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piecesofeden11 · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday - Obianidala

For today's WIP Wednesday, I'm holding myself accountable in that I still owe the last day of the wonderful Obianidala Week event hosted earlier this year! I have half the chapter done already, I just need to get around to finishing the rest! So, to put a little pressure on myself AND to bring some pleasure to ya'll Obianidalas <3 Have a short preview! The last day was a free space and I picked the theme of "United" <3

Cast out from the library, but with plenty of time still to kill until The Evening, Anakin wandered the Temple like a gleeful spectre, creeping out Younglings and Masters alike with the ever present grin he could not seem to wipe off his face.

Tonight was going to be the best night of his life so far, of that he was sure. It had been a long time in the making and when he had first come to terms with the fact, that he felt the same love and desire for his former Master as he did for his gorgeous, beautiful, perfect wife, he had nearly spiraled out of control in panic, certain that he was about to lose everything.

For months, he had carried the burden of wanting, needing Obi-Wan in a way he could barely comprehend, while almost caving under the weight of the guilt he felt towards Padmé. He had shut himself away from both of them, hoping against all odds that the feelings would simply dissipate.

They did not. In fact, they only got stronger, desire fanning into a sense of lust that nearly burned him alive.

Then, on a lovely, balmy summer night, after he had just returned from a month-long deployment and was yearning for nothing more than his wife's arms (and his Master's, too), Padmé had simply asked. Or rather, stated.

"You are in love with Obi-Wan."

Anakin shivered, as he remembered that moment, the sheer terror he had felt, every muscle tensing up with anticipation for the inevitable fallout.

Padmé had simply smiled at him, carded a hand through his hair and said the unthinkable.

"Then you should tell him so."

Anakin remembered that moment just as well. He had gaped at her like a Fingerlip Garpon, forgotten how to breathe for several seconds even. Even when she had proceeded to reassure him that she saw no great issue in him loving two people equally and informing him that such arrangements were not uncommon on Naboo, he had thought he was dreaming, or worse, dying.

Padmé's approval, encouragement even, had been one thing. Actually going through with it and confessing his feelings to Obi-Wan had been quite another. It had taken him two more month and a near-death experience to finally blurt out the words and, in a moment of absolute panic, go so far as to simply kiss his Master.

Anakin remembered that moment just as well, the seconds ticking by as he danced on a knife's edge of elation and fear, while Obi-Wan's perfect, warm, soft lips remained still under his own.

For a moment, he had been absolutely certain that he had ruined everything, after all, when suddenly, he had been pulled forward by the hips, a large, calloused hand encircling his neck, as Obi-Wan had proceed to kiss him senseless.

They had had a long, thorough conversation about a lot of things after that, about feelings and arrangements and expectations and boundaries and it had left Anakin reeling a bit with the sheer enormity of it all.

The most terrifying moment, however, had been when Anakin had confessed about his marriage, to which Obi-Wan had only raised one perfect eyebrow and said, in the dryest tone imaginable: "You don't say."

Since then, Anakin's life had been pretty much perfect. He was still married to the most amazing woman in the galaxy, while also getting to be with his incredible Master and for a while he had been content with dividing his time between his two lovers.

Then, a week ago, Padmé had planted an idea in his head, dangling the possibility of a new arrangement in front of him, that would involve all three of them. Obi-Wan had, to Anakin's great surprise and relief, agreed quite readily.

They had decided on having dinner at Padmé's apartement first and then see where the evening would lead them. Anakin certainly hoped it would lead them to a large, comfortable bed and as little clothing as possible.

Oh, he was SO ready for the evening to arrive.

#wip wednesday #my writing #obianidala #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #padmé amidala #fanfiction #my wips #obianidalaweek2023

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tamtam-go92 · 4 months

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Hey there and excuse me for just disappearing on everybody. I was having... quite the time over the last month or how long I haven't been here. Let's just say, I wasn't in a very good health, mentally speaking.

As I already said, the health of my parents has been greatly declining this last year, to the point that I feared I might lose them. Luckily they both are on a good path and I'm looking optimistically into the future.

The thing is, now my partner was diagnosed with a very bad high blood pressure. I know, this usually isn't a thing to be too worried about, it's well treatable. Yet it was the last straw and I just snapped. He's was on very heavy medication, since the blood pressure was really critical and the medication took it's toll on all aspects of our live. As I sometimes mentioned, my partner usually works the night shift, not always but sometimes he works them for like six weeks in row. Now he isn't working since December 6th. And he probably won't return to the night shifts ever again. Aside from them financial cut this means, those are a factor, but we'll manage. I'm really afraid what this turn of events will do to our relationship.

