#but I wonder if divorce just means different things to different people?

[hana-no-seiiki]

This is generally such a stupid ask but I feel like it would be.. Chaotic? At the very least amusing

Anyways

Batfam x Nicole from Class of 09! Reader

Do what you want (etc make it romantic or platonic, doesn't matter)

Just the batfam (yandere ofc) dealing with a chick who loves to ruin lives for her amusement and sometimes for revenge

Istg she'll just bully them at any chance she gets

~ 🕒

I just binged watched Class of ‘09 and all its endings/choices for you non. I don’t think I can fully depict how brash wittiness of Nicole is but here I go! (I am so traumatized) Didn’t know that’s where “No I’m flirting with you flash me a tiddy bitch” came from no wonder Nicole sounded so familiar.

btw if people are interested in watching class of ‘09 just be warned it’s basically a VN version of Degrees of Lewdity but the mc is actually a minor (without the sex/r*pe mechanic though) and it depicts a lot of just… pedophilia, necrophilia, assault, su*c*de, school shootings, racism??, BE WARNED.

The following content above ^ might be mentioned in this fic but in passing. MASSIVE DDDNE WARNING.

I don’t think I’m comfortable writing stepcest/incest in this blog so despite how perfect it’ll be to make Bruce your step father considering Nicole’s mom has divorced like a hundred times…maybe ask me in @yoru-no-seiiki and I’ll be down for it.

THIS IS ADMITTEDLY TIM + DAMIAN CENTRIC

“Do you even care? Do the results of your actions mean anything to you?”

“Yeah when they affect me, sure.”

You were a bitch. There was no denying that. But you were a pretty one. One many would grovel to be under.

You were used to this, ever since you reached a certain age people just looked at you different, acted in a way that… made you think they were boring, utter losers.

One of those losers was Tim’s friend.

Like all the stupid, horny men in your life, you hung out with him once and he spilled everything there was that you could share.

To the entire campus, the internet, even the news.

And because you were pretty, you got off scot-free. Those morons didn’t even check to see what you’ve been doing the past decade.

Except Tim. Timothy Drake. You only knew that his dad was super rich, and as much as it was tempting to sink your teeth into him and get a load of that daddy’s money, you knew better.

He apparently didn’t.

You see there was one thing every batfam member couldn’t resist. Well, two things. The first was saving people.

The second? Fixing them.

When Tim first approached you he was confused.

You were quite the popular figure in Uni. He heard the rumors. He fully expected to be cussed out to hell and back.

But you were… nice. Agreeable at most really. Brash was an understatement. But you were witty. Your comebacks were swift and deadly.

The more he studied stalked you the more he realized that the two of you were the same.

Two bright people stuck with dull idiots.

And Tim? Tim interested you enough for you to not to completely drop him after the first week. That and most of your bullying probably wouldn’t bode well towards the son of a billionaire.

He was smart, even more so than that nerd friend of his that you destroyed the life of. But more importantly he actually had some tact, and was surprisingly packed underneath all those baggy clothes.

Tim had to admit he was kind of forgetting his entire purpose of ‘fixing’ you.

Until you manipulated yet another guy into jumping off a school building for you. Thankfully he survived because Red Robin happened to be there to apprehend him but still!

And what’s worse, you met up with him afterwards talking about how that Red Robin ruined all your plans of crippling a r*pist.

Wait, a r*pist?

Tim looks through your past victims once more. Admitted he only did a surface level job of studying them in comparison to his PhD level knowledge on everything about you specifically.

And…you were right. Every guy you’ve harassed was being pushy with you in the first place, if not people with authority a decade older.

Fuck.

Well now he had no excuse. He had to make you his.

Meanwhile…

“Ugh, Damian. Can’t you tell your brother to like, fuck off or something? I can feel my social standing totally plummet every second he’s around. How do you handle being related to him?” You groaned. You weren’t fucking stupid. You knew Tim was stalking and drooling all over you lately. You hated it. He was ruining your chances with your new victims.

“Jeez [Y/N]. And here I thought you were like, into him.” Jessica, your actual crush and best friend, commented as she filed her nails.

You being the emotional stunted adult you were only replied with an (admittedly softer) “Eat a sandpaper cock and die bitch.”

Damian stared at you, the words die before they crawl out of his mouth. His hands clenched underneath the lunch tables.

Guess he had another thing to steal from his brother this time.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere core #yandere batfam #batfam #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #tim drake #damian wayne #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #yandere robin x reader #robin x reader #yandere red robin x reader #red robin x reader

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

“The women leaders in our study were considered too young or too old. They were too short or too tall, too pretty or too unattractive or too heavy. They had too much education or not enough or their degrees were not from the “right” schools. They suffered from disrespect and misperceptions due to race, color, or ethnicity. Whether they had children or were childless, the women were expected to work harder than men to prove their worth. Women were held back from leadership opportunities due to being single, married, or divorced. There was no personality trait sweet spot, as introverted women were not seen as leaders and extraverted women were viewed as aggressive. The effect, then, means women leaders are “never quite right.””

Full text under cut

https://www.fastcompany.com/90889985/new-research-reveals-critiques-holding-women-back-from-leadership-that-most-men-will-never-hear

A recent study of the 33 biggest multilateral institutions found that of 382 leaders in their history only 47 have been women. And the percentage of women running Fortune 500 companies has only just recently crested a meager 10%.

As researchers we wondered why institutions consistently fail to promote women to top jobs. Our recent study of 913 women leaders from four female-dominated industries in the U.S. (higher education, faith-based nonprofits, law, and healthcare) sheds light on this pernicious problem. As we found, there’s always a reason why women are “never quite right” for leadership roles.

Women are criticized so often and on so many things that they are acculturated to receiving such disparagement, taking it seriously, and working to make improvements. And any individual woman may take it personally, believing the criticism directed at her to be warranted.

But our research reveals that the problem lies elsewhere. Virtually any characteristic can be leveraged against a woman in a discriminatory fashion. Such criticisms often relate to facets of women’s identity in an overt or subtle way, such as race, age, parental status, attractiveness, and physical ability.

Effectively, the surface-level critique functions as a “red herring,” distracting from the inherent gender bias driving the encounter. This type of treatment is so common that we have called it “we want what you aren’t” discrimination.

More specifically, our research revealed 30 different characteristics and qualities of a woman’s identity that emerged as points of criticism creating barriers to women’s success. The clear message to women is that—whatever they are—they are “never quite right.”

Age was a consistent challenge for women leaders in our study. Some of our respondents reported being considered too young to lead, while others indicated being too old hindered them from advancing.

However, being middle-aged didn’t help women’s career prospects either. A physician shared: “I am middle-aged, and men my age are seen as mature leaders and women my age as old.”

Parental status—having children or being childless—emerged as another point of criticism. A higher-education leader described how people assume she “can’t take on a bigger role ‘because of the kids,’” which made her feel that she needed “to work extra hard” to show that she could be both a dedicated mother and a leader.

On the other hand, a childless physician was expected to “work harder/more, accomplish more” than other female colleagues. Mothers were also bypassed for career opportunities, as happened to a single divorced lawyer who was the mother of preschoolers, “due to a perception by my male bosses that I cannot or should not handle [larger matters].”

Likewise, pregnancy was problematic, particularly for lawyers in our study. There was doubt that women would come back to work after maternity leave. Some were no longer given good assignments, while others were forced to quit private practice or work part time. One lawyer described the loss of confidence from bosses:

“Once you are pregnant or trying to have kids, the way management views you deteriorates. The opposite thing happens for male coworkers. I’ve seen it in so many law firms it’s impossible to argue it was just coincidence or based on merit.”

Simply planning on having kids was enough to invoke bias. A woman in higher education reported being denied promotion because she would need maternity leave for hypothetical future children.

Women of color were targets of subtle bias. An African American faith-based leader described being “invisible” and regularly “talked over” by white men. A Native American higher-education executive described being misperceived as weak, “when in fact we are practicing ‘respect’ for ourselves and others.” And a Filipina physician described facing role incredulity, as people assumed that she was “a nurse, and not a doctor and a division chief at that.”

Even physical ability and health played into the women’s experiences. Physical disabilities led to assumptions of not being capable. One higher-education leader who uses a crutch was questioned by men about the way she walks and has been told “to hide my cane, especially for photographs,” as she said.

Regarding health, there were double standards around the way men and women with illnesses were treated. A physician developed ovarian cancer while serving as an officer in the public health service. She explained, “The plan was to discharge me . . . even though men with prostate cancer didn’t have to go through that.”

The women leaders in our study were considered too young or too old. They were too short or too tall, too pretty or too unattractive or too heavy. They had too much education or not enough or their degrees were not from the “right” schools. They suffered from disrespect and misperceptions due to race, color, or ethnicity. Whether they had children or were childless, the women were expected to work harder than men to prove their worth. Women were held back from leadership opportunities due to being single, married, or divorced. There was no personality trait sweet spot, as introverted women were not seen as leaders and extraverted women were viewed as aggressive. The effect, then, means women leaders are “never quite right.”

Organizations that fail to promote and support women in their top roles miss out on performance gains. Fortunately, there are concrete steps that organizational leaders, allies, and individual women can take to mitigate this “never quite right” bias, aiding women’s workplace advancement.

“Flip it to test it”

Leaders can be particularly effective in thwarting sexist criticisms toward women. It’s not about changing the behavior of women—who are the recipients of the unfair treatment—but it is about changing the behaviors of those who justify their actions as somehow merited. Many criticisms fail the “flip it to test it” method miserably. Ask yourself, would the following statements ever be said about a man?

He needs to smile more.

Men are going to have kids and not want to work.

Since Larry has prostate cancer, he can no longer fulfill his job duties.

The clear answer is no. Leaders can infuse awareness of this simple, yet effective, tool to reduce such bias-laden criticisms. And workplace allies can help stop unfair criticism of women by calling it out.

Constructive career-enhancing feedback

Women are almost one and a half times more likely to receive negative feedback that is subjective rather than constructive and objective feedback. Men are often given a clearer idea of where they excel and opportunities for improvement whereas women are given vague feedback that often focuses on qualities like communication style. Even when using formal performance evaluation rubrics, a disparity remains.

Developmental feedback to women focuses on operational tasks, coping with politics, developing resilience, being cooperative, and building confidence. Developmental feedback to men focuses on setting a vision, leveraging power and politics, being assertive, and displaying confidence. Leaders can reduce the gender-biased framing by encouraging all employees to develop both sets of skills.

Do not take it personally

For individual women, hear us when we say, “It’s not you.” We women are conditioned to accept feedback and internalize it as something to “fix” about ourselves. If you are criticized, consider whether it is objective, constructive, and warranted. Disregard identity-based criticisms that are part of a larger pattern of bias against women.

Our research demonstrates that practically any characteristic can be proclaimed problematic for a woman leader to question her competence and suitability for leadership. It takes deliberate effort, but we can turn the message to women from “We want what you aren’t” into “We want what you are.” Doing so will advance women in the workplace and profit the entire organization.

Amy Diehl, PhD, is chief information officer at Wilson College and a gender equity researcher, speaker, and consultant. She is coauthor of Glass Walls: Shattering the Six Gender Bias Barriers Still Holding Women Back at Work.

Leanne M. Dzubinski, PhD, is acting dean of the Cook School of Intercultural Studies and associate professor of intercultural education at Biola University, and a prominent researcher on women in leadership. She is coauthor of Glass Walls: Shattering the Six Gender Bias Barriers Still Holding Women Back at Work.

Amber L. Stephenson, PhD, is an associate professor of management and director of healthcare management programs in the David D. Reh School of Business at Clarkson University. Her research focuses on how professional identity influences attitudes and behaviors and how women leaders experience gender bias.

[tsukinoakume]

RW&RB MovieAlex vrs BookAlex: A Rant

I'm late to the party on Red, White, and Royal Blue for a dumb reason and now I'm obsessed with it. OMG I WAS SO WRONG.

I love the book. I love the movie. I also love the difference between them that I find myself obsessing over: the lack of June.

I love June. I'm also not mad that they removed her from the movie, because I honestly don't think they had the time to do her justice. The important thing is that when they removed her, they split her personality and scenes between Nora and Alex. And the result is fascinating.

Combining June with Alex gives us a calmer, more emotionally mature, competent version of Alex. He is definitely not the hot mess that BookAlex is. (Don't get me wrong here: BookAlex is my favorite character.) But now it's implied that MovieAlex is better at keeping his temper, handles his shit without being micromanaged, advocates for himself more, and I'm pretty sure the speech he gives is his own. Probably with help, but still. Also not having divorced parents means MovieAlex doesn't have BookAlex's abandonment issues. It's never said that his parents' relationship is perfect, but it's implied that he's had a stable family background. MovieAlex still has flaws and he's not Nora Levels of Competency, but he's definitely a lot more balanced. And this actually changes his relationship with Henry, just a little.

Namely in reference to my two favorite scenes:

1) Storming the Castle.

BookAlex is a ball of rage in this scene, and it's GLORIOUS. Yelling at the windows, aggressively dripping everywhere trying to ruin the rugs, making rude comments about Henry's ancestors. He is defiant. He yells, Henry yells back. It ends in tears, but there's a lot of anger.

