#I'm literally begging for people to comment their opinions on my writing
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'Cause I'm a jealous, jealous, jealous girl
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader
Summary: A visit to the doctors was only supposed to bring good health, not jealousy.
Warnings: dislocated ankle, tripping, swearing, jealous tara...?, bad writing, not proof-read
Words: 6.634k (ik.)
A/N: i fucking suck at summary's. but on a happier note i've finished all my exams, yay. my enthusiasm can clearly be detected. my first shift at a new job is tomorrow and i am shitting dicks from nerves, it's at a icecream shop but that doesn't make me less nervous rvkjnoxnoa. anyway, hope you enjoy this!!<33
part II
“It cannot be topped. The Babadook is top tier and nothing will change my mind.”
You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to look at Tara, raising your eyebrows slightly. “You’re such a snob when it comes to horror it’s unreal.” Tara gave you a fake hurt look at your comment, you could tell she’s faking it since the girl has a small smile on her pink lips.
“How am I a snob just because I enjoy horror movies that aren’t teens getting killed at a camp that has some cheesy name like ‘Camp Cover.’”
“Don’t you dare disrespect Friday the Thirteenth or Sleepaway Camp like that!”
Throughout your and Tara’s walk around Central Park the topic of horror movies has been one the two of you debating on. You taking the side of defending slashers meanwhile Tara taking the side that elevated horror is much better.
Did you expect your peaceful walk with your crush best friend would turn into a horror movie debate? No, but it didn’t surprise you either. In fact horror is what made you and Tara even become friends.
You had been at a party and after a while it had died down and you ended up with a group of people sitting in the living room putting on a horror movie. After a few arguments on what to put on everyone decided to simply put on the latest Halloween movie, Halloween Ends.
You weren’t particularly enjoying the film much and ended up chatting with a girl named Anika while the movie played. At the halfway mark of the movie a poor drunken soul asked a question that ended up turning into a full on debate in the group.
“Who would win in a fight, Micheal or Jason?”
Almost immediately after the person uttered those words people started voicing their opinions.
“Micheal obviously, he’s been in the game longer than Jason.”
“Micheal. Literally nothing kills him meanwhile Jason has been killed a shit ton of times.”
“Jason is a mommy’s boy who didn’t even show up till the second movie. Definitely Micheal.”
You were alarmed with the amount of comments made slamming Jason, so naturally you went to defend him. Your strongest argument was the fact Jason was factually stronger than Micheal, something everyone had to accept.
“Sure Micheal did crush someone's skull with his boot in the twenty eighteen Halloween, but in Jason Takes Manhattan Jason literally punched a guy's head off. Jason would destroy Micheal.”
You knew you were on the right side since even horror nerd Mindy agreed with you before going on a much longer speech.
Not long after Mindy had finished her speech most had either gotten bored and left or decided to head home anyway. but a small group of you still stayed to finish the movie, one of those people being Tara.
“I bet Mindy’s glad somebody else agreed with her.” Was the first words Tara ever said to you. To which you replied with. “I’m just surprised how many people underestimate Jason.”
And the rest is history.
You became closer with Tara and all of her friends and after a few months even snagged the ‘best friend’ title, but it only took you a few weeks for Tara to snag the ‘crush’ title for you, something you’d take to the grave.
On this particular sunny day Tara has begged you to join her for a walk, in the beginning you declined since it’s boiling and would’ve much preferred to stay inside in your room reading. Unfortunately for you, you and Tara both know you can’t say no to her.
That’s how you and Tara ended up walking around Central Park talking about random things until the topic of horror movies came up.
Tara rolled her eyes as she shook her head in amusement, staring up at you as the two of you walked. “Alright then, what’s your top three horror movies then?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow, her smile turning into a playful one.
“Easy. You’re Next, My Bloody Valentine and,” You pursed your lips as you tried to think of your third favourite names such as Bride of Chucky, Ready or Not, Stab, Evil Dead, Halloween, Friday the Thirteenth swirled in your mind until one particular movie landed in your mind.
“Hush.” You finally added with a confident smile, taking a few extra steps in front of Tara as you turned your entire body to face her, walking backwards. “You’re Next has one of the best female leads who fights fucking back and even kills the douchebag brother with a blender. Iconic. My Bloody Valentine is easily one of the best horror movies that came out in the eighties, tied with Sleepaway Camp and The Thing. For the eighties the gore is insanely well done and its plot and acting is just spectacular.”
You took a second to catch your breath before you began to talk about your final favourite horror movie.
“Hush is one of the most underrated horror movies in history, don’t even try to change my opinion on that.” Tara lets out a small giggle that makes your heart skip a beat at the angelic sound. “Its plot is downright scary and the acting by Kate Siegel is truly out of this world for this role of Maddie. An intense movie that in my opinion was one of the best one of that year.”
As you carried on talking the more engorged you got into the topic meaning you simply got even more excited like a puppy getting a treat. Your smile at its best as you walked with a slight bounce, your eyes focused on Tara’s dark chocolate brown ones.
“Honourable mentions are definitely the classics such as Halloween, Stab, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the Thirteenth and Nightmare on Elm Street. Without a doubt each movie holds one of the most infamous horror villains ever made. Micheal Myers, Ghostface, Leatherface, Jason Voorhees and Freddy Kruger. Even if you don’t like horror you still would know those names.”
Just as you finished your sentence you went to turn back around to actually look where you’re walking, you spun around quickly as you tried taking a step forward. Apparently your pain couldn’t handle the simple task which inevitably ended up with you falling to the ground, landing on your ankle funny.
You groaned as you could feel the harsh pain in your left ankle already, looking down at your legs before you turned to look for Tara who is crouched next to you already, a worried look on her face.
“Are you alright?” She asked in a rushed tone as she looked you up and down, a small frown tugging at her lips. The small crease between her brows told you she’s worried, one hand behind your neck and the other on your side confirming that thought.
You give a stiff nod as you push yourself up with your arms, biting at your bottom lip to not let out a strangled yell at the pain radiating from your ankle at the movement. “Peachy.” You mumbled through clenched teeth as you give her a non-convincing smile.
The brunette gives you a ‘are you being serious’ look as she swiftly moves one of her hands to grab yours, the feeling of her hand in yours erupting butterflies to go off in your stomach.
Not the time to have a gay panic, you mentally yell at yourself.
“It’s just a scrape, Tar.” You reassured as you manoeuvred your right leg to try to stand up, Tara swiftly stood up herself as her grip on your hand only tightened. The second you moved your left foot the pain increased, you bit at your bottom lip roughly to stop yourself from screaming.
Deciding to simply fight through the pain you placed your right foot flatly on the ground, ready to stand up. You look at Tara who looked down at you with an even more worried expression than before.
“Help me up?” You asked which she did, she began pulling you up slowly until you had to place your left foot flat on the ground to stand up, deciding to bite the bullet your roughly moved your foot to place it flat.
The second you felt your left foot make contact with the ground you stood up quickly, tears swelling up in your eyes at the immense pain radiating from your ankle.
“Y/n I don’t think it’s just a scrape.” The worried Tara announced as she took a step closer to you and placed a hand on your shoulder comfortingly.
You smiled softly at her as you shook your head ‘no’. “Alright then a bruise, which is still manageable.” Tara gave you a pointed look as she gazed into your eyes, her soft dark brown eyes making your knees feel weak.
“I don’t believe you.” She states.
“I’m fine. I swear, T.” You replied as you squeezed her hand in reassurances, trying to ignore the horrible pain in your ankle. You didn’t want to worry the girl even further.
The smaller girl insists on a silent staring content as she challenges you, if you back down that means she’s right and you’re wrong, if she backs down that means she’ll drop it for now. Your gaze never breaks as your eyes bore into hers, an eyebrow raised challengingly.
Tara shows no sign of backing down either with her own brows raised as she stares at you, her lips pulled into a straight tight line. The deadpan glare really reminding you of Sam.
The pain from the ankle radiated higher up the leg with much more fierce pain which forced you to hold back a whimper at the pain, at the feeling of pain you relent and back down from the contest, breaking eye contact first.
“Fine, you win.” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest like a child losing a game. Tara’s grins smugly as she sticks out her tongue to get all the glory possibly at the small win. “I knew I’d win.” Tara says her tone dripping with smugness, oh the things you’d do to wipe that grin off her face.
Luckily you didn’t have to do anything since Tara’s eyes suddenly widened as if she just remembered why she was competing in the first place. “Shit your leg.” She mumbles mostly to herself as the worried look replaces the one of victory.
The brunette glances around the park and notices a bench not too far away from you two. You watch as she mutely nodded her head to herself as she planned a plan in her mind, her head turning back towards you a few moments later.
“I’m gonna carry you to the bench and then I’ll check your ankle.” Tara explained as she took a few short steps closer until she’s invading your personal space. You give the Carpenter girl an amused smile. “Okay then Doctor Carpenter how are you planning to carry me over when I’m literally taller than you.”
“I could carry you if I wanted to.” She remarks as an offended look appears on her face, her own arms folding over her stomach. You rolled your eyes as you let out a huff, without much more explanation you wrapped an arm around Tara’s shoulder, pulling her in.
Ignoring the sudden warmth you feel in your cheeks you raise your left foot off the ground, using Tara to lean on. “C’mon,” You mumble as you begin to hop forward with your right foot. Tara immediately complies and begins walking with you, her own arm tightly wrapped around your waist, her free hand raised to hold your hand which dangled off her shoulder, something that most definitely didn’t help the blush on your cheeks.
Damn your gayness.
After a handful of grunts, a few stops and a thousand “Are you okay?” from Tara the two of you reached the bench, Tara making sure to lower you down slowly.
Sitting down you could feel the throbbing pain in your ankle as if it had another heartbeat there. Clenching your jaw you look at Tara who is kneeling in front of you, one hand on your calf and the other near your left foot.
“I’m going to take off your shoe okay, I promise I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” Tara affirmed softly as her eyes gazed up into yours not trusting your voice you gave her a curt nod signalling her to go ahead.
As she untied your shoe laces you began to loathe your past self for deciding to wear converses. Every small movement she did the pain only intensified making you flinch or let out a pained moan.
“Sorry,” Tara apologised as she began to take off the shoe. The throbbing pain in your ankle only got worse, you raised your hand and bit at your knuckle harshly as Tara kept apologising as she took the shoe off.
The second your foot was without a shoe you could feel a slight relief but the pain didn’t change much. “Jesus Christ.” Tara gasped as her delicate fingers gently wrapped around your calf. You let out a humourless chuckle as you looked down at Tara and your swollen ankle. Your ankle had already began to swollen as a nasty dark purple began tainting the skin around it, you grimaced at the sight of your fucked up ankle.
“Maybe it isn’t that bad?”
_________
“-severely dislocated ankle.”
So it was as bad as it looked.
You sighed as you glanced over at Tara who is standing next to you paying much more to what the nurse said than you. Her worried look hadn’t slipped away for a second ever since Sam dropped you two off at the hospital, in fact you’d say it’s probably even gotten worse.
The older Carpenter sister couldn’t come in with you two since she had a shift at the bar she worked at.
“You’ll be given crutches to help you keep weight off the ankle as well as an ankle brace that you’ll have to wear for a few weeks. Medication will also need to be taken three times a day with each meal.” The nurse listed off in the most montoned voice you’d ever hear, seriously, it competes with Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Terminator.
You nod your head weakly as Tara nods her head curtly, an appreciative smile forming on her lips. “I’ll make sure she takes them, thank you.”
The nurse mumbles something under her lips before turning to glare at you, her blue dull eyes void of any emotion. “The doctor will be here in a minute to give you some painkillers to ease the pain.”
“Okay, thanks.” You replied with a small smile, the old nurse glare got even colder before she abruptly turned her back and walked away. You sigh dramatically as you lean your head even further on the thin hospital pillows, looking over at Tara who’s already right by your side.
“I can’t believe you got so excited over horror movies you sprained your ankle, that is more nerdy than Mindy.” She teased in a playful tone as she slightly leaned on the side railings of the bed, her eyes focused on your face. You could tell she’s trying her best to try to find humour in the situation rather than turning into a worried mess.
You let out a laugh of disbelief at that smirk toying at your lips. “I could’ve cosplayed as Jason and broken my arm over getting so excited and that still wouldn’t be enough to beat Mindy.” You retort in the same playful tone as you pushed yourself further up on the bed, flinching at the pain radiating from your ankle at the movement.
“Once you’ve gotten your painkillers we can leave, we’ll just stop by my apartment so I can get a few things then go to yours.” Tara declared as her hand moved to lay on top of yours, her warm hand warming up your cold one.
You tilted your head to the side like a confused puppy at her words. “What do you need from your apartment?” You asked, flipping your hand over so you could lace your fingers with Tara’s.
Tara’s eyes averted from yours and flickered down to your linked hands, the tip of her ears turning red at the contact, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope at her reaction. The brunette stared at your hands for a few moments as if she had completely forgotten you asked her a question.
You smirked as you gave her hand a squeeze making her eyes snap back to yours straightaway with an embarrassed smile on her face as she let out a dry cough. “What?” She stuttered out.
“What do you need from your apartment?” You repeated for her sake, the smirk never leaving your lips. “To get some spare clothes, charger, headphones and my spare inhaler.”
“I already have a spare inhaler at my apartment.” You say right after she mentioned the spare inhaler. Tara’s eyes softened even more at that, her nervous smile turning back into that sweet smile that made your heart beat increase.
Something you became incredibly aware of as the monitor to your heart started becoming louder and more frequent.
“Really?” She asks as her eyes flicker over to the monitor before coming back to you. You nodded your head. “Yeah just in case of an emergency or you’d forgotten yours at home.” You answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Before Tara could reply, heavy footsteps are heard walking towards the two of you, both of you snapped your head towards the noise and that’s where you see the second most gorgeous human being on earth.
(Tara obviously being first)
The doctor had long black hair that reached a few inches below her shoulders, her eyes a dark brown colour that almost looked black. The woman looks around thirty years old, one or two barely noticeable wrinkles on her face. With or without she had your gay heart speeding at the sight of her.
She strutted closer to the two of you with a warm smile on her lips with a clipboard in the clutches of her right hand. “Y/n L/n?” The doctor asked in a raspy voice that told you she’s most definitely smoked a handful of times in her life, the thought somehow made the woman even hotter to you.
“Yes.” You stuttered out, starstruck at the pure beauty of this woman. She flashed a grin as she started to prepare the IV for you. “I’m Doctor Edwards and I’m going to give you some painkillers to ease the pain, is that okay with you?” She confirmed which you could only dumbly nod at.
The older woman let out a low laugh at your reaction which made heat rise to your cheeks at the sound. Jesus who knew older women had such an effect on you?