I'm a person that needs a lot of me time, almost all my hobbies require me to be on my own and for me to have my piece. The last month has been... challenging to say at least. I really love my partner, but our secret has always been, that we value the time we have together, as we don't have that much free time together. Now he's always there, when I'm at home too and I somehow can't go on about my hobbies as I used to.

I know, it will get better once he goes back to work (Jan 15.) but from now on we'll probably be out of the house for the same time and at home at the same time and honestly I don't know how to deal with that. Tonight I'm alone at home as he decided to go to the gym with a friend (doctor said he needs to lose weight).

I really hope he'll get a smaller dose of medication soon as those high dosed drugs really don't do him any good. He's not the same since taking them... It's interfering with out want to found a family this year.

I just went through such a shitty time this year and I was hoping things are going to be better but apparently somebody up there (or down there) really hates me... My doctor diagnosed a high-functioning depression due to the stress and all the burdens that were on my shoulders those past months. I'm slowly getting better but I'm still not feeling they way I did before. I feel guilty for not being able to care for my parents the way they deserve so strangers have to look after them. It costs their money, not mine, just because I'm to weak to handle the situation.

And I want a baby? Really, someone as weak as me? I really want a family, I'm just so afraid I will feel as overwhelmed as I do now for the rest of my life. What if my partner never gets better and has to take this medication for the rest of his life? The doctor says not to worry, everything's looking good, the high blood pressure can be a late symptom of an influenza or corona infection and will probably go away. Loosing weight will help enormously. But I'm still afraid.

I'm afraid of my parents untimely decline in health. I'm afraid for my own health. I'm just paralyzed by all those thoughts in my head. I don't know why I'm writing all this down here. Nobody will read a text as long as this. But sometimes it helps to shout my thoughts into the void.

I actually just wanted to say Hi! I'm still alive. I'll continue posting Sims stuff. Actually I'm currently throwing stuff into my queue. I've lost some pictures due to me being stupid and a noob, and I know there are ways to get them back but I'm too exhausted to try. It might be important screenshots, but I'll just summarize to you what happened. New Somerset posts are just around the corner.

Hope you'll enjoy them and I hope you had a great start into this new year. Lots of love and take care!

#tam talks #personal stuff #like really personal #might delete later #non sims #yet somehow sims - a little #mental health #sorry

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shyprincessthoughts · 8 months

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Well, I woke up very this morning after consuming another massive meal before bed. I was very stuffed last night before bed. Everything was packed in nice and tight and legitimately one bite away from rolling into the sickness zone. But I didn't like the good greedy girl I am, I took my belly filled with an enormous 28-oz steak straight to bed for the relaxing to begin. I did not get up after that point. I fell asleep at some point, only to wake up feeling things starting to lose up. Only 1.75 hours later. In my mind, there is no way I could have been able to digest or even begun to digest that much food that fast. So I decided to roll over and go back to sleep before my brain caught on and kept me up the rest of the night.

Now in an effort to help me keep an eye on what I am consuming i downloaded that diet diary ap thingy. I also put a step counter on my phone so that I could be more accurate at the end of my days and see where I am headed and if it is in the right direction. Now here is the first confusing thing. It restarts the count at midnight. How is it that by 8am I have over 180 steps already? I know I get up to use the facilities, but it is legit maybe 10 steps from my bedroom? I am not too worried a out caloric wastage there because 182 steps is only 16.7 calories, but 182 steps is just unreal considering when I went to sleep the idea of 2 steps was 2 too many.

My bigger confusion though. My big round drum of a belly ball. It feels loose, but I still feel full. It has deflafed considerably, i did a full poke, grab and giggle test. It's definitely ready for more. but when I stadted to move around a bit it is definitely a lot heavier than usual. Curiousity got me so got up and stuffed myself into my do nothing weekend pants it really feels a lot weightier. I feel hungry again, I mean my belly is barking at me quite loudly. Gurgles and grumbles galore, but my appetite is not quite there yet. I know if I put my mind to it I could fill it back up, but I also know enough that I still need a bit of time. But back to the curious part. I stole the scale from my feeder and weighed myself 3 times to confirm. I have gone DOWN 2.2lbs on the scale. I ate 2.2lbs of food just before bed??!!

What the heck is happening here? Are all my efforts in vain? Or am I just still having a steak fever dream and should go back to bed and just rest some more? I want to get my one errand of buying new pants over before the mall gets too busy.

