passion for science, had just been MURDERED by Tatiana! And like, Grace was RIGHT THERE with a knife to Tatiana’s throat! Then CORDELIA had to come and ruin everything by summoning Lillith! WTF!?

Jesse was another person who had been hurt by Tatiana. This bitch, who he thought cared about him despite her flaws, as a mother should, SOLD HIM TO BELIAL so he could be possessed and forced to murder people which he would never do under any circumstances of his own free will! The guilt the poor boy must have gone through because of this bitch! Although personally, I don’t think he would be capable of murder, but it would have been better than fucking CORDELIA.

Also, the idea of either Jesse or Grace doing it to avenge their sibling? 😭

My second choice after Grace would be Lucie, who would be furious both because of Jesse being possessed, and because she had just found out that Tatiana had been the one to ruin James and Cordelia’s marriage, causing both her brother and parabatai a lot of pain. It would have set the scene for a fascinating conversation between her and Jesse regarding how they both felt about Tatiana’s death (the same is true for Grace) because I need more Ghostwriter scenes. Also, if she killed her partially on Grace’s behalf, it would better showcase what could have been a beautiful dynamic that desperately needs to be explored further. I need these too to become besties immediately! Lucie, unlike her boyfriend, totally deserved to be a morally ambiguous character. She had so much potential for stabbiness, so where’s all the stabbiness? It’s so unfair that she never gets to stab someone ONCE because she’s a main character and therefore needs to be morally perfect even though people who grew as rich as she did are the ones most likely to be evil. Besides, she could have ordered a ghost to do it while Lucie herself was far away, giving her an alibi, and any witnesses would not have seen the ghost. Honestly my preference would be if Lucie and Grace teamed up to do it together in Jesse’s name.

EVEN FUCKING JAMES a would have been a better option, not that I would like it much. He was the one who was brainwashed since he was fourteen after all. He was the one who kept on accidentally breaking his wife’s heart because of the gracelet.

While Cordelia was still hurt by Tatiana’s actions, she was farther removed from the situation. But because sHe’S tHe PrOtAgOnIsT, she had to be the one to do it. Not even of her own volition, but because she was being manipulated by a greater demon. Imagine all of your protagonists being so heroic and morally sound that they can’t even neutralize someone as twisted and dangerous and inhumane and this bitch without being physically magically controlled by Lillith herself. Is there anything more boring?

And what really makes me angry is that she finally gave in due to the death of one Christopher Lightwood, a character with whom she had no established dynamic. If this was CC’s plan all along, she could have made it so they had at least one single fucking conversation alone??? If the main catalyst for Tatiana’s death was Kit’s murder, then practically ANY OTHER CHARACTER a would have been better. Cecily and Gabriel and the others were in Idris but, once again, there’s Grace, Lucie, James, Thomas, Anna, Matthew, etc. Hell, even Rosamund Wentworth, who arrives pretty soon after Kit’s death, knew him longer than Cordelia!

*Ahem* Thank you for listening to my PSA

#chain of thorns #chot spoilers #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #tlh #tatiana blackthorn #grace blackthorn #jesse blackthorn #lucie herondale #christopher lightwood #james herondale #anti Cordelia Carstairs

[sometimesibewriting]

No Goodbyes (An Uryu drabble)

💙sfw little drabble I made while taking a break from editing and finishing up a new one shot. 💙

Set after the blood war arc, no spoilers

❌No warning as well

📃Wordcount: 836 (short n sweet)

Angsty but ends in fluff

I only reread this a couple of times so apologizes if there are any huge spelling or grammar errors in the fic.

Ichigo took Uryu by the collar and slammed him against the wall. "What do you mean there's NO POINT."

"I said what I said, there's no point in telling her.” Uryu held Ichigo’s wrists trying to pull them off. “I also don’t want to influence her and have her change her decision.”

“Still you're not even going to try?!?" Ichigo’s grip loosened but his voice stayed sterned, Uryu stayed silent.  He hated when Ichigo got angry on her behalf, it made him feel less than and dumb. 

He didn’t want to change her mind. She had decided to go back and learn about her people and who they were. If she wanted to take back the throne & get married that was her decision. He didn’t want her to lose such an experience all because of a love confession

 Especially when he didn’t have the opportunity himself when he found out his people were still alive. Besides he was Quincy, if they were to get together before she left she probably wouldn't be accepted. 

"Ishida, answer me." Ichigo shook him once again knocking Uryu back into reality. 

Uryu ignored him. “Fine don’t answer me but when she comes back with someone don’t be mad. It’s not her fault your scared.” Ichigo roughly let go of him.

If Uryu was a different man he definitely would have punched him, but he let him go he saw no point in violence in a moment like this. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and left.

______________________________________________________________

Uryu walked not knowing where his feet were taking him..at first. It became clear when he stood outside her door. He should turn back immediately he thought, his body betrayed him as he knocked.

I'll say goodbye that's it, I’ll say goodbye and leave that was his plan.

She opened the door. 

"Ishida? " She said somewhat confused. "Hey. I." The words caught in his throat. He swallowed. "Wanna come in? " She asked she knew Uryu was a man of few words, so she didn't see his actions as weird. 

They walked into the living room that was being packed up. Uryu made sure the door closed behind him and turned around coming face to face with her. This was supposed to be goodbye, but he couldn't form the words to say it.

He looked at her and remembered everything they have been through. From how they met, to how they became friends, to how he realized he loved her. How he ended up betraying her and having to gain back her trust back.

“Uryu.” She said to him snapping him back to reality, he had been staring at her this whole time. “Are you okay?” She put her hands all over his face. “Your skin is paler than usual but your temperature is fine.”

“I’m going to miss you.” Uryu suddenly blurted out his voice raising slightly, she froze looking at him but smiled. “I’m going to miss you too, I’m going to miss all of you.”

She then walked away picking up something and walked around pretending to look for a spot to put it. Not wanting him to see her upset, Uryu leaned up against a wall watching her.

“Can you promise me something?” She suddenly asked.

Uryu perked up at her question. “You have my word.”

She smiled to herself, it was very him to just say yes to her without knowing what she wanted. “Promise me you’ll find someone.”

He now looked at her with confusion. “A very nice nurse girl, maybe from the college you're going to. Someone who can keep up with your personality.” She didn’t notice that she was gripping what was in her hand, trying not to cry. 

Uryu walked behind and put his arms around her, she gently placed the object down as he put his face in her neck. “I refuse this.” He whispered.

“Why?” She asked tears slowly falling. “I’m not going to see you for a long time, you shouldn’t waste your time waiting for me.”

So she knew this whole time Uryu thought to himself

“It’s only going to be a year.” He turned her around so they were now face to face. “You can forget me in a year.” Tears were now falling, Uryu put his hands on either side of her face and whipped off her tears.

“I’m not going to forget you in a year or two and I don’t want to be with someone from school, I want to be with you.” She paused when he said all that. She had only seen him get emotional once, and it shocked her as if it was the first time.

“I love you…” Were his next words as he leaned in and kissed her. “I have for a while.” He said against her lips. “But don’t let this confession change your mind, 'cause I’ll still be here when you get back. I’m not going anywhere.” Uryu leaned in but this time he made sure the kiss was harder.

#uryu x reader #uryuu x reader #bleach x reader #bleach fanfiction #bleach reader insert #ishida x reader #Uryu #uryuu #uryu ishida #uryuu ishida #x reader #anime x reader #sometimesibewriting uryu #fluff #angst

[testingthewatersss]

Spy General Wintersolider context warnings, nothing too extreme. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 2 3765 words Fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI  Steve hadn't meant to spy on you and Barnes. Not exactly, anyway.

When Steve blinks urgently at Natasha, he finds very little comfort in the aghast expression she’s wearing.

Y/N, however, looks smug, more than angry.

“I installed that mirror, assholes.” she says, “This is my house- do you really think you can get away with watchin’ me through the walls without me clockin’ on?”

“It wasn’t you we were watching” Natasha says calmly, “It was-”

“I know” the other woman agrees, taking a drink.

Bucky tilts his head up, realising they’re admitting to spying on him.

Steve feels himself flush even redder than he had the night before.

“Listen, Buck we didn’t mean-

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

He is worried though. He’s very worried.

“We where just-”

“Worried” Y/N finishes on his behalf, “We know.”

“How-“

She rolls her eyes at Natasha.

“Your motives are hardly complex” she replies, “You-” she nods at Steve, “Have been fussing over him” she looks at Bucky, “since long before HYDRA, I’d bet— and you-” she focuses back on the woman, “-are just loyal enough to get roped into that concern.”

The red head blinks, and Steve realises that he’s gawking.