MovieAlex by contrast is quieter, more hurt. He hardly yells at all. (I rewatched this scene like 20 times for Repeat to be sure.) He's determined, and he doesn't back down, but you get to see that split second of fear in his eyes that Henry is asking him to leave. There's a lot more emotion and tears in this version. It's ... sweeter isn't the right word. Bittersweet, maybe.

Downside: The lack of transition in the morning from the book. I miss Alex expecting to be dumped, and Henry realizing he doesn't want Phillip's life before deliberately making the choice to be with Alex. Also the comment on Alex's hair, which made me giggle.

2) The Museum Scene

I know a lot of people are disappointed with this scene, and I feel the need to argue about why it's brilliant the way it is.

In the book, they go to the museum because Henry has made his choice, and now he's showing one of his favorite places to Alex. He's the one who brings up the music. He chooses to fulfill his fantasy with Alex there, and he chooses to play a song that embodies the romanticism of their situation, about being in love and not being able to let anyone else know. Your Song.

In the movie, they go to the museum when Henry's still trying to decide if this is something he can have, and he's sharing a part of himself with Alex when he talks about his fantasy. Alex is the one who chooses to fufill it, so of course he chooses a different song. For him, it's a song about how easy it is to love Henry. I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.

I also love that they changed Henry giving the ring to Alex to Alex giving Henry his key in return. I love the symbolism of Alex keeping Henry's ring safe for him, of their two homes side by side. But I also love the idea of exchanging parts of themselves. I love that they have those pieces of each other when they're separated and the emails are exposed.

The book tells the story better overall because it has the time to, and the bickering and friendship between the boys is everything. The movie makes me melt over the flirting and affection between them. I can't pick one over the other because both versions of this story are wonderful.

But emotionally mature MovieAlex and how soft he is with Henry, making sure Henry's taken care of? I am WEAK for that.

#Doing this here instead of my author's notes #I have a lot of feelings about red white and royal blue okay? #movie versus book #both both is good #emotionally competent Alex FTW #red white and royal blue

[rinasangel]

“What is this feeling?” Kim Minjeong

kim minjeong x fem reader

content warning: college au, angst, swearing, slow burn, fluff, eventual smut, sensitive topics like divorce, reader is pretty much emotionless until minjeong comes in her life, roomie minjeong, emotional conflicts, reader’s first time doing anything, cunnilingus, fingering

a/n : i’m happy to say that this is my first fic on this blog and i hope you enjoy <3

word count : 4.4k

requested : yes

“Fuck you! I can’t believe that you would do this to me after we’ve been married for ten years. We have a child!”

Loud noises and voices filled your senses, your parents were arguing again, but this time it seemed different. Even though you were young, you were not oblivious. By looking at their expressions you could tell that they were angry, but something about your mom’s face made you wonder if there was an emotion that was more extreme than anger.

Although you were only a child, you were heavily affected by your parents’ divorce settlement. At that time, you had no idea what caused your mom to take you away to a whole knew house, eat different meals, change schools, and eventually gain a new dad (which you were still indifferent to). Maybe it was because things got too loud when they were together, it did start to give you headaches.

Everything in your life changed in what seemed like just a snap of a finger. As you grew up, you became cold to the outside world. You were angry and confused as to why your father was taken from you. Well, you learned as a teenager that they split up because your dad had cheated on your mom with some dumb bitch from his work office, but it’s whatever.

High school felt like a big blur of numbness. Friends were something you were lacking, but that was by choice. Throughout your childhood and transformation into adulthood you learned to never trust anyone. Who knows how long those friends will even last? Who knows that if you had a partner they wouldn’t cheat on you and cause a messy breakup?

You weren’t dumb though. You knew that your feelings are impacted from your trauma as a kid, but you brushed it off once you realized that people were just there to hurt feelings and break hearts. That way, you didn’t even need to question if you wanted friends, or a relationship. You already know the truth about the world, so you thought.

Now, you have been accepted into your dream university. Although things were going smoothly in the right direction so far, you couldn’t help but feel conflicted about the anoint of people that will be attending the school this year. You felt a bit strange, but that emotion couldn’t be pinpointed after most emotions have been blocked out from your consciousness.

After begging your mom to pick a single room in the dorms, you were quickly humbled after discovering that such things didn’t exist. You had to have a roommate. Through the entirety of your life you were mostly fearless, but now you’re being forced to spend a whole 4 years with a person you’ve never met before. A weird feeling hit your chest. Was it anger? Or perhaps being what they call, nervous?

Many thoughts and scenarios filled your mind, you were overthinking, something that you haven’t done since you moved houses after the incident. It wasn’t clear why completely normal human interaction at a university was so intimidating to you, but you felt small when you shakily entered the new room.

Quick eyes darted around to observe every little detail. Kitchenette, small dining table with… two chairs, small couch with a small tv, couch only has room for about… two people. There were only two more doors so you naturally assumed that they were separate bedrooms, thank the lord. You let out a relieved sigh before turning the knob to one of the doors. Swinging the door open, you were expected to be met by a small and intimate room, but you were met with a… bathroom?

“Hey! You must be my roommate. I mean i would hope so since you’re looking at the place very intensely.”

Once the voice that wasn’t yours hit your senses, your heart began to beat abnormally fast. Are you nervous? You’ve never been nervous before, just very cold and locked away from the world and other humans. Shaking away the questions in your head, you tried to compose yourself before turning to the source of sound. There was a girl standing in the other doorway. A very pretty girl.

“Hi, I’m Minjeong. Kim Minjeong.”

The pretty girl softly spoke with a smile of her face. You looked down slightly to see an extended arm and an open hand. Oh god, you’ve never shook hands with anyone before. How do you shake hands again?

“Hey… I’m y/n. Nice to meet you Minjeong.”

Shit, you forgot to put any emotion of your face or your monotone voice. It’s like you were on some emotionless default setting. Your cold hand awkwardly reached for hers and wrapped around, it was warm. She sweetly smiled as you both shook hands. Or well, she shook your hand, you might’ve forgot to move after her warmth reached your icy hand.

“Nice to meet you too, y/n.”

Something was happening to you, your face felt like it was heating up as your heartbeat began to almost hurt from its intensity and speed. Are you okay? Maybe you’re sick. Oh shit, you don’t want to get her sick if you’re not feeling well. You reluctantly pulled your hand back, initially shocking her. You take note of this as you swiftly correct yourself.

“S-Sorry. I’m just, not feeling that well. I don’t want to get you sick or anything…”

Look at anything but her, that’s what you told yourself. The floor was a nice contender, that was until she took a few steps closer to you, soft slippers shuffling across the wood floor. You almost gasped when her hand lifted up to rest itself against your blazing cheeks and forehead. The pretty girl is really close, a bit too close.

“Oh no, you’re burning up.” Minjeong frowned as she continued to check the temperature of your red face.

Cute. You think she’s cute. But why? You have never found anything cute before, not even a small puppy, not since you were a kid.

You felt like you were about to pass out, feeling quite pathetic since all she did was check your temperature and you were borderline having a panic attack, but it’s whatever.

“Here, come sit down and I’ll get you some medicine.”

“It’s okay. I think I’m oka-“

She suddenly dragged you by the arm and sat you down on one of the dining chairs. You felt like a child again, like she was your mom taking care of you. You felt safe in a way, something you haven’t felt since you were… a kid. It seems there is a pattern, Minjeong was making you feel things you haven’t felt in almost your entire life. But how?

“Here y/n, take this.” Minjeong spoke softly to you as she handed over a glass of water and a couple of pills which you assumed to be advil.

The corners of your lips turned up into a shy smile. While picking up the glass you thanked her and used the water to help swallow the medicine. After setting the cup back onto the table, she gently grabbed your hand, leading you towards the other room you have yet to explore.

As the two of you walked past the door frame, you were greeted with half the room being covered in ivory decorations and posters of who you presumed to be her favorite singers. The other side was blank and you knew that it was your side of the room.

“You don’t have to go all out like i did, but i thought it would be nice to make myself at home since we’re going to be living together for a while.”

You hummed softly as she continued to explain her decoration choice. This isn’t too bad. Maybe it was a good thing to finally talk to someone all these years.

As time passed, you found that you and Minjeong surprisingly had a lot in common. This made it easy to talk to each other. Conversations no longer felt uncomfortable or forced to you, at least when you talked to her.

You also found yourself frequently doing things together. She offered to tour around the school together, and she even offered to walk you to your classes. You haven’t felt this cared about by anyone who wasn’t your mother, it was strange to you.

Soon enough, interactions within the school turned into fun activities outside of it. She would often ask if you wanted to go to the movies, or take a walk at her new favorite park, or even go out to eat together.

When being with her, you just feel so happy. This girl would never fail to make you laugh or smile, and you found yourself naturally feeling close to her. Is this what having a friend was like?

Although you felt a bit regretful about refusing to meet anyone new in the past, you couldn’t help but be extremely grateful to have a friend you cared about in the present. Minjeong had completely shifted your once cold and lay-low world into a bright and sunny one.

As your friendship with her developed even farther, you started to become afraid. You were afraid because Minjeong was beginning to make you feel something strange. You often found yourself gazing at her for extended periods of time, and she would make your heart pang faster than normal. She suddenly made you nervous even though you have been friends for a solid amount of time now.

Why are you nervous? Maybe your body is starting to reject her in a way. But why? She’s your friend, you can’t lose that now, the only thing that made your life worth living.

Hundreds of questions and doubts floated by, but you pushed them aside when Minjeong came back and sat down across from you.

“Here’s yours y/n. I’ve never met someone who likes cotton candy flavored ice cream, I’ll have to try some.”

Minjeong spoke with a smile as she handed you the cup of cotton candy ice cream you ordered at the counter. The two of you were enjoying a nice ice cream shop getaway after a long week of uni. You thanked her and began to eat your frozen treat.

The girl in front of you reached across the table and glided her spoon into your blue ice cream, successfully stealing a bite. The action made you two giggle as she ate it off of her spoon and hummed at the taste.

“It’s very good, I like it y/n. Oh- you’ve got something on your lips.”

You looked at her like a deer in headlights as she took a napkin and gently wiped the stray ice cream off the corner of your mouth. She retracted her hand and let out a light giggle.

“There, all better.”

The feeling was back again, but this time you smiled uncontrollably. It was still out of nervousness, but it almost felt like a good thing. The small silence was broken when she began to speak.

“I have to tell you something y/n. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now but I needed to find the right time. I think now’s a good time and I can’t wait any longer.”

You were a bit stunned by this. What did she have to tell you? You hoped it wasn’t bad, or maybe you did something wrong perhaps. You just nodded and maintained eye contact, letting her know to continue.

“I really like you y/n, and i want to be something more than just friends, if you want that too.” She bit her lip in anticipation, nervous for what you had to say.

Her words had a hard time sinking in your mind. You honestly couldn’t really tell what she meant, mostly because no one has ever told you this before.

“More than friends..?” Your confusion was obvious to Minjeong and she explained further.

“Yeah, like you know, girlfriends.” She was now shyly smiling.

You could vaguely pinpoint the emotion you were recently feeling while around her. Maybe you liked her too? Everything was unfamiliar, but you knew a thing or two about romantic interests just from watching a few shows, even though you didn’t necessarily understand it.

Many thoughts swam in your head, most of them were just trying to understand what she meant. But you know what she means, you’re just overthinking.

Ultimately, you decided that you reciprocated the feelings she had presented to you on this winter night. You liked her too.

“Minjeong, I…” You slightly hesitated, and this didn’t go unnoticed to her.

Her heart dropped. Maybe she had scared you off. Or maybe you didn’t feel the same way and she had made you uncomfortable. She wanted to crawl into a hole and shame herself for possibly ruining a perfectly good friendship.

“…I would like that. I like that idea.”

Minjeong’s face lit up and you couldn’t resist having the same reaction. She let out a relieved sigh and held your hand in hers.

And that’s when the next chapter of your life sprung into action.

You and Minjeong were now dating and things couldn’t be better. She held your hand everywhere the two of you went, and you loved it, her hands were so soft and comforting. She would frequently take you out on fun dates that she thinks you’ll enjoy, as well as spending quality time alone in your dorm together. She was everything you could ever hope and wish for.

When she is feeling particularly happy in a day, she would run around with a grin on her face and brag about how amazing her girlfriend was. When she is feeling defeated and sad, she would hold you closer when you hugged her and cry softly into your shoulder.

When those dark moments would appear, something inside you automatically knew how to comfort her. You would hold her tightly and tell her that everything will be okay, and you would leave soft kisses on her cheeks and lips while wiping her tears away. It was those moments she cherished the most.

But there was something that stood out to you, and that was the events that were currently happening.

It was quiet for a moment. The only thing that could be heard was steady breaths and quick heartbeats. You don’t remember how you got here, but you were laid down on Minjeong’s bed with her hovering above you. She held your waist gently with one hand. You observed her pretty eyes as they darted down to somewhere lower on your face.

You could feel something in the air shift when she licked her lips. She looked like she wanted to eat you whole. With hooded eyes and parted lips, she looked up into your eyes once more before closing her own and leaning in, closing the gap. Everything felt surreal at this very moment.

Her lips felt so soft against yours. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her beginning to move. This felt way too good. You never expected kissing to be this good.

It started off slow. You felt fluttering in your stomach as she kissed you. You have heard about the saying ‘Butterflies in your stomach’ before, but you never really understood what it meant, until now.