Maybe I am just stressing about how many sizes up I will need to go into order to be comfortable at home and work. I found out that my old brand of jeans has added a proper plus sized (I hate that word) line all the way up to size 30, so I may be spared from maternity shopping. But the mall has since opened up another shop that could also probably have my correct sizes, too. I have come to realize that it has been over 7 years since I last bought a pair of jeans. I have to do a full new set of measurements because the size I think that still fits me really doesn't and I don't just want more of the same issue I have now.

Maybe shopping while a little stuffed is the safest option? It is not like I am not going to put more weight on. Perhaps I should buy 2 pair at the right size and one a little bigger for my "fat days" even though I think they are gonna be more like my perfect fit goals.

Wow, deep thoughts for this hungry, but not hungry, stuffed but not stuffed, round but feeling deflated girl. There is definitely something happening in there. I just don't know what. I got out of breath making the bed, and now I can't get up from my current position in bed because I fell into one of my divets. Ugh. It's a good thing I brought some snacks so I could get this all out. If I get back to fully stuffed again. I can just roll like a ball out of bed... right?

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siriuslytproblem28 · 2 months

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upon finishing past lives

okay, so, as the final credits of past lives showed upon my laptop at around 4AM last night, i felt a giant urge to simply sit and write. i didn't do it right then, deciding to let the feelings and thoughts simmer for a while longer. then, i decided to read the reviews on letterboxd and came across a beautiful story. i went to bed promising myself to go back to what i wanted to write, so as not to lose momentum which is a very big motivator for me. otherwise, i'd simply let the moment slip and this is most definetely not something i wanted to happen with this beautiful piece of media.

i was opening my notes app rn and then decided to write here, for some reason. i've often been feeling the need to share some of my experiences with narrative fiction here, since i started with posting only about jegulus fics, but ended up talking about a movie or whatever. since no one reads here, it's basically my journal and my archive. i have terrible memory so i love to have all kinds of records and archives for things that moved me.

after this enormous introduction, let's talk about past lives.

i had such huge expectations after seeing one of the people in whose opinion i trust the most having loved it, and the general vibe i felt seeing the promo pics and the poster (i just don't like watching trailers for movies), that as i pressed play i was afraid it might turn to disappointment. what i wasn't expecting was the extent it actually surppassed the meeting of them, becoming most definetely my favorite movie i watched for the award season (very late in the game, i know).

something about it felt so familiar and yet so intriguing, i loved the pacing and the dialog. but especially the subtext. i've seen some reviews talking about how much they felt a lack of connection on a deeper, personal level, and my experience watching it could not have been more different.

not all parts of it clicked immediatey with me, i've later read reviews from people who immigrated to the US and realized i totally missed some details about this particular aspect, being a brazillian who never left Brazil. Though i think that, as a latina, there are some cultural aspects that i could absolutely relate to, probabbly from the perspective of a non north american and that was really interesting.

i don't wanna dwell much on the technicalities of the movie, though i believe it so beautifully shot and placed, i loved how much the scenarios add to every frame that appears on screen, the meaningfullness of the backgrounds that add to the subtext. Which is exactly the point i want to dwell on: the subtext. For me, it's one of the strongest aspects of the movie. Unfortunately, i haven't had the best experience on watching to analyze the writing properly, since i watched it via the jack sparrow way (it's not available in brazil ok) and the portuguese subs were kind of botched. Still, the content of every single conversation and it's weight was not lost on me. Though sometimes simple, it was always majestically written (and obviously i can detail better my opinions the english parts, the language i do, in fact understand without needing translation) and powerful.

i've had multiple experiences in my life with people that seem to come and go, but when i take a closer look i come to realize they have never really left. so i connected to the story sooo much, i even dreamt about of of my biggest crushes in middle school, and my first love, who i spent my whole adolescence loving and still is one of my best friends.

timing and the passing thereof, has always been a complicated thing for me to deal with. i remember writing about changes and my loathing of them from a very young age. now, in my early adult life, i find myself seeking those narratives more than i did as a kid. still kinda fearing the absence they'll leave inside me, but also yearning for the reflections they might bring.

i was around 12 years old when i watched boyhood. it was probabbly one of the first movies to ever cause me a hint of an existencial crisis. not in a way you'd expect, though. not in a "omg i need to get a career and wtf am i doing", but in a sense of how it portrayed relationships, the passing of time, etc etc.

as i grew older, focusing on the past 3 years, then came normal people and just this last january, before sunrise.

