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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 4 months

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I'm still trying to not drink alcohol. It is difficult. Writing things down about it is helping. Posting them makes me feel a bit better even if no one reads them. TW for alcohol problems. Regular posting about radio shows from 2015 will resume shortly.

What’s up, everyone? I am not drinking in January, and I am not enjoying that. Honestly, it continues to be harder than I’d expected. I think I thought it wouldn’t be that bad because I went down to once or twice a week pretty easily. I was drinking too often during the pandemic years, and also during the ten or so years before that. I’d think I was doing pretty well if I only got drunk on one weekday in a week, and then again on the weekend. Usually it would be more like two or three or four times in the week.

Pre-COVID, I wouldn’t hesitate to drink when I had to work or go to school or coach tournaments the next day. But that changed during COVIDtimes, when I stopped being used to doing stuff in person. I got so anxious about whether I’d be able to get through the day during an in-person job at all, I can’t risk making it even harder for myself by adding a hangover, so I never have even one drink if I’m working any time the next day. So when I started working full time in person halfway through 2022, I quickly went from being able to drink any time to only being able to do it on Friday and Saturday nights.

I thought that might be difficult, but it wasn’t really. I mean, the transition to working full time in person was really, really difficult. I think that was so difficult that it shut out everything else. During the week, I was so busy worrying about whether the next day would be the one when trying to keep up social interactions all day would be too much and I’d have a panic attack while on the job and get fired, that I didn’t really think about wanting a drink. I just thought about getting through the day, how to eat enough and sleep enough to make that happen.

But I think that made the drinking on weekends even more important, as I get so very stressed during the week and then rely on being able to drink a bunch of whiskey at the end of it to relax and calm down and then feel reset and able to do the next week. Which I didn’t realize until I tried to give it up. I thought, at the end of December, that if it was not big deal for me to give up alcohol five days a week, it might be annoying but not that much harder to give it up just two more days.

That has not been my experience, as I do a second weekend in a row without alcohol, and yes obviously I am aware that if going two weeks without alcohol is this difficult then that is a sign of a problem. I keep reading and hearing things about how giving up drinking makes you feel better, but I’ve had the opposite effect so far. Last weekend I felt like I never properly relaxed, and then last week at work was even harder due to not having relaxed before it, and now it’s happening again. It’s not great. I realize this won’t get better until I find some other way of decompressing, but I’m not coming up with much.

I have tried going for several runs on the used treadmill that I recently bought and put in my basement, and those are nice, but then they end. What else do people do to relax when they’re being mentally healthy and not just locking themselves in their bedroom listening to old comedy recordings all the time? I guess socialize, but my entire social life is tied to a sport that I have stepped back from and hearing stories about it just makes me depressed about how I’ve stepped back from it, and the only thing I do with those friends besides talk about the sport is drink (well, we drink and talk about the sport and watch videos of it and play music). I’ve just moved in with my best friend, which is great, but he’s gone all weekend coaching a tournament and just texted me to ask if I want to have a drink when he gets back and I had to remind him that I already told him I’m not drinking in January.

I did tell him I’m doing dry January, I didn’t mention that it’s sort of meant to be the beginning of me trying to cut back significantly on drinking. It’s hard to tell people that, because then I’ll have to stick to it. Even on here. I made a Tumblr post a couple of weeks ago about realizing I drink too much and wanting to try to cut back drastically and/or stop, and to be honest, I’ve started writing a post like that several times in the last six month or so, and then stopped. Because if you say it’s a problem, then you have to change something.

It doesn’t mean you have to quit immediately; lots of people admit to having a drinking problem and then don’t quit for years or ever. But it does change things. If you tell a friend you think your drinking is a problem, then drinking with that friend won’t be fun anymore, that friend will watch you drink and get concerned rather than think it’s a good time. You won’t even be able to tell that friend stories about you drinking, because they won’t find it a fun story anymore, they’ll find it worrying.

Posting on Tumblr.com is the lowest possible level of this. No one on this website has the inclination to hold me accountable for not drinking, or would have the ability to do so if they did. No one sees me in person or knows what I’m doing, I could be drinking as I write this and no one would know (I’m really, genuinely not, I have honestly not had a drink since December 30 and I will honestly keep it that way until the end of January and then I will see). But I still hesitated for months to write a post about that, because I occasionally like posting on here about beers I had at a pub, or drinking whiskey on a Saturday night and then writing a Tumblr post about how I drank some whiskey and here are some things I think about comedy. And I didn’t want to cut off the option of being able to do that and have it be fun, instead of an admission that I have failed in my efforts to stop.

Also, I wouldn’t lie on Tumblr, even though I could. I’d feel too guilty. If I were to drink in January after specifically informing Tumblr that I’m not doing that, I wouldn’t even enjoy the drinking night, I’d just feel bad about being dishonest. Which is kind of why I made the post. Even if no one else is reading it and it doesn’t matter, I know I’ve put the information out there, and therefore, I have ruined my ability to have fun while drinking in January. You will notice that I did not make any hard promises about after that, because I didn’t quite feel ready to ruin my ability to have fun while drinking forever. I’m working on it, I really am.

But I made that post at the end of December because I decided I finally wanted to be really really serious about not drinking for at least a little while, and when you’ve decided that, you get to be honest about stuff. Normally, when I’m talking about my drinking habits in general, I tend to minimize things, refer to something as “once or twice a week” when it’s more like two or three times, say I only had six beers last night and not mention all the whiskey that went alongside them, that sort of thing. Or I’ll put a divide between social drinking and drinking alone – that’s a good way to lie to others and/or myself. If I drink with friends on weekends and at pubs after practice a couple of times a week, I figure I’m fine because I’m only drinking as much as they are. Not considering that after they get home from the pub they go to bed and after I get home from the pub I drink a bunch more by myself, and also I’m drinking by myself on other nights. Or I’ll say I’m doing okay because I only had one drinking night a week for the last while, in which I define “drinking night” as drinking a bunch of beer and whiskey alone in my bedroom while watching videos and listening to music, and I do not count the several times that I drank with friends.

Because you can’t admit how much you’re actually drinking until you’ve decided to cut back. “I drink this much, it’s way too much, I’m trying to stop” is a reasonable thing to say. “I drink this much, I know it’s probably too much but I really really like it so I’m going to keep doing it” is not something you can say. So I guess the advantage of deciding to cut back is I get to be honest about how much I was doing, instead of finding creative ways to minimize. The drawback is that I don’t get to have alcohol and I really really like alcohol. And once you’ve been honest, you can’t take it back. You can’t say “actually I’m drinking and it’s all fine now”, because no one will believe you, and rightly so.

The point is that I told Tumblr I think I have a drinking problem and want to try to stop, and I’m going to use dry January as a first step toward that and then see where I can go from there. While I told my friend/new roommate that I’m going to not drink in January, and I didn’t tell him more than that. Because he actually could keep me accountable, and I don’t want to have someone holding me to a promise to never drink again yet.

I’m trying to figure out if there’s some way I can do something besides quit completely forever, and have it not be unhealthy. I genuinely don’t know. I do think the month off from it is going to help in some way (it fucking has to, right? Because I’m really not feeling those promised benefits yet, I’m just more anxious). If nothing else, it’ll reset my tolerance a bit. If I could come out of this being able to get to a level of drunk that feels relaxing off significantly less alcohol than that used to require, then maybe I could keep that up? I did try that last year and it didn’t really work, but I didn’t go a month without drinking last year.

I made that post about my drinking habits a couple of weeks ago, and I kept referencing comedians’ way of talking about alcohol to explain what I mean. Because obviously you shouldn’t take major life advice from comedians, but also, hearing from them does sometimes help in really concrete ways. I’ve Googled signs that you have a drinking problem before, and it’s all stuff about how you know it’s a problem when you drive drunk (something I’ve never done and would never, ever do) or disappoint your children (I haven’t got any) or get fired from your job (I’ve gone into work hungover before, but never still drunk, and not even hungover anymore). It kind of helps to hear comedians talk about their “realizing they drink too much” stories, and those stories sound a lot more like my own experiences (just having too much in a pub or in a hotel while traveling or in your own house, hating yourself and getting paranoid about whether you were a terrible person the next morning), and I figure if they could have those experiences and think they have a problem, then maybe drinking can be a problem even if you don’t crash a car or anything.

Which brings me back to John Robins and Elis James, again. They have this ironic catchphrase “Keep it sessions” (the irony being that they’re self-aware of it sounding like a sort of bro catchphrase, though it also about something they genuinely do so it might not be all that ironic), which refers to John Robins’ preference for drinking session ale, which is beer that’s less than 5 percent. Because that way you can have more drinks before the point where you start drinking and the point where you get too drunk to keep going. So it sounds like a good way to engage in responsible drinking, and then turns out to just be an excuse to drink as much as possible.

I haven’t actually employed the method of drinking beer that’s less than 5 percent before, because that sounds a bit terrible, but I have done similar things. I remember in about 2019, explaining that to a friend of mine. I talked to him about the nights I spend drinking by myself in my bedroom, watching videos from my sport, and I find it fun to play a game where I drink for every point scored (this is a sport where several points get scored every minute, it’s not, like, soccer). I said I really like the game but have started taking smaller sips each time so I can play it for longer and do more matches. And said I was considering buying less strong beer so I could have more drinks in a night.

And he didn’t understand that. This is a guy who’d been my drinking buddy for ages, he liked alcohol quite a bit, I’d assumed in the same way I did. He certainly understood the idea of wanting to be able to get more drunk throughout a night, in a way that could be achieved by having stronger alcohol. But he didn’t see why I would be motivated to find a way to take more drinks – like literally take more sips of alcohol – between the beginning and the end of the night. And I remember that conversation making me realize there was a difference between what I got out of alcohol and what he did. I like the feeling of being drunk, but not just that. I like the psychosomatic experience of taking a sip of alcohol and feeling like I’m doing something that’ll make the world go away a bit. I like the feeling of whiskey burning in my throat and my chest for a few seconds after it goes down. I like the ritual, I like verbally (if I’m with others) or mentally (on my own) toasting to something or someone before I take a drink. I’d like to do that more times throughout a night, and my friend had no interest in it. He was in it for things like the pleasant buzzed feeling and the taste of craft beer.

So it is interesting to me, to hear that John Robins, when he was my age (I’m currently into the late 2015 episodes, when he was 33, as I am now), had the same idea that I did, trying to find ways to take more drinks throughout a night. And the way he talks about his drinking rules reminds me of the way I plan my own drinking as well. The rule about not starting before or after a certain time and then doing it right in the way you’ve perfectly worked out will maximize what you’re looking for.

I don't suppose there's a way to do the "keep it sessions" thing that that's actually healthy? Like drink low-percentage stuff while having a low tolerance, possibly achieved by not drinking at all for a month, and then you get to have the ritual of taking a bunch of drinks throughout the night and enjoy yourself, but you don't need to drink massive amounts of it just to get drunk?

I did look back last week and was a bit distressed to think of just how much time in the last few years I’ve spent trying to set everything up perfectly to have drinking go the way I want. Oh, and to avoid those next mornings where I become convinced that I behaved terribly and hate myself for it, even though my way of avoiding it involved drinking when my roommate wasn’t home and always using headphones so I couldn’t bother the neighbours and not letting myself message anyone, so I couldn’t have behaved terrible in front of anyone, but I’d still have the feeling that I’d done something horribly wrong that I should feel guilty about. I guess the lack of anxiety hangovers is one advantage of not drinking that I’m getting now? Kind of. I now just have a sort of low-level anxiety all weekend instead, I’m not sure that’s better.

I had all these other comedy references in this post I made a couple of weeks ago, but the one comedian quote that has gone through my mind over and over and over today is that Ed Night one where he said he doesn't understand how sober people just wake up every single morning and say "I'm going to experience the world exactly as it is today, with no modifications at all."

I was hoping I'd reach some sort of conclusion or point with this post, but I don't have one. Well, maybe a bit. Part of the ritual of drinking for me, part of the thing that I spent way too much time and energy setting up beforehand to make sure it all went just right, is having a night where I can spend some hours just drinking alcohol and listening to my favourite music and re-watching my favourite videos (used to be sports, these days it's always comedy). I have a folder on my computer specifically for comedy that's only funny when I'm drunk, or at least much funnier when I'm drunk (there a fair bit of Frankie Boyle-era Mock the Week in there, some Amstell-era Buzzcocks, Nathan Barley). And I'll write things down about it, save it in the Word document and usually use a "write drunk, edit sober" policy for turning it into a Tumblr post (though occasionally, I do go with a "write drunk, post while still drunk" policy). I've thought that maybe I can try to recreate that sort of ritual without the alcohol. Maybe I'll do that. If I start posting a bunch of indefensible Frankie Boyle quotes in the next little while, you'll know why.

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

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ms-starflower · 3 years

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Young Survivors — Maribat

It’s almost four am here, I just finished writing this and am just tired enough to actually go through and post it. And this title is the only thing my tired brain could come up with. Anyway. I haven't posted something I wrote in years, but all the Maribat I’ve read recently made me want to write something for it.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to write a 2 part, but if I do it’s definitely going to be Timari and contain a couple of typical Maribat tropes. And a pinch of salt.

Also, disclaimer: I haven't watched Miraculous in years and most of my DC knowlege come from fanfic or tumblr so... sorry not sorry.

Now with a part 2!

Next >

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei Leyton’s oldest memories were of her mother, dolled up in pretty dresses and elegant makeup. In her daughter‘s eyes, Margaret Leyton was the most beautiful woman on earth.

For as long as she could remember, Mei would sit on the bed and watch as her mom would get ready to head to work. She had always loved those moments with her mom.

(How do I look, my little flower,” she said, twirling around Mei with a grin, making her laugh. It was Margaret’s favorite dress, a vintage halter blue dress with white accents and a white bow around the waist.

“Like a princess, mommy! The prettiest princess ever!”

“Oh no, no no no. You are the prettiest princess ever, my little flower.”)

She was four when her mother let her help for the first time, letting her pass along brushes and products. It’s then that she understood what were the purple marks on her mother that she covered with her makeup.

(“Life is not fair to us, my little flower,” she had said when Mei asked about it for the first time. “Being an orphan and pretty little girl in Gotham isn’t safe, and it doesn’t give much choice when it comes to survival.”

Mei didn’t understand then, but it didn’t matter anyway, life would make her understand soon enough.)

When Mei was seven, the GCPD found her mother’s body.

When she didn’t see her that morning, Mei hadn’t been worried; it wasn’t the first time. Mom would be home by noon, she always was. Until that day.

(The investigation wouldn’t get very far, it was just another prostitute of Camellia street, nobody cared about them. They were just there until they weren’t anymore.

Another girl would take her place in a couple of days. It was how those kinds of things worked in Gotham.)

That day was kind of blurry in her memory. She remembers being pulled out of class in the morning, and that the cop that told her about her mother’s death was very rude.

(“Your mom is dead, kid. A lad found her body in a dumpster this morning,” the guy had said as soon as she had sat down in the headmistress’ office. “Do you know who she worked for? Or on what side of the Camellia she stayed?” He had asked, halfheartedly.

Mei had shaken her head, even though she did; you don’t talk to cops in Gotham, mom always says said that it was the easiest way to get yourself killed, for people like them.

“Alright,” he had said, not surprised. “A social worker is going to pick you up in a bit to take you to your new home, kid.”

With that he had walked out of the office, not looking back. As if where she would end up was going to be home.)

She remembers that the social worker from CPS was a brunette with tan skin, and looked really overworked, but had a kind smile.

By the end of the day, she was taken to Elliot's Hall for Children, an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage with more kids than they could realistically care for.

(They don’t care for the children, they just put them there for a while and act as they do. Most children leave after a couple of days, and if they don’t, they get taken anyway.

Some come back with a police escort, some manage to survive in the streets, and nobody talks about the ones that are never seen again.

You don’t work there because you love children, and if you do, you don’t last for very long.)

Mei wasn’t stupid, her mother told her stories about those kinds of places. She came from those kinds of places, and Mei saw how the man in charge here had looked at her when the social worker dropped her off.

She wasn’t going to just stand here and wait for him to sell her back in Camellia street. Or worse, to the Candy Dealers.

Taking with her what she absolutely couldn’t leave behind, Mei made a choice her mother hadn’t been able to and took her chance with the streets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei was a Camellia kid and, as such, took to the streets easier than most newcomers. She had picked up a few tricks from her aunties and her mom, and it helped her to survive out here.

The only (glaring) differences were the absence of her mother, the lack of a permanent roof above her head, and the fact that she had to provide food and money herself now.

(One of her favorite places to pick up wallets was Gotham Academy, where Gotham’s rich send their children. The kids always had money on them, and it’s not like they would miss it.

Though she couldn’t go too many times in a row, not without risking being spotted and remembered.)

She had been on the streets for two months when she met Jason Todd; the boy who would become her family.

She heard him before she saw him, to be honest. It was an awful crashing noise coming from around the corner, and it made her look.

He was running like the devil was after him, and judging by how the cops running behind him were clutching their batons, she wasn’t that far from the truth.

The noises were because of a couple of trash cans the boy had spilled in their way to slow them down.

And he was coming her way.

Against her better judgment, she grabbed his arm when he passed in front of her, and pulled him behind her into her hideout. Quickly getting the plank of wood back in place, she put her hand on his mouth before he could say anything. With the dumpster in the alley, the entry was almost invisible from outside.

They stayed there as they heard the men pass in front of their hiding place, listening as they argued about where the boy could have disappeared before their voices faded completely.

They waited another couple of minutes before he removed the hand she still had on his mouth and crawled out of there.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a scowl. “I woulda’ve been just fine without help but… yeah, anyway.” Then he had started to walk in the direction he came from.

“Hey! Wait!” She said before she could think about it. “Are ya just gonna, like, go? Just like that?”

“Huh, yeah? What do ya want me to do?” He asked, looking back at her from above his shoulder without stopping his walk. “Stay to drink a cup of tea and talk about the weather?”

“Well.. no. But I just… I just wanna talk a bit, ya know?” She couldn’t really explain why she didn’t want him to leave yet, it’s not like he was the first street kid she had helped out. He just felt different, and somehow she knew he could become important to her.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed before turning his head back to look forward. “The streets are not some daycare for princesses who want to make friends, kid.”

“Kid— hey, dumbass, you’re, like, ten years old! You’re a kid too! And I’m not a princess, I can survive alone just fine!” Before she knew it, she was walking behind him, the weird feeling forgotten for the offence his comment created. He looked back at her with a frown, before choosing to ignore her. Not letting that deter her, she rambled at him about all the ways why she wasn’t a kid any more than him.

“I thought you could survive alone?” He said, talking over her, when he realized that she wasn’t going to let him be.

“I can.”

“So why are ya following me? Tryin’ to drive me crazy?”

“Well, no. It’s just... that I can do it doesn't mean I want to.”