A tight grip on your hand made you let out a low whine as you turned to look to your side to see a not so happy looking Tara Carpenter. Her smile had completely vanished and her soft looking lips pulled into a tight line.
“You okay?” You whispered to Tara bringing her glaring eyes away from the doctor and to look at you. She replied in a curt nod as her features slightly softened at the sight of you.
Before you could reply you felt a cold hand graze across your elbow, firm fingers taking a tight yet somehow soft grip on it. You turned to look back at the Doctor Edwards who is now closer as she prepared to insert the needle attached to the IV full of fentanyl in you.
“This might feel a bit uncomfortable honey.” She told you as her eyes glanced towards yours, your heart monitor frantically picking up at the fact this practical milf just called you ‘honey’. The dark haired woman smiled reassuringly at you as she positioned the needle at the top of your forearm. “It’ll be over before you know it.”
“Okay, thank you.” You croaked out as the grip in your and Tara’s interlocked hands got even tighter. This time you squeezed back as you felt the needle start to stab into your skin, you’d never been a fan of needles.
“You’re doing so good for me honey.” Doctor Edwards encouraged in a honey sweet voice that would attract bees.
God is she trying to kill me, you thought to yourself.
After a few seconds you could feel something flow into your body which made you grimace at the feeling before you eventually relaxed as the pain instantly started to calm down in your ankle.
“All done.” You turned back to look at the doctor who took a step back moving to grab her clipboard and scribbled a few things down on the paper. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to see how you are and then you’ll be good to go.”
“Thank you so much.” You replied as you gave her a smile, the painkillers coursing through your veins soothing you. She looked at Tara and gave the grumpy looking girl a smile before she took off to deal with other patients.
You sighed in relief.
“So unprofessional.” Tara mumbled next to you in a low voice.
Your brows furrowed together as you turned to look at her, that annoyed look still on her face. “How was she unprofessional? She was lovely and gave me sweet drugs to ease the pain, what’s not to love about her?” You defend as you look at her.
Tara scoffed as she dropped your grip and crossed her arms over her chest like an angry toddler being told ‘no’. “She was flirting with you. She’s the doctor and you’re the patient, that’s beyond unprofessional.” Tara argued back, dropping to sit down on the small one person blue chair next to your hospital bed.
You could already begin to feel the effects of the painkillers, must’ve been a high dosage, you thought. You cocked your head to the side as a teasing smile complimented on your lips. “If she was then I might ask for her number before we leave.”
“No!” Tara said a bit too loudly making you let out a giggle. Damn, how strong was the dosage?
“Why not? She’s the first woman in months to actually flirt with me.” You retorted as Tara’s stare hardened as her eyes glazed over to the doctor a few beds down talking to another patient in a leg cast.
Tara looked back over at you as she tried to think of a suitable reason why you should reject the apparent flirting doctor. You smirked as the silence filled up between Tara and you telling you that Tara didn’t have a solid reason for you to not ask the doctor out.
Your eyes slowly averted to the older woman who had a soothing smile on her lips as she talked to her patient, you could tell she actually cared for the people rather than just taking the job for money.
“I just don’t think you’d be a great match that’s all.” Tara’s voice piped up resulting in your eyes glancing back over to the sour looking girl. The strong painkillers already having an effect on you, boosting your confidence and lowering your care as a teasing smile emerges on your face.
“You didn’t even speak to her, how could you tell she isn’t good enough for me?” You pressed, wanting to get a bigger reaction from her. You’re no Emily Prentiss at reading people but even you suspect that Tara Carpenter seemed a little bit jealous.
The thought egged you on to try to get the green eyed monster to erupt in hopes of the girl maybe actually doing something rather than sit there seething with jealousy.
Tara shrugged her shoulders as she bit the inside of her cheek, a bad habit you’ve noticed she keeps doing when she’s either annoyed or stressed. She doesn’t give you a verbal answer as her eyes refuse to make contact with yours.
“Alright then,” You begin as your eyes gaze into Tara’s side profile, she glaring at the innocent wall rather than looking at you. “If she isn’t a good match for me, who would be then?”
“Anyone else.” Tara replied swiftly as her eyes maintained on the wall.
You nodded your head weakly to yourself, the teasing smirk still on your lips. “Anyone else?” You repeat her words as she hummed in agreement. “So do you think Quinn would be a good match for me then? Quinn has great humour, she’s a part of the friend group so you can trust her and she definitely knows how to please someone in bed.”
Tara still refused to look at you as she spat out her answer. “Quinn is a heartbreaker and prefers to have flings rather than stay in a relationship.”
“No Doctor Edwards and no Quinn, how about Sam then.” Tara’s head snapped to glare at you in such a fast movement it looked like she could get whiplash from it. She shook her head curtly. “No.” Is all she says in a low voice.
You let out a laugh as mischievousness swirled in your eyes as they locked with Tara’s dark brown ones. You bit at your lower lip for a second before speaking.
“Well who then? You?”
The annoyed glare on Tara’s face dropped as a stunned one supplanted it. Her eyes widened as her once tightly pulled together lips now relaxed, her dark chocolate eyes melting as they didn’t tear away from yours. A scarlet red hue of a blush accompanied her cheeks the longer you gazed into each other's eyes.
A lazy smile complimented your lips as you raised your eyebrows at the girl, silently asking her ‘Well?’. Tara stayed quiet. She didn’t nod her head, she didn’t shake her head either. All she did was gaze at you and your lazy grin.
Her mouth opened but no words were uttered, she looked like she’s mimicking a fish. Tara shut her mouth back closed and stayed like that for a few moments before she opened her mouth again, more prepared to say something this time.
“Are the painkillers working, Y/n?” Doctor Edwards interrupted as she appeared from thin air, standing next to Tara whose glare instantly focused on the doctor. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at Tara’s pissed off look as you turned to look at the older woman.
You smile loosely as you give an awkward thumbs up to her. “Superb, doc, now I understand why people like them so much.” She chuckled as she nodded her head stepping closer as she pulled the IV needle from your forearm, a small dot of blood appearing at where the needle once was.
You stared in awe as she moved to grab a cotton ball from her trey of medicine on the other side of the bed, pressing the ball against the blood before she taped it there with medical tape that made sure it stayed there.
She smiled kindly at you before she checked your vitals quickly, once done she took a few steps back to get a good view of you. “You’re good to go, Y/n. I’ll write you a prescription for your medicine and get you your crutches and then you can leave.”
You sighed in relief as you nodded your head giving her a thankful smile. “Thank you, I’m pretty sure you saved my life.”
She shook her head as a raspy laugh escaped the older woman’s lips. “I think that’s a little bit over the top but either way it was my pleasure.” Before you could reply a cough is heard from next to you.
You turn to look at Tara who is now standing up and much, much closer to you now. A fake sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face as she looks over at the doctor, her hand on your shoulder.
“Thanks for all your help doc but we should really get back home and make some dinner.” Tara says in an even more sweet voice that you just know is fake. Your eyes avert back to the doctor who has a smile on her lips as she looks between you and Tara.
She hums as she takes a singular step back. “Don’t worry honey I know you two just want to get home and get into bed together and sleep after such a stressful day. I’ll be back shortly with the crutches and prescription.” She promises as she turns on her heels and exits the room to do what she just said.
“Bitch.” Tara grumbled next to you as she glared at the woman walking away. Her fake smile vanished into thin air. You roll your eyes as you carefully push yourself to the edge of your bed, stiffly moving your legs off of the bed.
“There’s no signal inside the hospital. Do you wanna go outside and call Sam? She’s probably finishing her shift around now since we’ve been here for hours.” You asked her, as you moved your left leg back and forth steadily, sighing at not feeling much pain anymore due to the painkillers.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a second. Do not leave this bed.” Tara demands with a threatening point of her index finger that simply makes you giggle, raising your hands up with a goofy grin on your face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Tara stares at you for a few moments before she hurriedly walks out of the room, taking her phone out of her pocket and already trying to call Sam. You didn’t look away at her retreating figure until she was fully out of your view, only then turning your head away.
“She has to be jealous, there’s no other explanation for her behaviour.” You tell yourself as you observe the seat Tara was sitting in a few minutes ago.
“Oh she’s practically the green eyed monster honey.” A voice says from behind you.
You jumped as you snapped your head to look in the direction of the voice to see Doctor Edwards standing there holding crutches and a small slip of paper. You sighed dramatically as you dropped your head.
“How the fuck do you move around so quietly? You’re like a cat.” The woman chuckles as she walks in front of you presenting you the crutches. You smile weakly at her as you take them, quickly putting your arms through the holes and gripping the grey handle.
Slowly, you push yourself up until you’re fully standing up, your left foot hovering off the ground as you bend your knee. “The older I get the quieter my steps become.” She replies stretching her arms to your sides ready to catch you in case you’d fall.
You smile bashfully at her as you steadied your stance. “Well you don’t look a day over twenty five.” You compliment her, your voice coming out much stronger and confident that you anticipated.
These painkillers are really having a toll on me.
“I think the drugs are really starting to hit you now, sugar.” She says as if she heard your thoughts, her eyes glanced away from yours to behind you for a second before they smoothly returned to yours.
The older woman leans closer until her mouth is not too far away from your ear, in a whisper she says. “Tell her the truth.” You quickly put the pieces together and guess what she’s talking about. “What if she doesn’t like me back?” You questioned worriedly in a whisper.
She lets out a low chuckle as she pulls away looking behind you once again but for longer this time. “I know the look of love as well as I know the look of jealousy, dear.” You turn to look at what the older woman is already glancing at; not surprisingly you see a proper pissed off looking Tara near the doorway.
You smile happily at Tara as you retrieve the prescription from the doctor’s hand, gripping it in your non-dominant hand. Glancing back at the woman she steps aside gifting you a soft smile. You wordlessly nod at her before wobbling over to Tara, grunting at every hop you took with the crutches.
Tara snaps out of glaring and briskly makes her way over to help you, that gorgeous smile not showing on her face.
“Sam will be here any minute.” Tara confirmed as she took the slip of paper from your clutches to give you more of an advantage. You mutely nod your head at her words.
__________
By the time you and Tara left the hospital, having to take one too many stops since you were struggling with the uncomfortable clutches as you felt more and more tired with every passing moment, Sam is already there in her car.
The car ride to the Carpenter’s apartment was filled with low music from the radio and no small talk being made. You sat in the back with your crutches while Tara and Sam were in the front. You took that time to check your socials and ramble to Mindy about your massive gay panic at the hospital.
Before you know it you’ve stopped at the Carpenter’s household and now just arrived at your apartment complex. Flinging the car door open, you grunt as you lean out of the car putting on the crutches, Tara somehow appears in front of you and guides you to stand up with much less of a struggle.
You give Sam a wave and a smile as you hop over the driver’s side window where Sam has rolled down the window. “Thanks for the lift, Sammy.” You mumble tiredly to which Sam rolled her eyes at.
“Don’t call me that.” The older Carpenter sister grumbles in her usual grumpy tone. You grin lazily as you take a small step backwards. “You know you love it.”
“I don’t. I hate it as much as I hate you.” Sam said as she shifted the gear stick as she started to drive off. “Love you too, Sammy!” You yell as she drives off, giggling like a child when Sam’s hand emerges from the window flipping you off.
“Let’s get inside.” The tired Tara says from behind you, her hand pressed against your back gently. You turn to look at her letting out another weak chuckle. “Please.”
Tara smiles softly at you as she begins walking by your side into the apartment complex. Taking the elevator, the two of you staying in silence the entire journey until you both arrive at your apartment, Tara unlocks the door with her spare key and walks in first flicking on the lights as she holds the door open for you.
You smile appreciatively to Tara as you wobble over to your bedroom, desperate to get to your bed. Tara closes the front door before she follows you into your bedroom, dropping her blue backpack on the floor outside your bedroom before entering.
“Oh sweet bed how I have missed you.” You murmured against the pillows your face dug deep inside of them, your forgotten crutches thrown on the floor beside your bed. You feel a dip in the bed at the side of your head, you roll over to lay on your back as you look at Tara sitting beside your head.
“You can’t sleep in those, Y/n, you need to change out of your jeans.” She reminds you in a knowing tone causing you to let out a loud groan, covering your face with your hands. “But I just sat down.” You say in a muffled voice behind your hands.
Tara laughs sweetly as you feel her weight move off of the bed, her footsteps telling you she’s headed towards your dresser. Peeking through the crack of your hands you see her pull out your favourite pyjamas.
Is it completely childish? Yes. Do you care? Not at all.
The brunette pulled out your deadpool pyjamas, the set being your all time favourite piece of sleep clothing. She throws it over at you before heading towards the door, leaning against it as she turns to look at you once again.
“If you need help just yell my name.” She offers before silently leaving and closing your door quietly. You sighed as you sat up grabbing the clothes that landed on your lap.
You took your time changing into the pyjamas. Taking off your shirt and bra and replacing them with the red oversized deadpool shirt took a few seconds at most. The real challenge being taking off the thick long grey boot on your leg foot before slowly shuffling out of your jeans and into the sweats.
Once changed and the brace back on you move to lay back down on your bed, your eyes fighting the urge to shut with every passing second. Right as when you start to feel yourself drift off to sleep a knock is heard at your door.
“Y/n? You good?” Tara’s muffled voice is heard through the door.
You smile as you nod your head as if she can see you. “Yeah you can come in if you want.” Tara quickly takes up on that offer and re-enters your room with a small smile on her face as she walks over to you.
She had also changed into her pyjamas which consisted of an old shirt she stole from you which practically devoured the girl’s figure. You couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her in your clothing.
“How’re you feeling now?” Tara asks as she sits down near your head once again, you look up at the sitting girl with a smile.
“You never answered my question.” You tell her, completely ignoring her question. The Carpenter sister faintly cocks her head to the side with confusion clear in her eyes. “If you’d be a good match for me.” You add as you blink slowly at her.
Tara’s breath hitches. Her eyes averted from yours to look at the doorway. “Do you still feel high from the painkillers?” She questions back.
You giggle as you nodded your head, raising your hand and hovering your index finger over your thumb. “Just a tiny bit.” Tara scoffed a laugh as she nodded her own head weakly, finally looking back into your eyes with hers.
“Then you probably won’t remember this in the morning then.” She mumbles mostly to herself with a smile. Tara sighs as she leans down to give a soft kiss to your forehead, your ears burn at the feeling as butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of Tara’s unbelievably soft lips.
“If you remember that in the morning I’ll tell you.” She whispers against your temple before she pulls away, making you frown. Tara gets up from the bed and retreats back to the door making you even more confused.