Your eyebrows furrowed when she introduced her hot tongue to yours. Things were becoming messy now. Wet smacks and soft moans could be heard in the quiet room. After a few minutes of softly making out, she broke the kiss to catch a breath, a small trail of saliva connecting you two. She then began to kiss across your jawline and down your neck.

Minjeong feverishly left sloppy kisses down your neck, leaving marks and bruises causing a whine to slip out of your mouth. She focused back onto your lips as her hands fumbled with the drawstrings of your pajama pants. Once she successfully untied the string, her warm hand slipped inside and underneath your panties. The air was getting thicker as your breaths became heavier.

Things were going too fast for your brain to register. You’ve never done this before. You’ve never done this before and you were starting to panic.

“M-Minjeong wait.”

The girl on top of you immediately drew her hand back and looked at you in concern.

“Shit, I’m so sorry y/n. Was i going too far?” Minjeong was on the verge of rambling but she caught herself in order to listen to your response. Her heart was racing as she was afraid that she had crossed a line.

“It’s noting. I’m just, a little nervous. I’ve never done this before…” Your voice was shaky as you confessed to her.

Minjeong was shocked. She was shocked that a beautiful girl like you had never had sex before, she thought you were a pretty good kisser but maybe you were just a natural at it. But nothing to worry about. Even though Minjeong was extremely horny and wanted to devour you, she was also very understanding and sweet.

“Hey, it’s okay yn. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m totally okay with just kissing or even doing something else non sexual.”

She melted your cold heart. You’ve discovered a new emotion at this very moment. A feeling that you have never experienced throughout your life, not even when you were younger. You felt like you wanted to be around her at all times, or that you wanted to kiss her forever, or tell her that you loved her.

Wait, what is this feeling?

“No it’s okay, I really want this. I just think…” You trailed off, hesitating to wisely choose your next words.

She waited patiently and watched you with a soft expression, urging you on to continue. You were about to step into unfamiliar territory, but you are ready now.

“I love you Minjeong.”

Warmth. Warmth was all the both of you felt.

“I… I’ve never loved anyone before, but i know I’m in love with you Minjeong.”

To say you were a bit nervous was a god damn understatement. You just admitted to feeling something you’ve never felt before to the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. You felt like you were about to explode when she didn’t respond back.

After a great deal of silence and you awkwardly darting your eyes across the room, she carefully held your chin with her hand and tilted your head up, planting a soft kiss onto your lips once more.

This time it felt different though. Deeper might be the word to describe it. It felt deeper. It felt like all of her own emotions were being poured out in just that one kiss. There was something in particular that felt more prominent.

Love.

Everything felt right now. Was this the secret to life you have been locking away from yourself within your own consciousness? You never knew such a strong feeling could exist in your heart, but here it is being revealed by Minjeong.

She leaned back a bit and rested her forehead against yours, staring into your eyes that were staring right back.

“I love you too. So much.”

A wave of happiness crashed over you as you leaned in to kiss her once more. Now it was exciting, passionate even. Your mind was reeling with thoughts of her, only her. You wanted her and she wanted you back, so badly. She resumed back to her previous actions and let her lips trail further down your clavicle.

“Can i take this off?” Her hands her hovering over the hem of your shirt.

You eagerly nodded and lifted your arms over your head so she could remove the piece of clothing that was blocking her view from your gorgeous breasts. She softly moaned when she laid eyes onto your plump mounds, her mind hazy from arousal. Her hands slid over the sensitive skin of your waist and up to your bare chest.

You were nervous and on edge as she moved to gently squeeze your chest with her hands. Your body involuntarily jolted at the sensation. So this is what it feels like to be touched in those areas, it feels nice.

Things escalated quickly as she was soon sucking on your nipples while you whined and moaned. It felt so good whatever she was doing. All you could do was grip the pillow your head was resting on and let Minjeong do whatever she wanted with you.

Not after long, you started to feel hot and wet down there. You knew what sex was, you’re not dumb, but you’ve never touched yourself before so you have no idea what it feels like. It suddenly felt too hot in your pants, but Minjeong fixed that.

She planted light kisses down your abdomen and stopped when she reached her destination. She licked her lips in anticipation and dug her fingers into the waistband of your bottoms. With almost being lost in complete lust, her senses were swiftly regained once she remembered that you were a virgin.

While looking up at you with awaiting eyes, she made one last confirmation. “Are you sure about this baby? I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself once I start.”

Something within those words made heat rush down to your core once again. What was she going to do to you? There was only one way to find out.

“Yes I’m sure. Please touch me Minjeong, it feels hot down there.”

You’re too cute for her, fucking adorable even. Something about you triggered her to rip your pants and panties down, leaving you completely naked and bare. She slid her hands under your thighs and pushed them apart, revealing your dripping cunt. It was all too much for her. Before you could even begin to predict her next move, she dove in.

It was unlike anything else. It was beyond heavenly. Minjeong held you close to her as she drank up all of your juices. You let out a loud moan of her name when her tongue circled over your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body.

Your hand instinctively reached to push her head closer when she started to suck on the small nub. Loud pants and whines could be heard along with the sinful noises from your girlfriend in between your legs. Your hips began to move on their own, chasing her mouth even though it wasn’t going anywhere.

Short after she started, you felt a tight knot in your tummy. The feeling only caused your eyes to roll back. You didn’t know what was about to happen, it felt like the knot was about to burst.

“Minjeong wait, please stop, I feel weird. My tummy feels so weird.”

Your girlfriend ignored your cries and please and continued to eat you out like she was starving. She didn’t expect you to last long, but it was just another thing that made you even fucking cuter to her. She sped up her movements and feverishly ate your cunt to encourage your first orgasm. You rolled your hips against her face, feeling closer and closer to your inevitable peak until…

The knot snapped. The knot snapped and everything felt ten times stronger. You practically screamed out her name as your body convulsed. Your pussy and your abdomen clenched over and over again. Tears prickled at the side of your eyes as you felt winded, you gasped for air. Your girlfriend slowly circled your clit with her tongue, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Minjeong ran a hand along your lower stomach to calm you down and bring you back to reality. You let go of her pretty hair and your hand retreated back to the bed. She swallowed every last drop and eventually pulled back while licking any remaining juices off of her own lips.

“How was it baby? You seemed to enjoy it.”

You couldn’t even speak. Your body was still twitching lightly as you stared at each other. A smirk grazed her features before she stuck two of her fingers into her mouth, properly preparing them for the next movement of your pleasure. You blinked curiously as she eased a finger into you.

It hurt at first, but soon the pain faded as she smoothly moved in and out of you while kissing and leaving marks all over your thighs. The pleasure only doubled when she squeezed the second one in, thoroughly stretching out the pussy she’s claiming as hers now. It all felt too good.

“I-It’s too much Minjeong. I can’t.” You whined out and sobbed as you covered your eyes with your arm.

It felt so good it almost hurt, it was too much, but Minjeong didn’t care. She wanted to see her baby come undone one more time before she’s satisfied.

Her long fingers only deepened their strokes and curled inside your sensitive pussy. Her mouth drifted back down and found its way onto your clit once again. That was the final straw. You felt the now familiar knot come back as she assaulted your swollen cunt.

“M-Minjeong, I feel weird again. Feels so good, please don’t stop.”

She smirked at the sound of you slowly becoming addicted to her touch. She never missed a beat or slowed down, desperate to make you reach your peak once more. She gave one last lick to before sitting up to meet you in a sloppy kiss.

Her thumb circled your puffy clit as her fingers thrusted at a steady pace. You moaned against her lips, a new set of tears falling down your cheeks as your orgasm ripped through you. You broke the kiss and held her close, gasping as she bit down onto your shoulder, the pain only adding to the pleasure.

Your cunt clenched around her fingers rhythmically, your body followed a similar pattern with jerks and twitches. You let out a satisfied moan before falling limp onto her bed. Your high slowly subsided and you felt a sudden rush of exhaustion fall over you.

With tired eyes, you watched Minjeong pull her digits out and enter them in her mouth, humming at the taste.

“Mmmm, I like this flavor more than any dumb ice cream flavor. You’re so fucking delicious y/n.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy comment before pulling her down to cuddle you. She held on to her stupid grin and softly kissed your forehead before pulling away and lifting your achy body up.

“Okay baby, let’s get you cleaned up.”

So this is your conclusion, your awakening. There is something deeper in life, and there is something more to feel than numbness. There’s love. And you found the love of your life, Kim Minjeong.

#aespa smut #kim minjeong smut #winter smut #aespa winter smut #kpop smut #aespa fanfic #aespa fluff #aespa angst

[pix3lplays]

Cw! Aventurine is a massive red flag. Just a collection of Aventurine being a BAD partner. Cheating. Terrible toxic masculinity, Also written before we know anything about him um-

I’m having Aventurine brain rot I KNOW he’s bad for us but, if bad why SO good looking??

Also it is going to be Quite funny if he turns out to be a massive sweetheart like- sorry for dragging your name through the mud Aventurine um-

-Aventurine: red flags-

As if the gambling wasn’t bad enough! Aventurine is a WALKING red flag. You could look past it if he was gambling with his own money. Even when he was sitting up in bed ALL night just gambling all he had, keeping you awake, keeping himself awake. Yeah.

It was a Serious problem.

You bring it up sometimes. He always insists that it’s NOT an addiction and it’s totally fine but literally by the next night you’re laying on his chest in the bedroom and he’s back at it again.

Aventurine who likes you purely because you’re just the cutest little arm candy for him. You just look SO good pressed up against him, your arms snugly wrapped around his while you walk into the casino.

Aventurine who orders your drink for you every single time because he thinks he knows you So well.

Aventurine who thinks it’s So cute when you’re mad at him.

Aventurine calling you his ‘lucky charm’ as if he isn’t just using you to cheat at cards, hiding strong cards in your clothes, which he can access when you sit on his lap at the table.

Aventurine who proposed to you in a Very public manner, knowing full well you’d feel socially pressured into saying yes to him.

Aventurine who left you at the altar, and proceeded to try and apologize the situation away, and instead of using common sense and leaving him, you agreed to marry him on a different day.

Aventurine who spends entire nights away, saying he’s busy with work but then shamelessly coming home smelling like other people.

Aventurine who casually brings ‘friends’ over to your shared house and proceeds to kick you out of your own bedroom for the night while he ‘plays’ with them.

Aventurine who brags about his ever growing body count right in front of you.

Aventurine who has to deal with you crying because of his cheating ways and brushes it off with “it didn’t mean a thing,” as if that made it any better.

Aventurine who thinks buying you presents will fix your failing marriage instead of putting in any effort.

Aventurine who drinks too much.

Aventurine who smokes too much.

Aventurine who terrifies you by casually gambling with his own life on occasion.

Aventurine who gambles YOUR life.

Aventurine who’s married to you but treats you like a play date.

Aventurine who calls you all sorts of mean names thinking he’s So funny.

Aventurine who does absolutely nothing for your anniversaries. You wonder if he even remembers them…

Aventurine who just lets you threaten him with divorce. Lets you pack your bags and leave, knowing full well you have nowhere else to go and you Will be crawling back to him.

Aventurine who will welcome you back, after you grovel a bit (a lot).

Aventurine! A horrible man that you happen to be married to-

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Aventurine x reader #hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 4

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (though biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, arguing, cursing, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to early child rearing, crying, Uncle Bob (because he deserves his own warning), Uncle Rooster and Uncle Javy (because they also deserve their own warnings)

Clifton, Texas, 10 ½ years ago

“Dude, what are you doing? Don’t stop!”

“I’m telling you: my vocal cords are going to start to bleed any second! I need to stop!”

“I swear to God, if you stop, I’m going to find an actual rooster and sneak it into your bedroom at the ass crack of dawn!”

Jake rubbed at his forehead with one hand as he took another lap around his living room, bouncing a screaming Charlie in his arms as he went. The last nine months had been…rough, to say the least. Though his grandfather had graciously opened his home up to his grandson, great-granddaughter, and their two friends, it turned out that securing a home was the least of his worries.

Grandpa Wyatt had quickly hired Jake, Javy and Rooster on as farmhands, their physiques and familiarity with rising early making them ideal candidates for the jobs, but Jake wasn’t entirely comfortable with leaving his baby girl with a sitter all day just yet, so he did what chores he could with her strapped to his chest, and spent the rest of the day in the office, doing administrative work with his daughter asleep in her Moses basket behind the desk. Between the physical and mental labour, Jake was ready to hit the sack early almost every night.

However, clocking out for the day didn’t mean that his day was done. Charlie wasn’t a fussy baby, not by a long shot, but she still required an amount of work that Jake hadn’t been expecting. Her first pediatrician visit had revealed that Charlie was slightly behind on her goal weight, which meant Jake had to get up for an additional feeding during the night. But Charlie didn’t like the bottle, and Jake honestly couldn’t blame her. She’d gotten used to breastfeeding from her mother for her first four months of life, and Jake knew firsthand that Buttercup was infinitely better than some plastic bottle.

On top of trying to get her weight up, the Seresin family had also been battling sleep regression, teething, colic, Charlie’s first cold, and delayed milestones. If the doctor was saying that Charlie should be crawling by 8 months, she was doing it at 11 months. The whole thing had Jake lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, worrying about his baby girl, wondering how Buttercup had managed it all on her own, kicking himself for expecting her to manage it alone when he was deployed.