“Look, kid,” he said, ignoring her protest and talking over her, again. “You should just go back to whatever orphanage you came from, there is probably some nice little family who's gonna pick you up. Then you could make all the friends you want.”

“Like people actually adopt kids in this city. This is Gotham, you dummy, not ‘Annie’. Some rich white guy isn’t going to come and pick up children from the streets to make them live the Grand life.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he growled out without pausing in his steps. “Still, you’re pretty enough, I’m sure some nice people would adopt you in a second if you let them.”

“Yeah, sure. Mom thought the same when she was a kid, and guess what? She started working on Camellia street when she was fourteen, but nobody asked her if she wanted to. Because she was pretty enough,” the little seven years old spat with venom, her eyes narrowed. The boy stopped walking, turning toward her with eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. “Her best friend wasn’t, but mom said that she had the prettiest green eyes ever. When they found her body, she didn’t have eyes anymore, because some rich person paid to have pretty green eyes.”

“I— I didn’t—” he stuttered, eyes wide. With his scowl gone he looked so much younger, and Mei’s anger subdued. He wasn’t that much older than her, just a couple of years, maybe three or four, after all.

“It’s… okay, I guess. It’s Gotham. I just thought we both would have more chances to survive if we helped each other out. And, ya know, the company wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, but when they resumed walking he slowed down enough to let her walk beside him without almost-running.

“Great! So, Annie, where are we going now?” She said with a beaming smile, bursting into laughter at his indignation and protest against the nickname.

(“Can’t you stop calling me Annie already?! I told you my name’s Jason!”

“Nope, Annie.”

“Well, then, that makes you Sandy, doesn't it? Ya do follow me around like a stray puppy.”

“I’m not a dog— wait, hold on a minute! I knew you saw the movie! You liar!”)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was ten when her life was put upside down once again, in the worst of ways.

It took practically no time before Jason “Annie” Todd became her brother in all but blood, it took longer for Jason to admit it, and they spend almost three years surviving together, barring the occasional trip back to the Children's Houses.

Though, they always found each other a couple of days after they escaped from those places.

Sometimes, Jason would plan something that he needed to do alone. Because of course, he did.

(“It’s the best job, my plan is perfect. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be great Sandy!”

“Yeah, and why can’t I come?”

“It’s too dangerous! Plus, you need to stay here and keep our things safe!”

“Yeah, if you say so, Annie.”)

That day was one of those days.

He was gone for less than an hour when they found her.

The Candy Dealers.

Mei paled when she saw them, wearing their nice suits and overly sweet smile. They told her they were social workers, specializing in homeless children, and offered her a lollipop. Social workers in Gotham don’t give candy to the kids, even the nice ones, and she knew from her time in Camellia street that the lollipop was drugged.

(“Never, ever, take candy from a Candy Dealer, Mei. Do you understand me? Never,” her mother told her gravely. “They put bad stuff in them, and if you put it in your mouth, they will take you away from me. I couldn’t live without you in my life, my little flower.”)

She tried to run, even before the first one got his hand totally outstretched toward her. But her panic made her stumble, and she was no match for them.

She tried to kick, and scream, and bite, but soon she felt a pinch in her neck, and everything was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next period of her life was one she tried very hard to forget. For months she was moved, her and dozens of other people, from containers to containers, warehouse to warehouse. Twice they were put in a boat, the containers staying closed for so long, the next time she saw the moonlight, it burned her eyes.

She quickly learned that it was pointless to try to escape (and that Jason wouldn’t come and save her).

Then, one night, the place they were at was illuminated with blue and red lights and the police sirens were so loud, they drowned everything else.

She didn’t let herself hope, though. (She did, she hoped so hard her chest hurt.)

They (probably) weren’t in Gotham anymore, but her childhood didn’t instill her much trust in the police.

They did get them out. And she learned that they were in Paris now. In France. (That was a long way from Gotham.)

There were twenty-seven other people with her in the container. Four of which were kids, and only one other was also an orphan. They weren’t placed together, though. Because the kid had family back where he came from. Unlike her. (She had Jason. He was her family, but they didn’t listen.)

The French social workers took a while to know what to do with her exactly, but they didn’t want to send her back to Gotham (why not? She wanted to go back and find Jason!). So, in the meantime, they placed her in a foster family—one without any other kid, as per her therapist's advice. (The therapist didn’t know anything. She said Gotham wasn’t good for her, but Jason was in Gotham.)

Funnily enough, it ended up being a more permanent solution than previously considered, because the foster parents, Tom and Sabine, quickly fell in love with the little girl.

Not before long, Mei Leyton became Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (They changed her name to give her a ‘new beginning’ because her therapist thought it would be good for her. She didn’t want to have a ‘new beginning', she wanted to go back, to find Jason, to be the Sandy to his Annie. She was Mei, the Camellia’s kid, Sandy, the street’s kid and it was enough for her. She didn’t want to be Marinette, the bakers’ kid.)

So, when Mei was first put into the care of the Dupain-Cheng household, she regularly tried to run away. It was unsurprisingly harder than in Gotham, though. Tom and Sabine were way more attentive than Elliot Hall’s staff ever was, and more than a third of her tentatives were folded even before she was past the front door.

It took her three months (and forty-three unsuccessful tentatives) before she finally accepted that there would be no way for her to go back to Gotham. (Not that she had known how she would manage to do that before, her plan never got that far.) It took another six months before Tom and Sabine trusted her enough to let her wander the neighborhood alone.

The first thing she did the day her ‘new parents’ let her go to the library alone was to get to a public computer, and look Jason up. She didn’t really think she would find anything when she typed Jason Todd and Gotham in Google that day (maybe an obituary). She definitely didn't think she would find her best friend (brother) on the covers of so many tabloids declaring that he was Bruce Wayne’s ward.

She didn’t know how she should feel about the fact that he proved her wrong and became some real-life Annie. She wanted to feel angry, or hurt. Even more so when she realised that Wayne adopted him not even a full week after her (kidnapping) departure from Gotham, but…

But seeing Jason in the pictures… He looked so angry. Angrier than she ever saw him. And hurt. There was hurt hidden in his expression. It was well hidden but she could see it. (She did that, she was the one that hurted him. He probably thought she left him. That she wasn’t any better than his deadbeat of a father and abandoned him. What if he hates her now, because she was gone for so long?)

She needed to go back to Gotham, find him, and explain everything. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave him behind, that he was her family, and that it would never change. But Tom and Sabine didn’t want to take her back there, not before she was older, because she wasn’t ready yet, they said.

She didn’t care, though. No matter how long it would take her, she was going to go back. So, she slowly started to act like the perfect little girl. She didn’t really change, she just stopped bringing up Gotham so much, started to help more often in the house and at the bakery, and started to call Tom and Sabine Papa and Maman. (It wasn’t real, at first. But then, they just crawled into her heart against her will and became family. They didn’t replace her Mom or Jason, though. Nobody ever will.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She started to heal. Slowly, without even realising. She opened up to a couple of children at her school, made friends with Nino, and sort of Frenemies (more enemy than friend, though) with Chloé Bourgeois. She picked up hobbies like sewing and designing, baking with Tom, or learning various martial arts with Sabine.

But she didn’t forget, going back to Gotham was still her ultimate goal. Until the news reached her, when she was twelve.

Jason Todd was dead.

Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, her Annie. Dead. Jason was dead.

She felt like a part of her died with him, reading the words but not really processing. She let herself drown in her grief, closing up to everyone around her. Surprisingly, Chloé was the one that made her react. Literally slapping her to make her come back from the dead. (Not entirely, though. Mei, the Gothamite part of her, stayed dead with Jason. Only Marinette, the nice little parisian, came back.)

“I don’t really know what’s up with you, Dupain-Cheng,” she had said while Marinette cradled her sore cheek, her faux-contempt badly hiding her worry. “But you need to put yourself together. Tormenting you is no fun if you don’t react to it, and people are too worried for you to be afraid of me. Don’t make me call daddy on you.”

“I…” She had started, only to stop herself. She had looked back at Nino and Kim, both of whom were looking at her with poorly concealed worry. “Yeah, sorry Chloé.”

She pulled herself out of the worst of it after that, at the obvious relief of the people around her. None of which even knew why she was in this state. She still cried herself to sleep most nights, and sometimes felt like someone gouged out her heart with their bare hands, but she also started to let herself think of the good times. Started to let herself feel the good things happening around her, in the present.

Then, she saved the life of an old man, found magic earrings and a bug-mouse-kwami in her room that told her that she needed to become a hero and save Paris.

She thought of her big brother, of how he would always protect her when someone tried to rob them. Hide her, before even thinking of himself, when the cops would chase them down, trying to bring them back to Elliot's Hall. Give her all the food when they couldn’t get enough for the both of them. How he was a hero. Her Hero. And, really, there was only one thing she could say to that.

“Tikki, spots on!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

So. That's it. That was fun. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight.

Btw, Jason's super plan that day was totaly to steal the Batmobile's tires.

#maribat #mlb x dc #gothamite marinette #street kid marinette #platonic jasonette #probably a timari btw #timinette if that's how you call it #4am me decided to post it #2pm me could decide to delete it tho

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studiojeon · 3 years

Text

troubled outsiders | intro - jjk

| summary | - how you two end up pining for each other.

warnings: none :)

content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).

words: 1.93 k

His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.

Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.

The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break.

HYBE Entertainment

We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.

“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus.

Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.

Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”

“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”

It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.

You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.

Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.

Sure as hell it would.

On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”

“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.

“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time.

You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.

“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building.

You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.

“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.

“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.

The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?”

Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.

“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway”

You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.

It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.

You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.

But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.

“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack.

“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.

Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.

Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.

And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.

The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.

“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Way to get a girl’s number, my god.

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom (part 3 - FINALE) | Andy Barber x reader

(part 1) (part 2)

summary: andy knows how to take what he wants, and he wants you.

word count: 5.6k

warnings: SMUT, subtle dubcon elements, loss of virginity, infidelity (obviously), wedding ring kink (shocking!!! jk),

a/n: wow, after all this time I FINALLY finished this series. sorry it took so long. I still have an alternate ending that I want to write... but I wanted to go ahead and get this out first. thank you everyone for your patience! I kind of expect this to flop despite being the most requested thing ever, but idgaf.

“Honestly? I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends.”

For the second time that day, you choked.

“Wh— are you okay?” Jacob gasped, running over to you as you coughed up water.

Your attempt to respond was useless as you could only sputter and cough, trying to communicate that you were fine with a casual wave, but only managing to flail your arm wildly.

“Was it something I said?” he pressed.

“No, I just—” you wheezed, but interrupted yourself with another coughing fit as your eyes watered from the lack of air.

He slapped your back to try to help you along but it wasn’t very effective, just adding one new source of pain to your predicament. I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends, that was what he’d said. What does that even mean? Did he mean it like “I always had this fear, for no good reason,” or did he mean it like “I was always afraid of this, and now it’s come true”?

The way Jacob was looking at you— kind, concerned, patient— it didn’t seem like he suspected you of anything. He probably would’ve led with that if he knew something, right?

When your airways finally cleared and you were able to start catching your breath, you finished getting ready for bed quickly and hopped into bed. You couldn’t handle any long conversations with Jacob, though you tolerated some cuddling before you fell asleep.

You dreamt that night that you were drowning. Andy was holding you, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he pulled you to shore. Or was he pulling you under? Either way, you figured you’d had enough water in your lungs for one day.

You probably should’ve let them win at Scrabble… you just couldn’t help yourself.

“I have…” Jacob trailed off as he counted in his head, “177 points.”

“209,” Laurie announced, reaching over to rub Jacob on the shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry, honey.”

“384,” Andy grinned, setting down his pen and pad triumphantly and looking to you for your score.

“Um,” you stalled, almost embarrassed to say now. “I got, uh, 559.”

Laurie and Jacob erupted into sputters of confusion, demanding that you recount your points as if they hadn’t all seen you play ‘quixotic’ on a triple word space.

“Good game,” Andy murmured with a soft smirk as he stood up and left the table. You smiled back at him quickly, the other two too busy recounting the numbers on your pad to even notice.

So, that was the end of board games for the night. Jacob suggested a movie but you just knew that would just be you and him cuddling under one blanket… while Laurie and Andy cuddled under another. You weren’t sure you could take that. Instead, you decided to read your book outside— even though you figured Laurie was disappointed you didn’t want to do anything more social. Complimenting her beautifully landscaped backyard eased the blow, though.

It was hard to get comfortable on the patio couch, not because of the couch itself but because you knew it wouldn’t be long until somebody bothered you. When you heard the door open, you were a little disappointed to see Jacob approaching you.

“Hey,” he smiled, sliding in next to you on the couch and wrapping an arm around you.

“Hey,” you greeted in reply, slightly flat in your affect as you immediately dove back into your book.

“You’re feeling okay, right? We could go for a drive if you need some space,” he offered, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“No, I’m alright,” you mumbled. “You know me, I like my peace and quiet when I can get it.”

“You… like them, don’t you?” He must’ve sensed that you didn’t understand what he was referring to at first. “My family, I mean.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s not the issue, really. I know we’re going back home tomorrow but I still need to decompress a little bit. I’ll be more social tonight, promise.”

When you looked up at him, his face was closer than you’d anticipated. It reminded you of when you two met, at a party where the music was so loud that you’d had to stand about this close to be able to carry a conversation. Well, technically that wasn’t the first time you met, because you had him in one of your classes that semester, but it was the first time you’d talked. He was fun, he was new, he was friendly. I can’t stay long, I’ve got a test in the morning, you’d yelled your explanation. You’re gonna ace it anyway, he had dismissed at the time, so you should stay and have fun! You deserve to have fun.

Maybe that was what had made you attracted to him: you couldn’t think of anyone else who had been so worried about what you deserved. But now, Andy was added to that list. You hated to imagine that Jacob had inherited that nature from his father. Is he treating you right? Andy has asked you that night, and you really weren’t sure even now what the answer was. He certainly wasn’t treating you poorly, but was that enough?

Back in reality (and not in your whizzing, anxiety-ridden thoughts), Jacob leaned in and kissed you softly. The kiss was just like him: patient, gentle, but also somehow energetic. It was… nice. Comfortable. Feeling a surge of boldness, you set your book aside and leaned into him, pushing the kiss a little deeper.

He let out a tiny little noise, nearly a moan, as your tongues began to slide together. His hand reached up to cradle the back of your head— you remembered that he did that a lot when you were making out, but all those times felt so foreign now. Your hands reached up to rub against his chest through his t-shirt; that dark maroon one he wore all the time, so much that it was forming a few holes at the hem. His hand slid down to your back and—

“Am I interrupting something?” Andy’s voice tore you both from the moment and from each other’s arms.

“Dad!” Jacob protested, sounding particularly immature with the way his voice rose to a shrill yelp of shock.

“I was just coming out here to let you know that your mother wants your help with dinner,” Andy explained, “but I wasn’t going to let an opportunity to embarrass you like that go by.”

“You never do,” Jacob sighed, giving you a quick kiss to the cheek as a goodbye as he stood up and walked inside. You felt Andy’s eyes on you as you looked to the ground awkwardly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. A few seconds after the door was shut, he spoke again.

“I couldn’t let you two get too hot and heavy, and besmirch this innocent patio couch.”

“You’d better not be mad at me for kissing my boyfriend,” you frowned as you stood up. “That’s the most normal thing that’s happened all weekend.”

“I’m not,” he assured, beginning to step closer to you. “Jealous? Slightly. Not that I see him as competition or anything.”

“Uh, you probably should,” you disagreed, raising your eyebrow in a mix of confusion and challenge.

“Honey, I saw you kissing. It was nothing to write home about,” he laughed. “He doesn’t seem to realize that, since he brought you here. Can’t blame him—-” he stepped closer to you and ever-so-delicately brushed his fingers against your arm— “but you know you can do better. You know nobody can make you feel like I do.”

“Andy,” you murmured, trying to step back as you glanced to the window by the backdoor, through which the both of you were clearly visible to anyone who sat in the living room. It was empty now, but it was too close for comfort. “Someone could see…”

“They’re in the kitchen, don’t worry,” he soothed, leaning down to ghost his lips over your cheek and neck, “nobody’s gonna see us, angel, s’just you and me…”

You didn’t want to, but you melted into his touch anyway. Just those little circles that his fingers drew on your back made your entire body erupt in shivers. “Andy,” you found yourself whispering as if you needed to remember who was doing this to you.

“I’m gonna fuck you tonight,” he whispered against your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Are you scared?” he teased. “Afraid my cock’ll split you in half?”

Embarrassed, you nodded.

He grinned, pulling back from your neck to force you into a deep, dominating kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to his shoulders, eagerly allowing his tongue access as it pressed into yours. A little moan escaped you, causing him to pull your body even closer. You had worried that kissing the two of them in a row like this would lead to an inevitable comparison, which would be beyond disgusting. But nope, this kiss made you forget that you’d kissed Jacob at all. Not that that exactly stopped it from being disgusting.

You knew if you didn’t stop yourself now, you wouldn’t be able to soon… and you really needed this kiss to end before you two got caught. Pushing on his chest, you pulled back with a sigh.

“We shouldn’t—” you began.

“No, you’re right,” he agreed with a reluctant nod. Still, you missed his touch now that it was gone. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later. It’s just hard to keep putting on a happy face when all I want is to grab you and bend you over the table and—”

“Oh god, you can’t talk like that,” you laughed nervously. “You’re gonna drive me crazy, I swear.”

“Haven’t I already?” he smirked.

You nodded, because he was completely right. With a quick wave, you opened the door to step into the house. He called your name, getting your attention as you turned around. In his hand, arm outstretched, was your book. “Almost forgot this,” he smiled.

“Right, thanks,” you nodded, taking it and going back inside.

You spent the rest of the day reaching new heights of anxiousness. Shaking your leg, chewing your lip, scratching your wrist— how could you relax after what Andy had said, how could you act casual? You were just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the obvious opportunity to arise and for Andy to be inevitable like he always was.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but he did. He got Laurie and Jacob to leave you two alone in the house. With his influential career, he was probably used to getting what he wanted, but you hadn’t anticipated that he was so good at the hard work it took to get those things.

He got you, though. Not that that took all too much hard work.

“Enjoy the movie you guys!” you told them as they were making their way out the door. Jacob leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and softly asked one last time if you wanted to come.

He pulled your shirt up over your head, and you hadn’t even gotten it all the way off before he undid your bra with a quick motion. You hated to think about Jacob in that moment, but those few times you’d fooled around with him to this extreme, that part of the process had taken quite a bit longer.

When your breasts were free his hands latched onto them instantly; the rough pads of his fingers felt good against the sensitive skin, and his hands were so damn big. You felt your back arching into his touch.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on these,” he purred, “but I need to see all of you first.”

You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you back onto the bed. He took off your socks first, which made you feel a little hot for some reason, and then reached down to pull at your shorts. You lifted your hips to make it easier, looking up at him and gnawing on your bottom lip nervously.