As if reading your thoughts Tara leans against the doorway, the light from behind her shining around her figure. “I’m sleeping on the couch tonight and don’t even bother trying to make me sleep in your bed since you need the space with the brace.”
You let out a huff at that, not agreeing with Tara’s words at all. You hear her chuckle as she pushes herself off the doorway. “Goodnight, Y/n.” She says.
“I’ll remember in the morning.” You say confidently as you lay your head back down on the pillow, your eyes lingering on Tara still in the doorway. “I hope so.” Tara whispers before exiting the room and closing the door shut silently.
“Me too.”
_____________________________________
A/N: part 2 anyone?👀
#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x fem reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x y/n#scream#scream six#scream five#my fanfic#fanfic#fluff#humour#jealousy#jenna ortega x reader
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this is a very unpopular opinion lol but i personally think they shouldn’t have made dick as bruce’s son. dc should have just resolved their problems with them being apart as much as they can in gotham & bludhaven respectively and then fix their dynamic slowly to become healthier and then make bruce & dick as brothers instead, bcs the crux of their problems was them being equals thus being brothers would have made their standing & dynamic more even & equals. (again tho this is unpopular opinion)
I completely agree!!
I don't think they should've made dick Bruce's son. Actually the son thing I guess is fine, but there's no need to emphasize it so much because it doesn't fit their dynamic.
Tale of The Teen Titans Issue #50
Dick's adoption, the way I think of it, is unnecessary.
Up until this point neither of them had even considered a father and son relationship. Their guardian and ward relationship only came up when Dick was in danger of being adopted away and Bruce starts begging and pleading about it.
Batman (1940) Issue #439
Dick says himself, "He could never be my father. I mean, I don't want another father."
Dick knew that Bruce loved him unconditionally and he was happy with that.
That's the second time when the circus wanted him but the first time, his blood relatives wanted to take Dick away from Bruce.
Batman (1940) Issue #20
"You can't take Dick away now! Not after all these years! He's like a son! I won't let you!"
Batman (1940) Issue #20
Alfred: "M'lord...I mean your honor...I've never seen Mr. Wayne deny the young lad anything! He fair worships the boy!"
(I think Alfred's still hasn't let the chips thing go.)
Bruce: "Dick is like my own son! I've even changed my own will so that in case of my death, Dick will get my entire fortune! Your honor, I...I love that boy! Please don't take him from me!"
Dick: "A fella couldn't want a better friend!"
Bruce's relationship with Dick is complicated ranging from son to partner to brother to everything in between. Why not add Mother in it too?!
But it wasn't like Bruce's relationship with Jason and I think that makes all the difference. By the time Jason came around, Bruce and the authors finally realized how to write a father-son relationship. Up until then, Dick was just everything for Bruce and since he was written that way, the authors let him stay that way.
The adoption scene and Dick asking why Bruce didn't adopt him...here's an anology. Suppose a kid goes to school and earns a A on every test and the teacher says "good job!" and they both move on. 10 years later another kid comes along and they get an A too. The teacher has now grown in experience and wants to facilitate growth, so they have now started giving every kid that earned an A a gold star sticker on their paper. This kid takes it home to show their older brother who had that same teacher 10 years ago and the brother comments, "Oh, when I went there, she didn't give out stickers!" But now make it about family.
That's what Dick and Bruce's adoption is. The adoption paper is the gold star. Was it needed? No. Does it make people feel better? Yes.
But I don't like this formally making Dick Bruce's son thing. Sure Dick feels better about it but it was pointless and actually takes away from what their relationship really is.
In the comics, Bruce's behavior toward Jason is more parental than his was to Dick. It was more of a "let me teach you" and "ok, so this is how I do it" with Bruce and Jason. It's a teaching moment of father to son guidance. Dick and Bruce's comics were more "this is what I think" and "I see what you're thinking and I'm going to add on to that" relationship. It was a we're both going to do about 50/50 of the work.
Also Jason came to Bruce at a time when Bruce was stable and knowledgable. Dick came to Bruce at a time when Bruce was literally falling apart. If he hadn't met Dick, he would've killed himself from how reckless he was being. Finding Dick, he saved himself too.
Canonically, Dick is described as a foil to Bruce - the light to Bruce's darkness. He acted patiently listened, worked, and understood Bruce. Bruce shared his emotional burden with Dick in a way he was afraid and careful not to do with the others.
He's still doing it.
Batman (2011) Issue #14
They're not acting like father and son, they're acting like partners.
"Oh, but the kids..."
"It's for the kids! Do this for me please."
Dick as Robin in his later years even screams at Bruce during an argument, "I'm not your son. I'm your partner."
This excessive parentification of Bruce and Dick's relationship, it's not how they function. DC somehow thinks that their loves needs definition. That it needs clear boundaries to show that Bruce loves Dick but the truth is, the devil's in the details and their relationship is riddled with them. You don't need to tell your best friend you love them, they just know. Both of you do. And DC thinks the only way to tell your best friend you love them is to tell them that which is not true.
That said, their problems only arose because Bruce was overly attached to Dick so I don't think he would've been able to let go without speaking to him. I mean, he did get captured (purposefully?) and expect Dick to just come save him just so they could start talking again during Jason's robin era and I don't know how they would fix their problems but I agree that they shouldn't be quarantined into a tiny, constrictive father and son box. They way they act around each and the demands both of them have of the other to act a certain way isn't how a father expects a son to be or a son expects a father to act. I'm not saying they aren't father and son, I just believe they're more complicated and involved than just that.
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I loved your essay on the rise and fall of patd, so I'd give my left arm for you to psychoanalyze brendon urie
I don't actually think Brendon is a monster, I think there is something really wrong with Panic! as an entity, and I think Brendon being the singer and also his personality resulted in him being the last one standing.
As a disclaimer to the above points:
Ryan was also behaving in ways that were pretty bad. I have a lot of sympathy for Ryan because he was so young and his home situation was so terrible, but he was cheating on his girlfriend, neglecting his dog, hanging out with really questionable people, et cetera.
Similarly, I do not think Dallon is a hero or a victim. I'm not going to go too far into this but I think it's clear to me that, while I have more sympathy for Dallon, whatever was going on there seemed to be all of them addicted to drama. But then again, aren't we all.
Anyway, here we go.
Brendon seems to have issues playing well with others. After they wrote Fever, he claimed he did 100% of Brent's share. On Pretty Odd, he wanted to write lyrics but didn't think Ryan should sing. He said for vices they "Didn't have any ideas from Ryan or Jon sitting around" but Ryan is credited on Nearly Witches. He says Spencer didn't do anything for Too Weird. He says Panic's videographer stole $120k from him. I would believe Brendon is in the right on some of it, but not all of it.
I also think Brendon is someone who cannot stop trying to get a reaction out of people, which is part of why he's famous. I'm not naive and I know a lot of band guys probably laugh at un-PC jokes in private, but Brendon seems to completely lack awareness about there being a time and a place. Eg, it was not enough for Brendon and Zack to laugh at a photo of an overweight fan to themselves. They just ABSOLUTELY HAD to post her photo on social media for 1.2 million people to see. Et cetera. Every time someone made an offensive joke, Brendon had to turn on Periscope and beg them to repeat it because it was just sooo funnnyyyy.
Anyway, Brendon was on social media trying to get reactions out of people way too much. He was constantly posting vines, Tweeting, posting on Instagram, and constantly livestreaming and responding to everything people asked him about every political issue. I feel like he just loves attention, which is fine when you're famous, but he can't just post gym selfies and smugly read thirst comments. He has to broadcast himself talking about "the liberals" and "cancel culture" to a bunch of obsessive teens so he can see them react in real time. He does stuff like call Fiona Apple a bitch in public and it's like. Just stop. Like I know you think you're being funny but it's just not a good idea.
I'm losing steam here but Anyway in close I just think Brendon can't get along well with other people, loves being the center of attention, wants to give incredibly detailed accounts of his opinion on everything, and loves getting a reaction out of people. Combining this with a situation like Panic where there were other factors that led to Brendon being the only one, it just became easy for him to surround himself with yes-men and no one told him to Just Stop and so he Kept Going until he literally couldn't anymore.
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Write a book. I beg of you. PLEASE I mean it with my whole soul!! I've been binge reading your whole masterlist for the whole week now and if I'm not doing that I'm thinking about doing that and I can't get this out my head. I don't know how to explain it but reading your work feels like when youre with your mom in ur bed and she's caressing your hair and the lights are dim and she's reading you a bed time story and her voice is so soft and you're warm and almost drifting to sleep and basking in the absolute comfort and it's just a perfect haven except she's reading you geto and satoru angst (that just makes it better in my opinion) BUT fr your work feels so soft idk it touches me so deep I wanna kiss it's forehead and hug it so bad
ANWS, conclusion is write a book. I'll buy a hundred copies and never be normal again
Thank you for reading my rambling and thank you so much for writing such delicious works 🫶
anon i’m literally down on one knee YOU CAN’T SEND ME STUFF LIKE THIS WITHOUT A WARNING I??????????????? I ALMOST FELL TO THE FUCKING FLOOR????????? I GOT THE WIND KNOCKED OUT OF ME???????????????
i’m sorry in advance i wish i could tell you how warm this ask made me feel but sadly you broke my brain and i don’t think i have it in me to be coherent rn 😭😭😭😭😭😭
FIRST OF ALL???????????? i genuinely can’t tell you how much it means to hear that you binged my ENTIRE masterlist i could kiss you?? i sometimes worry that my fics are a bit too long and that it scares people away from reading them so knowing that you read them all? or even just a couple of them???? 🥺🥺🥺 anon i would move the sky and pick the stars for you. i would cut a slice off the moon if you told me you wanted a taste. etc etc.
AND ANON ;;;;;;;;;;; oh my fucking gooooddddddd I TEARED UP A BIT READING THIS what a heartfelt thing to say??? that reading my fics feels like a bedtime story from your mom ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ that comment is gonna stay with me forever and ever i sincerely hope you know that COMFORTING AND WARM IS ALL I WANT MY FICS TO BE…….. so it means sm T_T sniffle sniffle.
yeah in conclusion anon i think i’ve fallen for you i’m reaching through the screen to give you the BIGGEST hug ever i’m spinning you around and everything 🫂🫂🫂🫂 THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading my fics and enjoying them and taking the time to send something so heartfelt my way 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i hope you have the warmest coziest loveliest day because you made my whole week <333
#IF I EVER WRITE A BOOK YOU’LL BE THE FIRST TO KNOW 🙏🙏🙏#technically my knight!sugu fic will be a novella i think 😭😭 i’m shooting for 20k hehe (this is a call for help)#if u end up reading that too then i hope u enjoy yourself anon <3333 i’m gonna put my heart & soul into it!!#i’ve been feeling a bit insecure abt my writing recently so :’3 u have no idea how much this means!!!!#ask tag ✩
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Thanks for the tag @eyesofatragedy67
1. How many works do you have on A03?
121 so far, that number will increase within the next couple of months.
2. What's your total word count?
3,439,494
Holy shit, and that's not including the word count of unpublished works or the original novel I'm currently editing!
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Actively: Supernatural; Good Omens; Our Flag Means Death; Red, White, and Royal Blue, (MAYBE DEAD BOY DETECTIVES BACK OFF)
Past: South Park; High School Musical; Beauty and the Beast; Harry Potter; Blades of Glory; and Glee.
4. Top 5 fics by kudos:
Top 5 in general (this includes co-written fics):
In a Mirror, Darkly (written with @anyreiart) - 3,068
Red, White, and Royal Blue Balls - 2,365
Playing with Fire (written with @anyreiart) - 1,748
That Wasn’t Supposed to Fucking Happen! (written with @anyrei) - 1,387
The Heart of Ophelia (written with @anyreiart) - 1,357
Top 5 Solo Fics:
Red, White, and Royal Blue Balls - 2,365
La Rose Cachée - 1,146
Twenty After Four - 390
You Know I’m No Good - 326
And Walk Yourself to the Laundromat - 318
5. Do you respond to comments?
UGH, not as much as I should, and I used to be really good about responding to all comments, but presently my inbox on Ao3 has 4402 “unread” comments and I just… I can’t, it’s too overwhelming at this point with working two jobs. But I read and genuinely appreciate every single comment, even if I can’t reply to every single one!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Ah. That’s a toss up between Nothing’s Gonna Change My World and Through the Rift Series. In my opinion, the former, but I’m sure Any would beg to differ.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Oooh, fun! Ummmm. Most of them have happy endings (both literally and figuratively). I guess the “happiest” ending goes to the crack fic I wrote for Any’s birthday seven years ago. Crack in the Fourth Wall
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Oh, you betcha. The first time we got a shitty comment on a joint fic, Any said, “We’ve made it!” Thankfully, when a certain newsletter was dismantled, the anti-destiel harassment died down. I/We still get the occasional “concrit” comment from readers who think it’s an okay thing to give unsolicited writing advice, and I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Constructive criticism cannot exist in already posted fanfiction world, you aren’t being constructive or critiquing, you’re literally filing a complaint, leaving a bad review. So either embrace the fact you’re a shitty 1-star Yelp review Karen, or stop leaving concrit.
9. Do you write smut?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
10. Craziest crossover?
I actually don’t write crossovers, but keep your eyes peeled! I recently participated in the CasDean Reverse Crossover Bang, and in a little over a week, I’ll be posting my Harry Potter crossover fic featuring art by the amazing @rezal-art!
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not technically, or in a way that could be proven, but a very popular fic very much felt like a rip off of one of mine and Any’s fics, one that a well known author (a friend of the author of aforementioned rip off) made it a point to tell potential readers to not read the ending of because said author didn’t like the polyamory of it all.
Even funnier, that same author shortly after wrote their own poly fic. So, I guess personal preferences used to justify telling people to not read someone’s fic can sometimes beget a change of heart if it gets you more comments/readers.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! Any and I have had a couple of our fics translated into Chinese, Russian, and Spanish! And we are here for anyone who wishes to translate any of our fics, just let us know and send us a link, and we will include it in the notes!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. At this point, I prefer to not write alone. Any needs to stop allowing it to happen.
14. All-time favorite ship?
Okay, so… technically, it’s Destiel. It’s the only pairing that survived the end of its series. Dean Winchester and Castiel are my two favorite archetypes of characters and their specific dynamic transcends canon bad endings and any type of universe.
15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I don’t have any! The last time I posted a WIP, it took me a couple years to finish, so I promised myself I would only post completed fics from now on.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Comedic scenarios and dialogue. I like the funnies and the speakings.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
DESCRIPTIONS. I fucking hate it, okay? Why can’t you all just know what’s in my damn head? I also have a toxic, codependent relationship with commas and sentence fragments.
18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?