“I’m fine” Bucky inserts then, speaking properly for the first time since the subject has been changed, “I’m.. I’m workin’ on some stuff, but you- you don’t need to get wound up ‘about it. I’m a grown man, I’m fine”

“You were acting strange-” Natasha states bluntly, “- Someone noticed, told us to check in”

“Someone noticed-” Y/N says, “-and they told Steve to check in, as a friend, y’know, the way that you sometimes come and check in on me, when I’ve been on a hard job and someone gets antsy”

Steve feels his brow furrow at that. How long exactly had these two known each other?

“We were concerned that-”

“We know what you were concerned about” she says, rolling her eyes at Natasha, “Do you really think we don’t have somethin’ worked out for that kinda’ situation?”

Steve finds himself swallowing as he looks over at Bucky again.

He’s wearing a tight lipped smiles that he knows means he’s uncomfortable. His eyes are lowered to the plate in front of him, but before he can speak to offer some kind of support, he watches him look up, at Y/N.

“…doll, thinks it’s.. it’s unlikely, anyway” he says, “she, uh— she says it’s…”

“Almost completely impossible for anything short of repeated exposure to proven stimuli to trigger that kind of a total sub-nuero relay inversion when it’s been this long since you’ve last had a wipe.”

“In english, please.” Natasha says dryly.

This time, the roll of Y/N’s eyes isn’t playful. It’s exasperated.

“Because it’s been so long since anyones fiddled around in his head, it would take a whole new, professionally orchestrated set up to get him anywhere close to what you’re talkin’ about.”

Bucky’s leg is shaking now. Steve watches it bouncing on the stool for a moment;

Y/N catches it too, and reaches out under the counter with her foot, brushing it against his calf.

He stills himself at the contact, exhaling shakily as Natasha hums curiously.

“So we don’t have anything to watch out for?”

“I wouldn’t say that” Y/N counters, “You’ve pissed me off, for a start”

“But Winter Solider wise-”

“Bucky is fine.” She says decisively, “But, that doesn’t mean we don’t have a plan in place, in case anything changes on that front.”

“And that means…”

“That means” Y/N hisses impatiently, “That you don’t need to worry about anybodies state of mind, other than mine, because as usual, the Starks have taken care of everything else, and all my brother meant when he asked Rodgers to check in on his friend, was that he might actually want to consider asking if he was doin’ okay, not that he should grab you and spend the next twenty minu-”

“-Doll…”

Bucky’s interruption silences her instantly. She inhales sharply, before sitting back in her seat, irritation flaring, but then, when she looks across, and see’s the way that Barnes is watching her, with nothing but genuine adoration behind his eyes, it evaporates like smoke, leaving her looking as composed as ever in her seat.

“We shouldn’t have watched after you came in” Natasha concedes, looking genuinely remorseful, “I’m sorry”

“Me too, Y/N— Both, Both of you, I- I’m sorry”

Bucky shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have watched at all” Y/N says, ignoring Steve completely, “Sestra, vy dolzhny verit', chto u nas vse vyyasneno. Yesli by byl shans, chto kto-nibud' mozhet postradat', my by uzhe ispravili eto.” Sister, you have to trust that we have things figured out. If there was a chance that anyone was going to get hurt, we'd have fixed it by now.

Steve’s jaw hangs slack as he hears russian pouring easily from the woman’s lips.

“YA doveryayu tebe.” Natasha replies, “i, yesli vy skazhete, chto vse v poryadke, ya ne budu sporit’.

I trust you, and, if you say everything is okay, then I won't argue.

“Vse v poryadke.”

Everything is okay.

Y/N’s answer has an air of finality too it. Even though he has no idea what she’s actually said.

“So” Natasha says, tone incredibly light, “How long as you two been a thing?”

Steve almost chokes on air at that.

Bucky chuckles quietly beside him, whilst Y/N goes back to eating.

He can barely keep up with the atmospheric shift. It’s so strange that only a few minutes ago the women were close to an argument, where as now, they might as well be best friends.

How, did they meet, again?

He has no idea, he realises, he’d always assumed that Y/N, was a package deal that came with Tony, he’d never given any thought to how she might know anyone else, even the night before, when Romanoff had said that she’d known the woman for a long time, he’d never actually thought about it.

“He’s doin’ that face again” Y/N observes, using her fork to point at Steve, “He really should stop workin’ so hard over breakfast”

Bucky laughs almost silently, as Steve blinks himself back to the moment.

“That’s not an answer” Natasha says.

“I know” Y/N agrees cheerily, “You’re not supposed to know there is a ‘thing’ anyway. Don’t see why I should confirm or deny”

“Confirm” the other woman repeats, with a chuckle of her own, “You spent the whole night curled up together like lap cats-”

“I’ve spent more than one night curled with you, like a lap cat.” Y/N says, “Wanna talk about any things that we might have had going on?”

Steve chokes on a bite of pancake that he doesn’t remember taking.

Natasha shakes her head, taking a drink from Y/N’s mug.

They both catch her throwing a wink at Bucky, who just grins, bashful and sweet down at his own food, as he starts to pick at it again.

“Beregi yeye, Barns.” The red-head says calmly, “

Take good care of her, Barnes.

“YA budu. YA klyanus’.”

I will, I swear.

His reply is calm, it’s composed and that, is what makes Steve tilt his head.

It’s so odd, hearing the Russian words without the fear that laced them before.

Natasha just nods, satisfied, and Y/N, goes back to eating.

Steve thinks he should apologise, again. He feels like he should, like he’s misjudged the whole situation, like, he’s betrayed Bucky and totally under-estimated Y/N.

“I…” he begins, anxiously shifting, “I’m really, I’m really sorry”

To his surprise, it’s Barnes that answers.

“We know, Stevie, it’s alright, just… just, ask me next time… it’s like doll said— if you’re… if you’re worried, you can just talk to me”

“I know” He’s quick to agree, “I know, Buck- I’m sorry-”

“You’ve already apologised” Y/N reminds him cooly, “It’s alright, just don’t let me catch you at it again— last thing we need is you turnin’ into a peepin’ tom. Although Tony would love that-”

“Oh, god” Bucky mutters, “Don’t tell your brother bout it, darlin’, he’ll never let them live it down”

Her face is a light. Steve notices then, for the first time, how beautiful she is. With no make up, hair tied back, genuinely grinning, with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I should tell him, huh?” she teases, “might take the heat off you for a bit-”

“Steve watchin’ ya’ through a mirror is hardly comparable to anythin’ I’ve-”

“I don’t think he’d compare” she says, “he’d probably just take the excuse to be an asshole to someone else for a couple of weeks”

“He’s not an asshole” Bucky counters dryly, “Darlin’, I think he’s been-”

“Your judgement is skewed” Y/N cuts in, eating again, “You wouldn’t say a bad word about him regardless”

Barnes doesn’t argue, he just shrugs, smiling a little as he goes back to picking at the meal before him.

“So, does he know?” Natasha asks, brow quirked, “Bout this ‘not a thing’ you’ve got goin’ on?”

Steve blinks, unsure of why she’s pressing the issue.

“Does that matter?” Y/N counters, like she’s genuinely interested in the other woman’s answer, “He’s my brother, it’s my relationship, surely it’s my business-”

“Your brother has a bad temper” Nat answers calmly, “I’d like to know if we need to be ready for-”

“Awww, Red” Y/N inserts, grinning, “are ya’ sayin’ that I don’t have a bad temper?”

Steve is gobsmacked, absorbed in the exchange and almost as fascinated by the way that Bucky is ignoring it completely;

“No” Natasha says, “I’m saying that if there is some kind of fight, then I’m with you-”

“’til the end of the line, right?” Y/N finishes, clear teasing in her tone.

Steve opens his mouth to object to the jab, but Bucky is laughing before he gets chance;

“You’re bein’ a jackass, doll” he chuckles, “she’s tryin’ to be nice”

“I’m a Stark” the woman says calmly, “some might say that jackass is a genetic trait”

When he rolls his eyes, Steve realises that he’s gawking; He hasn’t seen Barnes talking this much since… well, since the forties, really.

“Whatever” Y/N snorts, attention back on Natasha, “I love you too, Nat, you don’t have to declare sides on a war that isn’t ever goin’ to start”

“But-”

“Even if it did” she continues, “I trust you, I know you’ve got my back, alright?”

Natasha looks like she wants to say something more, but, eventually, after a strained look at Steve, she just nods, picking at her pancakes.

“You all worry way too much” Y/N declares after a moment, taking a sip from her coffee, “I swear it’s a wonder you haven’t gone grey”

“He tried to kill-” Natasha begins,

The other woman cuts her off with a pointed glare. Steve finds himself blinking at the look, and the way it’s worked at silencing the spy so quickly.