As he tossed your shorts and underwear aside, you suddenly felt very naked compared to his clothedness. Probably because you were completely naked and he was completely clothed. He smiled down at you before grabbing your ankles and resting them on his shoulders, starting to kiss up your leg slowly while never breaking eye contact.

You whined impatiently. “Andy, please, need you…”

“Shh,” he soothed, “we’ve got time baby, I finally got you all to myself and I’m gonna savor it.”

His lips moved up your calf and thigh, but irritatingly skipped anywhere salacious to get straight to your hips and belly. “Hnng, Andy—”

You choked on your words when he licked over your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth. It instantly hardened between his lips and he smiled. “Baby, you’re so sensitive,” he cooed against your skin as he kissed his way to the other and did the same.

Your hips bucked up and made contact with his clothed thigh; you let out a high-pitched moan and did it again, rubbing yourself against his suit pants. The rough material sent shocks of pleasure through you as Andy smiled and left little love bites along your neck.

"Look at you, such a needy little girl," he tsked. "Rubbing your cunt on me like a whore. You're gonna make a mess, baby."

"'m sorry I just— oh, fuck," you sighed, your head falling back onto the pillow with a soft thud.

"It's only fair," he shrugged. "I don't mind spending the rest of the night with your come on my slacks. So long as you spend it with my come still in your cunt."

You gasped, trying to imagine how you would hide that from Laurie and Jacob…

But you couldn’t keep on that train of thought for very long as he started to kiss down your stomach again.

“Please, Andy, need— fuck, I need you to— um, taste me, please,” you whimpered.

“Hmm, beg a little more,” he smirked.

It was a long line of nonsense after that; some barely-intelligible string of ‘please’ and ‘Andy’ with a little flair of embarrassing whining. He laughed a little before he finally did what you’d asked, latching his lips onto your swollen clit. Your back arched instantly as your hands clenched at the comforter beneath you.

It wasn’t at all like you’d imagined it would be— it was so warm, and he alternated between surrounding you with his mouth and teasing you with the tip of his tongue. You let out a long, deep moan when his tongue slipped inside you, twisting and massaging your walls so perfectly. Your hands carded through his hair, accidentally tightening and pulling when he licked right over your clit. He didn’t seem to mind, though, just moaning against you and doing it again and again and again until your legs were quivering.

Just as you were about to tell him that you were close, he instantly pulled away to speak. “I can tell you’re close,” he purred as if he’d read your mind.

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, but he continued to sit up and started to open his belt.

“It’s not time to come yet, honey. It’s gonna feel so much better when you come while I’m inside you— for both of us,” he grinned.

As his sweater was discarded and his trousers were pushed down, you bit your lip. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to seeing his cock, especially when it had leaked enough pre-cum to leave a wet patch on his boxer briefs.

He was on you the second he’d finished stripping, caging in your body with his, growling as he started to kiss your neck. You whined and arched your back, your heart racing as you tried to cope with the fact that this was happening, this was really happening. It was surreal, or maybe it was more than real— you were going to lose your virginity. To Andy fucking Barber.

“I think you’re ready for me, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, his hips moving forward to press his cock against your inner thigh. You nodded as you swallowed thickly, gasping as he reached down and started to rub his swollen head through your folds.

“Please…” you sighed, even as your chest tightened with distant fear.

You had wondered if what he'd said about his marriage to Laurie being sexless was true. It certainly would be a convenient lie to garner your sympathy and make him look better. But you had no doubts it was the truth when he pushed his cock into you; he moaned like a man who had dreamed of this moment for years, who had been so deprived of affection for so long.

It hurt less than you’d expected, although it was certainly overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, Andy,” you moaned,

“Say my name again, baby,” he demanded with a groan.

“Andy!” you repeated, a little louder right as the tip of his cock hit so deep inside you that it hurt— and for some reason, you wanted him to do it again.

“Fuck, you need to be quiet, or the neighbors’ll hear you,” he hissed as he pumped into you deeper and faster. “Can you do that or do I need to choke you to shut you up?”

You whimpered from fear at that idea and he laughed a little.

“Don’t act so innocent, baby, I know who you really are: you’re my dirty little slut.”

“No I’m—” you began to disagree. A quick slap to the face, not too hard but stinging nonetheless, shut you up.

“You know you are,” he hissed, “so say it.”

You could barely carry this conversation, his cock filling you so completely that you couldn’t think about anything else. “Andy, I—”

“Say it.”

You gulped but managed to pant between heavy breaths, “I’m… I’m your dirty little slut, Andy…”

He grinned and began to move faster, deeper, somehow. You clutched at his shoulders, kissing him and groaning into his mouth. When his hips slammed into yours, you moaned louder than maybe you ever had before. "You want it rough, honey?” he taunted. “Want me to fuck you hard?"

"Yes, please!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and desperate now.

He grabbed your hips and made good on his offer of brutality, and then some, making you nearly scream. He kissed you again, perhaps in an attempt to keep you quiet, although it didn’t work that well, as you mouth fell open with every cry. His teeth captured your lip as he growled above you, holding your hips up so the angle was perfect to send his cock right into the end of you, so deep— too deep, in the most perfect way.

His cock stroking against your walls was indescribable; each thrust made your entire body erupt in shivers. The stretch was difficult but you loved it, you loved the way his body pushed yours to its limits.

"Gonna come inside you, honey," he moaned, "gonna fill you up so good, gonna mark your body with my come and make you mine."

"Oh god, Andy, please," you sobbed.

"You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he encouraged.

“Yes, so close—” you cut yourself off as you choked on nothing, you entire body beginning to tighten and seize up as pleasure spiralled higher and higher.

“Just like that, come on my cock,” he demanded, but you couldn’t do anything else even if you tried— the coil snapped as your vision went spotty. Just as you started to close your eyes, he held your neck and stared down at you. “Look at me when I make you come.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open with the intensity of sensation washing over you, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed. Those blue eyes pierced through you as you shivered underneath him, and with your walls constricting his cock just felt even thicker inside you. “Andy,” you whimpered, your fingers and toes erupting into pins and needles as you felt him flexing inside you— and he must have been coming in you in that moment, with the way he sighed and his thrusts pumped deeper yet more erratically.

Warmth spilled inside you as numbness decorated your extremities and fogginess clouded your mind. You lost focus as he collapsed beside you— even when he pulled out, you still felt full, due in part to his come inside you and in part to being ruined so thoroughly by him. Maybe you’d feel normal again tomorrow, or next week, but right now it was impossible to forget that you were fucked, in every sense of the word, by Andy Barber.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck slowly, his breathing slowly returning to a stable pace as his chest pressed against your back. He was mumbling something about how you were his girl, how you did so good for him, but you were already drifting into sleep even though it was barely nine o’clock.

You woke up the next morning in the guest room with Jacob beside you, who informed you that he’d found you already asleep when he got back from the movie he’d gone to see with his mom.

You left just a few hours later, waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Barber as Jacob pulled the car out of the driveway.

three months later...

The sun was just starting to set as you made your way home after your last class of the night. Campus was gorgeous at this time of day, but you weren’t really taking the time to notice it as you focused instead on how wonderful it would feel to kick your shoes off, slip off your bra and slide into bed. What you didn’t anticipate when you unlocked your dorm room’s door was to find Andy sitting on your bed as he waited for you. You shut the door quickly so none of the girls mulling about the hall would see him.

He looked so out of place in your dorm. He was so… adult, and yes, everyone there was an adult, but he was a whole new level of adulthood compared to the other residents of the honors dorm.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reminded him.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he questioned casually.

“Because your son is on the other side of the hall,” you explained, unamused. “What if he sees you here? What if he sees your car in the garage?”

“You worry too much. I don’t give a fuck if my son lives nearby, if I wanna visit my girlfriend then I’m gonna do it.”

He’d never used that word for you before— or at least, not in front of you. It made you feel nervous, glancing to the floor as he stepped closer towards you. "I think I'm too young to be your girlfriend,” you decided.

"Perfect age for a mistress, though."

You stammered as you tried to balance the way that word made you feel sick with the way it made you feel aroused. He lifted your chin with a finger, his other hand pulling you closer at the waist. "Are you trying to act innocent, honey?” he smirked. “Do you think I didn't realize that it turns you on?"

"Wh-what turns me on?"

"The sneaking around. The secrets, the lies; the fact that it's wrong, forbidden, taboo. It's why you haven't broken up with my son yet and it's why you stare at my ring all the time— yes, I noticed."

You frowned, crossing your arms impatiently. “I haven’t broken up with Jacob because my relationship with him makes a great cover for my relationship with you… I’m doing that for us. And do you think I like the ring? I hate that stupid chunk of silver, seeing it on your hand makes me so livid because it just reminds me that I don’t have you all to myself and—”

“Baby, you know I’m all yours,” he purred, kissing down your neck as your back began to arch. “Meanwhile, I have to share you with him.”

You were amazed that he could refer to his own son with such disdain, but then again, you knew how jealous he could get.

“If you’re mine then take the ring off,” you suggested between panting breaths.

“If you’re mine then take it off for me,” he countered. His left hand was travelling up your neck and you grabbed it by the wrist. He pulled back to look at you as you brought his fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of them before sucking on his ring finger, deeper and deeper, until it was poking down your throat and the ring was at your lips. Lubricating it with your spit and spinning it with your tongue, you used your teeth to pull the ring slowly off of his finger. He gasped a little as you opened your mouth and displayed it for him on your tongue, before spitting it out and across the room; it made a tiny little clinking noise as it hit your floor.

“Fuck,” he growled, the sound deep in his throat and dripping with desperation.

It felt like his hand never left your neck that night, like he was trying to claim you in every way he could all at once. He was so possessive over you, ironically. It was hard not to feel like your whole life was waiting. Waiting for the semester to end so the next one could begin. Waiting to graduate and get a job and finally begin your real adult life. Waiting for the marks Andy left on your skin to fade so you didn’t have to wear a turtleneck in June.

Waiting for Jacob to find out, like he inevitably would.

Waiting for Andy to leave Laurie, or at least do something to make it seem like this was going somewhere.

The thing about Andy was that he had this magical ability to make you stop worrying, in a way nobody and nothing else could. When you were apart, reality would set in again and you’d decide you needed to confront him the next time you saw him. It wasn’t even that you needed him to commit to you, specifically, you just needed to know what was going on— because how could he stay married through all this? He needed to leave her, not for you but for himself. You would get yourself all worked up and then he’d show up and soothe you until you forgot what you wanted to say in the first place. When you were together, the future didn’t matter anymore, and neither did everything that was wrong about what you were doing.

It was like living in a dream, a really strange dream. You were drowning in him, just like you’d known you would, but you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to stop the secret dates when you gave your friends and boyfriend some excuse about having to study, the rendezvous in the back of his car, the midnight phone calls where he was whispering so his wife wouldn’t hear.

You figured that after all this time of being a good girl— the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend, the kind of girl you’d take home to mom— you deserved to let go. You deserved to have fun.

#andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #I FUCKING FINISHED IT #stay tuned for the alternate ending

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46inpm · 3 years

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(MLQC) Hello there! May I request a scenario where the guys get jealous when MC gets hit on and agrees to give her phone number without understanding the other guy's agenda? I really love the protective/jealous x dense pairing 🎀 thank you so much for your effort and time! 🙏

Sorry this took so long to answer. There was some stuff in my life and I was having a hard time thinking of ideas for this.

Jealous Boys with Dense MC

Victor

Victor does get jealous but he doesn’t often show it (mostly grunts and quiet looks of annoyance that you can’t see)

Unlike him, you’re a very social person who can get along with anyone because you see everyone that chats with you with nothing more than friendly intentions

At times it really makes you naive and Victor worries but he knows that you wouldn’t cheat...still the jealous feeling is hard to get rid of

You two were on the plane in first class having three seats in a row

Victor has been sleeping mostly to pass the time and preparing you to leave to the airport is slightly exhausting

He wakes up in the middle of the flight to you and the guy sitting next to you talking about already exchanging phone numbers

This again? Does this dummy ever learn?

Let’s just say he’s been with you in this scenario before

The guy flirting with you can tell that your some naive pretty girl but Victor will make sure this guy knows who your heart belongs to

He gives off hints that you two are together which stops the guy from trying to take advantage of your density

Before you nod off to sleep Victor whispers something

“Wake me up if we get there.” 😴

“When we get to the hotel, I’m going to have to teach you who your body belongs to.”

“...What?”😶

Lucien

Lucien’s the flirtatious one in the relationship but it seems you have the title of being flirtatious and oblivious

His dark side hates how you flirt with guys without even knowing

The way you touch their arms accidentally and stare at them when you have a conversation

He knows you don’t mean to hurt his feelings but he would always step in to make sure the other guy gets the message

You always apologize and promise that you didn’t mean to as well as you won’t do it again

Yeah let’s just say you have to promise a lot and Lucien always tells you it’s no problen

The other guy could mostly tell that you were in a relationship with the professor when Lucien stares at you with the most adoration and how Lucien flirts with you

He has to protect his little butterfly, they can very much accidentally fly into a spider’s web

No one will take the only colors he sees away

You normally don’t understand how you always never see the signs but after thinking about you can

“I’m always an idiot that gives my phone number away without realizing the guy’s agenda.”

“It’s fine. If the guy still bothers you even after finding you have a boyfriend, you’ll just have to have a phone call to make him embarrass.”

“Like how?”

“You tell him frantically how much only I can satisfy your body.”

Kiro

He knows he has no right to be jealous since everyone loves him and there’s practically a billion smut fan fictions of him

The star can’t help the feeling of his chest feeling tighten at the sight of you talking to another man

You two were shooting a movie together so that meant everyone was everywhere but he easily found you in the crowd.

Why are you smiling to someone other than him like that??

Miss Chips seriously has no idea the power she holds over a man who can easily control people

Of course he has to keep doing the movie shoot

Everyone is amazed how fast he does his scenes without mistakes because they don’t know he’s hurrying up so he can get to you

When he finishes Kiro spots you handing your phone number to the guy you were talking to earlier

For someone who acts in a lot of movies and shows he’s terrible when trying to coverup his jealousy

It’s weird how every time you give your phone number, no one ever calls or responds hmm must be some hacker

“I gave that guy my phone number because he would tell me a great restaurant. Why hasn’t he contacted me?”

“He must be busy or his girlfriend is just jealous. You know finding ways to delete contacts. How about I delete the guy from your mind, Miss Chips.”💦

Gavin

We’ve seen Gavin jealous in one of the dates

He never blames you because it’s not like you did it on purpose

Gavin is the quiet, looks mad type of jealous

He knows you would never cheat on him or lead him on but he can’t help but want guys who have certain intentions not be near you

This guy has been waiting since high school to finally be with you so you can somewhat see where he’s coming from

Tell him to back off or if he’s getting a bit out of control and he’ll understand

No way would he want to dictate your life and the people who’s allowed near you

He’ll stand behind you from a distance a shoot daggers from his eyes when a guy tries to get your number

It’ll scare the dude off before he gets a chance to even turn his phone on

Probably because your dense and guys take advantage of that, he’ll do more PDA than usual

“If that guy bothers you, just tell me.”

“He wasn’t bothering me. I was just about to tell him my boyfriend was coming back after being gone for awhile.”

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you. I was thinking of staying up all night.”

Shaw

Shaw is the type of person to be where crowds, bars, and loud music so clubs are the ideal spot for him

Clubs are also the ideal spot for men to hookup with pretty women

I see Shaw as a bit of a bad boy tease who women always want to get with

It’s funny when he goes to the bar to get two drinks and return for you to be chatting with two drunk guys with obvious intentions

You are the type to get a compliment about how good you look in that dress and you would thank them as you tell them where you bought it

When he hears you exchange phone number he knows he has to step in

Geez Shaw has to make out with you in front of those guys for them to get the message

If those guys are okay with breaking up a relationship then Shaw will use his evol to zap their phones

Whoopsie you’re phones lost it’s recent data/memory

Shaw is sneaky so when you dance with him on the dance floor you have no idea he managed to delete those two guys phone numbers

“I leave for two seconds and you’re chatting with some guys.”

“They wanted to know about my dress.”

“Maybe they’ll get what they want when I show them a pic of you without it with my name written on you...”

“What did you say?”

#mlqc #mr love #mr love queens choice #love and producer #mlqc gavin #mlqc victor #mr love queens choice gavin #mr love queens choice victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc headcanon #mlqc headcanons #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #mr love queens choice kiro #mr love queens choice lucien #mr love queens choice shaw #request

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

Text

What Is There To Celebrate About the Darkling? (Part 4)

1 2 3 4

He’s calculating but impulsive. Gentle yet firm. Stubborn and adaptive. Just a real mess of contradictions that makes him all the more interesting.

He loves nature. He loves the forest.

Fond of luxuries and nice things. After growing up as he did, I think he deserves them.

Very socially awkward. Introvert just trying his best. Anything that isn’t manipulation and therefore something he’s planned in his head is just a social train wreck waiting to happen.

The way he pushes up Alina’s sleeve when they first meet. This man had zero compunctions about acting completely unprofessionally in front of his soldiers and I think that’s very sexy of him.

He’s constantly tired and exasperated with the people around him.

The way he says “quiet” with the softest voice imaginable and a room full of laughter instantly goes silent.

He had no interest in Elizaveta even though she was utterly obsessed with him and I think that’s hilarious.

Elizaveta: I have a plan to resurrect the Darkling Everybody Else: Oh the Darkling is so evil for trying to come back! The Darkling, who just wants a nap and is sick of this mortal bullshit: Why am I even here? This is such a pain in the ass. I should have killed Elizaveta when I had the chance.

How he asks if Alina “will have” his name like a man proposing.

Has his bedroom attached to the war room.

Constantly checking up on Alina just to know how she’s doing. Never pushing her beyond her limits as she’s training.

Very creative with his shadows and the extent of their abilities. So many of the ways he uses his powers are genius.

His ending in RoW is a tragedy and an injustice. He deserves better.

This old man pouting at Alina in episode seven as he says “please, I just want to talk to you 🥺”

There is a black kefta made for Alina after like two days in the Little Palace. He really was already planning their entire immortal futures together as Mr. and Mrs. Starkov wasn’t he?

His bed is covered in maps and notes when he’s plotting how to find Alina. Also before that, the way he’s poring over the notes at his desk and giving orders is 👌🥵

Him acting like a real General at all is simply amazing.

The fact that he trusts Luda with his life. That they have a whole intimidation routine set up around him purposefully getting himself fatally injured knowing she’ll heal him.

He looks like a vampire in the show and a fae in the books.

His favorite ABBA song is probably “Lay All Your Love On Me.”

Looks composed but that’s only a façade. Is actually an unhinged feral terror of pain and misery.