A little mixed. So, barring it being like… Latin, or a more archaic language that you use an unreliable online translator for or a language you speak, I believe for believable dialogue, you should have a friend or someone who can confirm/verify that the language is written correctly, otherwise, I vote you write, “they spoke in x language,” and interpret in the narrative. And no writing an accent in dialogue for characters where English is a second language phonetically! Like, authentic structure of a sentence, rhythm, or word choice is fine, but let’s not be offensive folks.
19. First fandom you ever wrote in?
Harry Potter over twenty years ago now. I’m an old.
20. Favorite fic you've written?
Oooh, that’s fun. Ummmm. For co-written, it’s a toss up between Five Dimensions, or Dean’s Crusade: A Dance with Self Discovery with @anyreiart or Heaven on htraE with @eyesofatragedy67 and for solo it’s a toss up between I Wish for This and La Rose Cachée
Tag time! @anyreiart @punk-is-notdead and whoever else wants to do this!
#destiel#spn#fanfiction authors#fanfiction milestone#batb2017#rwarb#fic writing#this took way too long
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Can I please get a Paul Dano match? Thanks!
I'm 5' 3", Tan skinned, long raven haired and thin. I always get Rapunzel (as a Disney personality match in buzzfeed and other quizzes) and have been told I looks like her. I really love it, since she's my favourite Disney Princesses. I love dressing like a cool and smart wizardish clothing but never to attract any attention. And I wear glasses most of the times especially when I am on my laptop studying or researching. Everyone thinks I am very childish for age and I love it. I think I am pretty good at being invisible and quiet even to people I believed to be my best friends. So, I fly solo now because I need respect myself and let go people who don't reciprocate my friendship.
I love being myself, encouraging people to be their best selves and helping people who actually need to help the best I could. Also, I love reading, writing, drawing, painting and writing poems and plays. I love protecting nature and did my studies majored in Environmental Science and environmental management so, I could proactively help protect Mother Nature. I'm very loyal fangirl and a true gryffindor. And I love my family and friends and would die for them.
I match you with…
Edward Nashton!
He honestly loves that you don’t hide your style and you’re yourself to everyone else, not cowardly or blending in like the boring people of Gotham that Edward has to put up with 😌
Childish? That only makes you endearing to Eddie 💚 don’t change!! He’ll literally find whoever it is that tries commenting otherwise and be like, “Well, a dead person’s opinion doesn’t matter, now does it, princess?”
(Yes, his nickname for you is princess 👑🥰)
He doesn’t have time for fake people either and knows exactly what it’s like to be invisible, but Edward would much rather stay away from everyone else and stick with you instead. You’re a good, creative and pure person to him, and the exact example of everything that’s wrong in the city that gives him all the more reason to ‘clean it up.’
All your creative works are hung on the walls proudly and Eddie probably asks begs you to do some Riddler themed art 😁 You’d die for your friends and family??? He lives for you, and he won’t have it any other way 😍
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Holy fuck a pinned post.. It's one of those pinned posts isn't it
What's up gamers I post Rain Code (literally just the peacekeepers) (it's a Yomi world no mercy). I don't tag spoilers so do with that what you will
Names include: Seth, Jaspis, Szczur, Karneol, Sylwester, Datura, Stefan and Kosma. I collect names like cool rocks, you can basically pick and choose on which ones you use to refer to me on any given day, I don't really care. He/it/xe exclusively (for Yomi), and yes, they/them IS misgendering can you not pleaseee *looking at you with my big wet eyes*. On a similiar note, I'm transmasc and I'll prefer to not be referred to with any feminine terms like ever, I don't care if it's a joke/slang/whatever. "girl" isn't gender neutral guys what the huh I am going to become the joker
Yomi Hellsmile fictionkin* in like, the serious way. (Can't believe Yomi got real and is now prowling around somewhere in the bowels of eastern Europe that's so cool right). That's also why I drop the I/me oftentimes whenever I talk about Yomi, in case you were confused about that.
I'm generally pretty hesistant to interact with people that also call themselves kin (and especially "kinnies"), as I'd rather not involve myself with the kff crowd or other people that treat being fictionkin as an extension of fandom, and unfortunately I can't always tell whether somebody is using it in good faith or not, but I don't like to assume things about people based off of very limited information like a few posts, either. Where was I going with this? Basically uh, having my eyes pried open and forced to witness late 2010s (fiction)kin drama has turned me extra sensitive and it's day 2137 of me telling people to please look up what being otherkin even means before using it for themselves I'm begging
If anybody has questions of any kind concerning the whole thing (whether it's purely for info's sake or more personal) then I'm fine with answering as long I'm given basic amounts of respect (no calling me a kinnie, no making me into a punchline, no making weird assumptions about me based off my kintype, no getting weirdly personal about it if you're another fictionkin from my source??)
*only concerning yomi, who might either be a fictionkin/fictive/who cares since apparently we're actually plural. uh oh. pinned might need further revisions but also im perpetually tired so. Later
Very often I have trouble with memory and articulating myself and whatever I write may end up looking a bit weird or just near incomprehensible and unfortunately there's nothing I can currently do about it. While I love receiving them, I might take very long to forever to actually answer an ask due to either low energy or anxiety. This should should go without saying but if you make fun of me for it like ever you're getting hard blocked into the sun
I don't do "DNI"s as they're just objectively pretty stupid and ineffective, and just block people as I see fit. Instead, if you're curious about those, here are my boundaries under the cut which are optional reading - but might be helpful if you'd like to avoid getting blocked over accidentially crossing some of them:
I get very anxious over people leaving their negative opinions on/getting aggressive over Yomi under my posts, trust me I don't need nor want to hear it. You can go hate him literally anywhere else, why are you doing that here.
Nsft stuff might occassionally be referenced/discussed on this blog, but please never leave weirdly sexual asks/tags in relation to Yomi/me, even as jokes. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable and I will block over it from now on.
(continuing from above point: these sorts of comments are still usually perfectly fine to leave on the yaoihellsmile blog)
If you're wondering, or about to ask as to why I might have you blocked: I block very liberally over all sorts of stuff no matter how small, so I most of the time probably don't even know either.
I don't check carrds, sometimes I don't check pinned posts either. If you don't want me going through your stuff, the block button is simply the best way to do that. No hard feelings, I promise
If you bring up shipping discourse I'm compressing you into a cube. It's 2024 who fucking cares over which pixels you draw making out none of this is real consider logging off and caring about some actual problems
Probably will add onto those in the future. We'll see. anyway...
You're getting a krówka for reading all that👍👍
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I did tell myself that I should be more discipline and not post and concentrate on my exams... but I'm so bored! Why does the exam got to be next week?!
(GIF Source: arzamasfok.ru thru Google Image Search)
Anyway, let's get onto the topic of this post.
So, recently, I saw a post on the FB Community for Genshin regarding players disliking Paimon.
(GIF Source: Tenor thru' Google Image Search)
The post was basically asking players to not hate her "for no reason" and to be accepting towards her... generally...
The only thing that came to my mind after reading that long post was that this guy must be a new player...
Well, I am not saying that it is wrong of people to dislike a character and I am also not saying that that original poster was correct entirely. There were also some valid points in the comments section. So, I thought, we should just clear the air about Paimon.
1️⃣ Paimon talks too much. LITERALLY TOO MUCH
(GIF Source: Tenor thru' Google Image Search)
Paimon, for one, talks too much. Like even when we are fishing, she makes noises.... And here I thought fishing was meant to be peaceful and relaxing...
I mean, it was even addressed in the game by Paimon herself, asking why the Traveler doesn't talk, to which the Traveler replied that Paimon was already saying everything that they wanted to say...
I highly doubt so...
(GIF Source: Giphy thru' Google Image Search)
Anyway, as much as Paimon can be annoying, there is a good reason why she does all the talking.
First, we need to remember that the Traveler is not from this world, hence, the common tongue of Teyvat is not the Traveler's native language.
And I know you people will argue "but the Traveler speaks to the people of Teyvat!"
Yes, I know, but that does not mean that the Traveler understands everything. I mean, by now in Fontaine, the Traveler's grasp of Teyvat's common language should have improved significantly but it's still possible for the Traveler to have difficulty understanding certain terms.
Which brings me to my second point, that although the Traveler seems to be coping well in conversing with the people of Teyvat, it does not mean that the Traveler fully understands every single word. This is possibly the reason why Paimon always does a recap with the Traveler after learning some new things.
To explain about that point would require me to write an entire research paper, so, short answer is so that the Traveler is on the same page as everybody.
2️⃣ Paimon is dumb!
(GIF Source: Tenor thru' Google Image Search)
I really have no idea how to put it in a much nicer way but it is one of the reasons why players dislike Paimon.
Truth to be told, one of the reasons I dislike her is because her intellect seems to be going downhill as the game progress... it could possibly be just me.
The reason I say this... compare it with the beginning of the game. For some reason, I just feel that Paimon at the start of the game seems to be smarter than the Paimon in the current patches. I don't expect her to be a genius, but to have some level of decent smartness. I... really don't know how to explain this but it's just what I felt...
But to counteract this "dumbness" of hers, she is a literal child... I believe 🤔... Still 😤
You'd notice that most of her interactions and reactions are like a child. You could say, to some extent, she has a mind of a child. Minus away the exceptions, you would never expect a child to know the Pythagorean Theorem, or that almost everything in this universe is made out of atoms, break it down and you have protons, electrons, and neutrons.
While I do have my personal opinion about her intellect, and also with whatever I have written, Paimon is still a child in some sense. So, no, she's not "dumb".
3️⃣ Her voice is annoying
(Picture Source: darxilver on Reddit thru' Google Image Search)
I have to agree to a certain extent...
Many players may have gotten used to her voice being extremely high pitched, but she was actually much lower at the beginning of the game.
You can refer to the links below to compare Paimon's old and new voices.
Old voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efqQMNFysdc&t=6s
New voice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFct8477oOM
I don't expect you guys to be watching the entire video but just the first few seconds to compare her voices 😅
Anyway, her now high-pitched voice combined with her personality could be the reason why she annoys many players in the community. While I am not sure if it is true, there is intel that the reason why Paimon's voice is so high-pitched now is because the company in-charge of doing the voice-overs for Genshin are betting to see how high can Corina (Paimon's VA) go for Paimon.
And speaking of Corina, this also brings me to my final point of Paimon...
4️⃣ People disliking Paimon because of her VA
(Picture Source: VICE thru' Google Image Search)
It's no surprise that there will be people not liking Paimon's VA, Corina, for whatever unknown reasons... Not everyone will like a celebrity even though they are famous and popular, right? To emphasize the point, some of you may not like Adele, or Ed Sheeran, or Taylor Swift, or Charlie Puth, or Sam Smith.... It's all down to personal preference, yeah?
It is the same with Corina here. While there is no one openly claiming to dislike her (and share their reasons), my only guess, and based on the FB post, was due to her latest antics.
Some of you guys may remember that Corina claimed to not be getting paid for her voice acting work for Paimon. Whether it was true or not (sorry, I didn't follow up on that news), it was very skeptical because no other VAs were speaking up about it. Just based on this alone, I surmised that it was most likely a disagreement between just her and the company in-charge.
While it was incorrect of her to give the wrong impression that all of the voice actors were not getting paid, it is also kind of like the whole hating Tighnari character thing again... I am not going to elaborate it because it is a very sensitive issue, but the point I am trying to make here is that while we may have our own personal reasons for disliking a character, we should not "hate" on a character simply because of their respective VAs or representative.
Well, it's quite a tough topic to touch on so I am just going to leave it at that...
(GIF Source: Imgur thru' Google Image Search)
So, there we have it. While this doesn't change my opinion of Paimon, that is being a super annoying and irritating emergency food, it also points out that Paimon is just being Paimon with good reasons. May not be the best reasons, but it is legitimate. In some sense, i guess.
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin paimon#genshin impact paimon#paimon genshin#paimon genshin impact#yukihime's daily thoughts
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I am a writer and a reader.
Just wanted to get that out of the way.
As a writer, I understand the desire for comments/reviews for someone to validate your work. I do.
As a writer, I feel a certain sense of responsibility to the people who read my stuff to create good content. I do my best. I write stuff I wanna read.
I don't post WiPs because, as a writer, I am all too familiar with stories that go nowhere and stories I lose interest in. Stories where the characters stop speaking to me.
As a writer, I will not hold a story hostage until someone (or several someones) comment/review or critique it.
Lately, as a reader, I am finding fics that DEMAND comments/reviews before the writer will post the next chapter. (Literally, I stumbled on a fic where the author said they'd only post the next chapter once they'd gotten three comments/reviews). Blackmailing me to comment is the quickest way for me to stop reading.
I have found quite a number of fics with readers BEGGING the author to come back and finish. Fics that were abandoned as much as ten years ago.
I don't read WiPs because, as a reader, I will have consumed so much content while waiting for the next update that I have no idea what the story that's being updated is about.
If we, as writers, hold the opinion that we don't owe the readers anything then we have to accept that the readers don't owe US anything.
We can't have it both ways; expecting readers to love us, love our content, comment/review our content but getting annoyed when they want/ask for/demand updates.
If we owe them nothing, then they owe us exactly the same.
I write (mostly) for me; creating stories that I like, stories I want to read. It THRILLS me when someone comments/reviews but, when all is said and done, I don't expect or demand it. I'm just grateful when it happens.
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I need outside opinions on a pretty severe problem.
A few years ago when I was 17, I met this guy online. I had my age in my bio as 17, and they didn't have their age at all. They started talking to me, and I assumed based on how they spoke that they were at least 16. We didn't send any pictures or anything so I had no other reference.
After a while of him flirting with me, I started flirting back. Eventually we started dating. After that I found out he was 13. I wanted to break up with him, but he said he would kill himself if I left, and that I was the only person who cared for him. In my dumb 17 year old mind I thought he would, so I stayed for a while longer, but pulled back a lot of flirting and such.
Eventually it got too bad for both of our mental healths, and with it being not age appropriate I ended it. He literally screamed and begged for me to stay, saying that he would kill himself and that I was proving him right by leaving.
He blocked me for a while, but I reached out to him via other accounts because I wanted to make sure the was okay and I still wanted to be friends. (I now realize I was paranoid because of a trauma bond).
We talked off and on for a while. Usually it went:
-i reach out to apologize for angering him.
-we make up
-we have a few days/weeks/months of good conversation
-he gets mad at me for something and makes me feel like it was all my fault for "trying to fix him/not listen/ignore him/anything else that would set him off"
And it repeats. For almost 4-5 years now.
I finally blocked him for good this last summer. I was happy and healing. I wasn't paranoid about if he was stalking me.