A loud, shrill shriek had him yanking his head away from his daughter as she sobbed unhappily, her tiny fist curling into his flannel shirt.

“C’mon, Charlie girl,” he murmured into her curling blond hair, pressing a small kiss to her head as he paced. “You just had your first birthday a few weeks ago. Can you be a big girl for your daddy and stop crying? Please?” Her green eyes glimmered with tears as she continued to sob in response.

“Rooster, please, man…” Javy groaned, half buried in a pile of Charlie’s toys that he had been shaking and tossing around in an attempt to get her to stop crying.

“My—”

“Rooster, I will buy you a new set of vocal cords,” Jake bargained as Charlie hiccupped before resuming her shrill shrieks. “Please, if not for me, then for Charlie. I need her to stop crying before she makes herself sick.”

Rooster whined before turning back to the piano against the wall. “You guys owe me so bad,” he grumbled before placing his hands on the keys and pressing out a familiar tune. “You shake my nerves, and you rattle my brain…”

Jake held his breath as the song came to an end, the air ringing with blessed quiet, punctuated by an angelic baby giggle. With a groan, he sank to his knees, his legs too tired to carry him the five feet needed to get to the couch.

“Thank god.” He hefted Charlie up to sit beside him on the floor, keeping his hand on her back as he sagged against the wall. “So, she clearly doesn’t like sweet potato,” he sighed, watching her crawl over to a sprawled-out Javy and snatch one of her toys from underneath his leg.

“You feed her sweet potato again, you’ll be the one getting the rooster in your bedroom,” Rooster grumbled, closing the piano with a light thud.

“You do that, and you’ll wake her up,” Javy pointed at the little blond baby currently chewing on her toy giraffe’s foot. “And then we’ll all be miserable.”

Jake fixed his oldest friend with a glare. “No shit talking my daughter, dude.”

Charlie’s head popped up at the shift in tone in her father’s voice, her green eyes searching the room until she found him, her face breaking out into a wide gummy smile. She pressed her tiny palm into Javy’s stomach and propelled herself to her feet, wavering unsteadily even as Javy’s hand automatically rose to cushion her back. Jake leaned forward, scrambling away from the wall to sit a few feet directly in front of her.

“Come here, Charlie,” he called, waggling his fingers at her, smiling back as she grinned. “Come on, baby girl, you can do it.”

Time seemed to slow down as Charlie looked towards him before taking a small, shaky step in his direction. Javy propped himself up on his elbows and Rooster turned on the piano bench to watch on bated breath as she took another step, then another.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve got this!”

“Let’s go, Charlie!”

“Atta girl!”

Jake’s heart was in his throat, a feeling better than going Mach 10 racing through his body as his daughter took one last, final step before collapsing into his arms with a giggle. With a loud cheer, he scooped her up and paraded her around the room to the sound of Javy and Rooster’s applause before whisking her into the office and collapsing into his chair.

“I’m so proud of you, baby girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she cooed softly at him. He’d missed so much, and his heart panged when he thought about Abby and what he was missing from her life. His hand was halfway to his phone when he stopped himself, pulling it back to hold Charlie tighter against him. He’d tried before and he wouldn’t be putting himself through that again. He missed Abby, of course, but Mav had always told them that they couldn’t afford to be constantly looking backwards, that thinking would be the death of them, so he had to focus on the here and now, on the ranch, on the daughter he did have instead of on the one he missed.

“Da-da…” he looked down at the sound and smiled through the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Yeah, baby girl. Dada is here. And he’s not going anywhere. I promise.”

The Airport, Now

Charlie’s hands trembled around her passport as the camp bus pulled into the drop off lane of the Buffalo Niagara International Airport. She looked up as Abby gripped her wrist with a determined grin.

“Last chance to change our minds,” she whispered as the campers around them started to disembark with loud promises of keeping in touch.

“No,” Charlie whispered, handing the passport out to Abby. “I want to do this. I want to meet mum.”

Abby nodded, taking the outstretched passport and handing Charlie her own. “And I’m desperate to meet dad.”

“Remember, he’s going to meet you at the gate in Waco, so you’re going to have to bring your A Game right away.”

“I’ve got a five-hour flight in order to prepare,” Abby assured. “I’m more worried about you. Uncle Bob is meeting you at the security desk. Are you ready?”

Charlie nodded, a look of steely determination overtaking her face. “I didn’t cut my hair and let you pierce my ears for nothing.”

Charlie thought that Amelia was going to have a heart attack when she walked into the Brig on their last day of their punishment to find them looking identical, their hair the same length and an extra pair of Abby’s earrings studding Charlie’s ears. She’d nearly collapsed onto one of the beds when she heard that they didn’t want to return to their cabin, that they wanted to stay in the Brig. To her credit, she didn’t ask any questions, just shook her head and walked away.

Abby nodded, fiddling with her duffle bag nervously. “Remember, Uncle Bob will be taking you from the airport to meet mum at home. She—”

“Abby, breathe,” Charlie placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders and shook her lightly. “Dad is going to love you. And mum is going to love me. And they’re not going to figure out that we swapped until we tell them a week from tomorrow.”

Abby bit her lip and nodded. “I know. I just…I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I know…” she smiled back. “I’m so excited to meet mum.”

Abby smiled suddenly and tugged her into a hug. “I’m so glad I met you,” she whispered, and Charlie wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight.

“Me too.”

Abby pulled back, wiping at her eyes. “Okay. You need to get to the security desk. Remember, Uncle Bob will be waiting for you. Brown hair, tall, glasses.”

“And Dad will be waiting for you at the gate in Waco. He might have Uncle Rooster or Uncle Javy with him. You remember who is who?”

Abby nodded. “Rooster’s got the moustache. Javy has tattoos.”

“Exactly.”

The girls looked up as an announcement came over the loudspeaker, calling an Abigail Floyd to the security desk.

Charlie bit her lip anxiously. “I guess this is it.”

Abby grabbed her up in a hug again. “You’re going to be great. Call me whenever you need, and I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon!”

Charlie took a deep breath and headed off in the direction of the security desk. Coming around the corner, she saw him. A tall man in a pilot’s uniform, with brown hair and glasses, his blue eyes scanning over the crowd until he spotted her, his eyes studying her for a moment before breaking into a smile.

Charlie took a moment to compose herself, whispering under her breath in the British accent she had been practicing for weeks, “You can do this. You have to do this.”

“U-Uncle Bob!” she finally called out, her accent ringing true as she rushed towards him, tossing her duffle bag to the floor before launching herself into his arms.

“Whoa! Easy, kiddo!” Bob chuckled, gathering her into his arms. “I missed you too!”

“S-sorry,” she murmured into his neck, her arms tightening around his neck. “I just missed you so much.”

“Six weeks was a long time, huh?”

Charlie pulled back, sniffling slightly. “Yeah. It…it felt like a lifetime.”

Bob crouched in front of her, his brown eyes tracing over her features like an X-ray machine, and Charlie gulped. There was no way he could know she wasn’t Abby, right? They were identical, save for a few freckles here and there, and a scar that Charlie had on her knee. But nobody could remember the exact pattern of someone’s freckles, and her knees were covered, so there’s no way he knew.

Finally, he smiled. “It felt like a lifetime for me too, sweetheart.” He reeled her back in, hugging her tightly before releasing her and drawing himself up to his full height. “Now, come on. We’ve got to get you checked in and ready to go for our flight back home.”

Charlie woke with a start as she felt the plane touch down onto the runway, a smooth landing executed by a skilled pilot. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Even though Bob had been with Dagger Squad, like her dad and uncles, he was a WSO, not a pilot, so she was surprised to hear that he was flying passenger aircrafts after retiring, but Abby had told her all about how Bob had gone for his pilot’s license after retiring from the Navy and how Nat had helped him study and prepare.

Charlie gulped nervously. She had had the whole transatlantic flight to soothe her nerves over meeting her mother for the first time, to convince herself that her father wouldn’t be too disappointed in her for running away, to assure herself that her and Abby’s plan would work. She had a sister. And a mother. And an uncle and an aunt that she had never met before. The risk of her father’s disappointment was worth it in order to meet them.

As Abby had instructed her, she waited patiently in her seat until all the other passengers had cleared out before taking the duffle that was being pulled out of the overhead compartment by one of the flight attendants and heading towards the front of the plane, where her uncle was waiting.

“You ready to go see your mom?”

Charlie felt her cheeks flush. “Yes!”

Bob chuckled, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s go see your mom.” Bob shouldered the duffle and led her off the plane, through customs, and down to a town car that was waiting for them. “From the last text she sent, your mom is working in her office at home, and Nat is at work,” Bob informed her quietly.

Right. Auntie Nat worked as a kickboxing instructor now since she was given a medical discharge from the Navy. And mom’s office was at the top of the stairs, two doors down on the right. Both Abby and Charlie had drawn maps of their houses, ensuring to include even the slightest detail so that there would be no surprises. Charlie had studied the map multiple times a day, until she felt like she could walk it in her sleep, even though she’d never been there before. Abby had also printed her a map of the neighbourhood when they were given their computer privileges back, as well as a map of the London tube system, though she had assured her that she would never have to take the tube alone if she didn’t want to.

“Abby?”

She hummed as her eyes darted here and there, taking in the old buildings and the people. They looked the same as the people in Texas, just less plaid and cowboy hats, but they seemed so different to her. She’d only been to a big city a few times, preferring to stick to her small ranching town, so everyone seemed so busy, rushing down the street, their cellphones stuck to their ears.

“Abigail?”

Everything was so new, so shiny. She gaped as an actual, real life red double decker bus drove by their town car, and her stomach was knotted over the fact that they were driving on the wrong side of the road.

“Abigail Floyd, for someone who hugged me so hard you almost cracked my rib, you sure seem intent on ignoring me right now.”

Charlie blinked. Abigail Floyd. That was her. Well, not her, but who she was supposed to be, at least for right now.

“Oh. Sorry, Uncle Bob,” she yanked her British accent into place. “I was just…reminiscing. You know, about camp…and about how homesick I was.”

Bob smiled softly at her, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “I’m glad you had such a good time. I know it’s a struggle to be away from home for so long, but I knew you’d have fun and make friends.”

“I did,” she replied quickly. “I met some great friends, and I downloaded WhatsApp onto my phone so I could keep in contact with them. Is that alright?”

“I’m sure your mom will be fine with that. That’s why she got you the phone, after all. To keep in touch with family and friends who are in the States,” Bob’s voice twinged with…something. Perhaps a hint of regret or maybe even anger.

“Good. Because I really like this one girl,” she grinned. “We became best friends.”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he smiled back. “You never know where you’ll find your best friend.”

“Like you and Auntie Nat, right? You met at Top Gun.”

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

Charlie grinned. “Now the two of you are basically brother and sister.”

Bob chuckled. “Yeah, we basically are. Maybe you and this girl will be like sisters too,” he replied, shooting her a playful look out of the corner of his eye.

She gave him a tight-lipped grin in return. Uncle Bob had always been strangely intuitive, she knew that much from Abby’s stories, but he was hitting a lot of nails on their heads right now and it was spooking her like crazy. So much so, that she hadn’t even registered that the car had stopped moving.

“We’re here!” she cried, scrambling to unbuckle her seatbelt and get out of the car, her uncle’s echoing behind her as she launched herself out of the open door and up the stairs towards the bright red front door.

“The door’s open, sweetheart, so you can go on in,” Bob called, grabbing her duffle and his suitcase from the trunk of the car.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened the door into the flat that Abby shared with their mother, uncle, and aunt.

The interior was exactly as Abby had described. Homey and cozy, but still posh. The living room to the left of the door held brown leather couches, lots of bookcases, and a few plants hanging from the curtain rod. The window seat was where Abby and their mother read, together and separately. Charlie knew that the kitchen was just on the other side of the living room, where her family ate dinner together whenever Uncle Bob wasn’t flying.

But Charlie wasn’t interested in any of that, no matter how comfy it looked after a long international flight. No, her sights were set on the staircase in front of her, which she climbed slowly, her legs trembling with each step. She could picture Abby’s map so clearly in her mind: the first door on the right was the bathroom, the second was mom’s office, and the third was Bob’s bedroom. On the left came mom’s bedroom, then Abby’s, then Auntie Nat’s.

Charlie stepped onto the landing of the staircase, her eyes locked on the door of the second room on the right, which was cracked open just a touch. Her heart pounding in her chest, she slowly approached and, with a ringing in her ears, she quietly pressed the door open and walked inside.

There she was.

Charlie dashed at the tears that were welling in her eyes at the sight of her mother. Her mother. She wasn’t some imaginary figure anymore. She was solid flesh and bone. For years to come, Charlie would be able to picture the way her eyes scanned over the screen in front of her, the way her hair was piled up on top of her head, the way her slim fingers danced across the laptop keys, the way her buttercup tattoo peeked out from the neckline of her shirt. They weren’t images conjured up by her lonely mind anymore. They were real. She was real.

“M-Mum?” she whispered.

Her mother almost jumped out of her chair. “Oh my…Abby?”

Charlie swallowed hard as she nodded. “I’m home.”

“Oh, honey, I missed you so much!” Buttercup scooted her wheely chair across the floor and pulled her into a hug, and Charlie felt herself melt as she hugged her mother back just as tightly.