That scene where he tells the king she will remain in the Little Palace to train undisturbed and he puts his foot down. ON THE RED CARPET. the king’s carpet. and uses a commanding voice that’s just on the edge of an order…I’m surprised he didn’t get flogged for that. IMO nothing conveys the fine line he walks with those in power while wielding his own like this scene. Literally he should just be celebrated for this alone.

“‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ I whispered one night as he hovered behind me while I tried to work at my desk. Long minutes passed. I didn’t think he would answer. I even had time to hope he might have gone, until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Then I’d be alone, too,” he said, and he stayed the whole night through, till the lamps burned down to nothing.

Trapped a bunch of Saints in the Shadow Fold like a true amoral disaster villain. What an icon.

His barely concealed amusement and half hidden smile when Alina comes to put his kefta on. The way he finds Alina utterly hilarious and tries so hard to act like he doesn’t.

That small amused smile when Alina jokes about finding Volcra hilarious. Please he’s so adorable 😭

“‘I know what you feel when you’re with the tracker,’ he said. ‘I doubt that’ He gave a dismissive wave.” - My Malarklina obsessed self, vibrating at the edge of my seat: but what does it mean?!?

Mal and the Darkling’s entire fight in the Fold: dumbass on dumbass violence.

The way he stands with his back turned to Alina when she enters his tent the first time they meet and then does the slowest Godfather turn in history. 1999/10 - points removed for a criminal lack of cat petting.

“I may lead the second army, but the king is still the king.” - the delivery of that line. the implications, the history behind it and also the foreshadowing for his plans.

That slow turn face reveal in episode one though. Like okay we get it you’re pretty alkjsdflkj

Confused Old Man Face™ whenever Mal or Alina do anything remotely defiant in his presence.

How he tells Alina to come closer and she only takes the tiniest step and he doesn’t even react.

His little head cock whenever someone says or does something that just doesn’t vibe with him.

Darklina tumblr has now convinced me that the Darkling is a cat in human form.

“You’re an amplifier,” she said. He glanced at where Sylvi was pouncing on another helpless tree, oblivious, and gave a single, frightened nod. How could he have been so stupid? He would have to tell his mother now, and she would insist that they leave right away. If word got out, they’d both be in danger. Amplifiers were rare, hard to find, harder to hunt. Their lives would be forfeit. Even if they got away, word would spread. He could already hear his mother’s voice: Foolish, careless, callous. If you don’t value your own life, show some concern for mine. Annika touched his sleeve. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell.” Panic crowded in. He shook his head. She slid her hand into his. It was hard not to pull away. He should. He was breaking his mother’s fundamental rule for keeping them both alive. Never let them touch you, she’d warned him. - 😥 I just want to give him a hug all the time.

His strangled shout when Mal tackles him off of the skiff.

His smile when he’s summoning the sun. The expression on his face when he does so. Like I know I’ve mentioned this before but damn. If you ever needed a reason to celebrate him, this would be it.

“Shame, I’ll have to give that speech again now.”

The way he flips Mal over his shoulder in the Fold after Mal attempts to strangle him.

His little lecture on the Small Science to Alina when they’re going to meet the King. Info dump.

“You make it sound so easy.” “A bird makes flight look easy. But it was born to do so.”

When Alina looks at him for guidance on whether or not to remove her veil and he gives her a small nod.

The handhold in the throne room after Alina’s demonstration is absolutely precious, but it’s in a room full of people he should be keeping up a façade for and it’s so unwarranted and yet he does it anyway, I’m-

The way he says “welcome home, Ms. Starkov,” in the most tender voice I’ve ever heard and then goes “ok that’s enough emotions for one day” and then just straight up leaves without even a goodbye.

He has his symbol?? Sewn into Alina’s kefta??? bRo???!?!

Disaster Simp never gets tired of introducing Alina to other people or talking about how she’s the best thing that ever walked this earth.

The Darkling lying: honestly

“I have devoted my life to undoing the great sin of my forebearer, but I am never seen as the solution. Only as a reminder of the problem.” Sasha you were literally the problem. What a manipulative little shit. We love to see it.

The way he closes his eyes and kisses the coin before he makes a wish at the wishing well.

“I think the Grand Palace is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.” - I love him your honor.

This man has the most intense lines for Alina. Like straight up I would have booked it when he said “you and I are going to change the world”. But then the head grab?! “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” He’s so intense like sir can you tone it down a bit please I am begging you.

“I shall be right by your side.” / “We can do anything. Together.” / “For us.” / “You cannot do this on your own. And neither can I” / “I want you to know my name. The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?” - WEDDING VOWS

That scene in the war room when Alina comes to find him and he instantly drops his guard and lowers his arms and welcomes her with a soft voice.

“Am I bothering you?” “Not at all.” - girl you could be stabbing him in the chest and you still wouldn’t be bothering him.

This whipped disaster sounds like the proudest man on the planet when he talks about how much more his enemies fear Alina over him.

His shadows react to his emotions.

“YoUr’E nOt IvAn.” asjlkdfjs god he’s so embarrassing.

Local Dark Lord Sasha offering Alina the throne after she literally tries to kill him.

He gets so jealous of Mal.

Has a great relationship with his soldiers and his men. His men trust him implicitly and believe him to be an amazing general.

When he turns around after Alina puts the kefta on him and looks flustered/has to take a breath because she’s a lot closer than he expected. The way he’s breathless and literally can’t string a sentence together because he’s so distracted by her closeness.

His jokes are absolutely terrible.

GF: *jokes about throwing herself down the stairs to get out of an event* Sasha “no thoughts head empty only Alina” Morozova: haha I’d just have my healers heal you right back up again.

How genuinely touched he is by Alina admitting to wanting to help Grisha and Ravkans.

That scene in Demon in the Woods when he notices the intricate details of the politics in the Grisha camp after one meeting with the Elders. He has the Ulle pegged almost instantly.

Born to be a leader. Born to take care of others. Born to protect. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s protecting people. Even in Demon in the Woods he’s leading them and caring for them.

The way he cups his hands around Alina’s face when they’re kissing.

This man gets so starstruck by Alina walking into the Fete that he doesn’t even excuse himself from the King’s side to go to her.

Long haired Aleksander rights!

Ok I know the wig was kind of ugly but he looks pretty with long hair and I think it would look very good on him naturally.

The way he slams his hands together in the Winter Fete scene and instantly turns the room pitch black.

Literally any times he summons shadows is a blessing and we should all celebrate him for it. They are so beautiful. On god if I ever saw his shadows in real life I would be awestruck.

He asks Mal if he’s okay when they first meet.

The pure, barely contained fury directed at the Conductor for daring to harm Alina and kidnap his Grisha.

He always has to make a grand entrance.

This man is like a bloodhound when it comes to Nina. He is very invested in finding her and I feel like that’s never really talked about.

“I know exactly how she felt. The King’s soldiers treated me the same way. Because they knew- they knew that I was more important than any of them.” - the way he says it, like it’s something he has to remind himself of in his head constantly. a justification for the way he’s been treated, the fear he evokes in others. a way to protect himself from the hurt of being ostracized and reviled. arrogance and conceit as a defense against emotional harm.

Also the way his face instantly changes after that, like he’s said too much. vulnerability. lowering his eyes. shifting his eyes. literally just everything about this scene makes me love him all the more.

Dark carriage rides up to the Crows’ hiding place. Grisha circle the area as Aleksander steps from the carriage slowly, dressed all in black, floofy cloak high on his shoulders. Villain Entrance™

Him slowly pulling a knife out of his chest like it shouldn’t have killed him is hot as fuck and also totally badass. Big dick energy.

“I’ve had enough of your lies.” “And what lies are those?” - Alina, pulling out a fifty mile long scroll of grievances: Well, for starters-

This man is literally just an Alina Starkov compliments machine.

He cares so much about the Grisha and their protection. He loves Ravka and his people so much.

He had an entire cult dedicated to him.

“They would approach him. They always did. But he felt more anxious than usual. He’d stopped trying to make friends in the places he and his mother visited—there was no point when they moved on so quickly. Now he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.”

Save a Villain. Murder the King.

Openly admits to staging a coup like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He speaks so slowly. He moves so slowly. Everything he does has to have Purpose and Gravitas.

Theater Nerd™

He knew Nikolai for years and yet couldn’t recognize him as Sturmhond. We do stan an oblivious icon 💕

The Darkling after he gets his ass whooped in Siege and Storm: Mom can you please come pick me up? I’m scared!

He’s here to manipulate sun summoners and murder cities. And unfortunately he’s all out of sun summoners.

Would absolutely get drunk on real alcohol. This man thinks kvas is strong liquor.

Has his wrists exposed exactly one time in the most skin he’s shown all season and it’s when Alina visits him at night in the war room. WHORE!

Was too emotionally slutty and fell for Alina. RIP.

He’s passionate and cold and beautiful and hurt and twisted up in ways nobody could ever hope to understand and he’s stunning.

I would literally kill for this man 🖤✨

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 5 months

Text

TW: alcohol and death (yep, this one's a fun one)

Mark Watson had a line in his 2014 stand-up show about how last year he was… not an alcoholic, but had a problem with drinking. Which sounds a lot like bullshit, and I know that because I have often described times in my life as “I want’s an alcoholic or anything, but I definitely had a drinking problem”, and I was bullshitting at least a bit with both the “not an alcoholic” part of that, and the “it was all in the past and it’s fine now” part. What I meant is it seemed fine then because it was worse in the past, but objectively, I was still drinking too much. And I’m fairly sure Mark Watson was also bullshitting, because he had a bit material along those lines – something about “last year I was drinking too much but I’m better and have it under control now” – in each new show for like five years in a row. Lots of comedians have done the “I realized I’ve been an alcoholic for years and have decided to quit” show, I feel like Mark Watson might have one of those coming at some point.

Watching all those Mark Watson shows in a row was a bit difficult for me, because I could so obviously see that it sounded like bullshit when he said it, and it is exactly what I’ve been doing for more than ten years. Say I know I used to drink too much, but it’s all fine now. And then say the same thing again the next year.

There are times in my life when my drinking has reached much, much more problematic levels than it is most of the time. The first was in 2011, when I was 20 years old, I got fired from my job as a cashier because I kept having panic attacks at work. I was absolutely devastated. It sounds ridiculous, looking back, that one of the deepest depressions of my whole life was caused by a department store, but it was the second job I’d ever had, I became convinced that if I wasn’t socially functional enough to keep a retail job then I would never be able to hold down a “real job” (note: I am now aware that that is bullshit, retail jobs are harder than most things that get considered “real jobs”, all customer service workers should be paid five million dollars a year). Also, I broke down for the same reason why I went into a depression every time I changed schools as a kid, even though school made me miserable. I went to one place every day and that was my place and it was familiar and I knew what it was like in there and I knew the people and the layout and it was mine, and then suddenly it was gone, and my brain is not built to deal with that. So I fell apart for an entire year.

I fortunately had saved up enough money so I could get away with not working for the next year, just going to university. But I didn’t actually go to university. I pretty much sat in my bedroom and cried all day. I remember writing in journals that I knew I probably wouldn’t still be crying about this every day when I was 30, but I couldn’t see when it would stop or get better, and I felt like nothing would ever matter to me again.

Up until that point, I hardly ever drank alcohol. I never touched alcohol at all until I was nineteen, which is the legal age where I live, even though most people I knew drank underage. I was always scared of what an unknown factor like that would do to me, I used to say my brain is bad enough at controlling my body and I don’t want to see how much worse a job the liquid poison might do. I was scared to touch the stuff for years, until finally when I was nineteen, I had some vodka and beer at a trusted friend’s house under very safe conditions, and realized that actually, this stuff is pretty good. But even then, I started drinking when my roommates held parties every couple of months or so, but that was it.

Until I lost my job, and for the first few weeks I just felt terrible all day and didn’t do anything about it, and then one day I bought a bottle of whiskey and drank half of it in my bedroom between 1 and 5 PM. It felt like doing something. It gave me a few hours, when I’d had enough alcohol to feel the effects but not enough to be incredibly drunk, when I could listen to music and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer and enjoy the process. And of course, by 6 PM I had burst into tears because I was so drunk and then all my problems hit me again. But I probably would have burst into tears at 6 PM that night anyway. This seemed like a better way to do it.

I have another comedian quote here, from James Acaster: There are four things you can be in life: sober, tipsy, drunk, and hungover. And tipsy is the only one of the four where you don’t cry during it.

I started doing that every few days, and then almost every day. I started buying beer and whiskey more often, and keeping it in my bedroom so my roommates wouldn’t see how fast I went through it. I started hiding the empty bottles under my bed and only putting them out right before the recycling went out, so my roommates wouldn’t notice. I never shared this with anyone for nearly a year, when I opened up to my one of my roommates about it and he told me he did know how much I was drinking because my footsteps got heavier when I was drunk, and he’d wanted to reach out and offer help but didn’t know how.

Amazingly, I finished that first semester with three A+s and two As in my university courses. I literally never set foot on campus except on exam days, even though none of my courses were online. I just happened to be taking five courses where you can learn the whole thing from the textbook, if you happen to be too depressed to leave your bedroom. So I skipped every class but did read the books, often while drinking because the hours when I drank (the first few hours of drinking, before I crossed the line into too drunk and sad again) were the only times when I was functional. I’d drink, and read textbooks, and watch Buffy, and memorize everything in both of those things, and ace the exams.

So, I would call that a “period in my life when I was not an alcoholic, but did have a drinking problem”. It was the first one. There have been a few others. That one ended when I ran away to live in Nova Scotia for a year, slowly put my life back together. I continued drinking alone because I enjoyed it, but it became more of a hobby than a necessity. A once-a-week, maybe occasionally twice-a-week thing, rather than every couple of days. I’d also drink socially, sometimes. But I think I kept that to a fairly normal level. And that’s how much drinking has been pretty much every since, mostly, aside from the couple of other periods in my life that I would call “I had a drinking problem for a while” times.

Another time was in 2018, when a guy who was really big and successful in our sport – I had watched him at local tournaments and on streams from bigger tournaments and admired him for years – moved to my city and joined our little team. All the coaches from my team were a bit star-struck with him, but no one more than me. I remember the first time I saw him at his first practice, first out of the corner of my eye and then I did a double take as my brain went “holy fuck shit, it’s [name of a guy who’s famous in our sport and who had messaged me a week earlier to say he’d come to practice but I still couldn’t believe he was there].” I went over, said hi, he introduced himself as though I might not already know his fucking name. At the end of practice, I nervously told him that the coaches usually go to a pub after practice, I don’t know if he’d want to come with us or anything, I mean we just met so no pressure, but… and then he cut me off to say he’d love to and he’ll give me his number so I can send him the address. I was so excited to have his number.

We went to the pub, and at first, my friends and I tried to talk to him carefully, not knowing if he’d be cool with how much we drink after every tournament (and tournaments were almost every weekend). But he told some drinking stories from his home team that dwarfed ours, and we quickly said, we’re going to get along great.

We did. He became a big part of our coaching friend group. Our ritual of “one or two beers at the pub a couple of nights a week after practice, then get drunk on the weekend after tournaments” turned into getting drunk after almost every practice, mostly at his suggestion. He was always asking who wanted to go back to his place after the pub and drink more, and we usually did it. It became a running joke among us that he always had more alcohol, if we though we’d drank all his beer he’d pull some emergency stash of rum or some shit out of some cupboard somewhere. He could turn any random Wednesday into a spontaneous all-nighter, drinking until 4 AM and passing out on his couches. He was generous, always shared whatever alcohol he had in exchange for getting people to keep drinking with him.

Not every person stayed until 4 AM every time. But I did. Mainly because I truly loved the community that was building around this, the way I really felt like part of something, this sitcom-style friend group. Mainly because we had fun. We weren’t off getting in trouble, doing stupid things. We were just sitting in his living room, listening to music, sharing stories from this sport that was our shared passion and all our separate and mutual experiences in it. And the other reason I always stayed is because I was a little bit in love with him, though that’s a different issue (I think I was as in love with him as it’s possible for me to be with someone of his anatomical makeup, the one time I did actually hook up with him I quickly realized that I did not enjoy contact with that anatomy no matter who it’s attached to, and I figured if I don’t enjoy it with someone I had that strong feelings for then I won’t enjoy it with anyone, so that’s when I started calling myself gay instead of bisexual, though I still usually add the word “mostly” in front of the word “gay” because of said feelings, and also Joe Thomas is hot, Mark Watson used to be my go-to example here of a famous man I find attractive but cheating on your wife is not hot, anyway I may be drifting slightly off topic).

I started getting anxious about how much I was drinking, worried that I’d give myself cancer or something. I’m a hypochondriac at the best of times, and it got worse when I really was doing something very unhealthy. But I always told myself it was okay, because he drank way more than I did. At the peak of my times hanging out with him, I was still drinking maybe three times a week. He was drinking almost every night. I’d wake up on his couch in the morning, he’d come up and make breakfast for everyone who stayed over, and he used to make Ceasars in the morning, offer it to us as a “hair of the dog” thing where you have a tiny bit of alcohol as a hangover cure (the idea that alcohol’s a hangover cure is, of course, bullshit). I sometimes took it, would have half a Ceaser with minimal alcohol with him, and then I’d go home. But more often than not, I’d hear about how after we left, he had a few more Ceasars, than met up with other friends, and turned it into a day-long binge with them. The nights he wasn’t with us, he was drinking with other people. And I’m pretty sure he was getting into other drugs too, though he never did it around us. Some of his friends from outside the team used cocaine, I think.

So I always figured I couldn’t be drinking enough to kill me, because he was doing way worse, and he was fine. The drinking did slow down a bit throughout 2019, as my friends and I started drawing more boundaries, saying it’s been fun but we can’t keep turning the pub into a binge drink every time. A few of the coaches got girlfriends and stopped hanging out with us so much. Things drifted apart a little, and then COVID hit and everything stopped.

Then, in February 2021, he died of a brain aneurysm. I Googled it, and learned that substance abuse can be a major risk factor for brain aneurysms. The guy whom I had used as my “I can’t be that bad since he does worse and he’s fine” barometer died at 27 of a probably substance abuse-related medical issue, as though he was some sort of fucking rockstar from the 70s.

Unsurprisingly, this did kick off another period in my life of what I would call drinking way too much. But that period was limited, it had a specific inciting incident and it did have an end point, as I started to move on from the initial fog of grief. But for the first six weeks after he died, I pretty much didn’t do anything except cry and drink.

For months after that, I went back to my previous, not-a-problem-just-the-baseline schedule of drinking, which was to get drunk alone in my room about once or twice a week (twice more often than once, to be honest, and sometimes more than that, but it was a lot less than I'd been drinking in the previous years). And every time, once I got drunk enough, I’d break down crying about his death. This happens a lot when I drink, and I’ve realized recently how much I’d come to rely on it. I try to keep my emotions together the rest of the time, and then once (sometimes twice, usually only once) a week I’d schedule a few hours to drink beer and whiskey while listening to music and watching comedy and having a good time, followed by hitting a level of drunk where I’d cry about what was upsetting me. And that would be my emotional expression for the week. It helped, honestly. I’d wake up feeling better, feeling like I’d processed something.