Then a few days ago I got really nauseous and almost feverish. And I felt like he was talking about me again. I tried to write it off as paranoia, but ended up checking his TikTok anyway. (He didn't have me blocked and I didn't have him blocked either cause I had to make a new acct for unrelated family reasons)
When I check I see a huge "I hate you stop stalking me" post posted an hour before I checked.
Again I tried to ignore it because it could have been anyone. But my paranoia kicked in again and I checked before I went to bed. He posted a video of his friends beating people up saying "my boys won't hesitate to run up on your boys".
Keep in mind all I have done in the past almost year is check his TikTok twice. No comments or likes or other interaction.
Today he posted a "call-out" video calling me a groomer. Saying that I manipulated him, victim blamed him, ect.
I do not want any contact with him anymore, and I don't want him to contact me anymore. I know I fucked up when I was 17. I know that some of the toxicity in the relationship/friendship came from me. And I have learned from that and have worked to better myself because I don't want to be like him.
So I guess what I'm asking is what is everyone's opinions on this? What should I do? Keep ignoring him? Stand up for myself? I have records of some of our texts still (after he asked me to delete most of them)
I just don't know what to do
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(Same anon here) It’s very interesting to me to see so many authors stop writing because of a lack of interaction because I completely understand why that’s disheartening but also I never personally feel that the feedback I could give would make anyone want to write more, I just don’t think my opinion means that much. In a way I’m very ignorant into what motivates fanfic writers to want to continue. I also don’t have an active tumblr account so the best I can do is read something I like and bookmark it for later
As someone who’s never even attempted to write because they have no talent I’m so in awe of people who are able to do that and out their work out there, and it’s so sad to hear that fics aren’t doing well. My feedback for the particular fic you were writing is that it hooked me instantly and your writing style is what I always look for in something to read. Truth be told I’ve been checking ao3 for an update every day since the last chapter but how could you know that until I tell you?
Regardless of my opinion/feedback it doesn’t sound like you’re in a good place to be writing, and I truly hope you can feel better soon because what you have written is phenomenal and I’m sorry that you haven’t been getting the interaction you deserve.
Interaction. Interaction is what makes fic writers want to continue to write. That's why we keep practically begging for it. That's why writers keep leaving this site, why they're not writing anymore is because we're getting to interaction. Reblog things. Send messages/asks/put things in the tags that you liked about it. If you don't have an active account, send anons like this. All you have to do is go on anon, send an ask and say "I loved (insert title here)" and you will make a fic writers day.
I see that a lot that people don't know what to say or they don't think anything they have to say matters. It does. It matters a lot. A heart emoji, a keyboard smash, literally "I loved it." Every comment I get (that's not a negative one) I read over and over and over even if it's just an unintelligible keyboard smash because I elicited that reaction from someone because of what I made. There's thousands of posts out there about how to comment, how to interact with fics if you're unsure of how to do it. You don't have to do like a book review with three paragraphs picking out every little detail you liked. Some people do that and bless them but it's not necessary. Just telling a writer you loved their work is enough to make them want to keep writing because they know someone liked it.
I appreciate your feedback. I'm really glad you've been enjoying the story and it's made you want to go back and look for an update all the time. It's really nice to hear that people are enjoying it. I mean, I could look at the hits to see how many people have viewed it but I can't tell how many of those people read it, liked it, keep going back or if they all just clicked it, read two paragraphs and left because they didn't. We can't see specifics on views on Tumblr or Ao3, just how many people have clicked on the story and how many each month. So hearing that you've been going back to it to check it means a lot.
I'll be okay. I'm just not really in the writing mood right now. I've got a lot going on in my life and I'm gonna get really busy soon so I don't know when I'll be writing again. Could be tomorrow, could be months from now. I honestly can't say.
#sorry this took like four days to get to#like i said there's a lot going on#and i really wanted to have a well thought out answer
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You messed with my heart too long
A/N: I posted this anonymously on ao3, but I’m really proud of writing this so decided to post it on here as well. Please, please let me know what you think, it would mean the world to me.
Summary: When Richie accidentally burns his food right at the same time as Eddie arrives home, he fears he's in for a verbal beat down. He's used to that thank to his ex-boyfriend, who mentally and emotionally abused him before Richie realized what he was doing to him. Once Eddie works out what is happening, he is quick to assure Richie he would never treat him in the same manner.
Warnings!: mental abuse, mentions of physical abuse and Bev’s abusive ex, Richie thinks Eddie going to react badly (he doesn’t but he still thinks about it)
read on AO3
Richie, in all fairness, has never had any confidence in any way, shape or form. He’s not sure why that is. His mom and dad were good, loving parents that indulged into his secret little hobby’s, and when Richie at age 24, a fresh college drop-out, told his parents he was going to take a gamble and try to make it as a comedian, they supported him wholeheartedly. Of course, they were a little disappointed that he never got a degree in case things in the comedy field didn’t work out, but they were convinced of Richie’s talent. They were truly the best parents anyone could ever wish for, at least in Richie’s mind.
The losers were also nothing if not supportive towards him, though they had been long gone before Richie turned 24. They made fun of him sometimes, on the occasions where a joke ran too far or failed miserably, but they also made sure that Richie knew how much they adored him in reality.
Beside from getting scolded at every now and again by Eddie or Stan, about his hygiene or lack of self-awareness, they also never tried to change him to fit their wants. For some unknown, nonsensical reason, they liked Richie with his flaws and all.
Truly, Richie has no inkling as to where his insecurities came from, but he does know that he never let them stop him from doing anything when he was still friends with the losers. Quite the opposite even, if he got nervous about performing in front of his class, he would loudly ask to go first, laughing boisterously and slouching against the teachers desks, pretending like the activity wasn’t even a blip on his radar. When Henry’s taunt would hit a particular soft spot, and Richie felt the urge to sulk or mope, he’d double down on the thing Henry found annoying, and get a bloody nose for his troubles.
He fought hard to be ready to perform in front of people that weren’t the losers or his parents, and the losers departing from Derry just made that worse. With the losers, he felt confident enough to try and be himself, without them, he saw himself as useless in every sense. His very first live performance sucked, and in retrospect he’s really glad none of the losers were present because within five minutes of walking on the stage, he had forgotten his lines and threw up in full sight of the audience.
If his mother hadn’t persuaded him into trying again a few months later, and that one actually working out, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier would have been buried before it began.
But that was before all the progress Richie made in all the years he’s been doing comedy. Despite having the occasional setback, he mostly outgrew throwing up before an act, and he could objectively look at himself in the mirror and conclude that he wasn’t the most hideous person the world had ever had the displeasure of seeing.
In fact, according to people on his twitter page, he was being described as hot and possessing a form of appeal that drew people in. He didn’t find himself good looking by any means, but there was a huge difference between hating everything about himself, and accepting that he was not as hideous as the beast from the Disney fairy tales he was a big fan of as a kid.
And then, in the prime of his mental health, he had met David, and every ounce of self-worth faltered like snow under the burning scorch of the sun. It only took five weeks for David to absolutely destroy the very thing Richie had toiled at for over twenty years.
David was his first boyfriend, who he met just shortly before his thirtieth birthday, and he took more than advantage of that. The first night they first laid eyes on each other, after one of Richie’s shows, David had walked up to him at a bar and promptly declared his show was absolute shit.
Normally Richie would feel hurt by these comments and would pretend to brush them off as if they were never uttered, but something about the way he said it caused Richie to laugh so hard he snorted part of his beer through his nose. It wasn’t until he saw Eddie with Bill and Mike at Jade the Orient ten years later, that his quarter fell. In the beginning, David had reminded him of Eddie. It wasn’t until much later that it became clear David’s intentions were not as innocents as Eddie’s.
Richie assumed the guy was pulling his pants, because who would dedicate their time to flat out insult someone they had never met, and so he had greeted him and bought him another beer. David wasn’t particularly funny, and he never laughed at Richie’s jokes throughout the night either, but he was very eloquent and could keep up with Richie’s conversation topics, though he always seemed to be able to turn and twist the subject so that it gave away another one of his qualities.
By the end of the night Richie never expected to hear from him again, and he was okay with that. His conversation partner had been interesting, but not to the point where Richie wanted to know everything about him or see him again.
David felt otherwise, as thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, he’d found Richie’s number, and when he texted him to ask him on a date, Richie had been too thrilled that someone was interested in him to containplat if he even wanted to go.
That same day the date took place, David had granted himself the title of boyfriend, and Richie went right along with him. They never officially verbally agreed to date, but they held hands and David slept over most nights then not, and his mother got so happy that she saw him with someone that things progressed naturally.
At first, Richie didn’t notice that David was influencing him in a negative way. He only had one close friend, Steve, who was simultaneously also his manager, and he constantly praised David for making Richie a changed man. Because Steve saw it as something positive, so did Richie.
His voice got progressively stiller, as David would ream at him multiple times a day that he was annoying everyone around them with his booming voice, and that he was an attention-seeker who would do anything to get the limelight on him. Richie practiced his voices less and less when David started to critic every aspect of them every time he would overhear him. It got worse once they started living together full time.
‘Hey Rich, no voices? Come on I want to know if you’ve improved over the years, let us hear it.’
He cut off all fatty foods when David glanced at his plate and grimaced, asking if he was really going to eat everything on the plate. He didn’t say it in so many words, but Richie could connect the dots that led him to believe David found him too fat. Lying became a sort of second nature to Richie, as he dared to eat a small pack of chips when David was away, and deluded him the next day by stating he hadn’t eaten any. Sometimes, at times where David thought Richie was away, he would observe him going through their trash to catch Richie in the lie. He’d fight tooth and nail to deny the accusation, and never admitted to it.
David complained just about everything Richie did, including the way he held his towel whilst drying the dishes, ‘For god sake Richie don’t rumple up, hold it in your palm and open it up so you can get to the surface more.’ When Richie tried to joke that David’s way didn’t necessarily mean the best way, he’d yelled that Richie was an ungrateful bastard and that if he had to do it his way because the way he was doing it was useless.
Useless, that was a word Richie learned to associate with himself as whatever he did would get dragged down by David, until there was barely any Richie left. Once again Richie began getting stage fright, worse than when he was a child, and on one evening David witnessed his total bomb of a show, and told Richie he had pretended he didn’t know him to the people watching. That hit so hard, the fact that someone was disgusted to be linked to him, that he stopped writing his own comedy and hired someone to do it for him.
There was so much negativity surrounding him and David, but when Richie tried to address his problems, David would make him seem like he was the one that was crazy. Like he was seeing things that were not there. David rolled his eyes and waved off any of Richie’s attempts to defend himself, but then denied doing it after the fact.
‘You’re a loser Richie, I can’t believe you’d be so stupid to take my ribs seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be a ‘comedian’? You’d think you’d know what’s a joke and what isn’t.’
A can of coke being set down too hard on their dinner table was enough to get David off of the couch, where he’d been watching football and ordering him around, and into the kitchen, striking a tirade that Richie was ruining their furniture with his fumbling. Richie was constantly on edge that he was doing something wrong - and he was according to David -. He avoided David as much as he could, but the latter would find something to fault him on regardless. Life had transformed into a prison cell.
Later Richie would scold himself for not leaving, but how could he? David manipulated him to the point Richie truly believed he was doing all of those things wrong, to the point where he was the one crying and begging for David’s forgiveness. He was gaslighted, manipulated and blackmailed at the same time, with gifts that weren’t a one-off after Dacid crossed a line too far, and they often contained a very expensive item that Richie had eagerly awaited for a long time. Richie felt like he owed it to David to stay, if only for all the money he had spent on him.
There were days Richie would get so furious he was prepared to scream back at David, to let his anger be set free and unleashed upon the one person who deserved it, but then David would show up with a gift out of the blue, or would grant him a loving caress, and Richie was gone for him again.
Not to mention that Richie’s self-esteem had sunk so low, he wasn’t ready to face a world without having David there to guide him along with things.
Barely five months before Mike’s earth shattering phone call, Richie ran out of all mental capacity to deal with the torment a moment longer, and packed his things, disappearing on a cold blistering night. David called him, of course, but Richie was a coward, and never answered the phone.
He only sent David one text to tell him it was over, and then promptly blocked his number without waiting for a response. He heard from gossip that David spread lies about him, and told other people about how much of a terrible boyfriend he had been, but Richie never objected to the claims. He agreed with him anyway.
Mike’s call had been, for a large proportion anyway, a saving grace. Reconnecting with his best friends and destroying the thing that loomed over him for so long was liberating, and Richie viciously wished that Pennywise had come back sooner, so that his tortures road would have been that much shorter.
There was no lingering bitterness inside of Richie because of this though, not when his life was finally in the best possible place it could be. Eddie and him got their heads out of their asses, or more like Eddie got out of his and decided to yet again be the brave one out of the two of them, and they started dating almost immediately after defeating Pennywise. In only a week's time, Eddie made the move from New York to Los Angeles, and with him he had brought the happiness Richie had long forgotten he could ever possess.
His marriage with Myra had been just as much a scam as the relationship between Richie and David, and his divorce was swift - no surprise there with the way Eddie always prepared for every possible scenario-, but Eddie almost always avoided talking about it. In a way, Richie was disheartened by that.
It was no secret Eddie married a woman that was basically a mirror image of his mom, and at times Richie caught himself wondering if Eddie had realized how smothering she was or if he had been so hunkering for the normality of life as a straight, married man that he never paid her enough attention too. He wonders if he was the only one stupid enough to not realize the gravity of what was happening to him.
Richie has debated on flat out asking Eddie about it, but, and there’s always a but, that would mean he would have to tell Eddie about David, and he is overcome with a rare form of anxiety, something deeply ashamed nestling in the place where his trust is supposed to be at the mere idea.
Swearing on the holy turtle god that managed to save them from Pennywise’s claws, Richie was originally planning on confessing the whole thing to Eddie on day one of their relationship. He truly was, and he had even conjured up humorous escape alternatives to duck his way under a fire load of questions Eddie was surely about to ask him after.
He even prepared himself to tell Eddie in Derry, right after overhearing Eddie’s phone call to his wife, feeling empowered that Eddie would come to understand. Bev interrupted before he could, perhaps a blessing in disguise. Before Eddie fully put down his phone, Bev had sweeped in the room, requesting a meeting downstairs to talk. Richie had been helpless to follow and listen intently, and if he was being honest with himself – he wasn’t – he felt a tiny bit of relief that he wouldn’t be subjected to any negative attention. Until Bev started to confess how her life had been before Mike called them.
All at once, a sickening hatred from himself overwhelmed Richie. He was so angry that he had dared to feel sorry about himself, and here Bev was, with a situation that was incomparably worse. The more details Bev entrusted them with – Richie may have promised to never kill anyone again, but he an exception could be made - the more Richie��s food from a few hours before threatened to choke him, and not even Eddie’s cream smoothed hand holding his distracted him.