I re-read np in late 2023 as i felt the need to, when i realized i was falling really in love for the first time ever since my first love, which had a hold on me for almost 7 years (and i'm 20, that's a lot haha). i found that, somehow, it had meant even more to me the second time around.

january, this year, i caved in and watched before sunrise. i also had super high expectations but nothing could ever prepare me for what i received. it became one of my favourite movies ever, and it spoke to parts of me that i had either left uncared for.

to me, past lives came and fed that specific part. all of these pieces of media i spoke a lot on, they talk to and help me understand a feeling i've had in my heart ever since i can remember.

i always had a fascination with something i've come up with, to explain basically the foundation of everything i love, in art, in myself, in life, "the unsaid".

my definition of it, is that the unsaid lies within the dialog, the text, the spoken word, the writing itself. in media and in life. it's like subtext, but maybe even deeper. it's the look you give to your best friend across the room. it's the goodbye that gets trapped inside your throat the last time you talk to someone. it's the touch that never reaches itself out. it's the i love you you don't dare to let slip. it's the look you give someone when you stopped kissing them to just look at them. it's how your eyes light up whenever you see one of your favorite persons in the world. it's when you stop in your tracks in the middle of a party and gaze at your friends, and realize that life can be, in deed, beautiful, and how lucky you are. it also kinda relates to frances ha definition of what she looks for in a relationship, that really stuck with me.

i live for the unsaid. either be it in the art i consumme, or how i experience it in my life. it's what makes existing worth anything, personally. as past lives dialogs sm with this notion. all the scenes where hae sung and nora don't say a word to each other, their look speak millions. that reminded me of one of my favourite scenes from before sunrise, the famous booth scene. in all of the above, i sat unsable to shake a small laughter, or maybe a sly tear, in response to the volume of what was being communicated there.

i consider myself really lucky with the people i have in my life and this movie spoke to this, too. i have a childhood best friend who remains close to me, a sister, really, for over 10 years. i have another childhood friend, who was my first big crush and baby love i ever had, who i used to think i was gonna marry and have children with, to the extent i have drawings of it, still be my best friend to this day. i have friend since middle school, who i fell deeply in love with at the tender age of 13 and who remained my muse very well util my 19th year of being alive, and she was my first girlfriend, the first girl i kissed, and remains my best friend. i've also been lucky to experience such a short but beautifully loving experience with a close friend i made in college, in the latter part of 2023. i haven't really gotten over him, but it's fine, cause ever since watching before sunrise, i realized i had multiple - and i can't believe i'm refferencing tfios in the year of the lord, 2024 - infinities with. though i had grieved what seems to be the ending of our never named, never labelled, situationship, and i still feel a lot of things for him, i've become gratefull for having experience such interesting and soul touching things with him. for opening myself up for it. for admiting my feelings to him. for the leap of faith i took, even if i ended up stranded or hit by rocks at the bottom of the cliff. i'm grateful it happened, even if i still cry about it and have written many songs for him. no matter how long it'll take me to get "over" him, i'll live. and i'm happy it happened. he's become one of my favorite people in this life and this is something i don't say lightly and don't take for granted.

i think to me, the "meaning of life", is to collect this feelings and experiences that turn you into the person you are at the moment. i have no idea of who i'd be without all my influences. i've written mysel, but i was only able to, with the refferences and quotes of every friend i had, every person i loved, everyone who became my family or stopped being it. maybe it's my cancer moon and venus. but i'm really nothing more than a mosaic, a reflection of every single person present in my life (real or parassocial), a collection of words, spoken or not.

and yeah, i barelly spoke directly on past lives, but it's what i always tend to do anyways. i'm not here to make a detailed runthrough, analysis over the cinematography and the script, i might be an acting major but i lack the knowledge (or maybe just doubt i do). but this is, still, my journal, to track my experiences and thoughts. so that's what i did. and i don't think, at least right now, that this movie can really fit into aything i could try to say.

#past lives #celine song #before sunrise #you dream in a language i can't understand #left unsaid #in-yun #this is not a review

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ast1lb3 · 7 months

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[while digging for screenshots I also found this! i present you with a bit of cringe and a bit of pride two-part monologue written in the middle of february. please, be kind and remember that english is my second language and I am mostly self-taught]

Oh, don't pretend to be so holy. You know how it goes. The tiny closet-like apartment, an enormous student loan, and then a corpo internship suggests a clear way to the top. Of course, I say yes to Arasaka. After all that dirt I was forced to live in, why shouldn't I? Your petty morals are not my concern. There are no good or bad people, only those who win and those who lose. And for a while, I've been proving myself victorious. Jenkins pulled me out of Washington's outskirts somewhat six years ago and threw me right in the eye of the storm instead. So just like that, I became a promising bright protege. Accompanied him all around NUSA from one hotel to another until we were finally set for NC. Arthur was no fairy godmother saving another insolvent Miss Nobody. Hell, no fucking way he did it out of grace. I was a useful intelligence asset, a handy tool picked and groomed with caution, and a pretty doll to go with at cocktail parties. Arthur had a good eye for details like that, but it could never save him. Gonk got what was coming for him, that's the rules we play by. He lost the war with Abernathy, he paid for it. I was bound to drown miserably by his side. I wasn't allowed any famous last words in this matter. Unfair. A year or two more, and I would gladly snap Arthur's neck in two by myself. Never liked the way he looked at me anyway.