Obviously that is not a healthy way to deal with emotions, in an ideal world you can feel and work through the difficult feelings without the aid of liquid poison. What I had wondered about before is whether the alcohol was creating bad feelings, rather than just giving me an outlet to express the emotions that were already there, under the surface. I think it almost always the latter. I think, for the rest of 2021, I was still grieving my friend who’d died. I was so depressed all year, even after I finished the initial six-week horrible grieving period, I just still wasn’t functional, and I didn’t really know why. But then I’d get drunk and cry about his death, suggesting that I was no in fact as over the grieving period as I’d thought. And that’s happened with lots of things that are smaller than a friend’s death, over the years. Times when my mental health was bad but I didn’t think it was for any specific cause, but then I’d see what I get emotional about when drinking, and that would be the cause. At times in my life when I’m genuinely happy, I do in fact manage to get through a night of drinking without breaking down about stuff.

I have Googled signs that you might be an alcoholic before, and obviously I’m aware that Googling whether you’re an alcoholic is a significant sign of alcoholism. But I never connected to the signs. They are all about whether alcohol is fucking up your life, causing you to lose friends or family or romantic relationships, to get in trouble with the law, to behave obnoxiously in public, to spend outside your means and hurt yourself financially, to get into fights or take risks and get hurt.

I don’t do any of that. My favourite place to get drunk is alone in my bedroom, where I play the music I like and I watch what I want to watch and I write and I relax. My second favourite place to get drunk is on my best friend’s couch (which is now my couch, as I’ve just moved in with him), just him and I, playing music and watching videos from our sport and talking shit. My third favourite place to get drunk is in a pub, or at least it used to be. I’ve never liked nightclubs, or even just bars with dancefloors. I like a place where I can sit down and connect with friends and we can hear each other talk.

I love pubs, I always have, but these days, I’ve found I don’t even like getting drunk in them anymore. I still like going to them and having a beer or two, but once I get past a couple of drinks, I start to feel uncomfortable. I get self-conscious about whether I’m behaving appropriately for being in public. I get concerned about how it might be difficult to get myself home while drunk (even though I have gotten myself safely home while drunk hundreds of times before). I’ll have a couple of pints and then go home and drink more from the comfort of my bedroom.

That’s something that started during the pandemic, when I went from enjoying drinking socially or alone, to hating drinking socially. If I’m at an event where others are drinking, I’ll have one or two drinks but that’s it, these days. If I do get drunk around other people, I spend all day the next day feeling terrible about it, paranoid that I said something horribly wrong, hating myself for how badly I must have come across by letting people see me while I wasn’t in full control. In all of 2023, I think the only time I got drunk around anyone besides my one best friend was the first night I ever performed stand-up comedy, where I finished my set and immediately asked the bartender for a whiskey. I hung out with the comedians after the show, drank off the adrenaline, and had a great time. I don’t regret that, it was a lot of fun. But I don’t want to do it more often.

But my love for drinking alone, or with just one other person, has if anything increased in the last few years. I’ve found my life started to revolve around it more and more, as I plan it out. In the last few years, my hatred of drinking around other people even extended to not wanting to drink when my roommate was home. Like when I was twenty, and trying to hide my drinking from my roommates but my heavy footsteps gave me away. I’d get paranoid about my roommate being able to tell I was drinking, I didn’t want him to know. I’d try so hard to be quiet, but I’d still spend all day the next worrying about whether I was too loud the night before.

So I started planning around when he’d be out of the house. If I knew he was going to his girlfriend’s place for the night, I’d make sure I had everything else done, had no plans for that night, so I could sit in my room and play music with no headphones and drink my beer and whiskey in peace. And that was nice, but it also became the only treat that I looked forward to, the thing that motivated me through everything else. I’d plan so much around it, I’d download things in preparation, I’d try to schedule my comedy watching so that that night was a good one. And then I’d do it again the next week, because he went out about once a week. I’d need it to be perfect. And at some point I realized it’s not great for the night when I can get drunk to be the only thing I really look forward to.

In June 2023, I woke up one morning after a night of drinking beer while listening to David O’Doherty albums, and I had a panic attack from the fear that I would drink myself to death just like my friend did. I called my mom and admitted to her how much I’d been drinking, for years, which she hadn’t known. I told her I wanted to cut back. Not quit, I didn’t need to quit. But I needed to slow down. She told me that was a good idea.

So I did. For the second half of 2023, I drank a lot less than I had in years. It helped that I’d started working an in-person fulltime job. Oh right, that was the other thing that came up all the time when I Google signs of alcoholism: if it makes it hard to hold down a job. Which alcohol never does for me, because I’m too careful. I would never, ever go into work drunk, or even hungover. I never have even a single drink if I have to work the next day. So this new job left me with only two nights of the week when I could drink at all, Friday and Saturday. And I made a rule that I could drink Friday or Saturday, not both. And that I didn’t need to get really drunk every time. I could have three beers instead of eight or nine. I started drinking whiskey from shot glasses instead of straight from the bottle, so I could monitor how much I’d had and keep it to a reasonable amount.

It did work, a bit. There were exceptions, like the night of my first stand-up set in July, when I said fuck it, I’m getting drunk with these comedians. And I really don’t regret that, it was a big night and it was fun. It felt a bit like the pre-COVID times, when I used to drink with the coaches after tournaments (sometimes in hotels or Air B&Bs, sometimes in bars in the out-of-town city where we’d traveled, sometimes in a friend’s living room if it was nearby so we went home that night, sometimes I’d drink with just my team and sometimes with the other teams too). It was always such a long day, such a big and tiring day, the travel and the odd sleeping arrangements and the excitement, the high highs of winning and the low lows of losing and the suspense of the in-between moments, working so hard to get the team where it needs to be. Everyone drinks after tournaments – the coaches, the refs, most athletes unless they’re in a serious competition phase that means they can’t have alcohol. You have to let off some steam after something that big and dramatic.

I’ve said before that I think I got addicted to the chemicals that the excitement of competition brought out in my brain, and when that stopped during COVID, I sort of replaced them by drinking alcohol more often, as that was an artificial way to make life feeling heightened and exciting. Music sounds better, comedy is funnier, food tastes better, everything seems big and cool the way it does at something like a tournament. Performing stand-up gave me that same feeling, and I just wanted to drink and let off steam (since then, I have performed stand-up several times and not gotten drunk after, mainly because I had to work the next day, but the first time was during a week off from work).

So that night was an exception. There have been other exceptions, when I’ve gotten really drunk the way I did before my resolution to cut back in June 2023. But there have also been lots of nights when I’ve gotten tipsy off a few drinks, and then gone to bed. It made me feel a lot better about myself.

I’m not sure about it, though. Last night, my best friend/new roommate and I went out to a pub that’s right by our new place. We had a few drinks, came back here, and got very drunk in the living room. I woke up this morning and threw up, for the first time in ages, which is probably a good sign because it means my tolerance is still down (that amount of alcohol would not have made me throw up last year). But I realized I can’t keep doing this. Cutting it down to only getting really drunk every few weeks instead of every week isn’t enough. I can say I used to have a drinking problem but it’s fine now, because it only seems fine now because it used to be so much worse. But just because it’s less bad doesn’t mean this is fine.

I didn’t see myself in any of the internet lists of signs that you might be an alcoholic, and I probably let that, for too long, make me think I was fine. But I’ve got to admit there are a bunch of comedian things that hit way too close to home, alcoholism-wise, and make me think it’s likely a problem. Like when I listened to those old Howard/Richardson radio shows and Jon would joke about how he scheduled time in his week to get drunk by himself and cry. And when I read his book, which has some fucking harrowing and familiar stories about how it felt when he did exactly that (by the way, on the subject of comedians who probably have an “I realized I was an alcoholic and quit drinking” show in them at some point – he might be another one). Michael Legge had a really rough story in his book about how bleak hangovers feel, how much they make you hate yourself. That felt too familiar to me.

I did relate to a lot of Mark Watson stories about drinking. The one he was telling around 2015, about all the stress and anxiety and that goes through your head all day, and then you sit down while alone in a room and have a glass of wine and it makes you like yourself a little more. A quote that I see in a slightly different light now that I realize Mark Watson actually had quite good reason to hate himself in 2015, but still. He put into words so clearly that feeling of how you’re not even aware of how constant the underlying sense of “I fucking hate myself” is until you have a drink and that sense gets alleviated for a little while. No wonder I started revolving my whole week around opportunities to do that.

But obviously, if I’m talking about comedians who talk about alcohol in a way that resonates with me, I’ve got to go to John Robins. Whom I’m pretty sure is still touring his 2023 Edinburgh show Howl, a show I haven’t seen (but please, John, please film it, I will pay you money for it John), but have read about it, so I know it’s an “I realized I was an alcoholic and quit drinking” show. I haven’t seen that show, but I have heard lots of his earlier material, which had lots of bleak stories told with varying levels of jokes, about drinking to deal with shit.

I’m listening to old episodes of his radio show right now, starting from 2014. He tells a lot of casual stories about getting drunk, but they’re almost always fun, nothing that would seem problematic if taken in isolation. Aside from one story about running out of alcohol while on the phone with his dad, with whom he did not have a relationship, and frantically needing to find more alcohol so he didn’t have to do that sober. That was one of those stories where you could hear Elis react like – Dude, that’s not as funny as you seem to think it is.

But I’ve just listened to an episode they did where they talked about additions, and kept specifically saying this isn’t about the “big” addictions, hard drugs or whatever, it’s just about those silly things that people can still get addicted to. And it’s mostly lighthearted and fun, they take listener messages about video games or other things like that.

John Robins shared stories of how he’s gotten addicted to lots of different iPhone games, like Candy Crush, and was once severely addicted to online golf. Elis laughed, in the spirit of the fun and silly addictions stories they were doing, and that time it was John’s turn to say – Dude, I know we’re having fun here, but that’s not really as funny as you think it is. What he really said was, “That was actually a pretty bleak time in my life, it cost me a girlfriend and about a year of progress in my career.” In a previous episode, he told a story about a previous girlfriend who left him a note asking if he could spend time with her when he was done his game, and he didn’t take the hint that he was neglecting her, until after she’d already left him.

John Robins has also made a passing reference to having attended Gambler’s Anonymous meetings when he was younger. And to the fact that, in 2014, he was vaping in an attempt to wean himself off cigarettes. It makes me think of that South Park episode where Stan gets addicted to a microtransaction-ridden phone game and his grandfather drinks too much, and they put those two storylines in parallel to show it’s the same process underlying both behaviours, and addictive personality runs in the family and it'll latch on to anything.

I find the idea of addictive personalities interesting, that if addiction is in your personality, you can’t do anything safely, it always becomes an obsession and any deep enough obsession can fuck up your life. I’ve always been careful with potentially addictive stuff besides alcohol because of that. I know I have an addictive personality. I started one sport in 2004 and dedicated my entire life to it, to the exclusion of all else, until 2020, when COVID took it away so I instead dedicated my entire life to obsession with comedy. I don’t think of that as an addiction, that’s just autism. What’s the difference between an addiction and a special interest? I guess the difference is whether it fucks up your life.

I know addiction runs in my family, too. My dad’s dad died of alcohol-related conditions, and my dad was an alcoholic in his twenties, though he quit drinking just before I was born. This is going to sound silly, like the idea of a video game addiction, but my brother has a genuine, serious caffeine addiction. He goes through this cycle where the worst phase involves him drinking lots of Monster energy every day, then he’ll try to quit, sometimes going cold turkey and sometimes going slow, and he’ll get withdrawal, which usually includes horrible anger management problems. Then my mom will catch him drinking a can of Coca-Cola, he’ll say it’s okay because it’s just a can of Coke, and then it’ll build back up until he’s addicted again.

Because of that, I never touch caffeine. I never drink coffee or any kind of pop, I certainly don’t drink energy drinks, and I never drink tea unless I confirm it’s caffeine-free. I’ve never smoked anything, I never do any drugs besides alcohol. I’ve tried weed before, and honestly, I wish I liked it, because it’s better for me than alcohol, I wish I could just switch to that instead. But I didn’t like it that much. And I know that any drug is dangerous for me. If I start, and I actually like it, I won’t be able to just do a little bit of it. I can never do just a little bit of anything. I have a spreadsheet of all the comedy I’ve watched and read and listened to during the pandemic, and it definitely confirms that I absolutely cannot do just a little bit of anything.

This is a little part of why I find John Robins so appealing overall. I like listening to comedians who are intense about stuff, who are like me in the sense of being hypercompetitive and caring too much about everything and tell stories about what it’s like to live that way, stories that resonate with me. And that’s why last year, when I heard he’d quit drinking, I made some comments about how I’m really glad and that’s a great decision for him and no one should ever suffer for the sake of making art and also great art does not require suffering to be made – but also, I have to admit the really intense self-loathing stuff is a part of John Robins’ comedy that I find appealing, so please let him film this last stand-up show (and give us a great season of that thing that we all have to pretend for like two more days we don’t know the lineup of), and then he can ride off into the sunset and be happy forever even if he doesn’t write any more stand-up comedy about how his addictive, obsessive, hypercompetitive personality makes him miserable.

I said some stuff like that, and then I read an interview he did in The Guardian about his show Howl and its theme of his decision to quit drinking, and then I felt guilty for even for a moment, even jokingly, even though I filled it up with “of course I want him to be happy though” caveats, suggesting that there could be a downside to him getting sober. I'm going to paste in a quote from the article:

“It was hell,” says the Radio 5 Live man now. “I was a control freak of my own existence. Back then, a good day was a day where everything went according to plan. There’s a million individual moments in the day where something can go wrong. If they go wrong, I’ve fucked up, and I go apeshit at myself. And I lived like that for years – and used alcohol to try and switch it off. “But then the next day is worse, because you were drunk the night before. So you feel even more anxious, with more dread that things will go wrong. Until eventually” – and this is what happened earlier this year – “the booze stops working. And that was hell. That made the anxiety worse. So you end up in this ludicrous situation where you need to drink in exactly the right way, at exactly the right time, and exactly the right things, because drinking is now just another thing that has to go exactly according to plan.” It sounds (and was) exhausting, and unsustainable. So Robins called time on the drinking in November of last year. Looking back now, he says, “after a few months’ sobriety” (and having fixed a thyroid problem that made the anxiety worse), “trying to address that damage through comedy is a challenge. Because what I describe to you doesn’t sound very funny.” He guffaws. “And it wasn’t. I can feel myself getting emotional now, because I’ve not talked to many strangers about it.”

Quitting drinking will not make John Robins a worse comedian, because suffering does not improve anyone's art, everyone makes better creative stuff when they are in a good mental place. But also, even if quitting drinking did take his edge away and ruin his comedy (which it hasn't and won't), he doesn't owe his audience anything, and living like that would not be worth all the comedy in the world. I genuinely apologize for ever having implied for a moment, even flippantly and jokingly, that it might be. (Besides, I've heard the Pappy's Flatshare Slamdown episode he recorded last year, and he was his usual overly intense and annoyingly hypercompetitive self, conforming that John Robins does not need alcohol to ruin everyone's fun. Thank God.)

Obviously that part hit me pretty heard when I read it last year. But of all these comedian quotes that I've referenced in this post, the one that resonated with me the most is something from a different Guardian article featuring John Robins in 2023, a conversation he had with Adrian Chiles about whether it's possible to moderate a drinking problem, or whether a drinking problem can only be stopped by total abstinence:

AC: I think people are led to believe that moderation isn’t possible: that if you successfully moderate, it’s because you didn’t have much of a problem in the first place. Otherwise, the ideas are very binary. People will stop you in the street and say: “I hear you’re on the wagon,” or: “Are you a friend of Bill’s?” or: “Are you still off the booze?” It doesn’t even occur to people that there could be a middle ground, either you’re completely befuddled and drunk the whole time, or you’re completely sober. JR: The difference between us is that you’re moderating to change a habit. Whereas I was, unbeknownst to me, moderating to try to control an addiction. You describe alcohol as a handrail. I would say alcohol was the handrail, the stairs and the destination.

Here's what I'm afraid of, as I sit here still feeling hungover at 8 PM, hating myself for how much I drank last night, worried about how I might have behaved even though all I did was sit in the pub and then our living room with my best friend of nearly twenty years. I'm afraid that John Robins is right here. That if you have an addictive personality, there is no moderating. I did the "three beers and then go to bed" thing for a while, and it worked okay. But after a few months, I started slipping more and more. I'd drink past that point just this once, and then just this once again. My baseline, "only drinking in moderation night" went from three beers to five, and then to six (which is still a lot less than it was pre-June 2023, but it was creeping up). I started losing track of how much whiskey I'd had in a night.

Two weeks ago, the Olympic Trials happened, a woman from my team competed and won a gold medal, my best friend was in her corner, I watched it on the stream and got maybe drunker than I've been all year, as I felt some conflicting emotions about watching my best friend achieve our joint dreams after I've stepped back from the sport, am still struggling with that decision, but was also genuinely incredibly happy for them. So I got very drunk that night. Then last week, I had a week off work over Christmas, and I got drunk - really properly drunk - three times in the week. It feels like it cumulated in last night, when I drank like it was 2018 again. I worry about whether moderation can last, for me.

I think I'm going to do dry January. Which I hate, because I hate the idea of trends like that. I wish this were the start of any other month, some month where annoying people on Facebook aren't saying "New Year, new me, dry January". I don't want to get on a bandwagon. But that's just the contrarian in me that hasn't matured since high school, and having a contrarian in me that hasn't matured since high school isn't a good reason to avoid getting healthy.

I'm thinking of another comedy moment now, this time from the sitcom Ladhood, when Liam Williams quit drinking for a month just to prove he didn't have a problem, but then as the last hours ran down, he was starting at the clock, and grabbed a drink the moment time was up, and went right back to old habits. Maybe that'll happen here. I'm not ready to say I plan to quit drinking forever. I think I should quit drinking forever. But I'm not ready to plan that yet. I'm going to try for a month and see how that feels. No moderation, just no drinking at all. And then I'll take it from there. Maybe or maybe not in the same direction as Liam Williams, but at least it's something.

Today is New Year's Eve. Around New Year's last year, I watched Ahir Shah's stand-up show Dots, and it had this line about how he quit anti-depressants, but then learned that quitting that is a pro-depressant, so he went back on them. I quit anti-depressants in early 2021, was really sad for most of 2021 (in my defense, I was grieving a friend whom I'd been as in love with as I could be given the gender-related circumstances), had a breakdown in 2022, and had already been thinking about going back on meds when I watched that Ahir Shah show that just laid it out so clearly. The next day, I called my doctor, and in 2023 I've been more emotionally stable, and I think of Ahir Shah every time I take my anti-anxiety pill at night.