“Three years ago” she says, seemingly calm, “my brother came up with the mark 58 suit…”

The trio blink at her a little blankly. Even Bucky looks confused.

“You wouldn’t remember” Y/N allows, “It was red, like the others, gold like the others— brilliant like the others”

Steve opens his mouth to question her train of thought, but quickly decides against it, when he notes how she’s clearly not finished speaking.

“But” she says, taking a drink of her coffee, “It was the first model to have auto-aiming energy conducers.”

Nobody responds, so she shrugs.

“It wasn’t actually that big of a deal, since his previous models had all had the same long range damage capability, and JARVIS used to be pretty good at setting targets up, but it was time saving, y’know? It meant that if he wanted to take down a jet he didn’t even have to be able to see the thing, just scan for it, lock on, and boom, no amount of evasive manoeuvres or counter attacks would make any difference-“

“What does that have to do with-” Natasha tries to cut in

“-He was on mark, what? back when ya’ll had that fight?” Y/N continues, ignoring the woman’s attempt, “102? 103? I mean, I think we’re on 121 now.”

“Y/N” the red head insists, “What does that-”

“Even forgetting about all the significant upgrades he’s made over the years…” she drawls, locking eyes with her friend, “he definitely had the ability to take out military grade weaponry- even moving missiles with the push of a button- without even having to stop and lock on himself.”

She looks at Steve, and then, at Bucky.

“If he wanted to kill anybody they’d be dead” she finishes, gaze back on Natasha, “it was a glorified fist-fight, Red, and considerin’ the video he’d just seen, I’d say a brawl was the least you could expect.”

The mention of the video as brief as it was, has had an instant effect on Bucky. He’s stiff now. Eyes firmly on his plate even though his cutlery is discarded, hands both hidden on his lap beneath the counter.

Natasha looks contrite. Everything Y/N is saying makes total sense, she supposes, there was never another way Tony was going to react- and he didn’t actually hurt either of the men that are sitting around the table with them.

“Have you seen it?” Steve asks suddenly, eyes meeting Y/N’s again—

His question shocks everyone, including him. He hadn’t meant to speak, or at least, he hadn’t meant to ask that, not with Bucky sitting at his side.

“More times than you.”

Her answer surprises him even more.

Natasha watches with the same look of fascination that she’d worn the night before as Y/N takes another bite of her breakfast;

“Y/N, I-”

Her head shakes before Steve can even finish his sentence.

“It doesn’t matter” she says firmly, “I knew way before I it, it was never a shock for me like it was Tony-”

“You knew before?” Natasha asks, curiosity spiking

“That my dad didn’t die in a random car accident on the one night he decided to transport his top-secret super serum across country without any security?” she mocks, “Yeah, Nat, I figured that one out all on my own.”

Her brown eyes roll in her head, and Steve notices how she’s deliberately not looking at anyone, anymore;

“How long had you known for?” the red-head presses, tone more careful, now.

“A while” Y/N replies, “I knew I was right when Peg wouldn’t let me and Tony get an autopsy, she said it was because he was probably drunk, didn’t want to ruin his legacy, or something’… Tony bought it but-” she shrugs, “-I was younger, I didn’t have a company to take over, guess I had more time to dwell on things”

“But you would’ve been 12 years old back then-” Nat says, “You’re saying you’ve known since then-”

“-It wasn’t an accident-” Y/N cuts in, “I didn’t figure out the details right away, and it took me awhile to dig around enough to find that tape-”

“So you knew before we did?” the red haired woman continues “that Barnes-”

“No” Y/N replies quickly, “Not exactly.”

Her eyes flicker to Bucky, she offers him a calm smile, and then, she looks back at her friend, altering her expression to something a little more forgiving.

“I knew that something had happened— That it hadn’t been a crash— and when I got older, I figured that HYDRA had probably been involved, that was enough for a while, when we were workin’ y’know?” she stops to see that the woman is following her, “when I had some more time, I… I found the footage, and then when I’d managed to decode it all, including the audio… I heard him saying ‘Sargent Barnes’—”

“Please” Bucky gulps, looking desperately at his lover, “Please don’t-”

Don’t talk about this, right now, he thinks, please, I can’t handle it.

Whatever words Y/N was about to say die in her throat. Her entire face softens as she gives the man a nod.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway” she tells Natasha, realising that she’d gotten a little caught up, “I know what happened now— Tony knows enough, and everything-”

“You know what happened” Natasha repeats, “and Tony knows… enough?”

Steve raises his brow when he catches the implication behind the woman’s words, but Bucky’s breathing is noticeably shallow, now, so he daren’t push any further.

“Yes.” Y/N says firmly, suddenly standing, “That’s exactly what I said.”

There’s a beat of silence, and he finds himself expecting Natasha to challenge Y/N further. He’s never seen her back down before- he’s formulating a way of getting Bucky to follow him out of the room, should the women start some kind of argument, he’s been warned about Y/N’s temper, after all, but, to his surprise, the red-head just…nods.

“yesli ty tak govorish’”If you say so, she says, attention returning to her food-

“Da, Nat … Obeshchayu, vse v poryadke, prosto … slozhno”

I do, Nat… I promise, everything's fine, it's just… complicated.

Y/N’s words are emphasised by the way she comes to stand, pacing around until she’s by Bucky’s side.

He doesn’t move to look at her. He’s fallen back into silence, now, and Steve finds himself watching him with poorly disguised concern.

“Do you want to come for a walk with me?” Y/N asks, tone calm and unassuming.

Almost instantly, the man nods. Eyes aimed at the floor as he gets off his stool in one swift movement;

“C’mon then” she says, taking his hand in her own— “We’ll see you guys later.”

“Wait!-” Steve exclaims, reaching out to grab the other man’s shoulder, “-Buck are you-”

The second his fingers makes contact with Bucky’s shirt, the man flinches away, jolting back and almost stumbling into the wall.

It’s Y/N that stops him, by adjusting her position instantly, correcting her footing and shifting so that she’s in front of him.

Steve looks horrified. Bucky’s face has morphed into something so terror-stricken that he feels absurdly guilty for the way he’s tried to touch him without permission.

Both men blurt out a ‘Sorry’ at exactly the same time, and Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes, despite the way that Bucky’s apology is one that’s clearly motivated by some kind of fear induced reflex.

She squeezes his palm, and offers him a calm smile as he tries to calm himself down.

Nobodies coming to hurt you, he thinks, It’s just Steve— He’s not going to hurt you—

“-Buck, I- I didn’t mean to-“ Steve tries to explain, “-I just wanted to apologise, again…”

He looks so intensely embarrassed, that even she can’t help but take pity on him, even though he’s not her first priority at the moment.

Bucky’s fingers are clinging to hers, now. She can feel his pulse hammering through his palm.

“I think you’ve covered that base” Natasha inserts, from where she’s watching the interaction unfold, “We won’t do it again”

“No” Y/N agrees, smiling, “You won’t.”

x | 2 | 3

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #fluff #x reader #drabble #series #BBspy

[demonicintegrity]

So I’m seeing a lot of cold takes so let’s talk about Stella for a second.

First of all, let’s acknowledge that the writing isn’t always fantastic, but it’s usually not hard to see what was being intended. At no point am I saying the writing is flawless, but I am saying there’s nothing malicious about it. And so far the entire show has been from Blitzo or Stolas pov and focus, so we will have something more directly from her at some point.

First off to recap when we first see Octavia speak she is screaming loud enough to wake up her daughter down the hall in her room and throwing things, as well as an imp. She is doing this because she is still upset that she was cheated on. Being upset about being cheated on is valid! Especially in her own bed! Throwing things is definitely not. She also makes derogatory remarks about that he wanted to go to the motel like a plebeian and the fact that he slept with an imp of all creature.

This establishes three key details: a valid motivation to be upset, an invalid (and abusive) way to deal with that, and a prejudice based in a class system.

Just because these things are straightforward doesn’t mean there’s not depth to it. Inherently there is depth to having prejudices because there has to be a source of where that came from. There’s also patterns. Octavia says “are you two done screaming for the day?” which implies this isn’t the first time she’s gotten like this. Hell theres added depth to her throwing things besides it’s wrong. Throwing objects is a deliberate show to demonstrate strength that could and intent to hurt somebody (stolas), meaning in the moment she saw that as a valid thing to do. Throwing pots in any direction as well as an imp at stolas shows she doesn’t care for collateral damage. (The imp was an innocent bystander and Octavia was nearly hit.)