“I missed you too, mum,” she whispered.

“Six weeks is just way too long, love. I don’t care how much Auntie Nat raved about this camp, six weeks of you being across the ocean is just way too much for me.”

“I agree,” Charlie nodded into her shoulder. “I don’t want to be away from you for that long ever again.” She sniffled as she felt her mother press a kiss into her hair before pulling away.

“You won’t be, love. I promise.” Buttercup’s thumbs gently stroked away the tears from her daughter’s cheeks before tugging her into a hug again. “I meant to be finished with this chapter before you got home so we could spend the rest of the day together.”

“That’s alright. Is it coming along?”

Abby had filled her in on how their mother was a relatively successful author, Charlie even recognizing a few of her book titles from her bookshelf at home. Their mother’s writing was part of why Abby felt that their parents would fall in love again when they had to meet to switch them back. Buttercup’s current, more adult story was about a military man meeting and falling in love with an artistic woman, falling apart, and coming back together to live a happily ever after, and it had Abby convinced that their mother still had feelings for their father.

“I’m struggling, baby,” Buttercup sighed. “These two clearly love each other, but I can’t seem to figure out how to get them back together.” Buttercup looked up and smiled at her. “But they don’t matter right now,” she shut her laptop with a click. “What do you say you and I go out for lunch? You can fill me in on everything that happened at camp. I want to know everything. Six weeks is just way too long and I just know that you have stories to share.”

Charlie’s smile was so wide, it hurt her cheeks. “I’d love that, mum.”

Buttercup pulled her into another hug and kissed her hair. “Go get changed and I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.” Buttercup smiled as she pulled away from her. “I missed you so much, baby. I love you.”

Charlie’s heart sang in her chest. She knew, of course, that her mom thought she was talking to Abby, but it didn’t matter to her. Her mom loved her, it didn’t matter who she was directing those words to. No one would be able to take them away from her. They would echo in her mind for an eternity. She’d heard those words from her father a million times, and they meant the world to her, but from her mother? They were sacred, special. They felt like a gift she hadn’t know she was going to receive.

“I love you too, mum,” she whispered, hugging her tight before racing towards the bedroom Abby had marked out for her on the map.

She finally had a mother, and she wasn’t going to miss a second.

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#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #parent trap au #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #glen powell #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #as you wish fic

[indigovigilance]

Anthony, Anthony, Anthony

What does your Anthony mean, exactly?

I feel like your Anthony and my Anthony are different Anthonies…

In 1941 we learn that Crowley has named himself Anthony J. Crowley (Aziraphale doesn’t pronounce the H but closed captions write it and Neil Gaiman hashtags #Anthony and also it’s Anthony the script book so I guess Michael Sheen is just doing a thing idk). I haven’t seen extensive discussion of this topic but I’m going to jump in with both feet.

I propose that Anthony actually has a double meaning; that is, Crowley chose this name for one reason, but Aziraphale believes he chose it for another.

(I cite as indirect inspo a wonderful Tumblr meta about how the ineffable blockheads have completely different interpretations of Jane Austen and how this informs their S2 decision-making).