Near the end, after they’d progressed from such an melancholically topic and began drinking away the booze in their hotel, Richie had drawn Bev’s attention with a call of her name, to either make her smile or to assure her that she wasn’t alone, Stan send him a withering look, as if to warn him not to open his mouth. Stan’s assumption was fair, it was in Richie’s nature to find humor in places there shouldn’t be, and he had no idea about Richie’s past to think otherwise. Still, every time Richie considered telling Eddie, the look flashed in his mind and sewed his mouth shut.
Not telling Eddie hasn’t impacted things the way Richie had predicted it would. Really, Richie was doing fine. Eddie chastised Richie on certain things, but Richie didn’t freak out or experience any sort of flashback. He would be given a peck on his forehead, or a hand running through his hair, and he’d know that Eddie was never mad at him. It was the littlest details that had Richie out of his mind with love, that highlighted just how different Eddie and David were.
By now, Richie had decided he was fine with not telling Eddie anything about David, and the extra weight of keeping something a secret was his boyfriend was just another fee to carry around with him. But life always throws a curveball Richie Tozier’s way when he has finally made plans.
This curve ball comes in the form of soup. A horrendous chicken soup that Eddie cooked up two days in advance, an experiment of different herbs that clashed into a symphony of flavors all competing to be the primary flavor. There are two things to know about Eddie as a cook. Number one is that he is not an impressive cook – and it’s not for the lack of trying - but Richie doesn’t mind. Eating food that doesn’t please his taste buds but getting Eddie in return for it is a fair deal in Richie’s books.
The second thing to note is that Eddie is a lazy cook. He turns the kitchen into a battlefield of different sauces, with jars a million different pots and pans skewed across the stove and no more room to place anything else left. It’s gotten to the point that whenever Eddie is in charge of cooking, they will not even put their dinner on a plate anymore, but instead leave it in whatever it’s made in, because it eliminates dishes to wash. That’s what starts the mess that day in first place.
Richie isn’t an idiot. Yes, he can be dense at times, and when it comes to loving Eddie he’s more than a bit moronic, but he’s not stupid. He’s had to survive on his own – and with someone who didn’t lift a finger - for a long time, thus there was no other way. He’s aware of the danger of putting a metal bowl in the microwave, and how it can cause the metal to heat up and start a fire, and therefor has never been stupid enough to try it. But today, Richie is stressed.
Steve has been calling him all day to try and persuade him into doing an interview for a magazine, and no matter how many times, how loud or agitated Richie says no, Steve still insists. Richie paces annoyed towards his fridge phone locked between his shoulder and ear, so he can take out the metal bowl of soup with his hands, and place it in their microwave without a second thought.
‘Steve I don’t care how much publicity you think it will get me, I don’t want to do it,’ Richie mutters, turning around with his back towards the warming soup. The consistent arguing with Steve has his teeth grinding, his shoulders tense and his anxiety sparked.
Eddie is still out for work, but it’s closing at five pm, the time he ensures he’s at home, and Richie thinks he can hear his car driving up into the gravel parking lot. The absence of his boyfriend is about to be filled, and Steve is yapping away in his ear, not content to admit defeat just yet, it’s maddening.
‘Steve… Steve listen to me, don’t get your panties up in a twist, I have to go. Don’t book the interview. I won’t take any part in it.’ His denial doesn’t put a stop to Steve’s yapping, but at that point Richie is over his nagging. He pinches the bridge of his nose and utters; ’Okay nice chat’, and hangs up without waiting for a response back.
He lets the phone clatter on top of their kitchen surface and says that Steve got the message, if only for the rest of the day. His phone doesn’t vibrate again, leading Richie to assume he has won this round. He can’t help but lean forward so far his head rests against the cold tiles of the kitchen counter, just sighing for one long, extended breath. A night in on the couch with Eddie spooning him has never allured him so much. His back cracks with a satisfying pop as he readjusts his body, and he groans in gratifications.
Their alarm dings loudly in the open concept kitchen, a warning that someone has just entered their driveway. Richie doesn’t need to go look to know that it’s Eddie and his large, black suv, but he wants to anyway. He’s about to walk towards the front door to greet Eddie like he’s a pet that has been waiting anxiously for its owners return – and some would describe him in the same manner - when the air fills with smoke and a rancid smell. It’s barely detectable at first, nothing more but an insentient odor that is unpleasant but not resolute and easy to ignore. But then actual smoke begins to wash it’s way around Richie, and he has a split second of blissful unknowingness left, until the problem dawns on him.
Richie follows the smoke trail, and is shocked to find their microwave steaming and actually crackling, like it’s on the verge of exploding. It probably is. Still, it’s nothing compared to the cluster bomb of fumes that spread throughout the room when Richie actually opens the microwave door and gets slapped in the face with the enormity. It’s a surprise that their smoke detector has yet to erupt.
Instantly, his airways fill up smoke, prickling his cough reflection so tremendously he doubles over in extortion. The coughs rattle his body in a painful manner, his chest and back start to hurt from the brutal movements and the fact that he can’t grasp fresh air no matter how wide he opens his mouth. Objectively, Richie should understand it can get a lot worse - their smoke detector hasn’t gone off, and there are no flames to accompany the smoke and therefore turn their house into a major safety hazard - but a panic he hasn’t felt since David has shut down his logical thinking skills.
A key is slotted into their keyhole, and it turns a first time to leave. Eddie is about to open the door, in give or take in about a minute – it always drags out because despite living here for give or take two years, Eddie still can’t remember this lock unlatches via the left side and not the right – and walk in on an absolute shit show that Richie’s engendered.
So far there was indication, no sign that hinted to Richie he still had leftover, undealt trauma left from his time hanging around David, but now, his only thought revolving around how mad Eddie is going to be, how much trouble he’ll be in once Eddie sees everything, he starting to realize he might not be as over things as he originally believed.
He ignores the way his lung burn, and reaches forward to grab the pot – with fogged over glasses rendering him blind - protection less, not even grabbing the oven mitts to provide some shelter for the warmth. He can’t comprehend how dangerous that is, can only focus on the red lights blaring in his mind, telling him he needs to get rid of the evidence before Eddie gets here and unleashes hell upon him.
Unfortunately, he’s too late. A door unlocks and Eddie enters the house. His feet pad on their wooden floor, brazen and fast, like he’s been waiting for a shot at grilling Richie and he can sense his opportunity to do so has arrived – the motion is so un-Eddie Richie dismissed it as absurd then and there, but a seed of doubt remains -.
With time, Richie comes to learn how to listen to the different footsteps, and he can now recognize who’s walking towards him and in what kind of mood they find themselves in, without taking one look at the person's face.
Eddie’s footsteps, after every work day, drag across their floor, as if a thousand pound weight has been added to his back. The bottom of his shoes wear out a lot faster than Richie’s do, and it drives Eddie nuts because out of the two of them, he’s the one that treats his material objects neater than Richie.
Richie’s always delighted to notice how light his footsteps get after just a few minutes spent with him or the losers.
Now, he is too scared to pick up on such little details. His palms tingle unpleasantly, the boiling liquid burning them more with each second he hangs on. He stands in the middle of their kitchen like a fool, turning his body every which way and letting his eyes dart out an escape plan. The smoke is nowhere near gone, and there’s too much of it for Richie to open a window and it to be blown away. Eddie’s going to notice, there’s no way he can’t.
‘Richie, you won’t believe what this imbecile Josh did at work today. I swear, I don’t understand how some people can get fucking hired sometimes.’
Eddie trudges into the kitchen, his suit wrinkled from a long day of frantically working on a report that should have been finished by some other incompetent coworker. The groves in his face are more prominent today, acquired by the years of unhappiness he experienced with Myra, the ages of his life cut off by the shock of Pennywise's return and the occasional busy work day his job supplies him with.
A nausea craters in Richie's stomach, filled with guilt for turning Eddie’s night off into a stressful event that requires a ton of clean up. Eddie stops dead in his tracks when he notices the mess, his mouth slips shut, the word dying on his tongue.
He’s waiting for Eddie’s frown to deepen, for his lips to cresting into a fury. He’s waiting for the waterfall of insults that will be hurled at his head, each one meaner than the last, honing in on his deepest insecurities and having them exploited because Eddie’s so angry he’ll do anything to strike a verbal blow. And it’ll be worse now, because it’s Eddie. It’s the love of his life doing it now, the one’s approval he seeks most.
Eddie’s the person that knows him inside and out and knows exactly what boundaries to push and prod out to crack Richie open from head to toe. He waits for all that, with his hand still clamped around the bowl of burning hot soup, scorching his palms – by this point, Richie is sure there will be blisters by the time he finally unclasps his grip.
Eddie’s frown does deepen, but it’s not out of anger. ‘Rich, be careful you’ll hurt yourself.’ Richie doesn’t let go, but holds onto the sides of the bowl tighter. Part of him wants him to experience the pain, to let what he did sink in like David’s words always did.
‘Richie’, Eddie says startlingly firm. He’s not trying to approach Richie or the bowl, but he’s capturing Richie’s attention just by his firm voice. ‘Put it down.’
Richie drops the bowl of soup, watching helplessly as it splatters all over their freshly painted walls and the ground. Out of the corner of his eye a flat glob of liquid drips down the wall, dirtying a whole line down to the floor. Richie cringes, his heart beating so fast he could swear it’s about to jump out of his chest, and his mind a mantra of ‘look what you did, look what you did, look what you did.’
‘Fuck Richie, did you burn it?’
And Richie knows he’s caught. He was, up to two seconds ago, holding the evidence right in his hands, but he’s so petrified logic is not operating in his brain at the moment. The only thing he can focus on with great clarity, is that he’s willing to try anything to get him out of a verbal tear down.
‘No..’, he tapers off at the end, leaving his statement much more alike a question than he would have preferred. Eddie raises one eyebrow suspiciously, pointily averting his gaze towards the smoke floating around them.
‘No?’ He asks back equally confused, head tilted to the side. Richie can feel his throat closing up in panic, bracing himself for an onslaught. He doesn’t foresee Eddie’s nurturing and concerned approach. ‘Let me take a look at your hands’, Eddie murmurs tenderly.
It’s technically nothing new, the way Eddie treats him. After Neibolt and Richie’s big coming out, Eddie commenced all his vacation days and flew Richie all the way to Hawaii, for the pure intention of getting him away from any and all consequences. He’d allowed Richie to eat what he desired - within reason of course, there was no way Eddie was allowing Richie to eat pizza at 8 am-, waisted their days sitting by the pool and indulged in Richie unchancy pranks - one of which ended up with Eddie scrubbing out blue glitter out of his hair. Eddie had been kind then, so it shouldn’t be surprising he is in this situation.
It doesn’t take away the fear Richie is left with. David had good days too, days that he was the perfect boyfriend, but that would never last long, and Richie is left to speculate if it’ll be the same thing with Eddie.
Maybe it’ll be hidden in a secret message, maybe Eddie is busy hatching a plan that will utterly deploy Richie from the inside out. Eddie’s hands are gently skimming over Richie’s palms, inspecting the damage without irritating the skin even more. ‘It doesn’t seem like it’s bad. It hurts right?’
‘Yeah’, Richie croaks when he figures out the question isn’t rhetorical. He isn’t sure at the moment why that’s supposed to be good.
Eddie tips forward, stretching up higher so he can kiss Richie’s forehead tenderly. Against his skin he explains. ‘That means the burn isn’t too deep, but hold it under the water still.’
‘No but you know what does go deep?’
‘Nothing if you don’t treat your burns,’ Eddie teases with a smirk. He gently ushers Richie closer to their faucet, and holds his own palm under the stream of water, twiddling with the different temperature taps until he finds one that he deems just lukewarm enough to allow Richie’s hand under it.
The smoke in the air remains unspoken about. It’s almost as if Richie is more important than a potential house fire to Eddie, but that’s absurd. Not only because this is the house that both of them felt was the right one, and subsequently paid a lot of money for, but also because Richie isn’t that special. He’s not even trying to be condensing towards himself, because he truly believes that.
‘How did you manage to do this huh? Idiot.’ Eddie jokes while guiding his hand under the water at the correct angle, his salutation gets smoothed over by a hand ruffling his hair. Coincidentally, or perhaps the exact opposite, a part of the stress Richie accumulated falls away when Eddie calls him an idiot. It helps to underline why exactly Eddie will never be like David, why the two aren’t in the same league of each other even.
When Eddie says idiot, it’s a nickname, it’s a middle school jab when Richie runs too fast and trips over his own feet, it’s the symbolic soothing pat on the back he receives after he can get all of the losers to laugh at his humor. It’s their love langue no one understands, It’s Eddie’s way of hiding how deep his adoration goes with a job that’s unusual to others.
David’s condescending tone alone tipped Richie into the deep end, into a cave that echoed his deepest flaws and slammed it into the cavity in his chest every time something didn’t go according to plan. Idiot for David did not mean the same things. For David, idiot was shoving aside Richie’s concerns, it was disinterested in all his quirks and his passive attitude. He meant what he said without sarcasm.
A first tear tracks down Richie’s cheek. ‘Rich?’ Eddie inquires startled. His hand previously stroking Richie’s curls slides towards his elbow in a smooth motion.
Richie tries to tell him it’s okay, that he needs a minute to regroup but that he’s fine, but instead of that he sobs, more tears spilling over with no regards to him uneasy Richie is to cry in front of someone.
‘Richie shit I’m sorry. Does it hurt that bad? Do we need to go to a hospital? We’ll go right now.’
‘No, no hospital,’ Richie waves him off with his injured hands. Eddie leads his hand back without response, tracking his face to see if he gives away anything. Richie had forgotten his hand hurted in the first place, so he definitely didn’t require any treatment beyond what he was doing already. His tears are the result of being overwhelmed by his emotions, and his default response to that is to cry.
‘If you don’t want me to do that, that’s okay you know?’
Because his hand is incapacitated, he wipes his nose on the corner of his shirt, watching as Eddie’s wrinkles his nose at that. Still, even with the disgusting move on Richie’s part, Eddie leans in closer, molding Richie so he fits in the fold between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. There, he resumes his path of caressing Richie’s hair, and kissing his temple. Richie fists one of his hands in the back of Eddie’s shirt, pressing them as intimate as he can.
‘Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. What’s wrong?’
Richie sobs harder, not particularly keen on telling Eddie why he’s this upset. It’s a difficult topic to talk to anyone about, Eddie and the losers included. There were days that Richie twisted his mind to convince himself that it was all in his head. That David was the best boyfriend anyone could ever wish for, and that the tirades he had to endure was just the cost of that. He was afraid he added things in his mind that hadn’t actually taken place and he created his own narrative.