Well, maybe I am in fact a New Year's resolution-making, dry January participating, cliche, because maybe every year, at the beginning of the year, I'm going to hear a quote from a comedian that seems to so clearly lay out one of my problems and leaves me with a more straightfoward understanding of a big change I need to make for my health. Last year it was the Shah quote about meds, this year it might be "The difference between us is that you’re moderating to change a habit. Whereas I was, unbeknownst to me, moderating to try to control an addiction."

...I mean, obviously, don't take medical advice or other major life decisions from comedians. But also, "Go on brain meds if your brain needs meds and don't drink alcohol if you're an alcoholic" sure doesn't seem like bad advice.

It's New Year's Even and I'm staying sober all night, while in other years, I'd have gotten drunk because that's what you do on New Year's, even if I drank the night before too. I've just pictured a version of myself that says "No thanks, I don't do that" when someone offers me a beer, the same way I say that now when I'm offered a coffee. I think that's a version of myself that I might not hate so much. I don't write comedy shows (well, not hour-long involved emotional ones, I write six minutes to perform in a pub), but maybe this is my "I realized I was an alcoholic and quit drinking" Tumblr post. Maybe. We'll see how this works out.

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winterbanner · 3 years

Text

I Would Give Her the Stars (Bruce Banner/ Reader)

Summary: "In that moment I would have gone to the ends of the universe if she pleased. I would have given her all the stars in the galaxy."

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Slight Angst, This Is Really Cute

Word Count: 1684

Warnings: None except for some brief language

Paring: Bruce Banner x Fem Reader (uses she/her pronouns)

Additional Note: I rewrote this because it was absolutely awful. I think it’s better now! ;)

It was early, the tower was absent of noise with the exception of the whistling tea kettle sat upon the stove. Tony and I had been working all night to calibrate a new GPS system for the quinjet. It was hard work that required precision and concentration. That was hard to perform, however, when my lab partner was blasting Black Sabbath as if he were at some sort of underground warehouse party.

My eyes ached from staring at my screen for so many hours, the throbbing synced with that of the headache that had crept its way up to my temples. I just couldn’t take the work any longer, which is something I don’t often say. I have a passion for lab work; I mean, I wouldn’t have seven PHDs in the sciences if I didn’t. That night, however, I needed an escape.

I needed to go see her.

I knew where she’d be. Up on the rooftop, staring out over the urban skyline. That’s where she went to think after her attempts to get some rest were tried and failed. New York truly is the city that never sleeps, and neither does Y/N.

I rummaged through the cupboard until I had retrieved her favorite mug, and paired it with the one she had gifted me last month. There had been no special occasion, she said she saw it and thought of me. It was one of those novelty mugs you find at convenience stores. On the front were the words “science is my bitch” written in a large bold font. I laughed the hardest I had in months after opening that gift. The rest of the team gives me weird looks whenever I use it, but that mug was the first gift I had received in a very long time.

I took the kettle off the stove and prepared the two mugs of tea. One spoonful of honey, just how Y/N liked it. Afterwards I made my way to the elevator before requesting JARVIS take me to my destination. As I began my ascent my nerves began to get the best of me. I have this habit of second guessing myself, of letting my mind spiral into anxiousness. These thoughts, however, came to a halt as the elevator doors opened to reveal Y/N sat upon her chair serenely gazing out over the bustling city streets.

At the sound of the elevator ding she turned her head, her lips curving upwards into a smile as she took in my presence.

Y/N always smiled when I walked in the room.

“Well hey there genius” she greeted, her grinning face illuminated by that of the dimmed roof lighting, and the neon glow of the Avengers symbol plastered on the front of the tower.

“Hey Y/N, um- I brought tea.” I responded, gesturing the two mugs I held in my hands.

“Somebody pinch me. Not only has Dr. Banner escaped from his natural habitat, but he also comes bearing gifts! I’m in shock.”

I laughed heartily, “Well, my natural habitat has been invaded by a wild and obnoxious Tony Stark.” I responded.

“Anybody who manages to survive Stark is more than welcome here. Besides you've been down in that lab for hours, you’re gonna fucking suffocate if you don’t get some fresh air.” She said as she gave the seat next to her a pat, thus signaling her wish for me to sit there.

I thanked her before sitting down and handing her the cup of tea. “Careful it’s hot.” I warned, not wanting her to burn her hands on the hot ceramic. As I handed over the mug I felt her fingers lightly brush over mine, causing my heart to flutter.

She thanked me in return before reminding me that she always enjoyed my company. Her words filled my chest with a warmth that I rarely feel nowadays. A warmth that I only feel when I’m with her.

Afterwards we sat and conversed for what felt like both several hours, and a few minutes all at the same time. Conversation with Y/N flowed with ease, our topics ranging from the books we were currently reading, philosophy and politics, to Thor’s new obsession with microwaved popcorn. I couldn’t care less what we talked about, the only thing that mattered was that I was with her, and it seems as though she just might have felt the same way.

I have always considered myself to be an awkward person. Social interactions were never really my forte, especially after the accident. With the big guy around, I didn’t think that anybody would want to be friendly with me. I assumed that everyone was afraid. With Y/N, however, it was different. She never once looked at me with fear in her eyes. Her disposition was so warm, so welcoming. If I ever needed someone to talk to I knew she’d be there, and she knew I was there if she ever needed the same. Around her I could be myself. She just felt safe.

After a while I noticed she had grown quiet, her mind drifting off to somewhere else. She sat in her chair, her head tilted upward towards the sky, her brow furrowed in deep thought.

“You okay?” I asked, concerned that she was upset.

“Yeah, I just- I wish I could see the stars.”

I looked up, my eyes met with the inky blackness that was the New York sky, all of its stars drowned out by the light pollution and smog.

“Yeah, it really is a shame isn’t it?” I questioned, receiving an affirming hum from her in return.

At that point we both sat quietly, our eyes transfixed on the sky above in search for the stars that were never going to appear. The silence settled between us comfortably. I knew she was getting ready to say something, but I couldn’t be sure what.

“When I was a kid,” she began, “We lived in this house out in the country. Out there the stars were breathtaking. You could see every constellation so clearly.”

I saw her lips curve upwards in response to the happy memories replaying in her mind.

“Before my mom died, whenever I was upset or stressed out, she would take me out to the backyard. Together we would lay in the grass and just stare up at the sky. We would stay like that for hours; it was peaceful.”

Her head dropped, her eyes now gazing forward onto the cityscape before us. “I miss that”, she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, as I observed her melancholic gaze. I wanted nothing more than to give her what she wanted, to give her the stars.

Then after a moment of thought, I realized that I could.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next night I found her in the very same spot, looking over the city lights and skyscrapers unable to sleep once more.

At the sound of the elevator’s ding she turned to face me , her lips once again forming a smile at the sight of my presence.

“Two nights in a row?” Y/N questioned, “ That big brain of yours must be really fucking tired.”

“Actually,” I said, “this big brain of mine has something to show you.” I waved my hand signaling for her to follow me.

She smiled in both confusion and amusement as she stepped into the elevator. We stood side by side, our shoulders brushing up against one another as we made our descent down to the lab.

“Now close your eyes.” I requested

“Bruce what is this-”

“It’s a surprise, now close your eyes.”

She complied, the corners of her lips turning upwards as I grabbed her hand and led her down the hall to the lab. I led her to the center of the room and requested her remain there as I went and turned off every light I could find within the vicinity. Afterwards I felt my way back to her through the darkness and positioned myself so we stood directly in front of one another.

“Okay now open your eyes.”

“Bruce, is the surprise the news that I’ve gone blind?” she questioned causing us both to laugh.

“No, just watch.”

At the press of a button the room became illuminated with starlight. Stars, galaxies and planets hovered above our heads, in majestic hues of purple and blue. The scene was nothing short of magic. The universe on full display, three dimensionally projected all around us.

At the sight of the stars above her, I saw Y/N’s face light up. Her face filled with amazement as she beheld the multitude of constellations shining before her eyes. Her smile beamed, its brightness competing with that of the brightest stars in the room.

To me she was the brightest star in the room.

She slowly spun in a circle in the attempt to fully take in her surroundings, her eyes reflecting the twinkling of the floating stars. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

She turned to me, her eyes glistening with moisture. “Bruce I-”

“Do you like it?” I asked, her lack of words worrying me. Maybe this was too much?

Her silence, however, was replaced by her embrace. She took me in her arms as she gently wrapped them around my neck and pulled me close to her.

“Thank you, Bruce. Thank you so much.” She whispered, her voice cracking at the end.

I held her tighter in an attempt to pull her in even closer. Her embrace radiated pure love, a love I hadn't felt in a long long time.

“Y-you’re welcome.” I answered, overwhelmed with adoration.

As we pulled away I looked at her face illuminated by the glimmering starlight. I felt as though she was the only person that mattered, that she was the most precious thing this world had to offer. In that moment I would have gone to the ends of the universe if she pleased. I would have given her all the stars in the galaxy; and to this day, I still would.

#bruce banner fluff #bruce banner fanfiction #bruce banner is adorable #id die for this man #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x you

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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Goldy I never thought I would reach out to any Jikook blog but after your last post I have to. I am an east asian american and trans. I have never spoken on this issue, commented or posted about this. I am a Jikook supporter but sometimes Jikook supporting blogs don't feel like the friendliest place. I want to thank you for changing my opinion on that. It is an insult to BTS to say Jikook don't know they seem gay or that they don't know what gay looks like. It is an insult to fans like me to say it would be OK to do the things they do if they were cisgendered straight men. I personally saw a few people say or dance around this and they got intimidated by big blogs for it. I would never name names because I beleive in free speech and the right of people to express themselves, as long as it isn't hate speech. Supporting lgbt people and making sure they don't feel endangered is MORE IMPORTANT THAN STANNING A KPOP BAND and I say this as a 4 year long bts and Jikook stan. So many people don't want to touch this issue and I understand why.

But thank you for supporting ACTUAL lgbt people as well as bts and showing stubborn people that BTS mean gay rights when they say gay rights.

I don't know why but this Ask made me cry...

I've been reading it over and over for the past two days and each time I feel humbled by it. Thanks so much for sharing this with me.

I think the era of the obsessed 'kids' and '13 year old shippers' in this space is coming to an end. I think it's time for a more nuanced mature conversation on what it means to ship and stan our faves in today's sociopolitical climate.

Let's intellectualize shipping and use it as a vehicle for social change not just pleasure. Sabotaging political hashtags is a start. Trending and donating to BLM is equally important. Fighting for gay rights and recognition is the next step and a natural progression from here- and about damn time!

Gone are the days where celebrities and idols were immune to accountability and personal responsibility. We live in a world where everyone is required to be converstant in and sensitive to social issues. Awareness is woven into our collective consciousness and for some of us we cannot divorce that from our pleasure receptors.

Hate to quote my pastor but, 'As a kid, I spoke, thought and reasoned like a kid. As I grew up, chilee darling, I put my ghetto ways aside. You feel me?' Lol. Yea, my pastor hood like that. Lol.

The fact of the matter is, BTS has a higher mature demographics now. Majority of us grew with them, if not past them. They are not seventeen anymore, Jin is almost thirty, the youngest in the group is past twenty three and majority of their fanbase are breaching Young Adult well into Adulthood and beyond.

We simply cannot view them with the same lens anymore. If we did, we would be infantilizing them if not enabling them.

We ought to be able to have certain conversations that reflect our age, hearts, backgrounds, experience, values and beliefs.

We can't sit behind our television sets and smart phone screens in this day and age and assume BTS sat through a performance like this and did not for a second think about what it meant, why the crowd cheered at certain moments or even understand the impact, message and intent behind it- especially not when Halsey, an openly bisexual woman and advocate for LGBTG rights is an acquaintance of thiers.

I don't know how a fraction of this fandom can assume BTS would have a collaboration of this nature and not know anything about the gay rights discourse or what queer baiting is or not consider how their actions may or may not be contributing to the marginalization of persons as these- to not have agency and personal responsibility or empathy.

JK cannot stan a gay artist such as Troye Sivan and divorce his music from his sexuality because it flows from it. Not when Troye has openly spoken about the struggles he went through as a closeted gay man, coming out and how that affected his mental health.

JK knows what gay is, he is aware of the struggles queer people face on a daily. His decision to cover, license and recommend songs by this artist is a deliberate act coming from a place of being informed on the matter.

Jimin knows. RM knows. Suga knows.

BTS cannot prepare a speech like this while oblivious to the plight of the LGBTQ plus community. I refuse to believe that simply because it's not true. Anyone who says otherwise is a scammer. Lol.

And I think they are intelligent enough to have cognisance of the fact majority of the world view certain aspects of their home culture as problematic and non-progressive and that this same world is watching them and what they do in this space matters.

They are part of the conversation. And it's in their interest to present themselves as queer a queer friendly band and company by distinctifying themselves from these 'traditional' Kpop bands.

I believe they know that being woke gives them a competitive advantage as MCs and advocates for the youth in today's world.

I believe they are aware certain things in their 'fan service culture' doesn't fly in the space they compete in and want to compete in. They are competing and rubbing shoulders with top LGBTQ plus advocates, sharing seats with them at awards, standing next to them- they best to look sharp.

It's obtuse for anyone to fall on the 'culture' rhetoric to excuse certain behaviors of their idols when actual queer people from and within that same culture fight against it.

Most S. koreans I know and have come across complain about their 'culture' and some even harbor strong resentments against this whole fanservice culture.

Holland, an openly gay Idol from South Korea, has equally spoken out against the 'fan service' culture prevalent within Kpop on several occasions and laments how it depoliticizes queerness and affects actual queer people within S.K.

And isn't it funny that the same conservative Christian population who strongly oppose homosexuality in S.K often lead online campaigns against Jikook for 'promoting homosexuality' because of certain fanservice and skinship they do?

If skinship is normal and fanservice is culture, why does conservative S.K keep pushing back against it? It's their culture uno?! Lmho.

Queer south Koreans and conservative Christians hate fanservice culture and yet here we are using their culture to defend it as if it's all black and white. Lmho.

Did they or did they not see South Korean's reactions to this performance by Jikook? The mixed feelings most had about it?

Men can nibble on men's ear but God forbid they toss them in the air and catch em💀

South Koreans are not a monolith. Their culture is nuanced like any culture. It's not static and not clear cut black and white either.

It's one thing to respect other's culture, it's another to perpetuate it in ignorance. Perpetuating their culture and being religious about it does not allow for the dynamism inherent in their culture.

Troye Sivan talked about how he'd stop in the middle of his concerts and performances upon seeing the hyper fangirls in the front row and then think to himself, 'I know they know I'm gay, so why are they still here...'

And this was before he came out.

Jikook know we know they are queer or that we think of them as queer. When Jimin talks about 'those that love me for me' he knows exactly what he is talking about or rather who he is talking to- it's not these hets I'm afraid.

Troye also talked about being privileged because he lived in a rather queer friendly neighborhood where everyone is gay and so he'd always felt safe coming out.

Isn't that what JK is doing?

Now this is a person who's without a doubt had a lot of influence on JK in his early formative years as an Idol right down to his decision to move into a much queer friendly neighborhood of Itaewon.

They know we know. Jikook is gay.

Thankfully, there are reports of a rising number of LGBTQ plus in South Korea, a lot of allies, a lot of queer folks coming out and a lot of companies opening up to working with gay idols and aspiring idols.

It's such a relief but a lot of work still needs to be done and I stand with them on behalf of Jikook and any queer folk in SK.

My sister is helping me reach out to an LGBTQ plus advocate from Seoul for an interview for my blog. If everything goes well, I'd love for her to share her thoughts on queer passing, queer baiting and fan service within Kpop and how that affects LGBTQ youth in South K.

It's a conversation I'm really passionate about and interested in.

I love me some ships, but I also love me some queer advocacy and human rights uno? Lol.

Thing is, I may quit BTS one day, but I can never quit being me. Being human. Always put the human first is my motto.

Oh and I hear people are plotting to cancel me? Chilee. Y'all do that but:

Let it echo.

Signed,

GOLDY

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fangirlandiknowit101 · 3 years

Text

Here's the sad pining sasuke i wrote last night... it's not finished and who knows when/if i'll finish it. university AU, not edited and there's some naru//hina and sasuke//OC bc i couldn't think of a canon character that fit. The texting part is also weird bc i wrote it all very fast lol. i'm sharing bc why not *shrugs*

xxx

It hurts, to look at them.

Sasuke can’t help himself. Naruto is his best friend, after all, and he’s not yet so desperate that he’ll avoid him. It’s worse, somehow, that he can’t even dislike her.

She’s good for him, he thinks, when he’s feeling particularly self-deprecating. Her hair is dark and her skin pale as porcelain, and that’s where the similarities end between him and Hinata.

Sweet, and so patient with Naruto. Soft-spoken, but not a pushover. Impeccably dressed, always, no make-up needed to outshine any girl beside her. A picture perfect couple, that’s what they are. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to watch it unfold from the front row.

How her shyness turned to surety, how her eyes would catch on Naruto and look away before, but now – now she looks at him like he belongs to her, soft smile on her plump lips.

Sasuke can’t even hate her, and he wishes he could.

It’s not her fault that Sasuke is the way he is. She doesn’t know, isn’t doing it on purpose. And yet, there’s a stab to Sasuke’s chest every time she takes his hand, every time Naruto tucks her silky hair behind her perfect ear.

Naruto will kiss her cheek and Sasuke will be looking, always looking. His face devoid of emotion, his voice carefully neutral. He can’t be mean to Naruto’s girlfriend, though he wishes he could. Maybe if Naruto got mad at him and pushed him away, Sasuke would be free to move on.

It’s more likely that Sasuke would apologize and do better, and he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment.

Sometimes he imagines that Hinata will find out, that she’ll start treating him with suspicion, watch his every move with her wide eyes. Feel threatened by him. But Sasuke is no threat. He’s tired and hurting, but he’s not a homewrecker. It would be a lot easier if Naruto didn’t keep nudging him in Sakura’s direction.

It’s not Sakura’s fault, either. She’s dreaming of something she can’t have, and the similarities make him sick to his stomach.

Sometimes he thinks he’ll date her, live the lie to the fullest. Give her what she wants, since he’s doomed anyway. He doubts he’d last long, though. If he had even the slightest bit of interest in women – but when he looks at her, there’s just no attraction. He’s not sure how no one’s noticed yet. It’s not like he’s that good of an actor. He thinks the only reason no one’s figured it out is because he’s so deep in the closet, and they’re all so heterosexual. Why would they suspect he’s gay? It suits them better if he isn’t.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that late already,” Sakura says beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

The bar is lively around them, but the music is at a bearable noise level. She’s looking at her phone, frowning. On the other side of the small table, Naruto pouts.

“It’s not late!” he objects, the beer in his glass sloshing around as he waves his hands around. “We just got here!”