Read or bookmark for later on Ao3 because this got away from me and now it's a 2,888 word meta on people named Anthony what am I doing with my life

~~~

First and foremost, let it be stated that there is no canon for when Crowley anti-christened himself Anthony. Neil Gaiman himself won’t know until he writes it.

Secondly, let it be known that I am not an historian nor a literary scholar of any kind. So people who actually know these stories may find themselves cringing at my surface-level summaries and inaccurate interpretations: I’m just piecing together what I could find easily. I invite someone else to revise and republish if they can delve deeper on these topics. 

Part 1: Mark Antony

There is a bust of Marc Antony in Mr. Fell’s bookshop as of S1E1 modern day (2019) which is still there at the end of S2E6, where it features prominently in the center of a shot. In 2019, the bust is adorned with yellow ribbons; in 2023, it is naked. The flashback to 1941 doesn’t give a good view of the part of the shop where the bust would normally be located so I have no idea when the bust actually got added to Aziraphale’s collection. I’m going to assume, for argument’s sake, that Aziraphale acquired this bust after the Blitz. I’m going to further propose that he acquired this bust because he believes that Crowley named himself Anthony after Mark Antony.

Why would Aziraphale think that? Two reasons.

1) Mark Antony was the loser of a civil war for liberty

Mark Antony was a good and loyal Roman citizen, serving Caesar with distinction, even attaining the title of Master of the Horse (Caesar’s second-in-command). See additional metas on horse symbolism seen throughout S2. After the death of Caesar, however, Octavian and members of the senate turned on Antony, starting a civil war. You know, much like a certain someone we know that was involved in Dubious Battle on the Plains of Heaven.

Mark Antony was loyal to Caesar’s political mission, which was to establish a Roman republic, where the voices of the citizens would be heard through their representatives [a suggestion box, if you will]. But Antony’s defeat marked the end of the republic, ushering in an age of autocracy. Octavian, following his victory over Antony, crowned himself the first Emperor of Rome.

2) Mark Antony was a libertine, but also the loyal, ardent lover of Cleopatra

Mark Antony was an infamous, lascivious, debaucherous, womanizing lush. He was also Cleopatra’s lover and closest ally. Though Mark Antony could not often meet with Cleopatra, their affair was allegedly very romantic, and from afar Antony did everything in his power to support Cleopatra politically, expanding her territorial holdings even while they were apart for years. 

So legendary was Antony's wanton hedonism that when he went to Athens, he was deified as the New Dionysus, mystic god of wine, happiness, and immortality. Religious propaganda declared Cleopatra the New Isis or Aphrodite (mythic goddess of love and beauty) to his New Dionysus. The ineffable emperors, if you will. [source: Encyclopedia Britannica]

Parallels arising after 1941:

After Antony had officially divorced Octavian’s sister, Octavian formally broke off the ties of personal friendship with Antony and declared war, not against Antony but against Cleopatra. Much like how Shax, after her S2E1 “you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours” proposal, threatened Crowley that if he did not assist her search for Gabriel, Hell would declare war not on him but on Aziraphale.

The legacy of Mark Antony, therefore, is one of hedonism, romance, fighting for a cause that you believe in, and losing that fight. It’s easy to see how Aziraphale drew the conclusion that Anthony J. Crowley took his inspiration from this historical figure.

Part 2: Antony & Cleopatra

How is this a part 2? Weren’t we just talking about Mark Antony and his relationship with Cleopatra? Hear me out.

Crowley has never expressed much interest in politics. Every time something of political import happens, he declares that the humans made it up themselves while also taking credit for it with Hell. This includes 1793 Paris and the Spanish Inquisition. If I forgot any, drop them in the comments. 

But Crowley has a deep and pervasive interest in stories, especially romance stories. If he can keep the Bentley from turning it into Queen, he listens to the Velvet Underground. He watches Richard Curtis films (to the degree that he identifies them by director rather than by title). Though book canon is not show canon, it’s worth mentioning that his favorite serial is Golden Girls; while not a romance, it is certainly heartfelt storytelling at its finest and a homosexual staple.

We know, too, that Shakspeare stole a line from him, with an adjustment for pronouns:

"Age Does Not Wither, Nor Custom Stale His Infinite Variety”

Let’s first talk about Crowley’s context for the quote.

Picture it: the Globe Theater, 1601, the house is empty because it’s one of Shakespeare’s gloomy ones and an irritated young Burbage, in the role of Hamlet, is droning out his lines like he would rather be anywhere else.

Burbage: To be or not to be. That is the question.

Aziraphale: To be! I mean, not to be! Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, grinning with delight. Crowley stares back at him, shaking his head slightly, but a smile tugs at the corner of his lip. He wants to be embarrassed, but cannot help being charmed.

Aziraphale: He’s very good, isn’t he?

Crowley: Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety.

Crowley is looking up at the stage, and speaks immediately after Aziraphale has made a comment about Burbage. But is Crowley talking about Burbage? Does it stand to reason that age would not have withered, or custom not staled, this twenty year old (yet somehow jaded) stage actor?

I propose that this is a poetic inversion of the S2E1 cold open, wherein the Starmaker, looking out upon creation, says: “Look at you, you’re gorgeous!” and Aziraphale erroneously thinks the statement was directed at him. Here, even though Crowley isn’t looking at Aziraphale, I believe that Crowley is actually talking about Aziraphale when he delivers that iconic line. Unlike Burbage, Aziraphale is old, very, very old, and we know that he has a penchant for custom, wearing the same clothes and listening to the same music for century upon century. Yet here is this precious angel being a cheerful little peanut gallery of one, continuing to surprise the demon after all this time. Neither age nor custom has staled Aziraphale’s infinite variety.

When Shakespeare commits the line to a play written 1606-1607, a few years after this event, Crowley will recognize his own sentiment about Aziraphale issuing from Antony’s mouth about Cleopatra. The actual historical events will not have left much of an impression, but the immortalization of his own admiration of the angel in human romantic fiction will have.

It must be mentioned that Antony & Cleopatra is a tragedy, where the star-crossed lovers are kept apart by warring factions that demand loyalty to the state at the preclusion of each other.

There are also some (as far as I can tell) nearly copy-paste plot points from Romeo & Juliet about a misunderstood faked suicide followed by actual suicide and the lovers dying in each others’ arms. It does not have a happy ending. Anthony Crowley deliberately choosing his “Christian name” from this play embodies not only his deep love but his hopelessness that he can ever get the happily ever after he desires.

In Summary

Crowley was an admirer, in one respect or another, of Mark Anthony, though he relied more heavily on Shakespeare’s portrayal and reimagining of the character than Aziraphale gives due credit. Nevertheless, the difference…

Wait a minute…

What’s that?

Is that…

A piece of canon evidence that completely undermines my argument??

This screenshot will only be visible to Tumblr users (sorry Ao3), but at some point we get a good look at the Mona Lisa sketch that Crowley has hanging in his apartment. It is signed (translated from Italian) “To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V.”

The problem with this is, the Mona Lisa was painted 100 years before Shakespeare penned Antony & Cleopatra.

However, Neil Gaiman reblogged this transcription and translation, posing the hypothetical, “I wonder if Crowley knows what the A in A.Z. Fell stands for.”

Could it be that the Notorious NRG is jerking us around and sending us on wild goose chases? Absolutely a possibility. But. Let’s give a little grace for a moment, and assume that this comment was made in good faith. A bold assumption, I know. But humor me.

We know that Crowley and Aziraphale both knew Jane Austen, but from completely different perspectives. It stands to reason that Crowley knew da Vinci the scientist, but that Antonio Fell knew Leo da V., an artist with a heart that yearned for an unavailable lover. I’m just making wild conjecture that Lisa Gherardini (aka Mona Lisa), the wife of Florentine cloth merchant Francesco del Giocondo, was a love interest of da Vinci, but it could be true in the GO universe and would make for a great story.

Aziraphale also collects signed items from famous people; the inscribed books of Professor Hoffman to a wonderful student, and the S.W. Erdnase book, signed with his real name, come to mind. The Mona Lisa draft fits in much better with that collection of souvenirs than with anything in Crowley’s apartment. So it stands to reason that it could actually be addressed to Aziraphale.

There remains the question of how or why Crowley has it, but I won’t subject that to speculation here. All to say. Neil Gaiman’s implication-by-redirect is… possible. So let’s assume that it is the case, just for a moment.

If the Mona Lisa sketch is signed to “Antonio” Fell, then this allows the above theory regarding Crowley’s self-naming to remain intact. But it brings up a few questions regarding Aziraphale, not the least of which is: why did he name himself Antonio/Anthony?

Part 3: Saint Anthony of Padua

Anthony was the chosen name of a Portuguese monk, taken upon joining the Fransican order. Anthony rose to prominence in the 13th century as a celebrated orator, delivering impassioned and eloquent sermons. He is also associated with some fish symbolism, since he preached at the shore and fish gathered to listen. He was, incidentally, a lover of books:

Anthony had a book of psalms that contained notes and comments to help when teaching students and, in a time when a printing press was not yet invented, he greatly valued it.

When a novice decided to leave the hermitage, he stole Anthony's valuable book. When Anthony discovered it was missing, he prayed it would be found or returned to him. The thief did return the book and in an extra step returned to the Order as well.

The book is said to be preserved in the Franciscan friary in Bologna today. [source: https://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=24]

This miraculous incident, wherein the thief not only returns a valuable book but also has a change of heart and returns to the bosom of organized religion, smacks of angelic intervention. But that is neither here nor there. 

Saint Anthony is the Patron Saint of the Lost, and is prayed to by those seeking to recover lost things. What is “lost” in this context is usually an item, rather than a person or an intangible concept, however he is also “credited with many miracles involving lost people, lost things and even lost spiritual goods,” such as faith. [Edit: @tsilvy helpfully contributes that "Here in Italy Sant'Antonio is commonly not just the saint patron of lost things, but, maybe primarily, the saint patron of lost *causes*."] He died at the age of 35, and in artwork is typically depicted with a book and the Infant Child Jesus.

It’s a defensible position that the thing that gives Aziraphale the most consternation across the millennia is Crowley’s loss of his angelic status, and it could even be framed such that Aziraphale does not consider Crowley actually fallen, but rather simply lost. It is a fact that he finds difficult to reconcile and, depending on your reading of the Final Fifteen, the offer to restore Crowley’s angelic status is one that is so pivotal to resolving his internal conflict that he cannot refuse. If this conflict is so central for Aziraphale, perhaps he did name himself after a booklover and the patron saint of lost things, hoping that the name would carry with it some of the power of the blessing, and return Crowley to the light, and in turn, to him.

But wait.

Because I googled “St Anthony” to look for some images and….

St. Anthony of the Desert

I shit you not there are multiple St. Antonies and we’re going to talk about another one of them with respect to Aziraphale because this guy is bonkers. The story traces to the Vitae Patrum, yet another fringe biblical text and I cannot even get a quick answer on whether it is canon or apocrypha because it’s so fringe. Anyways. I think the best way to explain St. Anthony of the Desert comes from the wikipedia page on the Desert Fathers: 

Sometime around AD 270, Anthony heard a Sunday sermon stating that perfection could be achieved by selling all of one's possessions, giving the proceeds to the poor, and following Jesus. He followed the advice and made the further step of moving deep into the desert to seek complete solitude.

[He] became known as both the father and founder of desert monasticism. By the time Anthony had died in AD 356, thousands of monks and nuns had been drawn to living in the desert following Anthony's example, leading his biographer, Athanasius of Alexandria, to write that "the desert had become a city." The Desert Fathers had a major influence on the development of Christianity.

Let’s all agree that this guy is not Aziraphale; this whole becoming an ascetic and living alone in the middle of a desert thing? Not his cuppertea. But St. Anthony is interesting not just for his decision to go into the desert, but what happened when he got there.

The Torment of St Anthony is a 15th century painting commonly attributed to Michaelangelo. It depicts demons crawling all over and attacking a hermit.

But the first round of demons are scraping the bottom of the barrel, practically the damned. Anthony’s journey continues and he meets another demon. Actually he meets two; a centaur, who is not very helpful, and then a satyr who is. It is much easier to find paintings of St. Anthony and the Centaur than of St. Anthony and the Satyr, so you don’t get an image, but I find the satyr to be a much more interesting character, so you get that story instead:

Anthony found next the satyr, "a manikin with hooked snout, horned forehead, and extremities like goats's feet." This creature was peaceful and offered him fruits, and when Anthony asked who he was, the satyr replied, "I'm a mortal being and one of those inhabitants of the desert whom the Gentiles, deluded by various forms of error, worship under the names of Fauns, Satyrs, and Incubi. I am sent to represent my tribe. We pray you in our behalf to entreat the favor of your Lord and ours, who, we have learnt, came once to save the world, and 'whose sound has gone forth into all the earth.'" Upon hearing this, Anthony was overjoyed and rejoiced over the glory of Christ. He condemned the city of Alexandria for worshiping monsters instead of God while beasts like the satyr spoke about Christ.

St. Anthony, then, is entreated by a demon to ask forgiveness from God upon the demons, and St. Anthony, seemingly, agrees to do it. He’s overjoyed to ask God to forgive demons. In connection to my analysis of the origins of the Metatron, and how Aziraphale and Crowley’s potential beef with him is that, as a human put in the exact same situation, he did the opposite, refusing to take the demon’s petition for mercy to God but instead taking it upon himself to confirm their unforgivability (yes that’s a word now) and damnation.

That seems like it would be pretty important to Aziraphale.

In Summary

I give up. I have no idea what’s going on with this show anymore. Here are two options each for both of our ineffable husbands to have given themselves the same God-blessed/damned name. You guys tell me what you think, I just have a pile of evidence and no spoons to evaluate it. 

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Three: Confrontation

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Over the next few  days, you and Cillian carried on with your usual routine, but there was a noticeable distance between the two of you. In class, he would sit as far away from you as possible, and his answers in seminars were brief and to the point. You couldn't help but wonder if you had hurt his feelings, but exhaustion eventually set in. You were going through a demanding period at work, and you had to remind yourself that you had made the right decision.

You knew that Cillian was a mere distraction, a fleeting moment of desire that you couldn't afford to indulge in. As a professor, you were always conscious of the power dynamic that existed between you and your students.

You knew that your position meant that you were in a position of authority, and that opening yourself up to a romantic relationship was not only inappropriate but also risky.

You knew that you had to maintain your professionalism, no matter how difficult it might be.

And so, you carried on, putting your attraction to Cillian to the side as you focused on your work.

Your days were long and demanding. Not only were you busy with work, but you were also going through an ugly separation and divorce. 

One evening, you left the campus late, feeling drained and exhausted and decided to call into a bar nearby. You knew that there was live music playing and thinking that some music might help to lift your spirits, you decided that it would be the perfect remedy to an otherwise exhausting day.

The busy bar was crowded with people, most of whom were students, their laughter and chatter filling the room.

Just as you ordered a glass of wine though, someone tapped you on the shoulder. Surprised, you turned around to find the man you were still married to standing there. James and you had been separated for months but the way things had ended were rather unfortunate for you both. He had been unfaithful to you  , his infidelity leaving you heartbroken, angry, and insidiously doubtful about yourself, despite your professional achievements and your generally charmed life.

You had been trying hard to avoid him at university where he worked as a professor in a different faculty and seeing him here, tonight,  hit you like a ton of bricks, your heart pounding heavily and sweat starting to gather on your brow.

His lips quirked into a half-smile and you struggled not to let him see how much his unexpected presence unnerved you.

"James," you said, managing a pleasant but measured tone. "I didn't expect to run into you here. Bars like these aren't usually your scene."

"I know," he replied, his eyes scanning your face. "But you took pretty much everything I owned, so I'm kind of short on cash these days and the drinks here are cheap," he mused, but you immediately felt irritated. 

"Everything you owned?" you chuckled bitterly. "You mean everything I paid for from the money I had inherited when my grandmother passed away?" you said, your voice tight with anger. You hated that he could still get under your skin, but you refused to let him see that he affected you. 

"I made a mistake and I apologised, but clearly that wasn't good enough. You just went right ahead and filed for seperation,"  James said, his tone turning defensive, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his victim mentality, that and his somewhat warped sense of reality. "You put me out on the street and then you avoided me. You keep your distance at work and you don't pick up my calls. It's not fucking fair that, after five years, the only person I get to talk to now is your fucking attorney,"  he snapped, and you could see a tick forming in his jaw.

You took a deep breath, trying to rein in your temper. "Look, James, I'm not doing this again. I'm sorry that our separation has been hard on you, but that's not my problem anymore. You made your bed, now lie in it," you said firmly, trying to put an end to the conversation.

But James wasn't done yet. "You know why I cheated on you Y/N?" he asked , taking a step closer to you, and the anger bubbling within you threatened to boil over. But you instead focused on the words needed to be said.

"James, I really don't want to have this discussion with you right now," you responded, taking a step back, but he followed, closing in on you and invading your personal space.