Now are these things spelled out? No. And they don’t need to be. Characters can and should have depth without it being spelled out. Esp in a show meant for adults.

Now when we later see Stella, we learn she has hired Striker to kill Stolas. This is an intense leap in action with no explanation. But we learn she’s willing to take things to extremes even we don’t quite get why yet. It’s also reaffirmed that she doesn’t care for collateral damage. Octavia would be devastated if her father was killed, and here Stella is demanding it in front of her. While the anger from episode two was in the moment rage, this is simmering wrath. Built with time because she’s been waiting on this for a while and hasn’t backed out despite the consequences. Not only would it devastate Octavia, but it also wouldn’t be hard for people to realize the woman who just got cheated on hired the assassin.

And then there’s season 2 episode 1. We establish more sympathy for Stella, an arranged marriage with intent to bring an heir, and at no point is that framed as a good thing. It’s a terrible no good thing and she and stolas are both victims of being in this arrangement unwillingly.

But then we see she is cruel even when not angry and upset. She throws an anniversary party to gossip and badmouth Stolas while he’s right there. She mocks his performance in bed seemingly unprompted. She states that he just lays there staring at the wall, that does not sound a man who wants to have sex and is getting any pleasure from it. That sounds like someone who is putting up with it because he has to produce an heir. Now, she is in the same boat of also putting up with both the act and the carrying of an egg. Neither of them want this marriage or the sex, yet she is the only one mocking and degrading him. That is a conscious choice on her behalf that she does not have to do.

Now I’m not saying she has to be happy in a loveless marriage. They both have a right to that. I am saying that you can be in a loveless marriage and not needlessly degrade the other. Stolas can be unhappy enough to take antidepressants yet he still doesn’t mock or yell or insult her. He has not made a targeted attempt to hurt her emotionally or physically. We also see them both turn to binge drinking to cope, which is depth to both their characters.

And then later on see that despite being separated and taking Octavia somewhere else on the weekends, she still actively makes the choice to show up at Stolas’ palace. Introducing her presence with yelling and command to stop whining. As far as he knew he was alone and she still felt entitled enough to demand he not lament in his own bedroom and house.

She states herself she wants to torment him. She says it with a smile. That shows us she is delighting in personally making him suffer. That’s not a side of effect of being angry as shown in previous episodes, that is deliberate. Because she gets satisfaction from it.

He tried to make the most of this arrangement, and I do believe he made a genuine effort because he does so well with Octavia, but it was never was enough for her. And instead of trying to communicate what could’ve made her happy, or attempt to make peace with this, or cope in any healthy way, she deliberately insults and is cruel to him for all these years.

They stayed together for Octavia. I am going to say that was bad decision on the principal that staying together for the kids causes more problems and makes all parties involved miserable. She and stolas obviously didn’t like each other. Yet despite divorce always being an option, the entire anniversary party being titled Not Divorced to poke fun at the fact that they haven’t, she insisted. Even after the affair, which gives her a perfectly valid reason even within noble court bs to divorce, she insisted on staying with a man she explicitly does not like and wants to harm.

Her only redemption in that is that Octavia claims they hadn’t always hated each other. Implying that while the issues continued, she was mostly kept out of it. Or at least was attempting to keep her out of it. Which is good.

But now it has been 17+ years of this and Stolas has hit his breaking point and is insisting the divorce. Octavia is old enough to understand a divorce and is already being traded off on weekends. And Stella goes to hit him because of their reputation. There is the other priority, reputation amongst the nobles which she has already won by virtue on being cheated on. But she wants to rub salt in the wound by tormenting him and name dropping her brother because she is getting pleasure out of it.

There’s your depth, Stella and Stolas were both unhappy in an this arranged marriage because it was against both their wills. Instead of finding solace and a middle ground with him who understands the circumstances and made an effort, she copes with alcohol and taking it out on him. After being given an out and thus can start putting it behind them, she chooses to stick around for the explicit reason to tormenting him. Because she feels happy making him suffer. And when she is forced out because of that torment, she insists on making him pay for that.

This is a character deeply motivated to make her target suffer. The depth comes from how she does not care for collateral because of how high she prioritizes this. Motivated first by circumstance and now by delight of power over him, it is her choice to make him suffer. This depth does not paint her in a flattering light but no depth is obligated to.

You can be sympathetic to the circumstances that started this while still condemning the abuse she willfully turns to. Her depth comes just how much she’s angry and wants to take it out on Stolas.

#it’s 4am I spent like two hours on this augh #anyways stolas isn’t a great person by any means but no one on this show is #and he at least doesn’t intentional harm anyone #helluva boss #helluva stella

[wolfstrong]

hi sorry if i come off as a hater lmao it's just i hate xander and you seem to like him, could you explain why? I know he has some positive qualities and can be a decent friend but i've always perceived him as a Nice Guy (tm) and often just a misogynistic creep (maybe i need a rewatch where i try to have more compassion idk)

I don't think you come off as a hater, everyone has a right to dislike any characters they want!

Yes, Xander is one of my favorite characters and I have a deep affection for him! I do agree he can be very misogynistic and also creepy (more so creepy in the first couple of seasons, his crush on Buffy often made me very uncomfortable) I'm not going to say I "forgive" his misogynistic actions, but I guess I see it more as a problem with the show as a whole. You know, the time period and such and such. BTVS is a very strange show because it was progressive and groundbreaking in some ways and also very flawed in other ways. It's got some of the most realistic and well written female characters I've ever seen in a show, and yet its constantly undermines them with misogynistic jabs. i don't know, its weird but I digress. The point is I can kinda look past those two specific flaws because I see them more as functions of the show itself.

I like Xander because he's the "everyman" of the series. He's the very unspecial normal guy and idk I just really like that. I’m not trying to reduce the other scoobs to just their practical talents, but Buffy is the slayer, Giles brings the smarts and has his watched role, and Willow has her magic and before that her hacker skills. But all Xander has is himself, all he can give to the team is himself and he does it every single time without question. And like he knows this, everyone knows this about him. If all he can do with himself is physically throw his body in the line of danger to try and help someone else, he's going to do it. How many times does Xander run into the fight only to get punched out. And it's like yeah, its probably stupid and self-destructive, he's never going to be able to face off with the demons they fight because he's just a regular human. But he tries anyway and I love that. I don't know, it's just very admirable to always try, even if you feel like those around you are stronger or better then you. I guess i personally struggle with this, feeling like other are better then me or have more to offer or are more talented. It's nice to see a character whos in a similar situation yet still gives it his all every time. I think he's really relatable because of that and I feel for him.

I really love his loyalty. I know that his dislike for Angel in the earlier seasons stems from his crush on Buffy (which is ew) but also I think a part of it is because he feels protective of her as a friend. Like when Angel turned evil and they were debating what to do, Xander was like "maybe we should just kill him" and everyone acted like he was a huge dick for saying that, but I had to agree. Angel was trying very hard to kill Buffy, to kill all of them, and Xander was trying to prioritize their safety. Oh also there is a part of the season one finale (I think it was that episode... i could be mistaken) where Willow and others get kidnapped because of Buffy and Xander gets so mad he says "If they hurt Willow I'll kill you" which i know is kind of harsh, but like I think it really shows his loyalty and priorities. At this point, he did have a crush on Buffy, but he'd known Willow for much longer and his friendship to her was more important. So like idk, when we see him at his most angry or cruel its always on behalf of his friends.

I also just love that he's goofy and funny and cute. He has a certain charm that so based around the fact that he's slightly pathetic and lame. Just look into his big brown puppy dog eyes and tell me you don't like him just a little bit... he's literally a big loyal slightly stupid dog, come on now. He's always got sleeves that are just a bit too long that they flop over his hands, his shoes are untied his hairs a floppy mess and he has a giant smile and a weird cracky voice that goes up a pitch when he's nervous and he's always trying so hard to get everyone to laugh. I love him :) I can't help it, I just really love him

#it helps that hes cute... #xander harris #btvs

[krikeymate]

take me back to the start

Scream post-6 fic - part 1 of this is how the story ends

This is it.

There's nowhere left to run.

They're finally cornered.

Ghostface is hers.

- - -

It had taken two weeks of watching and waiting for this opportunity to arise. She had almost certainly lost one of her jobs to stake out the derelict building. The Ghostface had disappeared in this area several times, and an investigation had led her to this building in particular.

It was clearly the right place: the disturbed dust, the shiny new padlock on the door, the bottled water and the half-eaten packet of protein bars stacked neatly on a cracked table. Oh, and the blood. There was a lot of blood.

And tonight… tonight there was even a body.