“We’ve been here for three hours, I think,” Hinata says, leaning her cheek on his shoulder.

Sasuke wonders how she manages, the way he moves around so much. Perhaps her body is as soft as her voice, easily following him.

“I told you I have to get up early tomorrow.” Sakura sighs, irritated. She fishes her bag up from the floor, putting her phone inside it. “I really have to get going.”

“I’ll walk you to the station,” Sasuke offers. Not because he particularly wants to, but he’s not in the mood to subject himself to third-wheeling Naruto and Hinata. “I should get going, anyway.”

“What?” Naruto looks disappointed, more disappointed than when Sakura announced her departure. “I thought you were free tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke swallows down the last of his drink.

“Doesn’t mean I want to stay up all night,” he counters with, easing out of the booth. “I still have to study.”

“You study too much,” Naruto mutters, giving Hinata a smile like an afterthought when she squeezes his arm.

“Maybe if you studied at all you wouldn’t need to panic before every exam,” Sakura nags at him, coming around the table to wait next to Sasuke. “Some of us care about our grades.”

“Nerds.” At least Naruto looks a little happier, and Sasuke hates to think that it’s because he thinks anything’s going to happen between him and Sakura. “Don’t get lost, you two!”

They say their goodbyes, and Sasuke tries to pretend he doesn’t notice how Sakura’s cheeks fill with color when they step outside the bar. She’s put a jacket on, but Sasuke’s fine in his sweater. It’s not cold enough that her blush can be blamed on the weather.

“Thanks for walking me,” she says, hefting her bag higher up her shoulder. She’d joined them straight from the library, researching her latest paper. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her, hands tucked into his sleeves.

He doesn’t want to run the risk of her attempting to reach for his hand. As much as he dislikes her attention, it’s safer if she thinks he’s just playing hard to get. He won’t have to explain, then, why he hasn’t outright told her to give up. He should, he knows. But Naruto would just nudge him towards some other girl, would bother him about it until Sasuke started going on actual dates. It’s touching, how worried he is over Sasuke potentially being lonely.

Too bad Naruto himself is the cause of it.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow, then?” Sakura asks, stepping aside as they meet a group of half-drunk businessmen. “I’m working until five…”

It would be so easy to invite her out. To suggest a movie, or trying out that new café near campus. To watch her eyes light up with hope, watch her mouth stretch into an excited smile.

“I really do need to study,” he says. “And I’m almost out of clean clothes.”

None of it is a lie, technically. He’s just not sure he’ll actually do either of those things tomorrow.

“Oh.”

She tries to hide her disappointment, and Sasuke is an expert by now at pretending he doesn’t notice. They walk the rest of the way in silence, waving a quick goodbye at the ticket gates as Sakura’s train is due to arrive in just two minutes. Sasuke buys a drink from a vending machine and takes small sips as he waits for his own, mindlessly scrolling through social media. He almost ignores the text Naruto sends.

> Wanna hang out tomorrow?

He contemplates it. On the one hand, yes, of course he wants to. On the other, having an entire day to himself has its appeal.

> I’ll be busy

> Ooh, with sakura?

The train arrives, and Sasuke snags a seat next to a couple too caught up with each other to pay attention to him.

> No

> Got studying and laundry to do

The reply is instant.

> That’s too boring!!! I’m coming over for lunch

> Whatever

He pockets his phone, and stares down at the bottle in his hands for the rest of the trip. It doesn’t help against the warmth rising in his chest. At least he doesn’t do this to Sakura – doesn’t invite himself into her space, ignorant of her feelings. It doesn’t make him feel better.

xxx

Sasuke doesn’t have a lot of friends. He’s got Naruto, and then there’s his small group of friends from high school. Naruto is the only one who still lives nearby. Rather, Sasuke had ended up staying in Konoha like him. It’s a big enough city that most of his classmates are strangers, although slightly less so in their second year. He stayed with his parents for his first year, but when one of his cousins moved abroad for work he took the opportunity to stay at her apartment instead. It’s closer to his university, and if he, potentially, wanted to bring a guy home then no one would know.

He doesn’t think his parents would mind, but there wouldn’t be any privacy. He relishes in it, and Naruto does, too.

“I should just move in with you,” Naruto groans, spread out on his couch. “You wouldn’t believe how annoying my mom was this morning.”

“I think I can believe it,” Sasuke tells him, cleaning up after their lunch. “And just to be clear, I’ve never said you’d be welcome to live here.”

“Stingy,” Naruto grumbles. “How long is your cousin gone, anyway?”

Shrugging, Sasuke dries off the counter just for something to do with his hands.

“A year at least. We’ll see. So it’s not like I’ll be living here forever.”

“But still!”

“Where would you even sleep?”

Naruto happily pats the couch. When Sasuke scowls at him, he simply grins.

“Come on,” Naruto says. “I want to watch a movie.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I need to study.”

Still, he gives in too easily. Naruto lifts his legs to give him room, dumping them all over Sasuke’s lap once he sits down. It’s things like this that makes Sasuke’s heart refuse to give up. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, cheekbone pressed to his closed fist. He doesn’t say anything when Naruto picks a drama at random, letting him comment on the plot as much as he wants. Watching movies with Naruto is certainly never quiet, and he winces as Naruto kicks his legs as he shouts his anger at the main character.

When the movie ends, Naruto doesn’t start a new one. Instead he chews on his bottom lip, playing with the remote. Sasuke considers getting up to use the toilet, maybe suggesting going to the corner store for snacks, but then Naruto clears his throat suspiciously.

“What?” he asks, irritated when Naruto takes his time.

“So, how are things going with Sakura?”

He resists the urge to pinch his nose. He still lets out a heavy breath, not quite a sigh but close enough that Naruto frowns.

“I mean,” Naruto continues, “you could just ask her out. She’s definitely going to say yes.”

Sasuke shifts, uncomfortable. Naruto’s legs are still on top of his. His socks have little frogs on them.

“I’ve told you I’m not really into the idea of a relationship right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Naruto rolls his eyes, pushing himself up and finally removing his legs, crossing them at the ankles instead. “Sounds like excuses to me.”

“Just drop it, Naruto.”

“But if you get together things will be so much easier,” Naruto insists, poking at his arm. “We can go on double dates, and stuff.”

Sending him a glare, Sasuke pulls a leg up to his chest. It won’t prevent Naruto if he decides to get comfy on his lap again, but it might make him think twice at least. Naruto’s only wearing shorts, and all that naked skin isn’t good for his heart. It’s definitely too cold for it, but Naruto’s never been one to care about the weather.

“We already go places together.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same!”

Sasuke pinches his lips, looking away. If he’s not careful, those large blue eyes will convince him to cave in, and then he’ll find himself with a girlfriend. He does a lot for Naruto, but there are limits.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” he mutters, knowing it will only lead to more questioning.

Sure enough, Naruto makes a noise of protest.

“But you haven’t rejected her either!”

“She hasn’t asked me out either.”

“It’s obvious she likes you.”

“That’s her problem.”

Naruto kicks at his thigh, using his heel. He looks properly annoyed now, as if Sasuke is a petulant child, refusing to do what’s best for him.

“If you got over yourself for a minute, you’d realize what a catch she is!”

He doesn’t reply. Let Naruto think he’s just stubborn, or an asshole, or whatever. Let him think Sasuke’s just stringing her along, keeping her attention while refusing to commit. It’s better than the alternative.

“Leave it, Naruto,” he warns, getting up and moving to the kitchen. “We’re not talking about this.”

At least Naruto doesn’t follow him, though it doesn’t make much of a difference. The apartment is small, no wall separating the kitchen from the living room. He searches through his cabinets, locating a forgotten bag of wasabi peas. He throws them at Naruto’s head.

“Eat these and shut up,” he says.

To his relief, Naruto does as told.

xxx

He picks up the call from Karin half-distracted, mind still stuck on a question for tomorrow’s seminar. As usual, she doesn’t wait for him to say hi, making her wince with the volume of her voice.

“Do you have any idea how tiring it is to listen to Naruto whine about you?” she starts with, the background noise suggesting she’s outdoors. “Can’t you just tell him you’re gay and put me out of my misery.”

“No thanks.” He drops his pen on his desk, rubbing at his eyes. He regrets not going to the university library, at least then he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the call. “Was that all? I’m kind of busy.”

“You know, this is exactly why I moved away,” she continues, ignoring him. “I thought I could get away from all the high school-level drama. Just get yourself a boyfriend, and go on those stupid double dates my cousin is so desperately yearning for. How hard can it be?!”

He can feel a headache incoming, and he rubs his fingertips between his brows. Naruto had sulked for hours the day before, until Sasuke got sick of it and threw him out. It was definitely backhanded of him to call Karin and complain.

“If you really wanted to be left out of it, why are you calling me? That’s the opposite of not getting involved.”

“Because it’s really painful and I’m morally obligated as the only person with functional brain cells to tell you to move on. Juugo’s too nice to say it and Suigetsu would give you terrible advice and sit back and watch. I’m being nicer to you than you deserve.”

“By telling me to move on,” Sasuke deadpans, wondering why his parents couldn’t have settled down somewhere else.

“Well, someone has to do it! Clearly I’m the gay cousin in the family, so you’re screwed. Might as well get over it and get laid.”

“I really hate you sometimes, you know that?”

She huffs at him, traffic and broken conversations filtering through the phone. There’s the jingle of a shop’s door, and the noise cuts off.

“Your pining is just getting sad,” she eventually replies, distractedly. “Trust me, I know my cousin. He’s not worth it.”

Something unpleasant churns in Sasuke’s stomach. He wants to argue with her that he is worth it, but he doesn’t want to land himself in an hour-long lecture if he can help it. He rolls his neck, making a face. She’s got a point, but he doesn’t enjoy hearing it. His life would be a lot simpler if he could find someone who made him forget about Naruto. He’s just not sure it’s fair to expect someone to instantly replace a lifetime of friendship.

“I don’t think I should have to come out just because Naruto irritates you,” is what he says instead, leaning back in his chair. “What if my parents find out and disown me? You want to be responsible for that?”

“Sasuke,” she sighs, “your brother is literally gay and your parents love his boyfriend.”

“So?”

“Stop. Making. Excuses.”

He bites his cheek, holding back a denial. He’s not worried about his parents, he’s worried about Naruto’s reaction. That things will change between them. That he’ll think Sasuke has feelings for him, which would be correct but would also ruin absolutely everything.

“I’ll… consider it,” he concedes, after a long silence, during which Karin has finished buying whatever it was she needed.

“Really? Because I’m going to hold you to that.”

He sighs.

“Next time I’m not picking up when you call me.”

xxx

A few weeks pass, and not much changes. Naruto still takes up too much space in his head and life, Sakura continues to drop hints but refuses to make the first move, and Hinata is still as lovely as ever. She doesn’t seem to have much of a personality other than being Naruto’s girlfriend, but to be fair Sasuke hasn’t precisely paid attention or tried to get to know her. Naruto’s birthday is drawing closer, and he can’t bring himself to do anything to break the status quo before then.

He’s been considering it, though. It would be a relief to stop pretending. He can’t imagine himself finding a boyfriend, though, because where would he even meet someone? It’s too awkward to use a dating app, and he’s not precisely social. He doesn’t have any experience, either, if you don’t count those childish games they played sometimes when they were younger. And that one time Naruto kissed him by accident when they were twelve.

Because of this, he’s really not expecting it when one day in class, just as the lecture ends, his eyes fall on the messenger bag that the guy next to him has just finished packing. There’s a rainbow pin on it, and Sasuke blurts out his question before he can stop to think about it.

“Are you gay?”

He only lifts his eyes from the pin when the surprised silence stretches out a bit too long. Their eyes meet, and the other boy is staring at him like he’s not sure how to react.

“Uh,” he says eventually, fingers clenching around the bag’s strap. “I mean, yes? But if you’re thinking about the pin it’s just a regular rainbow…”

He trails off, and Sasuke feels his cheeks heat up a bit. He can’t believe he just asked, when he himself has gone to such lengths to make sure no one made such assumptions about him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine.”

Maybe he should know the guy’s name, but he doesn’t. He’s pretty short, hair dyed a light brown and glasses perched on his nose. Cute, but Sasuke’s not sure he’s his type. He’s not sure he has a type, other than Naruto.

“Are you gay?” the guy asks him, eyebrows rising above the frame of his glasses.

Sasuke licks his lips. He could say no, but to what end?

“I am,” he forces out, breathing in a deep breath.

“Oh.” There’s red color blooming on the other boy’s face, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment. “I was kind of hoping, but, um… I mean, hoping sounds weird! Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask outright.”

When Sasuke stands up, he realizes he’s almost a head taller than him.

“I’m Sasuke,” he offers, clicking his laptop shut and slowly sliding it into his bag.

“I know. I mean! I’m Hiroshi. Nice to meet you.”

Sasuke nods, and awkwardly turns to leave. Hiroshi stops him with a hand to his arm, though, and Sasuke swallows nervously as the turns back. He’s not interested in Hiroshi, not really, but he’s never been asked out by a boy before and the novelty of the situation is getting to him.

“Do you, um, are you busy right now? We could have lunch?”

He weighs the pros and cons in his mind. As nervous as Hiroshi looks, there’s a determined glint in his eyes that sways Sasuke over.

“Okay,” he says, and just like that he’s doing what Karin told him to do.

He’s trying, at least.

xxx

Over the course of a week, including having coffee together and a visit to the aquarium, Sasuke learns a lot about Hiroshi. Or Hiro, as he likes his friends to call him. They don’t have too much in common, but they’re both gay and studying agricultural economics. Once Hiro gets over his initial shyness, Sasuke finds he’s got a great sense of humor and won’t hesitate to poke fun at him.

It’s a breath of relief, to spend time with someone who doesn’t know him from before. He didn’t realize how much he needed it – just being able to be himself, without constantly keeping himself in check.

He can’t fool himself to think it’s enough to replace Naruto, but maybe he doesn’t need to replace him. Maybe it’s enough that Hiro seems to like him. He doesn’t really think about it, when he invites Hiro over on a Saturday night, after they’d had dinner at a nice udon place.

“Oh, wow,” Hiro says as he steps into Sasuke’s apartment, making an impressed face. “Nice place.”

“It’s my cousin’s, so no need to sound so impressed.”

Hiro rolls his eyes, taking off his shoes and jacket and following Sasuke inside.

“Alright, I’ll try to keep it in,” he teases, sitting on the couch when Sasuke motions him towards it. “But it must be nice, to have your own place like this. The dorms are fine, but I can’t exactly bring guys there.”

Humming his agreement, Sasuke grabs two cans of soda from the fridge, handing one of them to Hiro when he sinks down on the couch next to him.

“Want to watch something?”

Hiro nods, and Sasuke brings the TV to life. He’s not expecting anything to happen – they’ve only known each other a week. He’s still coming to terms with having a friend other than Karin he can talk to like this, and she doesn’t really count since there was never the potential for anything to happen between them. Hiro is… potentially someone Sasuke could date. At least there’s nothing wrong with him, not yet, and Sasuke’s easing himself into the idea of getting to know him better.

He finds a movie at random, some sci-fi that doesn’t look terrible. The movie turns into background noise as they talk, Hiro’s eyes watching his face more than the screen. It’s nice, in a new, exhilarating way, to have a guy’s attention on him like this. He’s not sure what to do with it. When Hiro moves closer, knee touching Sasuke’s thigh, hand resting on the back of the couch and occasionally touching his neck, Sasuke can’t find it in him to move away.

It feels like a secret, shared between the two of them. He thinks of Naruto for a long moment, allows himself the pain lacing through his chest as he imagines light brown hair replaced with blond, dark eyes replaced with blue. Then, he pushes it away, tells himself he can have this. The emotions are only his own.

It’s all happening too fast when Hiro grows bold, leaning in to press their mouths together, but he doesn’t care. It’s no one’s business if he spends the evening on his couch with a boy in his lap, a boy who isn’t his best friend.

The pain is easier to swallow if he tells himself that he’s the only one hurt.

#at this point i'm just writing whatever's in my head #something is better than nothing #i hate tumblr's formatting

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haikyuu-appreciation-club · 4 years

Note

Hiii love💞, could I request a kurro x reader based on the song "sometimes" by "Chelsea Cutler?" It's a beautiful song, and I would love to see how you write it out!! Thank you, and I can't wait smto see what you make out of it!!!

•Sometimes•

Kuroo x Reader

warnings: a few curse words + mentions of depression, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts + trust issues

genre: angst to fluff + comfort

word count: 2.2k

hey sweetheart!!

I really adore this request, it’s different then anything I've done before and I'm excited to get to turn my interpretation of this song into a fic

my interpretation of this song is that its in the perspective of a person that has depression and it’s consuming them. It constantly comes and goes and affects the way they are in a relationship. they feel as though they are unable to be loved and they have a hard time trusting that their partner actually cares for them due to this added baggage they have.

ik the actual meaning of the song is different but I'm writing based off of that :)

this is a very beautiful song and I hope I bring it justice

enjoy <3

(TRIGGERS BELOW)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(TW DEPRESSION, TW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, TW MENTAL HEALTH, TW TRUST ISSUES)

You used to enjoy the early morning hours. The way the sun would peer through your partially open blinds, casting rows of golden hues across your walls. The taste of flavorful coffee flowing down your throat, bringing you to your senses. Even the noise of cars passing by brought you a source of peace as you got ready for your day.

Overtime, mornings grew bitter. The sunlight became a nuisance, causing you to bury yourself deeper in your covers. You no longer had to energy to get up and make yourself a cup of coffee and the hum of the car engines just reminded you of the dreaded day ahead.

Honestly, you can't recall when the beautiful colors of this world had faded from your view.

Although you had grown accustomed to these emotions, they weren't always dominating your life. They came and went in waves, allowing brief moments of happiness to creep through. On one of those special occasions, the universe brought Kuroo into your life.

Meeting him felt like coming up for your first breath of air after a long swim. He wasn't a complete stranger but you had been too encased in your thoughts to ever go out of your way to talk with him. Luckily, he made the effort to reach out and the two of you clicked right away. You had thought things were finally looking up for you, crawling your way out of the slump you had constantly been dragged in and out of. You saw this as your time to collect the broken pieces of yourself and start over with Kuroo, but those thoughts were soon deemed trivial. After a while, your depression had hauled you back into the darkness, stripping you from any ounce of joy you had left. Kuroo had kept you afloat for longer than anyone has ever had, and maybe that’s why you allowed yourself to indulge in wishful thinking. You should have known better though, you were broken repair and it was no ones job to fix you.

Although you never opened up about your struggles to Kuroo, he wasn't completely oblivious to the situation. He had noticed your change in attitude straight away. The way you would shy away from any social situations, silently begging him to just stay inside and cuddle on the couch. The way you would take two or three bites of dinner and lazily claim you were full. The way the things you loved to do, didn't seem to peak your interest anymore. Even the way your sleeping patterns had shifted, either feeling you toss and turn in the middle of the night or finding you still sleeping in at four in the afternoon.