"No, but I think you should hear it," he said, a hint of malice in his voice. "I cheated on you because you simply weren't enough for me Y/N. You became boring and predictable which, really, was a shame because it all started off so well."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and it took all your strength not to react. Leaving your almost full glass of wine standing there, you reached for your coat and bag, needing air. You needed to escape the stifling atmosphere and the suffocating weight of James's words.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to show any weakness.

"I gotta go," you muttered, still fumbling to loop your arms through your coat sleeves.

James moved to grab your arm, but you jerked it away, taking a hasty step back. "Don't fucking touch me," you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, knowing that the entire bar's patrons looked at both of you.

"Come on, Y/N, don't be like that," James pleaded, holding his hands up defensively. "I didn't mean—,"

"No, you meant every single word. And that's fine, James. I moved on and it's time for you to let go, too."

You turned to leave, but James's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You're just going to run away again? Just like you always do when things get tough?"

You spun on your heel to face him, anger flashing in your eyes. "No, James. I'm not running away. I'm taking care of myself. I'm moving on, and you should too.

I wish you all the best, James, I really do." You said the words coldly, all the warmth and love you once felt for him gone. You had given him your best, and he had tossed it aside for something fleeting and temporary. You would not let him make you feel small and insignificant; you were stronger than that but, just as you stormed out of the bar, you collided with yet another familiar face.

This time, it was Cillian. He had been at a table near the entrance, nursing a beer, but his attention had been fixated on you.

Seeing you clash with James had stirred something inside of him and, as seen through his eyes, you looked resolute, yet hurt. The pain in your expression was almost unbearable to watch, and there was an overwhelming urge to reach out to you and offer comfort, except he was unsure how to proceed as you tried hard to ignore his presence.

"Hey, Miss Y/LN. Just wait a sec," Cillian called out to you as you tried to slip past him, not wanting to deal with him right now. Your emotions were already running high, and you didn't think you could handle another run-in with someone who had a hold on you. However, before you knew it, Cillian's hand was on your arm, gently tugging you back towards him. "Are you okay?" he wanted to know before making a rather blunt statement. "I couldn't help but notice your disagreement or something with Professor Douchbag over there," Cillian trailed off delicately, gesturing subtly towards James, his expression filled with concern.

You couldn't help but chuckle, a bitter sound that vaguely resembled amusement. "He is actually my ex-husband," you corrected him matter-of-factly, rubbing your temple with the tips of your fingers.

Cillian looked at you, a number of emotions playing across his features before curiosity edged out the others. "Your ex-husband? Really?" Cillian asked, baffled. "You were married to that guy?" he ought to confirm and you nodded solemnly, a sad smile forming on your lips. "Unfortunately that is a yes," you said as you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. "I think it's best if I head home," you stated, glancing past Cillian towards the street, the crisp air lightly brushing against your skin.

However, Cillian was not about to let you leave just like that. Not after having seen the sour turn of events that had unfolded before his very eyes.

He noticed the distress plastered across your face, the tears threatening to spill over, and before he could think twice about it, he found himself speaking up, his voice firm and clear.

"I don't know what he did or say to you, but I can tell you this - you can do so much better than this guy. He seems like a real self-important jerk at uni and you are beautiful and smart, so, uhm...I don't know..." Cillian said, honesty and sincerity etched onto every syllable he uttered. "You just deserve more than that."

His voice cracked ever so slightly, revealing the hidden depth of his protectiveness and concern for you. A wave of gratitude washed over you as you turned to look at him, really look at him, for the first time in what felt like ages. Your shield of indifference faltered as you met Cillian's tender regard. Your vision blurred as you tried to prevent your oncoming tears from falling. He reached out tentatively, his warm fingers gently wiping away an escaped tear from your cheek.

You sniffled, trying to collect yourself, and managed a feeble smile. "Thank you, Cillian. That is probably the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in a long time," you breathed, leaning into his touch for the briefest moment before collecting yourself. "And I appreciate your kindness, but I should really be heading home now."

Despite this, Cillian couldn't seem to shake this newfound curiosity about you. Perhaps it was the vulnerable, broken woman he had witnessed earlier, the unmistakable pain in her voice and the tears in her eyes, all thanks to James' vicious words. Or perhaps it was the courage you showed as you confronted him, your strength a stark contrast to the fragility he had just witnessed.

"Let me walk you home. It's late , and I don't want you wandering around alone," Cillian offered softly, remnants of his charming smile lingering. An unfamiliar sense of vulnerability rose within you. Normally, you brushed off such advances with ease, but Cillian was different. He was young, sincere, and impossible to ignore.

"I think that would be really improper, seeing that you are my student and all," you reminded him but, this time around, Cillian ought to argue.

"How so? I am just walking you home to make sure you get there safely. Besides, isn't it our university's policy to keep an eye out for each other, especially when it comes to safety?" Cillian reasoned sheepishly. "You even said so yourself in one of your lectures," he added, hoping you would relent and allow him to accompany you. 

"Alright , that creeps me out a bit but I guess you do have a point there," you joked nervously, finally abandoning your tough exterior as you let out soft laughter, still in shock about this unexpected turn of events, but wary and distrustful at the same time.  Stepping out of the cozy pub, you were greeted by a plateau of darkness interrupted by intermittent pools of yellowish light emanating from surrounding street lamps; illuminating swatches of the narrow sidewalk and foggy pavement in oblong shapes.

" Where do you live, Miss. Y/LN?" Cillian asked, briefly breaking the silence enveloping them since they left the pub. The brisk wind whistling softly around them launched a shower of gold and red-colored leaves above.

"Not far from here. Just a few blocks away, off College Road," you revealed, adjusting the lapels of your trench coat against the onslaught of the cool evening breeze. "How about you Cillian? Do you live on Campus?"  you inquired, looking at him as you both kept walking. The crunching sound of dried leaves with every step punctuated the silence between you.

"Nah, I can't afford that. I still live with my parents in Douglas," Cillian replied, sounding a little embarrassed. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. Being an ambitious young man, Cillian was no stranger to working odd jobs to support himself while studying but you knew yourself that working here and there didn't really pay enough. 

As you walked side by side, the quiet, tense energy between you simmered underneath the surface. You kept stealing glances at him, and each time your eyes met, Cillian would quickly look away, his cheeks flushed.

You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, even though you knew it was inappropriate.

There was just something about him that drew you in, despite all the reasons you shouldn't feel this way.

As you neared your apartment building, a sudden silence fell between you.

You both knew what was coming next, and neither of you was quite sure how to handle it.

Finally, you reached your building, and you turned to face him.

"Well, this is me," you said, your voice hesitant. You don't know why, but you didn't want this moment to end, didn't want to say goodnight and go your separate ways.

Cillian looked up at your building, towering above you both, then back at you. "Right," he said, his voice low. He paused for a moment, and you could see the gears turning in his head.  You wondered what he was thinking, what was going on behind those deep blue eyes of his. Finally, he seemed to make a decision, and he looked at you again, his expression serious.

"Can I ask you something, Miss Y/LN?" he said, addressing you with a formality that was endearing in its earnestness.

"Of course, Cillian," you replied, mirroring his formality but unable to suppress the slight tremble in your voice.

You could feel your heart beating faster as you waited for his question, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian fanfic

[gwenster]

This Had Better Come to a Stop (March of the Falsettos)

Per usual, Marvin is projecting his misogyny onto the people in his life. This statement demonstrates Marvin's insistence for Whizzer to take on a domestic role in their relationship as he attempts to compensate for the lack of a housewife role in his life following his divorce. He wants Whizzer to take over Trina’s previous role with no complaints; in “Tight Knit Family (Reprise)” Marvin literally states, “I want a wife who knows what love is” as if he wants a wife when we clearly know that is not the case.

Not only that, it demonstrates Marvin’s continual disrespect for Whizzer’s emotions as the statement clearly shows his disregard for whatever Whizzer is feeling: “hating him” or “needing him.” Marvin doesn’t believe that Whizzer loves him and so he self-sabotages through dismissing his own, and Whizzer’s, emotions.

Marvin’s self-centeredness is not something the musical shies away from admitting and thus us a prime example of just that. It highlights Marvin’s selfish nature, prioritizing his own needs and desires over Whizzer’s.

The subject of the lyrics pertaining to food is so fitting. The continued textual theme of food in the Marvin Trilogy is one of my favorite things to point out and it deserves its own analysis post but for now I’ll stick to writing about how these lyrics highlight Marvin’s particular relationship with meals and cooking. With a concept like this that unmistakably dates all the way back to the sequel, with In Trousers specifically honing in on his obsession with meals with songs like, “How Marvin Eats His Breakfast” and continues to plague the rest of the trilogy.

This Had Better Come to a Stop (Falsettos)

The lyrics in Falsettos differ. I am curious as to why the lyrics were replaced. In the context of Marvin’s character and the pair's relationship, the remark is so meaningful that its removal feels like a missed opportunity; I almost feel robbed due to its absence. Not that I dislike the new lyrics by any means; rather, I adore them.

The entire exchange between Marvin and Whizzer during the beginning of this number is truly one of my favorite scenes in the entire musical. The acting in this singular minute of dialogue is breathtaking, it’s so grounded and characterizes the pair insanely well.

Even though it’s directed at Whizzer, Marvin’s remark on how “Life can be wonderful” is him reassuring himself of that fact, not Whizzer. In this scene, he shows no regard for Whizzer’s emotions; continuing the very one sided nature of the exchange the two are enduring.

Following the reflection of his life, he narrows down his analysis, remarking on his relationship with Whizzer. With his words now partially directed at the other he states, “Isn’t this wonderful?” seemingly giving Whizzer the floor to voice his opinion. Which, in the proshot, Whizzer eagerly does, or rather, attempts to. He begins to reply in an effort to soothe the other and point out the truth in his statement, but an insecure Marvin, who admittedly enjoys picking fights over trivial issues, interrupts him, continuing to stir the pot.

Whizzer’s actions heavily contrast his nature in previous scenes. Unlike “The Thrill of First Love” which introduces us to their relationship, describing how both Marvin and Whizzer both enjoy fighting stating how “of all the lesser passions” they “like fighting most.” Marvin is still acting under this notion. Despite this, Whizzer acts maturely in this situation, making an effort to have a sincere discussion. This is the first time we see Whizzer’s genuine investment in the committed aspect of their relationship, showing there is more to him than originally presented. It’s just another example of how he’s not so great at continuing his facade of not wanting something serious while actively pursuing exactly that. Namely how it explicitly states that he’s had dinners with Marvin’s immediate family and has familiarized himself with his child to the extent that he has.

As previously mentioned, the acting in this scene is amazing. Depending on the performance there are plenty of conclusions that can be drawn from their own interpretations and I’ve had varying ones over the years but it’s undeniable that their body language speaks volumes.

I wish I had access to any stage directions from this moment, but alas I will just be describing what I see:

Whizzer is provoked and stands up to emphasize his point. Marvin then grabs the collar of Whizzer’s suit and shakes him while proclaiming “Life can be wonderful.” He lets go and continues with “Isn’t this wonderful?” Following this Whizzer reaches out to reassure him but Marvin is quick to push him away to which Whizzer flinches or at least experiences a full-body pause to represent shock or dismay and he spends the rest of the confrontation stone faced after freezing up.

Marvin’s display is insanely contradicting, he speaks so gently at moments yet aggressive is at the same time. Due to this Whizzer is left confused, scared even, during their interaction with his whole demeanor changing when Marvin puts his hands on him.

TLDR. I adore both renditions of “This Had Better Come to a Stop.” It’s arguably my favorite song in the entire Falsettos soundtrack and I love both variants of these lyrics. I feel like Marvin as I practically profess how, “I want it all” as I wish these lines could coexist in the same version because of how impactful and relevant they are.

#falsettos #march of the falsettos #falsettoland #in trousers #marvin falsettos #whizzer brown #marvin x whizzer #falsettos analysis

[amomentwiser]

"Why don't you spend time with us?" they say, "Keep your phone away at the table."

Parents say they want to talk — until it's about anything real.

They don't want to know about how their plans for your future make you feel.

They don't want to know your fears, hopes or dreams.

The things you're interested in — your favourite music, games and movies;

Or the things you've come to believe.

Sometimes it feels like parents don't want to get to know you as a person. They only see you in relation to themselves.

Or sometimes they do talk about music and games and movies, and it's even worse — because the conversations you want to have are serious.

And it's worse because it becomes very clear, that they don't want to have conversations that matter. That, god forbid, make them feel.

They want to avoid talking about all the times they yelled at you. No apology, no acknowledgement. Just glaze over those parts and pretend everything's normal. Neither guilt nor remorse.

And you're left wondering whether this thing you have a memory of actually happened, because everyone is acting like it didn't. And whether your anger is warranted, because everyone is acting like it isn't.

An unspoken decision: "Yes, we were harsh earlier, but we felt bad and are being nice now"

The implied demand: "...so be grateful,"

The undercurrent of a threat: "...or I'll get angry again."

And a push to move on: "Why do you bear grudges? Leave the past in the past."

All these little clues, that you learn to read in their body language and their eyes and their vibe.

And then they balk when you don't call them. Or jump at the chance to spend time with them — or even have a relationship.

It's weird, loving people you don't like. That you'd never choose of your own volition; that you'd never be friends had you met in the real world. People you're indebted to anyway, because they took care of you your whole life and changed your diapers and drove you to school, and what friend would ever do that?

Had they been overly abusive I would've cut them off without guilt; if I didn't know that despite it all, they really did love me, I wouldn't have cared about hurting their feelings.

Some people... you love them only because they are family. If they were a boyfriend, I would've broken up with them; if they were a spouse I would've divorced them. Alas, they are my parents, and I'm destined to love them. To give up a kidney for them if need be, but not any days out of my workweek.

I don't have these conversations with my family because I've come to realise that this is something they're not emotionally equipped to handle. Too much self-awareness would bring out memories not only of the mistakes they made with me, but also all the times adults in their childhood failed them; of all the ways they themselves were wronged; all the years they wasted because of choices they didn't know they had; and all the things they wish they'd done differently. So I understand; the flood of anger and regrets it brings to the surface must be draining.

But that also means that I'll distance myself from them, because for me, their misunderstood love is draining. And because this has to stop somewhere; someone has to start choosing differently — and I've decided it'll be me.

#the daddy's girl to daddy issues pipeline #brown parents #break the cycle #strict parents #toxic family #brown people problems #self love #self care #quotes #writers on tumblr #desiblr #desi culture #desi girl #indian writer #desi parents #dysfunctional family

[rhaenin-time]

The weird thing about two of the book-to-show changes — Daemon killing Rhea and Alicent physically trying to murder a child — is how differently certain circles interpret them.

For the most part, you get a lot of "TB" making divorce rock jokes because they actually find the change so silly that it breaks the suspension of disbelief.

Not only does it not work with book canon, but it doesn't even make sense for the show. He was always only going to run off with either Rhaenyra or Laena, both of whom he'd need to 'carry away' and wed without permission regardless of his own status. He has no incentive to kill Rhea when Viserys would have been forced to annul it after word came out to preserve either of the girls' honour.

Daemon's not stupid and wouldn't risk alienating the Vale like that, and even if he was desperate, would never be clumsy enough about it that someone would suspect him enough to confront him. Which is why "TB" will often point out that it was a stupid change when they should have just shown him kill Laena's betrothed. (And part of me wonders if they changed it because they didn't want to show him working for Laena's hand).

And when it is discussed as a character choice rather than a writing choice, you mostly get "TB" saying, "Yeah, not great. Definitely among the darker parts of a grey character."

But what weirds me out is that when you look at the other change I mention, of Alicent rushing a child with a dagger and screaming that she's the victim when Rhaenyra dares to stop her.

Of neither Rhaenyra nor the Velaryons seizing upon the chance to turn it to their advantage, of Alicent ever being given authority regarding the children or allowed into the Council room again, and of Rhaenyra continuing to trust her. You get "TG" endorsing that moment not only as a writing decision, but as a character decision. And not just as a "grey act," but a spectrum of, "Oh, poor Alicent was finally pushed too far," to literal "Yesssss Queeeen!!! (But not because she's being evil in a fun way because Good Queen Alicent is good I mean good for her taking back her power and doing that good thing against bad people)."

Why can't certain circles just admit that a lot of the changes from the book are just bad writing? That if you refuse to see some of these changes as a bad writing choice, rather than character choice, it makes everyone look bad. That the show writers are trying to twist a story into something it's simply not and that if you look at the writing with a critical eye, the original story remains intact, and is simply covered with a patchwork of strange additions trying to obscure it? (And making it worse in the process)

Oh, right. Never mind.

#hotd #asoiaf #hotd critical #team black #anti team green #asoiaf fandom #fire and blood