And if that body had still been crying out as she watched Ghostface drive the knife into its chest over and over, hushing the crying boy all the while, well, who's to know that Sam waited to alert the Ghostface to her presence. The world was better off without ‘date-rape’ Frankie anyway, Sam justifies to herself, remembering when he sought to take advantage of her drunk little sister. It’s the thought of all the girls without stalker sisters and over-protective friends that keep her body frozen and mouth shut, listening to his gurgled begging.

She watches, morbidly curious, as Ghostface runs the knife over the now-silent body. Over his eyes, between his fingers, down his belly. A final stab to the crotch has Sam wincing on Frankie’s behalf. Eh. He probably had it coming.

Steeling herself, Sam clears her throat and thumps on the wall beside the open doorway. “Knock knock, anyone home,” she calls.

The Ghostface doesn’t flinch, unshocked by Sam’s entrance, it seems. They slowly raise their head to meet her gaze in a quiet staring contest.

They're a lot less intimidating than Sam expected, even covered with blood splatter and hunched over a dead body. Maybe it's because Sam is the hunter for once. Maybe it's because, despite their several run-ins over the past four weeks, this Ghostface had only ever fled when faced with Sam Carpenter.

Were they scared? They should be.

Sam watches with a smirk as her trap is sprung. Ghostface moves into a crouch and throws themself in the direction of the only other doorway, just as intended.

Sam may have decided to confront a serial killer empty-handed and alone, but she wasn’t entirely stupid. She had scouted the inside of the building just the day before, memorised the layout, and blocked off the only other exit to the building.

There was only one way for Ghostface to run.

With that knowledge in hand, Sam made her way deeper into the building, unhurried. The bloody footprints and occasional handprint made it an easy trail to follow, all the way to the end of the line.

- - -

The Ghostface keeps their back to the wall, head twitching side to side as they survey the room. A useless endeavour. Sam stands between them and the only exit, just as she planned.

"Well," Sam taunts, "what's next?"

The Ghostface looks at her, head tilting.

"What's next indeed," they murmur.

The voice modulator ensures they speak with the echo of past Ghostface’s, and yet Sam thinks this Ghostface might be something... different. There's no anger in their voice, no simmering rage, or desperation, not even fear. Just a calm and collected tone. Even their bloodied knife sits loosely in their fist, relaxed and pointing to the floor.

"Why are you doing this, Sam? I'm not after you, so why did you come looking for me?" Ghostface asks softly. They almost sound... No. This is just mind games, it must be. They want her to let her guard down.

"You're a killer," Sam spits. She can't let Ghostface control her emotions, she has to stay angry and ready to act. Sam has someone to go home to, she won’t underestimate this enemy.

"So are you," Ghostface replies, taking a few steps forward. "We're not so different, quite alike I would say."

Sam snarls back, "we are nothing alike. I killed in self-defence, to protect myself and my family. You... you choose to kill people. You're a murderer."

Sam finds herself surprised at her outburst, at the vitriol in her words. Then again, it is a bit of a touchy subject for her. A... trigger, as her therapist might say.

Ghostface sighs, and Sam struggles not to react to it. Those in the Ghostface costume have always had an inhuman aura while donning it, one that sparks fear and dread. But this one... this one seems so small by comparison.

Literally, actually.

It wasn't obvious before, but with the rising sun infiltrating the room through poorly boarded windows and cracks in the ceiling, it's clear that without the darkness to hide in and a bluster this Ghostface hasn't seen fit to display for Sam, what's left behind is just a person in a mask and a robe. Not a threat. Not even a monster. Just a person in a shitty Halloween costume.

They're shorter than Sam, and skinnier too. She could take them, end this here and now, before it escalates any further.

"Well," the Ghostface asks, repeating her own words back to her, "what's next."

Sam stares at the Ghostface before her and finds that she can't just end it. Without the adrenaline and fury of an immediate life or death situation, she doesn't feel the need to attack first, to snatch the knife from their hand and dig it into their hidden flesh over and over. How funny, that it is standing before her father's legacy that she's never felt more distant from it.

Sam reaches behind her, fishing her phone from the pocket of her jeans. "I'm calling the police."

That gets a reaction.

The Ghostface tightens their grip on the knife, its tip flipping upwards. "I can't let you do that Sam." There's an edge to their voice now. "I don't want to fight you," they begin to leap forward before they've even finished speaking, "but I will."

Sam dodges to the side as the Ghostface slashes out at her, aiming for the phone in her hand. The knife misses, but the sudden motion has the device slipping from her fingers.

Shit.

The Ghostface rests their boot on the screen. Sam prepares herself for the crack of her very expensive phone, which she quite frankly cannot afford to replace right now, being crushed. Priorities, Sam.

It doesn't happen.

Ghostface slides their foot backwards, sending the device skidding to the other side of the room.

So much for the peaceful option.

They lash out again, forcing Sam to take another step backwards. Then another.

In a matter of seconds, Ghostface had managed to quickly take control of the situation, Sam realised. Smart.

Now nothing stood between the masked figure and the door. Should have seen that coming, she thinks, as Ghostface tries to bolt through the now open exit.

Sam manages to throw herself forward just in time to grab at the billowing robe. Her feet slide forward but the halt in momentum allows her to yank the figure back into the room. Ghostface falls into Sam in a bruising collision.

Ghostface reaches down and drops the knife to grab her arm instead. Kicking off the floor to move forward, they spin mid-movement, twisting Sam's arm painfully. Despite this, she refuses to let go, the robe ripping as she's propelled forward, back towards the doorway.

Sam drops the ripped robe to the floor and turns back to face the killer.

Ghostface shrugs away the rest of the damaged cloth, kicking it to the side. Without the robe, her adversary seems even smaller. But no one could say they hadn't been prepared for the possibility they may be revealed. An all-black outfit of cargo pants tucked into blood-soaked combat boots, and a fitted leather jacket with a hood of its own. Combined with the reinforced leather gloves and mask, they cut an impressive figure, Sam can begrudgingly admit.

She flings herself forward, hoping to use her size advantage to topple the smaller figure, but they resist, feet planted solidly. Ghostface endures against the motion, pushing back in the grapple with surprising strength. She tries to get an arm around their neck, but that only leaves her open to take an elbow to the chest.

It’s an accidental kick to the ankle during their tussle that gives Sam what she needs to gain the upper hand. Ghostface grunts and flinches back, losing their grip on Sam. She takes the opportunity to throw the masked figure to the floor, their head bouncing off the bare concrete with a crack.

She doesn't give Ghostface the time to recover, immediately throwing herself onto their back and straddling them. Sam pins the figure down, holding their gloved and bloody hands in her own. Hard plastic knuckles dig into her palms from the force.

Sam breathes heavily as she recovers her breath, but not as heavy as the figure below her as they attempt to throw her off. She wonders how this could be the most dangerous Ghostface of them all, going by the bodies they've left behind. Did they have a partner? Partners? No, that doesn't feel right.

This Ghostface worked alone. She doesn't know how, but somehow Sam knows it to be true.

They've stopped trying to escape, and Sam can't stop the grin that forms. She won. She's beaten Ghostface. They're alive and able to face the consequences of their actions. After so long of feeling like a villain, being treated like a villain, Sam wonders if someone other than her sister might finally consider her a hero.

She relinquishes her grip on their left hand and pauses, waiting for her downed foe to try and take advantage of this opening. They remain still below her, breathing laboured.

Sam reaches out for the mask, only to find her hand slapped away.

"Don't!" the Ghostface gasps out, voice desperate.

Sam finds her smile give way to a frown. Shit, had she broken their ribs? She really wanted to take this Ghostface alive.

Oh well.

Confident that they aren't in a position to cause any more trouble, Sam releases the other hand and sits up on her knees. She grabs at their jacket and flips them over with ease.

Reaching back for the mask, Sam ignores the weak hands pawing at her wrist, silently begging her to stop.

She wishes she had.

She wishes she had stayed home, had never gotten herself involved. She wishes she didn't recognise the face below her, even with it half hidden behind a gaiter. She wishes she didn't recognise those big brown eyes staring up at her.

She wishes it wasn't her little sister lying between her legs, wheezing, in bloodstained gloves. Sam pulls the cloth away and looks down at the tearful face of her baby sister.

Another choked gasp from the girl has Sam moving on instinct. She drops the Ghostface mask and reaches into her jacket pocket to retrieve Tara's spare inhaler; she never goes anywhere without it these days.

Sam shakes the inhaler, flips off the cap, and brings it to her sister's face; a familiar motion ingrained into her soul from days when Tara was too young to monitor her own health, from just 3 days ago when she once again woke in Sam's arms screaming from a nightmare she refused to talk about.