Kuroo was confused to say the least, this demeanor was so new to him and he didn’t know what to do. You seemed so hollow, as if you were a shell of your former self. It broke Kuroo’s heart to see you in such a state and he wanted to help you, he just had no clue how.

You weren’t the type of person to lay all of your emotions out on the table, Kuroo knew that much. So, he didn't want to force things out of you or do anything to make you shy away from him more then you already had. He wanted to be able to handle this situation in a way you both were comfortable with. So, he took his time observing your behavior and researching the things he noticed.

Soon enough, his hunch that you had been entrapped in a depressive state had been confirmed. All of your actions and new found mannerisms had lined up with the symptoms almost perfectly. Now he just had to find a way to approach you about your current situation.

Things on your part were growing worse with each passing day. You were exhausted, as if all the energy had been drained from your body. The motivation to even get out of bed had been snatched away. You were at the point where you just felt like giving up. There was no point in trying anymore and you had discovered living to be so tiring. The only thing keeping you going was Kuroo, and you felt oddly selfish for that.

Kuroo had always made it a point to care for you and be by your side with everything throughout your relationship, but why should he? Did he not realize how damaged you were? As if you were a surgery gone wrong and no one could find the source of the bleed. You loved Kuroo with all your heart but knowing how much trouble you had already caused and how much was waiting to ensue tugged at your chest.

Thoughts continued to swim in your head while you lied in your bed, curled up with your knees to your chest as you stared at the empty wall. You couldn’t recall how long you’d been lying there. Time seemed to fade away recently, the minutes, hours, and days blended together. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. Opening your eyes had been dubbed a difficult task so getting ready for the day had been out of the question for quite a while. Lying in bed all day had become so familiar to you, you were no longer content with anything else.

A creak came from the opposite side of your bedroom as the door leading in softly swung open. Your eyes darted in the direction of the noise but you didn’t move a muscle as light footsteps approached the bed. You knew who it was but you couldn’t bring yourself to greet them, it was too much effort on your part.

The second Kuroo had walked through the door he had taken notice of your disheveled state. He had been unable to see you for the past few days due to a family event that had been planned.

He invited you to come along but you refused, seeing you didn’t want to ruin the mood and you didn’t have the energy to put up a front for that long. Kuroo didn’t want to leave you by yourself but you insisted that he went and spend time with his loved ones. So, reluctantly, he bid you farewell and went on his way. The two of you kept in touch through text messages which helped to sooth his nerves a smidge, but soon enough your replies grew shorter and popped up on his screen less often until they stopped appearing at all. Panic conquered his mind and he booked the first flight home to you.

There was a dip in your bed as Kuroo sat at your side. A small part of you wanted to hug him but you stayed stiff as a board, expression unwavering. You felt a hand gently sit atop your thigh as small circles were rubbed into your warm skin,

“Hey babe.”

You wanted to answer him, you really did, but only silence hung over the room following his warm greeting,

“I know you’ve been going through a lot lately, do you mind if i help you out a little bit?”

A small nod was given, insinuating that he had your permission to continue with whatever he had planned, not as if you had the strength to disagree.

You felt the covers lightly being drawn off of your body, allowing the cool air to dance against your skin. Kuroo swiped at the hairs that had invaded your vision and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before scooping you up. You fell limp in his hold, turning towards him and hiding your face in his chest.

Kuroo carried you to your bathroom and seated you on the counter. He watched as your eyes stayed glued to your feet, as if a weight had been attached to your neck. Although his heart ached at the sight, you were hurting more than he was right now. Grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste off the counter, he placed a hand on your jaw and began to brush your teeth.

He continued to tend to your daily tasks, those of which you had been neglecting since he last saw you. He brushed out your hair, bathed you, and dressed you in clean clothes.

As you sat on the bathroom floor, allowing you hair to air dry, Kuroo carried on. He had changed your bedding, throwing your old sheets into the washer and pulling fresh ones from the cabinet. He also walked around your room, picking up trash and putting things where they belonged. He had even made it a point to peel away your blinds and open your window, allowing the outside world to finally reach you after what felt like an eternity.

You couldn't understand why he was doing all this, he should leave you while he had the chance. Hell, you would've left a long time ago. So why didn’t he?

The door of the bathroom was pushed open once more, interrupting your thoughts. Kuroo crouched down in front of you. Although your appearance had returned to it’s prior state, your eyes still held a sorrowful glow,

“I’m gonna bring you back to the bed, is that alright?”

You nodded once more, allowing him return you to your area of origin.

As you lied on your back, staring at the celling, Kuroo timidly slid down next to you. His body had turned towards you as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, the other tucked behind his head.

Kuroo may not let you see it, but he was beyond nervous. He was anxious he wasn't doing or saying anything right and the last thing he wanted was to make you feel worse than you already did. Despite this, he knew he had to bring this situation into the light somehow. Even if you shied away from the subject or the conversation ran short,

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know your mind has put you though hell and back. I might not be able to understand it but you aren’t alone, okay? You’re so important to me and no matter what, I'll be right here by your side. And don’t push yourself to let me in, I'm here when you’re ready.” Those words had cleared something from you mind and finally allowed you to feel. Not even realizing it, a tear slipped down your cheek. Then two, and three, until you were choking on sobs. Your hand had found the front of Kuroo’s shirt as you cried into his chest. Everything that had been stored away had finally found it’s way to the surface.

Kuroo held you in his tight embrace, placing soft kisses on the top of your head as you broke down. He didn’t mind the damp shirt or the feeling in his arms disappearing, all he was focused on was you.

After a while, he felt your voice vibrate against his chest,

“Hm? Sorry baby, I didn’t catch that.”

Your voice had been muffled by the cloth pressed against your face. So, you pulled away from his grasp, finally looking him in the eyes for the first time since he set foot in your home,

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.”

Your mind drew a blank, was his answer to your question that simple?

“What?”

“Because I am in love with you,” he cupped your cheek and gave you a soft smile, “I am completely in love with every single thing about you Y/N, the good and the bad. I love it all because at the end of the day, It’s still you who’s by my side.”

You felt a tug at your heart as he gently pulled you into a kiss. You slowly returned the gesture, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. You hadn't realized how much you had distanced yourself from the man you loved until this very moment. Your depression had lead you to reject the fact that your boyfriend actually cared about you, making you shy away from him as a whole.

As the two of you pulled apart your mind granted your body permission to pull your boyfriend into your embrace, another sensation you had deeply missed. You sunk your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in the sent of his cologne.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, allowing yourselves to become familiar with each other’s touch once more.

Soon enough, you had grown tired due to your fit of tears earlier and began to slip in and out of consciousness. Taking notice of this, Kuroo pulled you down until you were both lying side by side. Your body had found his once more as you snuggled into his side,

“I love you Kuroo.”

“I love you more Y/N.”

There was much to be discussed but that could wait until the morning. For now, all that was important to Kuroo was being by your side, where he loved to be.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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smokeybrandreviews · 2 years

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Smokey brand Retrospective: So Good

I am an unapologetic Spider-Man shill. I have been for as long as i can remember. I love the Wall Crawler, ever since i was a wee lil’ Smokey, snatching up those old timey Secret Wars figures from long ago. As a car carrying geek and unabashed nerd with a lust for theoretical physics, i identified with Peter as a character, outside of the costume, too. Dude was tailored made for my rather goofy sensibilities and I've loved him for damn near my entire life. My love for all things Spider has transcended the comic genre and wormed it’s way into every aspect of the franchise, culminating in a perfect synergy with my adoration for film Indeed, since Raimi released his very first Spider-Flick, i have never missed one in theaters, ever. Even with Omicron threatening another shut down i have my shots and every intention of seeing the trilogy closing No Way Home the day after opening. I cannot wait but, before i take in the finale of the MCU’s first Spider trilogy, i wanted to take some time and look back on what all came before.

Raimi Trilogy - 2002 to 2007

The first, successful attempt, at a Spider-Flick dropped in 2002. A year and some change before that, i remember seeing the ls teaser of a helicopter getting webbed up between the Twin Towers. This was before 911 so that imagery was still a big deal for the US. Still, the second i saw those web spanning between those iconic skyscrapers, i lost my ever loving sh*t. This was during the Internet 1.0 days, just on the cusp of 2.0, so social media wasn’t around to spoil everything. Teaser trailers meant everything and this one was one of the best. Little did i know, Raimi would give to us one of the most faithful adaptions of Golden Age Pete and, in the process, deliver one of the best Capeflick franchisees ever committed to film.

Spider-Man - 2002

The very first Spider-Man dropped my senior year in high school. I’ll never forget that sh*t. I skipped school to see it. Had a date and everything, even though i did not think of it as such. She did and i just kind of went with it but for me, seeing Pete on the big screen was the real draw. The inner child in me was just losing his sh*t as we made our way to the fifth row seats and then.... nothing. The f*cking movie didn’t start! We sat there for like, fifteen minutes, while the Projectionist scrambled to fix the problem. I was SO mad, man. I left the girl in our seat and stormed into the lobby, making a big ass f*cking scene. Eventually, they got the projector working and we got free tickets to another film but i didn’t care. I got to see Spider-Man in a theater for the first time and it was everything i wanted him to be. This wasn’t MY Spider-Man, i grew up on Eighties and Nineties Pete, but i could tell that Raimi loved his Pete, the Sixties version, and he really did that version of the character justice. This was a big deal for me. To this day, i keep that first ticket stub in my wallet. It’s been two decades and the ink is all but gone, but i know hat it is and why it’s there.

The film, itself, was spectacular. The cast was perfect. Tobey Maguire was the perfect Pete to start Parker’s foray into live action. I really loved Franco’s Harry Osborn and, holy sh*t, was Willem DaFoe the perfect Stormin’ Norman! The only casting more on the nose than that one, was J.K. motherf*cking Simmons as J. Jonah Jameson. Mans IS JJJ and that realism has carried over into the MCU films. No one embodies a rile more perfectly than Simmons as JJJ. My only beef was the suspect casting of Kirsten Dunst as Mary-Jane Watson. Now, don’t misunderstand, she was great in the role, my second favorite Spider-Heroine after Michelle, but i wasn’t sure if Kirsten could do MJ proper justice. I was wrong. Ma killed the role and I've measured every Spider-Love against her since. I also really liked seeing a very young, very beardless, Joe Manganiello as Flash Thompson. That’s funny as sh*t to revisit now that he’s been Deathstroke and Big Dick Richie.

More than anything, i love the look of this movie. Of course the writing and direction are top notch, Raimi knows his sh*t, but the pure aesthetic of this film really cemented it’s position in my heart. It wasn’t so long ago that Batman and Robin dropped a huge, wet, fart on the Capeflick industry so to see such vibrant color and unapologetic camp, run roughshod across a theatrical screen so soon, was really something special. Not so much the awkward, very comic book faithful nature of the film, but the fact everything worked so well. The look of the costumes, the saturation of vibrant color, and even the very PG rated violence; All of it came together to give this film a very distinct feel, one that the MCU would kind of mimic throughout their first two Phases before settling in on their own style. I remember hating the Goblin costume the first time i saw it but it definitely grew on me as time went on and, near twenty years later, revisiting this flick, it’s hard to argue against it being in my top three. I mean, Norman was rocking custom Flightposites while he was giving the Godspeed to Spider-Man. How can i not love this sh*t?

Spider-Man 2 - 2004

I was on such a high, as was the rest of the country, after seeing the first Spider-Man. It was a great, inaugural, outing into a burgeoning franchise but still had it’s problems. As much as i enjoyed Willem DaFoe as the Green Goblin, he hammed that sh*t up to an almost comic degree. You can tell he really, really, wanted to be Joker (and probably should have been at some point) but his Norman became an outlet for that. Again. grew up on Nineties Pete so MY Goblin is more a psychopath than a jokester so that one was a little much. When Raimi announced that his next villain would be Doctor Octopus, i thought it was an interesting choice. Brilliant, but interesting. Doc Ock was the perfect force to help ground this new, very cartoonish, Spider-World and i couldn’t wait to see it. Would this thing be as good as the first? Would it be that elusive sequel which tops it’s predecessor? Would it be just a rehash of the first and objectively sh*t? Spoiler alert, it’s the best of the first three and, arguably, the best Spider-Flick, ever!

Most of the cast returns and delivers another round of solid performances. I really enjoyed the character arc Pete went through, giving up the suit fora time. That iconic scene of the the suit in the trash as awesome to see. Jamison doing Spider things in that deleted scene was even more so. I love the Mary Jane arc in this. She’s not quite a real character but i think it’s the strongest she’s ever going to be in this trilogy. We, uh, we’re definitely going to broach this subject in the entry, for sure. Now, of the main cast, i love where Harry is at this point in life. He hates Spider-Man for “killing” his pops and he hates Pete for choosing the Web Head over him. Harry is spiraling and Franco is doing the absolute best job portraying that. As good as Franco is in his role, the jewel of this film definitely belongs to Alfred Molina’s Otto Octavius. This, to my recollection, is the first time I've ever seen a sympathetic villain portrayed so well. Molina’s Ock is every bit the performances Ledger gave for his Joker and, if capeflicks were taken seriously back then, he would have won Oscar gold. Doctor Octopus in Spider-Man 2 is just that good. Why do you think he’s the focus of all the No Way Home ads so far?

Raimi returns and delivers his magnum opus. For me, this film is the best thing Sam Raimi has ever produced. It really leans into his strengths as a visionary and even dabbles in his love of horror. That seen where Otto wakes up after the arms graft themselves to his back? Absolutely terrifying, shades of that vine assault from Evil Dead. I grew to enjoy the Goblin outfit from the first but i immediately took to this version of Dock Ock with no qualms. It hit all of the notes i never knew it had to. Like, just thinking back on it, Ock stands out like a sore thumb juxtaposed against Raimi’s camp infused Spider-World. All those colors i spoke of before? Yeah, Ock is garbed in browns and backs. His arms are these cold, gunmetal, tendrils, robbed of what little yellow highlights they once had. He rocks these super dark glasses and never once puts on anything resembling his classic green or that white power suit. He’s just in a second hand overcoat and a wife beater. It’s a striking distinction between him and literally everything else in Raimi’s world, something that rally sands out to me.

Spider-Man 3 - 2007

Spider-Man is a tale of two films. I referenced that Raimi’s Pete is probably the Sixties and Seventies version of the character and mine is the Eighties and Nineties. That comes into play with the villain creep. I'll get into that in a second but it’s going to be a sticking point for a lot of fans. Spider-Man 3 is considered the first bomb of the franchise. It is, admittedly, a low point in the Raimi trilogy but that’s not his fault. Up to this pint, Raimi had delivered two, solid, films. They were received with so much fanfare, even DC was scared Pete would overtake their Batman goodwill. That would, in fact, happen later on but not now. Now, Sony stumbled and set the franchise back for the first time by making Raimi shoehorn in Venom. This bloated the run time, threw off character dynamics, and made the film a mess. I still kind of loved it, though.

First thing’s first, the returning cast is probably at it’s weakest here. A lot of that probably has to do with the writing. Raimi really had his back against the wall with all of the characters he needed to account for and our guys get the short end of the stick. Harry’s heel turn was telegraphed in the last film but it’s execution was left wanting. I thought New Goblin was an interesting idea but, come on, how is Harry not Green Goblin II? And that amnesia arc? Come on. The only thing that came out of that was the whole pie scene. That sh*t was hilarious. Not as hilarious as emo Pete. Like, what the f*ck, Raimi? I know you don’t like Venom and a corporate mandate forced him into this film but, come on, man? Why you gotta do Black Suit Pete like that?? The less said about Mary Jane in this, the better. She’s a whole ass walking Damsel trope in this. Any inkling of agency she began to blossom at the end of Spidey 2, shattered any of that. And those are just the main characters! Let’s get into the newbies and the whole ass train wreck those f*ckers were forced into portraying.

So, on paper, i love the i new cast. Bryce Dallas Howard as Gwen Stacy. Topher Grace as Eddie Brock. Thomas Haden Church as Cain Marko. Amazing casting on a pure aesthetic level. Cats were mad Topher got the nod and i get it. He does not look the part of 616 Eddie. That Eddie is built like Schwarzenegger because of the power enhancements the Symbiote gifts. While a lot of the back story and motivation are cribbed directly from 616, this Eddie looks more like the 1610 version Topher is every bit Ultimate Eddie Brock. Most people overlooked that when this flick dropped but Ultimate Eddie had only been around for, like, three years at that point. Considered Raimi had been so faithful to the early years of 616 Pete, it was jarring or a lot of fans when Eric Foreman got to don the Black Suit. What most didn’t know is that Eddie wasn’t even supposed to BE in this film. The script Raimi submitted to Sony only called for Sandman and New Goblin. This would have allowed Raimi to wrap up his characters and their initial arcs before going forward with a Lizard and Vulture sequel. Sony was like, “lol nah” and we got Dumbass as Venom. Which is a shame because Church’s Sandman is dope as f*ck in this, almost as good as Molina’s Doc Ock, and i really liked the look of this Venom. Gwen Stacy is more of a plot device than Mary Jane in this and that’s saying a whole lot.

Sam Raimi hated making this movie and it shows. The writing is nowhere near as tight, the characters are pale imitations of what they were just one film ago, and the overall vibe is one of apathy. Raimi’s Pete, the one he grew up with and loved with all his heart, was the first iteration of the character. The Ditko version. That’s the world he built. That’s the era he wanted to homage. His favorite villain was Sandman. He wanted that character, his version of his favorite character, to punctuate a surprisingly emotional and human tale, wrapped in the webbing of Marvel’s tent pole superhero. And then Sony forced him to wedge in a villain from an era he had no love for, no desire to visit. To Raimi, Venom represented the death of that whimsy, that cartoonish camp, which he held so close to his heart. as an adult, i understand wholeheartedly. I love Venom but even i get how sh*t of a character he is. Dude’s motivation is trash. The only thing going for him is the look and, even then, it’s just evil Spider-Man. As a film maker, that’s got to be the most depressing sh*t to bring to the screen, especially after doing Spider-Man so well for half a decade. Spider-Man three is a casualty of studio mandates. Raimi did the best he could with what he had but i would have loved to see what his version of that third film would have been. Ultimately, love these films, even the third one. I think Raimi, Maguire, Dunst, and Franco put something really special together through three films. Some are stronger than other but, overall, the first Spider-Man trilogy is some of the best cinema to ever be made. Especially in comparison to what immediately followed but I'll save dealing with that “Amazing” time, for an other time.

#Smokey brand Retrospective #Spider-Man #Spider-Man 2 #Spider-Man 3 #Tobey Maguire #Kirsten Dunst #James Franco #Willem DaFoe #Alfred Molina #Thomas Haden Church #Topher Grace

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