Apprehension held Richie back, dreading what Eddie’s response might be. He could exclaim Richie to be a complainer that should have praised himself lucky to get the abuse he got, or he could say that Richie was a sourpuss, turning a fly into an elephant.
‘Shouldn’t we get rid of the smoke first?’, Richie questions to stall.
‘Later’, Eddie soothes with another kiss to his temple. ‘Talk to me. Please Rich.’
‘There was this guy I used to date, David.’
Eddie’s head shoots up in bewilderment, his brow furrowed. ‘You never told me about him.’
‘Yeah well we never talk about your wife either and I thought that would mean we wouldn’t disclose our previous hang ups.’
‘Ex-wife. Remember Rich? She’s my ex-wife. There’s nobody in the world I would rather be with then with you.’
‘Stop it you bastard,’ Richie sniffles pathetically. ‘You know I can’t deny you anything when you sweet talk me.’
‘That’s the plan.’
Eddie thumbs underneath Richie’s eye socket, brushing in a hypnotic rhythm that ankers him to reality. If Richie nuzzles into Eddie’s palm, then no one else but then needs to know.
Talking about something that brings forth a lot of anxiety goes smoother with closed eyes, Richie’s come to find, so he does that before revealing what he should have revealed a long time ago.
‘He was.. not so kind’, he chuckles humorless. ‘He really thrived when he pointed out everything I did wrong, liked yelling too.’
‘Rich?’
‘Wait let me finish. If I don’t say it now I’ll never get the courage to again.’ He opens his eyes only to see Eddie nod in agreement, and his face starting to tang a bit red.
‘Sometimes I couldn’t even walk right without him being all up in my ass about it. At parties he would gladly tell everyone embarrassing things I did, or he would pretend like he did all the work at home while really he was the one that did nothing. And the way he spoke to me.. like I was a child and he was a teacher or something. And he had this way of saying things so I’d know I was a breath away from being yelled at, but so that he could still claim he never once raised his voice at me. I guess I was scared you were going to do the same thing after seeing what a major fuck up I am. . He kept insisting I didn’t do things good enough, but I was really trying my best. I fucking swear Eds. I can’t help that my best isn’t good enough.’
The repetitive motion that Eddie kept up during his long monologue abruptly ends, and Eddie instead balls his hands up into two fist, pulling away from Richie to lean on the counter. He bounces on his heels, unable to stand still any longer as he is now the one to squeeze his eyes shut.
‘Eddie?’ Richie implores, the panic from before quickly flooding through his bloodstream and entering every part of his body.
Eddie opens his eyes, and something on Richie’s face must give away what he’s experiencing, because he’s quick to assure Richie did nothing wrong. ‘No, shit Richie it’s not you sweetheart. I love you, you did nothing, nothing wrong.’
He pecks Richie on the lips twice, very softly and barely noticeable, almost a goad to get Richie to cram their lips together tighter. For a long moment, they don’t move. Their lips stay hovering just out of reach, and one of Eddie’s palms slide down Richie’s chest down to his belly and up again. It’s an effort for Eddie to try and generate as much love towards Richie as he possibly can, before his resolve breaks and he has to let his resentment for David out in some way.
‘I’m going to kill him.’ Eddie turns away from Richie, but his hand remains on Richie’s stomach, a connection so they don’t separate. His chest puffs up, almost like he’s gearing up to go fight David right now. He would if he got the chance.
‘Spagheddie you don’t have to do that for me. I don’t even own his number anymore.’
‘I don’t care Rich,’ Eddie’s voice trembles but is laced with a deadly amount of venom. ‘He should have never done those things to you. If I ever see him I’ll fucking strangle him with my bare hands.’
‘It’s fine Eds, it wasn’t that bad.’ The denial burns in his chest. He wondered for a long time if he could qualify what he went through as abuse, not because he was actively hoping to label himself as an abuse victim, but because he questioned if what happened to him was worth being this upset over. In conclusion, Richie decreed it wasn’t. Eddie's eyes snap up, burning behind a sheen layer of glass.
‘He never hit me like Bev’s husband did to her.’
‘That doesn’t fucking matter. What happened to Bev is terrible, but that doesn’t make what happened to you any less dire. Both of you were victims of abuse, save for a different kind.’
Are they comparable? If they were talking about another person Richie would say yes, that both leave lasting scars, but because he’s the subject of the question, he can’t say for sure. He’s not lenient enough with himself to allow such a statement to be made. Bev can suffer from the consequences of her abuse, but from Richie’s perspective, he should be over it by now.
‘Oh fuck,’ Eddie curses explicitly, ‘and I called you an idiot. Richie I’m so sorry.’
Eddie’s little crease that only appears when he’s discontent about something appears again, and he avoids eye contact with Richie. There’s no need for any of that. Richie hadn’t even taken that big of a notice about the word. He was reassured Eddie would never use it as a true insult, and even if he wasn’t convinced of that, the tender way Eddie reacts towards him otherwise would be enough to convince him.
‘No Eddie. I don’t mind, really. I don’t want things to change between us because I told you this. I like our banter.’
He finally takes his hand from under the lukewarm water stream, and dries it on his pants -the water, come Eddie’s prediction, has eased the aflame skin -. With both hands now free, Richie cuddles up closer to Eddie, using his arms to tug him closer. Eddie is still dressed in his suit from work - and it might deem handsome, but it is not very comfortable - but has not mentioned getting changed once, too enraptured with taking care of Richie.
‘They won’t if you don’t want to, but we’re making a deal. If I do something that hurts you, you need to tell me, so I can apologize and tell you I didn’t mean any of it. Are we clear?’
‘Aye aye captain. Shall we pinky promise on it?’
‘No, I’d rather kiss on it.’
They do, and this time the kiss progresses further than just a simple peck. Eddie cups Richie’s face in between his palms, a soft, sentimental smile ruining it a little. It doesn’t matter, Richie still greedily savors the moment as it comes.
‘All those times that you went on stage and rocked that whole performance I was already infinitely proud, but shit Richie, now that you’ve told me I’m even prouder. He tore you down but you spit in his face and said fuck no, I’m still going to be my own person. I’ll never let him treat you badly again. More importantly, you’ll never let him do it again. You’re so strong sweetheart.’
Richie sniffs, ‘why the hell are you still being so sappy? I told you everything already, there’s no need to spawn me further.’ He giggles, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle at the sight too, then he turns serious again.
‘Okay, now let me take care of you. I’m going to clean up, hush I am and you’re not going to lift a single finger, and then we’ll order in, watch tv from the bed and cuddle. That sounds good? We can talk about the heavy things in the morning.’ Richie has been through enough for one day.
‘That sounds perfect Eds.’
They let go of each other, but not before Eddie sneaks in a kiss on his forehead, cheek and jaw.
While dating David, Richie never used the word love. He knew, with manipulated affection and all, that he did not love David. Love isn’t supposed to change us, it’s supposed to accept us, makes us laugh and cry at appropriate times, and cocoon us in her warmth. Love doesn’t change us, but it adds something more to the previous person we were yesterday. Eddie adds something more to Richie every single day, be it by teaching him or standing by his side when he messes up. Richie loves Eddie, and he gets loved back equally as fierce.
#My writing#I'm literally begging for people to comment their opinions on my writing#reddie#reddie fic#richie and eddie#adult Richie#adult Eddie Kaspbrak#richie x eddie#reddie imagines#hurt comfort#fluffy ending#but heavy middle and beginning#eddie loves Richie#they're in love#Richie tozier#eddie kaspbrack
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MATCHUP FOR:
Anon
I'm Czech (Eastern European), I'm 5'7, and I love so many things! I love history, foreign languages (I speak French and I aspire to also learn Russian) but also physics and space, and my family and friends. I'm an extrovert, but I also have anxiety, and sometimes I need a break away from the world. I write stories, but I also love to read them. I'm the person that always speaks loudly about their mind, my opinions and about what I think that is important. I'm feminist and I deeply care about what is right - even if people don't like it.
From Band Of Brothers I Ship You With:
Charles "Chuck" Grant
Ship dynamic:
Fighter x Guardian Angel™
Quote:
«The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.»
Chuck Grant spends a good portion of his time observing you before he approaches you; you're just so interesting to him.
He loves your spunk and the way you handle yourself with people, and admires how intelligent and capable you are.
This man screams geek enabler. He'll take you to history lectures, science museums, space expositions, etc
He loves to hear you ramble about this stuff, and he's actually interested in it too, specially in the physics part.
He doesn't get a real grasp on it but it sounds entertaining when you explain it to him.
Speaking about things he doesn't quite understand— talk to him in languages he doesn't know, I'm begging.
At first he's baffled at the french because what the fuck are you even saying?
But the way that damned language rolls out of your tongue just does things to this man. Literally just tell him something like "je suis à votre disposition" and he'll die.
He won't understand a single word but that's the fun part, isn't it?
I get chill ambivert vibes from this man; Chuck usually lets you shine and thrive in social interactions when it comes to groups, while he stays in the back listening and laughing, occasionally making a comment.
The moment he sees your anxiety kicking in, though, he's taking over.
Depending on how bad it is, he either pulls you away for a bit and takes on the roll of bearing with your spotlight until you feel better, or he excuses the two of you and drops you at your place.
He'll only stay if you ask him to do so, otherwise he'll let you have your all by yourself moments and let you know you can go get him if you need him.
He'll read whatever you write and think it's the best shit he's ever read.
Chuck is gonna pinch his nose everytime you open your mouth to speak your mind. Every. Single. Time.
Not because he wants you to stay quiet, but because he has to get ready to either calm you down or punch someone.
He himself is keen on speaking his mind with no filter whatsoever more often than not.
Although Grant's on the cautious, diplomatic side, no one should ever say something mildly disrespectful or diminishing to you.
No like, for real, he'll low-key go off on them, no matter who it may be or what consequences it will have.
Cue this fic you should definitely read by @softliebgott
He's an encouraging sweetheart who will also have your back, which you definitely need, I just know.
⟩⟩Bonus:
I Platonically Ship You With:
Renée Lemaire
I just know you'd be a dynamic duo.
No one mess with the two of you, SPECIALLY when you two are together.
Bitching around in french as a trademark.
Idk you kinda give me the vibe that yours and Renée's personalities are not inherently opposite, more like complementary, which would create a rich friendship.
Also look at this woman. LOOK AT HER. She's definitely your secondary guardian angel whenever Grant's not around.
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WHOOOOO this was a RIDE!! the duke's dramatic discussion of suitors and then anthony and elias and the PICNIC!! honestly everything about the picnic was entirely perfect hugh and CHERIE!! like that's my girl!! i'm proud of her that was great!! can't imagine how uh respectfully anthony was watching that exchange
You were lying on your stomach, kicking your legs back and forth lazily as your eyes darted over the lines. okay but this was literally my exact position reading this i-
Lucie shrugged her shoulders. “I gather he means more than well, though he could work on his lines,” lucie and benedict becoming besties WHEN
“He said something to me in French because we were talking about it while we were dancing and he mispronounced a word and Lucie, you should’ve heard!” okay but honestly this DOES sound really cute what was he trying to say though 👀👀
“Good riddance,” he scratched out the name and checked the Whistledown’s paper before going back to his list. “This is quite new but, Lord Trenlove?” okay but honestly i can just SEE this with the duke making notes and scratching things off- he may not have a pink glitter pen in reality but he does have one in spirit
“I don’t wish to be punished further for my hubris so I will just say that he will make a lady very happy one day,” you hesitated for a second. “Preferably one who can’t read.” okay i know this was in the sneak peek but this is still one of my favourite moments this was hilarious
“I see,” he muttered. “Does he live in Paris?” lol no approval from him either it's confirmed pierre should fuck off!!
“Lucie, will you please keep guard by the door and tell me if anyone comes closer?” you whispered and she frowned. cherie NO this is stupid- i appreciate and love lucie's loyalty but honestly cherie should stop being so reckless my poor heart can't take this
“We…we were at the greenhouse,” you mumbled, still unable to look him in the eye. “And um—there was no music so that you could…you could kiss me longer this time. I woke up before you could kiss me for the second time though.” she's still so sweet and innocent though i had the same combination of amusement and fondness as anthony on my face while reading this it's so cute honestly
You pulled your brows together. “Are your dreams as inappropriate as mine?” He bit inside his cheek as if he was trying his hardest to keep a straight face. “…Something like that.” poor anthony i would straight up not have been able to keep a straight face i don't care what anyone says this fic is a comedy more than it is a romance story
“It was foolish of him,” he commented and you blinked a couple of times. no offense anthony but remember you're trying to keep this whole thing secret and you're not actually courting her as you should?? sinclair was just trying to shoot his shot 😭😭
“My nymph…” he muttered before dipping his head to kiss the tip of your nose, a giggle escaping from you. “My siren.” His lips brushed over yours. “My darling.” okay but this both had me so scared someone would find out while also finding it so incredibly cute
Elias made a face. “Ugh, that poem…” what is it with that poem i swear- did cherie just show everyone how incredibly bad it was??