Tara turns her head away and it washes the shock of the situation away with a tidal wave of frustration.

Sam grabs Tara's chin, with more force than necessary she can admit, and forces the inhaler into her mouth.

"Deep breathes," Sam coos, pressing down on the cannister, voice gentle despite the tsunami raging hell inside her.

There's something soothing, almost meditative, about taking care of her sister, even now, as Sam struggles to comprehend what this all means. Her hand slips up to cup Tara’s cheek, and the hiccupping sob beneath her fingers has her forcing her sister to take another puff from the inhaler. She pulls it back and Tara closes her eyes with a shuddering breath.

“Oh babygirl,” Sam whispers, blinking back tears, “what have you done?”

It doesn’t feel real. How can it be real? This is her sweet baby sister beneath her hands. Not some… killer. This is a girl with a smile that could outshine the sun. A girl who forgave her big sister for running away and bringing hell with her when she returned. A girl with nothing but kindness in her heart. How could this be the same dark figure she watched butcher a man? Tara isn’t… she isn’t like that. She’s good. She’s not… she’s not Sam.

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispers, opening her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Tara brings a still-gloved hand up to rest on Sam’s. “I never meant for you to find out, this was the last thing I wanted.”

“Find out? Tara- what-” Sam’s face scrunches in confusion. “Please tell me what’s going on.” Sam has had to face so many nightmares in her life, in her dreams and in reality, but this one really takes the cake.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Tara sighs. The girl turns her face into Sam’s palm, savouring the feeling, as if it might be the last gentle touch she ever receives. Were Sam anyone else, if this was anyone other than Tara, maybe that would be true.

Her words are sincere, Sam knows, but they bring a chill to her spine all the same. She’s sorry she’s been caught. “It’s not me you’ve hurt, Tara. You killed people.” Sam feels like she’s fallen into another dimension, one where she doesn’t understand anything, one where she doesn’t know her sister at all. “You… this wasn’t, this isn’t like… the others. This wasn’t your life or theirs, it was just… murder.” Sam doesn’t even recognise her own voice.

“Do you hate me?”

Tara’s voice is so small, the image is so incongruent with the path laid out behind them, Sam doesn’t know what to think. But she does know one thing.

“I could never hate you, never.”

Sam pulls Tara upright and drags her into her lap. She’s never been good with words, so she settles for squeezing Tara tight. Maybe if she hugs her hard enough, she’ll never ask her that question again. Maybe if she hugs her hard enough things will be ok.

She holds the back of her sister’s head, pressing her into her shoulder. The sensation of blood trickling over her fingers threatens to overwhelm her with panic, but she finds control in focusing instead on Tara’s steady breathing against her neck and her strong grip on Sam’s back. Sam takes a deep breath.

“I just… I just want to understand. Please, Tara, explain it to me.”

So she does. Her words start off quiet and uncertain, but gain unwarranted enthusiasm as she continues to speak. Every new sentence feels like a stab straight into Sam’s heart.

“It was an accident, at first.” Oh god.

“I just wanted to fight back.” No.

“I didn’t want to be scared anymore.” No.

“I wanted them to be scared of me.” No.

“I couldn’t help it.” Please.

“They deserved it.” This can’t be happening.

“It just… it felt so… right.” STOP.

Sam wrenches Tara back. She holds her by the jacket collar and stares at her through blurry eyes dripping with tears. “Don’t say that!” she demands. The sound of her own words being echoed by her baby sister leaves Sam’s mind racing. This can’t be happening. Is this her fault? Did she ruin Tara by bringing this darkness into her life? Or maybe it was already there, a small part of her wonders hopes acknowledges. “You can’t say that.” She can’t talk about killing with a joyful expression, she can’t talk about it feeling right. Not Tara. Not her little sister. She was supposed to be the normal one. She’s Sam’s light.

Tara’s face, previously open and frantic, turns terrifyingly blank. “I thought you of all people would understand,” she says, voice flat. Her eyes slide away from Sam’s, head tilting down to stare at her own hands. “She should understand,” she begins to mumble to herself.

Sam feels like she’s looking in a mirror.

It breaks her.

Sam calls her name and tilts Tara’s face back up; she looks at her softly. “I do understand.” She has to choose her next words carefully; she’s walking a tightrope and one wrong move will leave them both tumbling to their doom. “Why didn’t you come to me? Don’t you trust me?”

Tara startles, face turning sad. “Of course I trust you!” she hurries to explain, “I just didn’t want you to worry. You’re always worrying about me and you were doing so well with therapy and everything and you looked so happy all the time and I couldn’t… I couldn’t ruin that, Sam.” Tara’s hands clench into fists in her lap. “I have to deal with my own problems.”

Guilt wraps its harsh hand around her throat. Sam feels newly 14 again, yelling at her sister to deal with her own problems when the still-eight-year-old Tara begged her for help with her homework, their mother absent once again. She feels 15 again, learning that her sister is being bullied but didn’t tell her because she has to deal with her own problems. She feels the “you’re not dealing with your problems!” from 6 months ago rear its head once again.

Sam sighs and reaches down to take Tara’s hands in hers; she begins to remove the gloves. “Tara, you make me happy.” She throws the bloody garments to the side. “And so long as I’m around, you will never have to deal with your problems alone.” For the first time in a while, Sam feels steady. She knows what she has to do. Tara just needs guidance, a firm hand. She can fix this.

“But-” “No.”

Sam stands and pulls her sister up with her. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Sam declares. “We’re going to remove any sign you were ever here. Then we’re going home, and you’re going to tell me everything.”

“…Everything?”

Tara looks anxious and it sets alarm bells ringing in Sam’s head. What else could there possibly be left to hide, what comes after killing people and enjoying it?

“Everything. There will be no more hiding, no more lies.” Sam ducks her head to meet her sister’s eyes, “we’re a team, right?” Tara nods and looks at her with an expression Sam lives for. The one that says you’re my hero and I love you and I trust you implicitly.

“Ok, you ready?”

“I’m ready.”

#/mp #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #my writing tag #TIHTSE tag #I'm not happy with how this turned out lmao it took itself in a direction I wasn't intending tbh

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Comfort They Crave

Summary: Instead of finding herself imprisoned, Azula chooses to fight battles on behalf of everyone else even though it is slowly breaking her down physically and mentally. Sokka is the first person to suggest that maybe she doesn't deserve to be treated as a weapon.

“Why do you care if I’m safe?” She demands. She almost sounds angry about it. Angry to have someone who cares about her, someone who could be worried about her. And Sokka admits that he almost does let it deter him. Afterall, she is right. Why should he care? After everything that she’s put his sister and his friends though. After what she put he and Suki through.Why should he care, especially when she is snubbing him right now while he is trying to care. 

It is something in her eyes. 

That is what stops him from throwing up his hands and telling her that she’s right, he doesn’t care and he shouldn’t. 

Something in her eyes that says she is afraid. 

Afraid to be cared about. 

Afraid to let someone care about here. 

Something in her eyes that says that she is confused. 

Confused about how to handle a helping hand.

Confused, genuinely so, as to why anyone would care. 

Her tone is hateful but Sokka is certain that Azula really does want to know why he cares about her safety. At first all he can say is, “because no one else does.” A bad answer, he knows that even without her reply.”

“Clearly…” She mutters. Her voice is as flat as ever but he can still hear the hurt in her voice. She has come to some sort of resigned acceptance that the closest she will come to having friends is a gaggle of people that invite her to dinner because she has been fighting their battles for them. 

Today’s battle is a small team of assassins that have been after Zuko for some time. She has already taken down several of them; their capture had led to the relaying of crucial information. Details of the assassination plan that is going to be put into action tomorrow. And Sokka doesn’t think that this group particularly cares which royal they take down so long as they’ve got blood on their hands and an example to make of the body.

.oOo.

She supposes that she’d rather run the risk of death than spend a lifetime in a cell alongside father. At this point she has grown rather fond of the extremely high risk endeavors, they offer her, her best chance for peace. Her best chance for a blissful, merciful nothingness. The kind that will wrap around her and caress her body as it pulls under and away.

Away from everything that hurts her.

That will always hurt her and haunt her and torment her. 

Right now the source of her torment has blue eyes and the beginnings of a scruffy beard. Evidently this has been the source for the past few days. He is always yammering away about stupid things and telling ridiculous stories that she doesn’t care about. 

He tells her dumb jokes that aren’t funny.

Now he is pretending to be concerned so he won’t have to feel as guilty when she finally makes her way to that nothingness.

When she finally dies. 

“You’re not so bad.” He tries again. “I actually like talking to you.”

She furrows her brows, she can’t imagine why he would enjoy it. “Talking at me, more like.” 

He rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess.” He pauses. “You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to shut up.”

“I’ve been trying to signal it with my eyes.”

Although she isn’t trying to be funny, he laughs. “You’re the only person who actually listens. And don’t tell me that you don’t. I’m used to people zoning out in the middle of my stories. You actually pay attention, I bet that you can tell me exactly what I was telling you about three days ago.”

“Submarine infrastructure.” She mutters against her better judgment. “How Water Tribe submarines differ from Fire Nation ones and the pros and cons of both.” 

“Exactly.” He is beaming now. She is not used to people look so cheerful over something that she has said. 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You asked me why I care if you’re safe.” He shrugs. “I care because I like talking to you. I also enjoy having you around for dinner.” He is dancing around the word ‘friend’. Not that he would consider her to be anything of the sort. 

“There are plenty of other people who you can talk to, Sokka. Maybe they aren’t as attentive but they’re more pleasant conversationalists.” She tapers off into a sigh. There is a stirring in her tummy, a depressive little tickle. 

“You’re not just some…some guard dog.” He sputters. 

They could have fooled her. She knows that they have been feeding her metaphorical table scraps. They pet her and treat her when she does well and kick her when she doesn’t even if it isn’t in a physical sense. 

Evidently she doesn’t even think that they realize that they are doing it. 

That they treat her not dissimilarly to how father always has. 

Especially Zuko.

Zuko who is so proud of himself for not turning out like his father. 

“I guess that it feels that way sometimes.” Sokka’s voice falls. He finds himself a seat next to her, shoulder hunched, posture slouched–exactly the opposite of how she holds herself. “It’s okay to feel heavy sometimes. It’s okay to show it.” He says. And then he clarifies, “You don’t always have to sit so tall.”

“Perhaps I find this position comfortable.” Even if it is only by familiarity. 

“I don’t think that you’re just some kind of weapon.”

She doesn’t believe him.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I’ll tell them that I wouldn’t let you or that I wanted to handle it because I needed to feel useful.” He offers. “Sometimes I do that, you know? I can’t bend and so sometimes it feels like I’m not as cool or important. So sometimes I do dumb things…”

“Sometimes?”

“So that I can feel like I’m as strong as everyone else.”

Azula shrugs. “What do you need bending and strength for? You have something better.” 

“Better?”

She gives his head a good tap. “You’ve got more brains than all of them put together. They can master all the bending forms that they’d like, build as much muscle as they can. It won’t matter so long as you plan adequately.”

Sokka smiles. “See, this is why I like you.” He pauses. “You don’t give compliments very much…”

“That wasn’t a compliment it was a…”

“That’s what makes it mean so much when you do. Even if you decide to pretend like you weren’t giving compliments.” He has the audacity to take her hand. “I don’t think that you’re as cruel as everyone says, you wouldn’t be such a good listener if you were.”

She stares at her palm and at her hand in his. She considers shaking his grip away.

“Just because you have a past doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get a future.” 

And she cracks. 

She doesn’t want to but she does. 

That armor that he has been steadily chipping away at is finally crumbled beyond use. 

Her breath hitches and she grits her teeth so to stifle the sob that wants to come forward. She swallows it down, though the tears are burning behind her eyes. She lets him rub her back. 

“It’s alright.” He assures. “You can just let it out. I think that you need to. I won’t tell anyone. As long as you don’t tell anyone that I’m also going to cry.”

“Why would you cry, Sokka?” 

“Because it just so happens that today is one of those days where I really wish that I could have bending so I wouldn’t just be the ‘idea guy’.”

.oOo.

He is surprised to find that she doesn’t tell him that that’s stupid and that he should be grateful that they think he is the brains of the group. Maybe it is simply because he has caught her in a vulnerable moment…maybe it is because they are both having one, but she pulls him into her arms and brushes her fingers through his hair.

She doesn’t say anything at all, but he can feel the care in her gestures. 

Can feel the affection. 

He knows that she isn’t as heartless as everyone makes her out to be, not when these small comforting gestures seem to come very naturally to her. Naturally, when she needs the comfort more than anyone else.

Not that he also can’t use some comfort. He isn’t just the idea guy, he is also the shoulder to cry on. The tough guy who listens to everyone’s problems and solves them. 

Just like he was trying to do for Azula.

Azula who has very much redirected his efforts and taken it upon herself to try to ease his pain.

He thinks that somehow it is soothing for her to be consoling him. 

Maybe it makes her feel less like a monster, maybe it helps her to remind herself that she is a human being filled with all of those emotions that people insist she is devoid of. 

“You know what else bothers me?” He asks.

“What bothers you?” She murmurs. He is glad for the soft and subtle quality of her voice. A voice that is so level now, he knows that she has managed to once again bury her own need to cry.

“I lose a lot of people I love and care about. I lost my mom and Yue and…I guess that’s not actually a lot.”

Azula shrugs. “One dead person is a lot, Sokka.” 

“I don’t want to lose another.”

“I’m not going to let Zuko die. Or Katara. Or any of those idiots.” 

“I’m not talking about those idiots!” He replies in a near shout. 

Azula snickers. 

“I’m talking about you.”

.oOo.

Azula swallows, “me?”

“Believe it or not, I care about you.”

The stroking of her hand comes to a halt. Surely just listening to his silly stories isn’t that profound. Really it is just a common courtesy. Yet he seems to really cherish that. She inhales through her nose. “Does it really bother you that much that I’m going to take this mission?”

“Yes!” He exclaims. “I know that there’s a better way to take this organization down. Sure it’s easier to just let you go in and do you thing. Take all of the damage that you usually take.” It isn’t lost on her that his eyes have locked on the scars that decorate her arms. The same sort that cover nearly every inch of her back and abdomen. The scars that keep piling up and up to the point where she is beginning to have trouble recognizing her own body. “It’ll take more time and planning but they don’t have to keep throwing you into the line of fire.” 

Azula shrugs. “It’s alright, Sokka. I’m used to it. If they didn’t, father would be.”

He takes her hands and squeezes them very tightly. “But it’s not alright. You shouldn’t be used to that.” 

She takes another shaky breath. The man really is pushing her to tears, she thinks that he might just be doing it on purpose. Maybe if she just gets it over with he will let her move on with her day and move on with her tasks. 

And maybe that is exactly what would have happened if Zuko and his merry band of morons hadn’t decided to come home from their afternoon of tomfoolery early. She shouldn’t have allowed him to convince her to cry. Especially not out here in the middle of the fucking palace garden of all places. 

She definitely shouldn’t have allowed him to coax her into leaning against him for a change. 

Because now they are looking at her differently. 

They are looking at her with pity and disgust. 

They are looking at her like she is weak. 

Sokka assures her that they are looking at her with empathy. That they are finally looking at her as a human being rather than something expandable. That might be reassuring if she believed him. 

.oOo.

It doesn’t take nearly as much convincing as he had anticipated now that they have happened upon her crying. Of course, Azula is furious with him, insisting very adamantly that he’d done that on purpose, that he had set her up to be caught. He’ll let her be mad at him because they are finally reconsidering their plans.

“Don’t write her out of them.” He mentions. “Let her work with us, not for us.”

“Sokka, you just said that you didn’t want her fighting.”

“I don’t.” He confirms. “But I know that she’ll take it the wrong way if we have her stay home. Let her take the lead, she likes doing that.” It’ll make her feel as powerful and strong as she likes to feel but she’ll have some support. People to make sure that she doesn’t acquire anymore painful scars. 

“Alright, we’ll come up with a new plan and…” Zukok starts. 

“I already came up with one.” Sokka cuts him off. “That’s my job, remember. I’m the idea guy.” Maybe one day they’ll catch that hint of bitter in his voice. At least this time, he is alright with being the idea guy. “I’m going to run it by Azula and let her polish things out. She’s amazing with details. I don’t know why you don’t let her make the plans. She can accomplish everything that needs to be done without getting hurt all the time.” He declares. 

It is then that he notices her figure propped up against one of the throne room pillars. He wonders how long she has been lurking for. Having noticed that she’d been noticed, Azula slips away from the pillar and wanders toward him. 

She looks much smaller without all of that armor. Or maybe it is how long the sleeves of her robes are. Or the way that her hair frames her face. And yet those eyes burn with a ferocity to match the bold personality within.

He takes her hand, it is soft and smooth and warm. “I think that between the two of us we’ll come up with a way to keep the assassins from getting to you and take care of them once and for all.” He pauses. “Without risking Azula’s life.” 

She is terribly quiet but he realizes that she is holding his hand back. Apparently she isn’t so angry with him after all. 