[moongothic]

That is exactly something I've been wondering.

'Cause. Like if Whitebeard managed to hit Crocodile hard enough (=with Haki) to cut his whole hand off, then surely he would've done more damage than just leave a cut on Croc's face, right. Like his head should've ended up in two pieces. And I mean it's not impossible WB could be the cause of both wounds (like for example WB could've first just scratched Crocodile's face and then, when he was in shock, taken that left hand, or something, there's like a million ways this action scene could play out), it is entirely possible still. But it would ALSO be entirely plausible if Crocodile got his scar and lost his hand due to different people.

Also if Dragon is a former Marine then he could know the Rokushiki, and like I dunno about y'all but to me Crocodile's scar looks to me like it could've been caused by a Rankyaku to the face (or if Dragon is a Wind Wind Fruit user as many speculate, his attacks could very much be like wind-slashes similar to Rankyaku, any cutting attacks or even Croc's own Spada-attacks). Like the way his scar goes across his whole face, ear-to-ear, it looks like it could've been caused by a cut that hit him straight-on (but didn't cut through his whole head). As opposed to a cutting motion from a blade that'd go from like one side of the face to another (where I feel like it shouldn't go ear-to-ear, and instead, at most, like, ear-to-cheek, y'know? 'Cause the face would curve away from a blade etc? But also this is a manga and shit like this doesn't have to make sense, it just needs to look cool and be symbolic and shit)

(There is also the forbidden option that WB could've given Crocodile the scar and it was Dragon that took Crocodile's hand. And not in the romantic way 🥁)

In any case, if Dragon did attack Crocodile out of instinct because he couldn't recognize the strange, imposing man with a baby who showed up at the secret location at a secret meeting time when he was supposed to reunite with his wife and meet his child... Oh yeah. Dragon could've assumed the worst, thought that they had been found out, that his beloved had been taken out and baby kidnapped. Or something. And thus attacked. And boy howdy would this be one absolutely gut-wrenching way to cause a divorce, eh

((Only thing is that for Dragon to hurt Crocodile, either Dragon would've had to have gone in with the Haki right away, which is viabe but makes me question how Crocodile even survived to begin with, or the attack would've had to been moisturized ahead of time for some reason. Unless Dragon can add moisture to his attacks by default, or unless it was raining, it'd make no sense how Dragon could've cut Croc's face up. But hey we know Crocodile doesn't really like the rain, now does he))

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Dragodile #Crocodad #I swear I saw someone do fanart of this very thing like less than two weeks ago and I spent like 20 minutes browsing through a bunch of tag #Just trying to find it but. No. Could not find it #Point being I'm glad I'm not the only one to have thought of this!! #Now what would be the more horrible way for things to go #Dragon attacks Crocodile and grabs the baby before trying to interrogate ''the stranger'' about what he had done to his wife #Only to find out he has a husband now instead (or would've had if he hadn't just speedran their divorce) #Or Dragon attacks. Grabs the baby. And flees. Trying to look look for any sign of his wife. Leaving the stranger behind #And Crocodile just fucking skedaddles. In the end Dragon finds out from Ivankov about Croc transitioning and realizes What He Has Done #I'm just saying the Story Potential here. I'm getting Thanos Snapped as we speak on an emotional level just thinking about it

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down: the director's cut, or rather, fun facts about this story now that it's over

luca's last name in my fic is davies, and formally davies-bernardi. bernardi in italian means 'strong as a bear' which, was truly a perfect coincidence that i originally thought it sounded good hyphenated with davies. it felt like the perfect little nugget to drop in here.

this one kind of took on a life of its own. I thought maybe a headcanon or a few chapters, then 46.5k words later... before writing a fic, i always like to map out where i'm going, because it helps me zero in on what story i want to tell. as someone (and who hasn't, truly) who has plenty of abandoned fics, i like to get clear on what story it is i want to tell before beginning to write so that i know it's a fic worth writing for me. no, i don't think finishing a fic should be a marker of success, but where i'm at right now, it feels like the best way for me to see if i have a story to tell or not.

speaking of stories to tell, the reason i wanted to have our main character divorced was because i wanted to try something different. i wondered how i could differentiate this mc (while keeping the reader neutral so you could picture yourselves in it if you wanted to) from others that i have written / will write in the future. the divorce and growing apart is actually kind of inspired by my previous upstairs neighbor who i met a year after his divorce. i wanted to imagine what the inner world of someone who had experienced a divorce that wasn't messy, but its relationship had just run its course and i the end, left two people who weren't sure who they were and how to talk to each other anymore would be like.

music and playlisting really helps me envision and feel into the world that I’m building. I ask myself questions like: what does their love sound like? what does this relationship shound like? how do i want the world i'm building feel, and how do i convey that in sound? and then of course, what songs could underscore certain moments of this chapter? listening to the playlist i create as i go really helps me get into character aka enter the world of the story when i'm sitting down the write.

so many of my fics and interactions are based on my own real life experiences, which is why they often feel so human and so real. i weave in little details like conversations i've had, a person i reminded of. i often write dialogue after i've imagined the scene in my head down to the cadence of how characters speak to one another to make sure it feels grounded.

speaking of, we've got to talk about the food in this fic, something that you all complimented me on at the very beginning! it was important for me to have the food feel deeply personal to reader, and be an expression of her identity through the years. yes, i wrote it with an mc with asian heritage in mind. however, i wanted to make space, again, for you to picture yourself in this fic, which is why mc's ex and family were written with japanese heritage.

a lot of the dishes were inspired by dishes i've had that were similar to what i think her culinary pov would be, and a lot of it is the way that i cook as well. i am not a chef by any means, but i am AM a home cook who occasionally does pop ups who very recently discovered my own culinary pov. food for me is something that not only helps me express myself, but has helped me connect to parts of my own identity. in so many ways, as someone who describes themselves as a cultural melting pot, food helps me feel closer to myself; it helps me find and define, and express who i am.

the culture of food and the role it plays in allowing us to connect was really important for me to weave into this story as well.

for the mikkelson twins, i pictured timothee and pauline chalamet as jesper and mathilde.

for the kimuras: rina sawayama would play astrid, darren barnet would play joe, and gia kim would play lina.

let's talk about luca's character development: so many things were so will poulter-coded/borrowed for will poulter, which felt right to do considering he wove his own life into the luca's tattoos. examples? the nike book, the kendrick lamar on the playlist, how much internal work the man has done on himself.

in the end, I initially had mc have a way bigger freak out than she did -- that it would be her final: holy shit am i ready to be loved moment, but as i wrote it, it ended up being luca who brought up the main conflict. it just ended up going in a different direction and didn't feel right to go with my original plan, because she felt so in their relationship already that i pivoted.

i watched a lot of travel and lifestyle copenhagen vlogs because i'm obsessed with youtube.

after season 2 of the bear, i wanted to explore what positive relationships with mothers could look like in these characters. that's why mothers (and single mothers) are the superheroes of this fic.

i knew i wanted this fic to be about these things: second love, loss, trusting the beginning that comes after the end, inspiration, following your heart, and mothers. these are the guiding principles that i used when writing, knowing that these were the pillars i wanted this story to be about.

looking forward: i am working on two oneshots that will live in this world, one about marcus visiting again -- an eat, pray, love for him of sorts -- that's about mothers and loss and life. the other one is a fun, sexy little smutshot that will hardlaunch their (she and luca's) restaurant so keep an eye out for those. truthfully, i've only just started workshopping the marcus one and am prioritizing finishing my carmy fic first.

opening myself up for q&a! feel free to ask any questions about this fic or my writing process in the comments.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

[star-girl-05]

Loving You From Afar

James Wilson x Reader

Prompt: Can you do a james Wilson blurb or something where instead of showing up at house’s when he find out his wife is having an affair, he shows up at yours and you kinda help him heal but in the means of all that he falls in love with you too 🥹 ~ from anon

A knock woke up , still groggy with sleep you walk to your door. Cautiously peaking through the peephole, wondering who it could be at this hour. You let out a breath of relief when you see Wilson standing there. With furrowed eyebrows you open the door getting a better look at him. He looks deject. “Are you okay James, did something happen?”

He seemed confused at the question, looking around like he was in a haze. His eyes settled back on you taking in your attire. “I’m sorry did I wake you?” 

You look at him concerned, laughing a little, “Well It is one am, most people are sleeping at this hour” you place a hand on his arm, “I thought you were working tonight” 

“I am.. Or I was, I got off early and umm” his head fell refusing to make eye contact with you. 

“Why don’t you come in James” he doesn’t respond, so you just grab his arm leading him into your apartment. He’s still silent even as you sit him on the couch. It’s only when you ask him if he wants a glass of water does he finally speak up. 

“I found her in bed with another man” It took you a few seconds to process what he was saying, but when you did you could help your shocked face. You knew things between him and his wife were rough but you didn’t realise it was this bad. 

“Oh I’m so sorry James” you envelope him in a hug and he instantly melts into you. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve barely seen her in weeks and-” he abruptly stops. 

“What James?” He debates for a moment if he should continue but eventually he decides to. 

“We’ve both been pretending to still love each other, I’ve known for a little while that she's been seeing someone and she knows that my affections have gone elsewhere. I guess knowing is different then actually seeing it though.”

“I’m sorry James, I'll go grab some blankets and a pillow for you and you can stay here.” He nods his head watching you as you walk away from him.

Over the last couple months he’s realized he's been falling in love with you. He just couldn’t help but be mesmerized by you. He wants to tell you but now's not the time he’ll wait till he's officially divorced. So for now he’ll settle for admiring you from afar.

#dr james wilson x reader #james wilson #james wilson fanfic #james wilson imagine #james wilson x reader #james wilson fanfiction #dr james wilson #dr james wilson fanfic #dr james wilson fanfiction #dr james wilson imagine #house fandom #house imagine #house fanfic #house fanfiction #house md #house md fanfic #house md fanfiction #house md imagine

[viburnt]

You did just amazing job portraying what divorce can look like especially with someone is IN DENIAL of their own actions. I wouldn’t let it past him that it will take years for him to get over you. Perhaps would never do.

But even his lawyer was like FREE THE POOR WOMAN 😭 that killed me.

The only people who could see the real issue are the lawyers behaviors see the behavior. No wonder the lawyers would be able on the wife side. No pity points for you Hero.

Poor ex-wife probably gotta move out of the country. The boy fan base is scary I can only imagine and his family and friends trying to but in into your business. Hopefully she stroke a deal to not have nothing from him since in paparazzi point-view could spin it differently.

The more I am imagining the more I am terrified.

YOU SHOULD BE TERRIFIED.

I don't think Izuku would ever understand the kind of prosecution he's putting you through by ventilating your divorce. The sea of photos, memes and articles berating you is enough to bury the little peace you could have in Japan. He doesn't get why you want to move far from the country, much less why you're not taking any of the things he had bought specifically for you.

And yes, considering Izuku's fan base, the risk of one of his stans trying to do something sketchy is high. He is somewhat conscious of that, meaning there's also a chance that someone is actively watching over you.

Izuku is definitely not getting over you by the way, doesn't matter if he later dates or remarries. You're still his wife.

"So, most of the goods you share are under your name, Mr. Midoriya. How do you wish to proceed?" Your lawyer asks, revising thoroughly the documents on her desk. She had to admit it was impressive to see just how much someone like Izuku had bought, but considering the side of him she'd been witnessing during the divorce process, it was clear he didn't mind spending money to fill the cracks of his relationship. "I wanna give it all to her..." Izuku said, looking at you with sorrow and shame. Part of him expected that you could forgive him that way, but he knew there was no return point. "No, thank you. I don't want anything from you." You bluntly answered; it almost made your lawyer snicker, but that would be unprofessional from her. "But, why? Honey, all these things-"

"All these things were bought with your money. I don't want people to say I'm a gold digger that wants to take you to the cleaners." Izuku heard you say. His lips curved into a defeated smile, trying to understand. "I see, then, what do you suggest? I don't wanna have something that's not mine."

"You can always consider selling the goods and splitting the money. That way your wife can decide whether she uses it or not." The lawyer suggested, waiting for you to speak. "Does that sound good to you, Miss?"

You nodded, "That would be for the best, I'll be moving out of the country soon." It was almost comical to see Izuku's jaw drop, but at least he was being more decent than in the first negotiations where he yelled. He'd try to talk it out with you outside the office, refusing to let you get away from him.

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha ask #deku x reader #Divorced! Izuku #Honestly if I were the wife I wouldnt tell him my destination but I figure he'd investigate it anyways

[aphroditeslover11]

The Flat Next Door

Fun to write and thank you for the ask! i swear to God I feel this gif somewhere deep inside of me!

Warnings: a bit of touchy feely, mentions of divorce, not proofread and fuelled by lingering red wine and exhaustion!

Jim was fresh out of his divorce. He had lost his kids in a custody battle after getting into a fight with their step dad, along with the majority of his savings, his new girlfriend left him as soon as he wanted to get serious and he really was completely alone in the world. Bearing all of this in mind he moved across the Irish Sea and took up a new job in Liverpool. The pay wasn’t the best but he wasn’t responsible for anyone apart from himself now and the city itself made up for it. It did mean though, that aged 42, he was having to live in an absolute dive in a block of apartments he never though he would have to see the likes of again until now. The kinds of people living here were the ones that you didn’t want to bump into on a dark night or had just decided to give up on life and slowly rot into the decaying depths of society. He was pretty sure that the apartment to his left was being used as a weed farm from the smell and the weird times that people were walking in and out. The flat to his right was a bit different though, it belonged to a girl who simply didn’t fit in among this band of junkies and lowlifes. She couldn’t have been much older than 22 and always kept herself to herself. Everyday she would come home at around the same time, make dinner, work for a bit and fall asleep with the tv on in the background. It was hard not to notice these things with how thin the walls were. Who was she though? That was something he was curious to find out.

~

It was three months after you had moved into your apartment that the absolute unthinkable happened. Somebody had broken into your flat, not that you should have been surprised. The door had been kicked clean off the hinges and nobody had even thought anything of it. The place missing a door though meant that it was hardly safe to stay here and fixing it was not a job that you could do yourself. This was how you had come to meet Jim, the helpful man from the apartment next door who had spotted your distress and come over with a toolbox to help you fix it. You had invited him in for coffee and the pair of you had fallen asleep on the sofa, not that it meant anything of course, you were scared so he had stayed incase the burglars had made a return visit.

After that you had started meeting up for coffee periodically. He learnt that you were a student, having ended up here after fleeing from the house you had been sharing after discovering that your boyfriend was cheating on you with one of your housemates. Though you were at very different points in your lives there was some sense of empathy between the two of you. Perhaps a friendship based on a mutual sense of abandonment wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, but it was certainly what you were both craving around this time. 

The other thing that Jim learnt about you was that you were a very tactile person. Whenever you walked past him in the kitchen whilst making a cup of coffee you would place a hand on his shoulder, as if to move him out of your way. If you were sat together on his shitty little sofa and he made a joke you would always place a hand on his thigh or his forearm, as if to keep you grounded as you laughed.

As of late he was starting to wonder whether there was more to these touches than he had originally thought. It was moments like these, when you watching television together with him sat at one end of the sofa with your feet in his lap, that he questioned what you really wanted out of him. He was caught off guard by you moving your feet in his lap.

“You know Jim, I’ve put them there for a reason. I missed the bus and my feet are killing me and I was hoping I might get a foot massage out of you?” You chuckled.

“You poor thing, I can’t promise I’ll be much good but I can certainly try.”

“You’re an angel, I promise I’ll make it up to you in time.” What the hell is that meant to mean?

 ~

Three weeks later and he still didn’t know what that comment had meant. Rents had been put up and he, remembering the financial struggles of being a student, had starting offering to cook for you more often. He wanted to make sure that you were eating something other than pot-noodles or HP Sauce on toast.  You’d started helping him cook as well, if he was honest the evenings were when he missed his kids the most, so the little arrangement worked out well in his favour. You were coming back from one of the cupboards with a tin of tomatoes, he was expecting your hand to find his shoulder, but it didn’t stay there like it normally did, instead trailing down his back until it came to briefly rest on his ass. Caught unawares he automatically reached for your arm, holding it in a gentle grip.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“You remember how a while ago you gave me that massage?”

“Yes.” 

“And I said I’d make up for it in time?”

“Yes.”

“How would you feel about cashing in on that now…” 

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #requested #the delinquent season #jim x reader