“Listen, Daphne and Simon are making all of us go to Hyde Park for a picnic, and apparently a bunch of people are going to be there.” i knew it was gonna be good at this point honestly picnics seem like sm fun- contrary to popular opinions i've actually convinced myself i would thrive in upper class society of the time but the picnics might seem like the best part of it
“Would a poem make you feel better?” “Oh God, please no.” dream PLEASE i'm begging you share the entire poem with us i want to know now 😭😭
Her brother Lord Hugh Trenlove was with her again to chaperone her and he seemed to be very welcoming to you. YESSSS HUGH MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE!! like i LOVE all your oc's because you're seriously talented at writing them and getting me attached but tbh hugh may be my favourite of all fics
“Speaking of Lady Whistledown, have you read that I’m apparently courting you?” You let out a clear laugh. “I have,” you said. “I just wish you would’ve told me beforehand.” look at them being all cute!! i love their friendship sm already
“I’m not!” you defended yourself, trying to keep a straight face while a lady came to talk to Hugh, but Hugh muttered something to her which seemed to make her stomp on her foot and walk away. “Who was that?” Cecily asked and Hugh shrugged his shoulders. “An old friend.” aHA- you give us snippets of backstory for for hugh and i will take it with very welcoming hands!! friends to enemies lovers!!!! or whatever this can be!! i'll honestly take any hugh content you can give us
“May we have a word please? I’d like to…explain myself.” Hugh raised his brows. “I don’t believe I want or need any explanations, Mr. Sinclair. And I am chaperoning my sister, in case it has escaped your notice.” oh HOOOOO whatever has happened between them?? are we going to find out in the story or can you tell us now?? honestly this entire chapter has just FILLED me with questions
“Another old friend,” Hugh said calmly. “Anyway, how bad was the poem?” two things- first HOW was the poem that bad that everyone continuously talks about it and second how many "old friends" does hugh have wAIT WAS HE INTERESTED IN THE LADY AND THEN MR SINCLAIR AND HER WERE CAUGHT TOGETHER OR SOMETHING- oh the drama of that
“Bridgerton really does not look happy.” Hugh commented, “Is it about the poem or me, do we think? I mean I’d love to take the full credit but…” honestly the family resemblance to cecily is incredibly uncanny
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I will overturn the boat if he proposes.” hugh is an icon honestly anthony should step up if he wants me to be on his team
Your heart started to pace in your chest as you turned around to look at him. His jaw was clenched as he glared at Hugh who looked like he was having way too much fun. yes okay once again he and cecily are obviously siblings delighting in torturing anthony- that being said when are hugh and benedict meeting we can have a strong team of people roasting anthony
“Lord Trenlove?” you asked. “Oh he was just joking about how he would overturn the boat if Mr. Randolph proposed. He knows I don’t approve of—oh he has got to be jesting!” fucking ELIAS i swear- this man just LOVES inflicting pain on himself doesn't he?? stupid stupid man also i can just imagine anthony hearing this and in his mind being like 'well i can overturn their boat AND elias' boat' bc he is one jealous fool like 93% of the time
You tried to bite down your smile at his teasing remark. “And if he can’t, he will have been drowned for love. I cannot think of a more noble way to die.” i once again laughed out loud at this honestly if this whole marriage thing doesn't work out for cherie she can always go into stand-up comedy
“But I suppose it’s the wise choice,” you said. “Financially, I mean.” oh FUCK CHERIE MEANS BUSINESS NOW!! this is the confrontation we were all waiting for and it was everything i had imagined and MORE this was great i was constantly reading it both shocked and proud of her?? either way she deserved this this was even better than punching (i stand by my point that hugh should get to punch elias but i suppose this was more satisfying AND more hurtful than any damage a punch could do while also being sort of proper) i love cherie
“Not to mention the beadwork on your dress,” you cut her off before she could say anything else. “We wore those last year in Paris, but I should applaud you. I’ve always admired the people who are not afraid of looking out of fashion. Very much a risky decision of course but… I see that it makes you happy, so who can judge really?” DAMN GIRL YOU ALREADY KILLED HER YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO IT TWICE!! i can just imagine anthony watching this getting far too turned on by it bc he is anthony and anything cherie does does that to him
“Well this has been fun,” you commented. “But I’m afraid I must find my brother. As you said, he is a future duke and his knowledge on what is in demand and acceptable among ladies is no more than any other man’s, so I shall be very happy to enlighten him about his boat partner’s…” You eyed her up and down. “Um, humble fashion choices.” okay but this was basically just firing shots into a dead body- i appreciate it all the same because she def had it coming but DAMN the way cherie went about it was the most wonderful anyone could have written
thank you for this once again amazing chapter!! i loved it very very much as usual honestly dream if you changed the names and sold it as a novel i'd buy like a dozen copies to distribute them to everyone around me-
anyway, i hope you have a wonderful day :))
Merel loveeeee, hi! 😱❤❤ OMG I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS❤
I love writing picnics, some drama always happens 😂
Also how I read asks lollll😂❤
Lucie and Benedict becoming besties awww! They'd be criticizing bad poetry for hours 😂
Oh when he spoke French? He was trying to mimic Pierre because he hates him 😂
he may not have a pink glitter pen in reality but he does have one in spirit THE MENTAL IMAGE, THE MENTAL IMAGE!😂
Nopeeee, the duke doesn't want Cherie to go back to Paris 😈
cherie NO this is stupid This is one hundred percent going to be the theme for the next chapter as well, she's getting way too reckless 😈
Awwww this is so sweet of youuuuu! ❤
no offense anthony but remember you're trying to keep this whole thing secret and you're not actually courting her as you should?? sinclair was just trying to shoot his shot YOU ARE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT 😈😂❤
did cherie just show everyone how incredibly bad it was?? She only showed it to Lucie and Elias actually, everyone else is basically just guessing 😂
The entire poem lolll😂 Let's just say that every line was a disaster 😈
like i LOVE all your oc's because you're seriously talented at writing them and getting me attached YOU ARE SO NICEEEE OMG 😱❤
OOOH SO-
The Hugh thing, I can totally say it here ❤ They were both his ex lovers actually, the lady AND Mr Sinclair the fourth, he's bi and he's had lovers and he's very much uh....
Let's just say people want him 😈❤
Cecily and Hugh are just unstoppable when they dislike someone and they really dislike Anthony 😂
Hugh and Benedict need to meet YES! PLEASE YES😂😱 That would be so good! ❤
Elias is just... it's not his turn to use the braincell 😂
I love jealous Anthony 😈
Lolll Cherie can be funny when she's not even trying to be funny 😂❤ It even made Anthony genuinely laugh and I'm sure people saw that ❤❤
Cherie vs Miriam was fuuuun 😈😈 Omg if Anthony saw it....😈😍❤
Merel omg you're so amazing and you've made me so happy, thank you so much for this! ❤❤❤
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Happy Halloween, everyone. Important blog updates under the cut.
As some of you could tell, I've had to step away from this blog a lot recently. At first it had to do with the person who refused to stop messaging me, even when I begged for them to leave me alone. For context for people who don't know, and if you do you can just skip to the next paragraph: there was a person who sent me all different kinds of questions multiple times a week about whatever; they had a distinct writing style so I could tell it was them. They had sent an ask about my opinion on the Chinese government's treatment of the Uyghur people, which I deleted since I was trying not to let too much non-Ouija content flood my blog. They kept sending it, getting more and more aggressive and calling me racist for not answering it. When I finally addressed it, sighting the fact that I had answered the same exact question months ago from the same exact person, their hate got even worse, to the point where I had to close my inbox to get them to stop. They still refused to stop, instead incessantly apologizing and constantly inboxing me when I kept telling them to leave me alone. Whenever I think about it, it makes me just want to delete my blog altogether. If you are this person, and you're reading this, DO NOT send me another ask of you apologizing. I never want to hear from you again in any capacity.
The other reason I haven't really been active is the fact that Tumblr is a dying website, with a very tiny community. It makes all the hard work I've put into this blog not feel very worthwhile, knowing it will be seen by so few people, and make so little impact.
But what may do this blog in for good is the absolute explosion of misinformation and ignorance that has taken over this website. I'm now getting messages from people calling me fake because I tell them that Zozo is not a real demon, or that Ouija boards can't hurt you, and that you can't get possessed from a Ouija board. People get upset that I tell them that they aren't in danger from demons and everything is fine, which you think would be a relief, but instead I get called a fraud and not knowing what I'm talking about. There are also a huge number of people who think they can talk to spirits by holding out their hands and watching their fingers twitch, which is an absolutely normal brain function and has is not, or ever has been, a method of spirit communication.
There was also the hate I got from me telling someone that a spirit isn't going to jump into their body and control them. The argument is that there are some African cultures that believe in spirit possession, so therefore it IS possible, and I'm wrong for telling someone it isn't. First and foremost, I'm not going to comment on whether or not something like that is spirit possession, because it's not part of my culture, and is part of a closed culture, and I cannot comment on any aspect of it. What bothers me though, is the fact that people cherry pick supernatural observances from closed cultures and decide that they are 100% okay to comment on and replicate. It reminds me a lot of how people think they can create stupas, which is a spirit concept from Tibetan Buddhism, which is a VERY closed belief. Are stupas (which is the concept of creating a spirit from your own mind) real? It doesn't matter what I say, because that's not my culture and it's highly offensive of me to have any say in that. Same goes for this "African spirit possession", which is such a vague concept since there are literally hundreds and hundreds of different African cultures, and surely there are closed cultures not in Africa that have similar beliefs. Second, I'm pretty sure that someone sitting at home isn't about to encounter African tribal spirit possession ceremonies or whatever, and become possessed. It just literally isn't going to happen, and it definitely won't happen randomly, and it definitely won't happen because of a Ouija board. I kept trying to drive in these two points, but it fell to deaf ears, since I refused to say that in certain African cultures people get possessed by spirits for 100% fact.
Nothing about the paranormal is 100% fact. If it were, it would be science. The paranormal cannot be verified scientifically, so any and all opinions on the paranormal are just that, opinions. What I state on my blog is fact. Never ever has anyone had a spirit jump into their body and control them while playing the Ouija board. There are far too many scientific explanations as to what really happens when people claim this, and ignoring them would be completely ignorant and medieval. We have a massive problem of science denial in the world right now that any supernatural community doesn't need to include that on top of everything else. I'm trying to explain how you can develop a far better understanding of the paranormal and the spirit world if you understand the science surrounding it, but that's not fun and spooky and creepy and meme-y. I get that it's more fun to believe that all horror movies are real and can happen to you. I get that it's more fun to believe that you have a spirit controlled body that can pass on messages through finger movements. But in doing so, you are not allowing yourself to think critically about any of it, and ignoring logic and common sense can lead you down a very dark path.
With all this being said, I'm thinking very seriously about shutting down my blog. If my hours and hours of writing isn't going to make any kind of difference from here on out, then what's the point? If I'm just going to get hate for explaining how science or psychology works, then what's the point?
I know my blog has meant a lot to many of you, and for that I'm forever grateful. I really hope that you just pass that along to anyone who might be spreading Ouija board ignorance by using my tricks in showing people how their thinking has been skewed by Hollywood or religious zealots or creepypastas. I'll most likely delete in a week or so, unless there's a very clear answer from somewhere to not do so, so in that time take from my blog what you will. You have permission to copy or repost anything I've written, I don't care about being credited. Take it and spread it around while it's still up.
Thank you for reading this, and thank you for your time.
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"I swear half this fandom don't actually like Ben" lmao true! Thing is though he's not likeable all the time and he can be a right old dick. But personally even if I don't like him or his actions at certain times, I feel like the broader picture is still there and I root for him because I get why he's like he is? And I can see and appreciate the softer sides of him even if they're fairly well hidden at times.
I also think some people in the fandom intellectually understand that he's traumatised and a survivor of various abuses, and when that shows in certain ways e.g. like if Callum or Lola is comforting while he's crying. But when it comes to situations like this week with Jags and Whitney, I personally think some people have struggled to understand how his trauma connects to it because it's not as obvious as e.g. Whitney's fiance dies, Gray manipulates her, bish bash bosh hit and run. Even more broadly I think it's easy for the audience to underestimate how Ben's experiences have shaped him because there's a distance created by time, his criminal actions, his (un)likeability factor, not viewing Phil as an abusive parent etc.
I don't wanna say everyone criticising him is like that btw! I'm sure there's a few reasons but I think this plays a part tbh.
i get what you're saying but to me it's like.... why would you even waste so much time invested into someone you don't like most of the time. i genuinely don't get it. ppl tend to ship ballum but hate ben AND hate the majority of the sls lately and it's like.... it's 2021 bro it's not like gay couples are THAT rare anymore there is so much media out there if you're not enjoying what ee are doing then you literally do not have to watch. in fact im BEGGING you for your sake not to. literally just do not engage with media that you aren't enjoying. do not sit in your own negativity writing 20 posts a day abt 'why are they doing this? why don't they do that? if they did this i would enjoy it more' bc you're only making yourself miserable. like this goes for any type of media but literally just stop engaging w it if you're not enjoying it anymore. the think pieces don't help anyone. your opinions aren't universal and they aren't gospel. we all need to stop confusing our opinions w facts. just bc i'm not enjoying smth doesn't mean other ppl aren't and vice versa. just bc i'm not enjoying smth doesn't mean that the thing needs to change. eg i hate the fact that callum is a copper and pray every day that something will force him out of it BUT it doesn't really affect my overall enjoyment of him as a character and it doesn't mean that the show has to make him quit just bc i don't like it. you (the royal you not u specifically anon lmao) might hate the fact that ben still does illegal stuff but that doesn't mean the show has to make him stop just bc you don't like it. if it affects how much you enjoy him as a character/ben and callum as a couple then maybe consider stopping watching. festering in the energy of 'i hate this, i hate what they're doing and here's 1200 words why' is unhealthy! i learned this the hard way !
i know this seems like an irrelevant ramble but i think i've realized that this is what my issue is. ppl not understanding trauma is frustrating and damaging and still pisses me off, but i feel like what actually pisses me off more are the ppl who just don't even attempt to be understanding bc underneath it all they're angry/frustrated at the show/sls and that's how it manifests itself. ppl don't like the direction ben and/or callum are going in and so the minute they (and it's usually ben lbr) step out of line they JUMP on that as an excuse to vent their frustrations and often end up saying shit that is ignorant or damaging or mean or just straight up cruel abt things that are so often symptoms of mental illness or trauma. so they're out here posting so many things and making these cruel little comments bc they can't just acknowledge that they don't actually like ballum anymore meanwhile ppl who are actually disabled/mentally ill/traumatised are sitting there reading all of these things and seeing all the people agreeing w them and it's doing real life damage to people.
is it on purpose? probably not. but that doesn't make the damage any less real. i have never forgotten or forgiven the way ppl reacted after ben went deaf. it was vile. as a disabled person who reacted very badly to being disabled just like ben did, it genuinely fucked me in the head seeing what ppl said abt him during that time. now i understand that it was partially ignorance but also a big chunk of it was ppl being unhappy bc they thought they wouldn't be able to enjoy their ship anymore bc ben was disabled (not that he hadn't been disabled before, but now it wasn't ignorable anymore).
idk there's more i could say but i feel like it's pointless. ppl don't care lmao all they care abt is their ship. which, ok fine whatever, but stop letting ur mentally ill/traumatised/disabled followers get caught in the crossfire bc you can't just admit you're not enjoying it anymore and feel the need to tear the thing down and rant about how it's 'bad writing' or 'out of character' etc etc. it's frustrating to read (which is why im never on here anymore) and speaking from experience it hurts YOU in the long run. negativity breeds more negativity.
you don't need to make excuses! just let it go! find something that does make you happy! you deserve that! and we deserve to be able to enjoy something without seeing ppl tearing it (or worse - us) down every 5 minutes !!
(edit - to clarify anon none of this was aimed at you i just sort of started ranting and didn't even really answer ur question im sorry !! i get what ur saying tho lmao 💞💞💞)
#eastenders#anon#question#like it's just nitpicking and it's too much it's tired#how are you mad they're still social distancing ? you are literally just looking for smth to be mad at atp#like please im begging just admit it's not something you enjoy anymore and GO#i just want peace... that's all i want
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