“That would be ideal.” Zuko replies as though this is the first time that he has actually truly considered that it might be better for everyone to try to make Azula feel cared for. 

Perhaps this mission won’t be full of love and fluff and team spirit. But it will be a start. And maybe, in due time, he won’t have to be the only one making all of the plans. Maybe, in due time, Azula’s scars will have a chance to heal. Maybe, in due time, the both of them will get the comfort they crave.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokkla #Sokka #Sokkla Saturday #sokkla saturdays 2022 #One Shot #Fanfiction

[westfall-castle]

What do you really think about Aelin? Personally,  I think she's really rude. I'm not staying this because she is written to be confident in herself.  But I believe it is arrogance. We as an audience are gaslit into believing that she's just strong and doesn't take crap. But so was Nehemia,  but the difference between Nehemia is that she isn't arrogant, but Aelin is.

Also there is the issue about her making "plans", that include no-one. I'm pretty sure that's not how you run things. It's pretty selfish to not tell anyone about your plans (like what happened to Aedion), and it's pretty selfish to be physically angry about someone who has a different of opinion than she did ( like Dorian talking about freeing manon in EOS).

Hahahaha, I’m sweating cold with this question because I have a feeling that when I answer, Aelin fans are gonna come for my head with torches and pikes. Still... ilysm for asking this, you're my crush, send you kisses and I agree with you on many levels.

My opinion: Its just too much to understand her anymore. It's like that movie, Split with James McAvoy. I heavily suspected dissociative identity disorder at some point 🤣. Aelin should be at least 45 to have lived all she has lived. It gives me the impression that SJM had to pick ONE main character for her fantasy books, either a girlboss pirate, a young assasin in a mens' world, a medieval courtier with a secret agenda, a gifted magician or a queen from a lost kingdom and she said "fuck it, i'll take them all". There would be no problem with this IF the character stayed consistent, if there were enough TIME but... SHES 19 IN THE FINAL BOOK. I mean...

Her personality traits just keep appearing left and right and us, as readers, don't get accountability for these new ways of behaving. She's feminine when it suits her but then bashes femininity in the next chapter. She's "one of the boys" but also a "girlboss". She's crazy and manic but also mighty and merciful. The only thing that remains constant might be her sense of humor. Her moral compass is a mess and there comes a point where she's truly unpredictable. It seems that she behaves according to what the plot needs in the moment.

For example; She's a girlboss feminist who is willing to teach Yrene how to defend herself and seems to have intentions of "empowering" women around her but then looks down on "soft" vulnerable women, rolling her eyes and mentally shaming and judging on multiple ocassions throughout the books and even saying things like (quoting one of her lines when she meets Philippa, her personal maid.) " Why send such a soft woman to serve her? She'd outpower her in a heartbeat". (And yes, Assassin’s Blade happened before TOG, is she evolving backwards?)

The books center so much in praising her through the point of view of multiple characters that we do not get enough introspection on her behalf. If anything we are swayed into a new tragedy/ battle/ moment of suffering where we only see her brooding over herself or past events as if making her suffer more and more somewhat was the way to revindicate her instead of her having a moment thinking to herself " well, I fucked up, things were not as I thought and I see it now".

Everyone owes her everything even if she was wrong sometimes and never accepted it. She has way too many life debts to call in the end and SHES ONLY 19. That’s why many readers felt in KoA that whenever Aelin and the plot hit a dead end, she just had to send a letter and 8 new powerful allies came claiming they owed her their lives. COME ON 😂 There’s a difference between writing fantasy and magically solving plots with unrealistic arguments.

I think what I hate most is the gaslighting of the narrative. as you mention. There are times where she's being arrogant, mean or condescending and instead of getting a REALISTIC and UNBIASED perspective we just get a Rowan POV chapter saying something like "It was not a plain woman but a queen standing before them" or "It was a queen's voice speaking" and then, as if it was not enough it follows another simping POV (usually Aedion) saying also " Wow, it was not his cousin speaking but a queen before them" like... NO STFU she's not right this time hahahah, and when exactly did she become so high and mighty.

Another example is how she fn ADORES to splurge on dresses on Assassin’s Blade but the moment she meets Kaltain and eavesdrop her conversation in the gardens Kaltain says that her own dress is ‘so old’ despite being practically new and Celaena’s reaction is ‘ugh, these air-headed women’ instead of maybe not pointing it out or even find it relatable. I know that this tells us more about Kaltain, so that we understand the type of person she is, but I still don’t like the harsh judgement Celaena seems to have about specific traits of her personality. Readers are gaslit into believing this change comes from her time in Endovier and now she’s so centered and appreciative and morally superior but THEEEEN in Crown of Midnight she LITERALLY DOES THE SAME, buying more clothes and jewels than she can wear, becoming suddenly a little bit cocky saying things like ‘ugh, these tacky clothes, I wouldn’t be caught dead in those’ . Come on girl, don’t be judgy when you’re the same.

I loved Celaena in Throne of Glass (BOOK 1) . Up until this point it was a tight character, I liked her personality, her internal monologue was funny and relatable. The events that had happened in her life were somehow believable (even if it’s a fantasy book) Her moral compass was clear for the reader and we had this concept of "rogue with certain moral values/ chaotic good" persona. When Aelin comes though... Idk anymore, It feels so inconsistent. She's just... everything, she has 8 different personalities at the same time, it's like she was an A03 fic and she had ALL THE TAGS, all the tropes. She gets away with the bad things she does too easily. In the end I was happy she was happy and never came to hate her but its just too much going on for one character.

#tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #celaena sardothien #aelin ashryver galathynius #sjm books #sjmass #yrene towers #yrene westfall #chaol westfall #dorian haviliard #tog series #kingdom of ash #anti aelin

[star-sim]

oh wise vanya please help me apparently my year of dignity and male-lessness decided to spice things up and now i’m in a Dilemma!

a bit (a lot) of context: so around two and a half years ago there was this guy who liked me and then confessed to me, at the time i liked him a little too but i think it was mainly because i liked the idea of liking someone and someone liking me?? if that makes sense.

so he confessed to me one day and i was like “oh i like you too lol” because i literally did Not know what to do in that situation and then it was lowkey awk because we mutually avoided each other at school 💀 we were really young tho BUT THEN like a month and a half later he was said he didn’t like me anymore (HE SENT THAT OVER TEXT LMFAO…) and i responded with “okay” (i realized that i didn’t really like him at that point too so i was kind of relieved tbh) it wasn’t even a relationship because bffr we didn’t even hold hands so why was bro being all like “let’s break up 😐” like… were we ever even together be honest

it was VERY awkward after that like lmao we wouldn’t even make eye contact but then a few months later we became close friends because we were friends before (idek how atp); then he moved away during the summer because he was going to some boarding school & we still kept in contact up until last summer

he got a girlfriend in may of last year?? and ever since then i’d been VERY distant like i didn’t talk to him at ALL because i have to uphold the girl code… apparently he told his girlfriend about me though and i’ve heard from a mutual friend that she doesn’t like me that much and disliked me even more after she found out that he had a saved folder of me in his photos (that’s on him tho bc wtf 💀 that’s kind of a Red Flag of him)

anyways back to today… i opened my snapchat after 8263872 days of being dormant and apparently he texted me for the first time since JUNE three weeks ago and i unknowingly left him on sent 💀💀

now i could either: a) open his message because honestly i am morbidly curious or b) leave his message to marinate forever and leave him on sent indefinitely

which would be more girlboss because i am done w men irl 😐 send help pls

ASH!!!!

liking someone purely bc you like the idea of liking someone and them liking you back is SO REAL

UGHH he is so middle school boy love.... the "let's break up" over text when the most ygs did was probably look at each other.... pukes

youre such a girl's girl, youre SO realness for not talking to him for the sake of girl code... ugh im sorry controversial opinion it irks me when ppl are angry at their s/o's ex... like u didnt even do anything to her, is it a crime to exist. if anything, she should be mad at HIM??? like who is the one keeping pictures of their ex? not you, so why are you literally the subject of her anger. ever since new years i've been trying to tone down my d1 hater tendencies but ouuuu that makes me to annoyed on your behalf like LEAVE HER ALONE 😡

i say... open the message. see what this bitchass has to say. i'm also kinda curious too. whether or not you respond is up to you, but if youre worried about girl code, i don't see an issue? he's the one doing shady stuff, your entire existence is not tied to him and your actions are independent of him, if that's hard for him or his gf to see then they clearly aren't mature does it kill them to use critical thinking

but if you DO leave him on sent... it would be pretty funny

everyone ditch his ass he deserves no one!!!!!

#star-sim #vanya-talks #★: ash !!