But I am not complaining. No, it was a good life until it wasn't. Without Arasaka HQ... Well, Night City had nothing for me to offer. But there was nothing and no one left to miss in Washington either, so I stayed. Family? Bitch, please. The heartbroken mother of mine still nurturing my older brother's nasty kids. I bet Garret himself is still nurturing the gambling addiction that got him wasted in the first place. It's not a support, it's a dead weight I am happy to leave behind. The rest of Delacroix's proud noble family are welcome to suffocate in their own shit. I won't be there for them, I know better for myself.

Jackie's case was a completely different story, though.

When we first met, I treated him like an instrument. The merc was not even human to me, just a gun pointed at whatever the fuck I needed. From my point of view, it was a painfully familiar and comfortable way of dealing with people. But Jackie himself? Guy looked at a corpo middlewoman with a resting bitch face and thought he just made a brand new friend. Stupid, but... adorably stupid, y'know? There was no need to say how wrong he was, so I decided to play along. I thought to myself, what harm could some hangouts with local barbarians possibly cause? So, a day after Jackie's first gig as brute power for my cause, he gave me a call and offered a beer at the El Coyote Cojo. I, being a City Center spoiled brat, didn't even know there was a bar like this. And Jackie Welles barely knew me, barely got paid after fixer's cutout, and was this fucking close to catching a bullet in my place. So I ordered a taxi, found something more or less casual in my wardrobe, braved myself, and went for that goddamn beer. If nothing, the evening promised to be an exotic change of pace.

And to make this retrospective a proper one, some context needs to be addressed. In this chapter of my life, I've lived in Night City for half a year. As a foreigner, I didn't know a single soul outside of the corporation's walls, simply didn't think I needed to. In the meantime, all of my honored colleagues tried to act like apex predators, and barely anyone was successful. I myself at least knew where I belonged in a food chain. Making acquaintances wasn't a top priority on my to-do list, being on my own was a safer option. But you can't trick human nature for long, loneliness has started to sting under my skin. I guess, it showed. Jackie saw those hollow insides of mine for sure, but instead of finishing me, he chose to help. Even more, over the years he lost more than he gained from my presence, and yet still cherished our relationship with such care and love. It amazed me as much as it scared me. Ugh, I once said out loud that I manipulated him into thinking I was a good person. It could be a refined gesture of honesty, it could be just a hangover. Doesn't matter either way, 'cause he laughed it off and called me a gonk. We have never spoken of it ever again. What else could I say? It isn't hard to see the worst in people. I mean, no need for second glances to know I am full of shit. The world is overflown with mistakes, regrets, and blood spilled for nothing. Fuck, Night City is ugly and repulsive even for those who managed to crawl to the top. But not for Jack, no. He had a true passion for life and a heart of gold fueling it. Did what needed to be done, said what needed to be said. Not the brightest of minds, of course, but being street-smart worked well for Jackie. He never allowed any doubts to creep in, or any fears to stop him. Proud son of Heywood who ditched the Valentinos not out of cowardice, but for a promise of a better life. A truly unique human being so full of hope he was.

So when the time finally came, I ordered a taxi, found something black in my wardrobe, braved myself, and went to El Coyote Cojo. For one day Jackie Welles was a true hero, a living legend capable of everything. And yet payback is inevitable. He did catch a bullet in my place after all, it just took him five full years.

#cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk v #my writing #ch: vesper delacroix

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thornescratch · 2 years

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Hi! I’m really curious about the ‘I want to understand you, I study your obscure language’ one for the wip thing!

Ooof. So I don't really like Sidney Crosby, for a series of reasons that we won't get into because some of them come down to petty geographical sports reasons, and some of them come down to petty fandom reasons, but I have friends who do like him and I guess also tumblr followers as well, so I try to not be... awful or obvious about it. I used to be much worse! He's slightly more tolerable for me now that the Caps have a Cup.

It's honestly, like, only 500 words from being complete. I just keep putting it off. I’m kinda-- I can deal with fictional Crosby (and to be fair, fictional Ovechkin is also easier to deal with over real Ovechkin) but I worry that my attitude towards him bleeds through the writing, so I tend to second guess myself a lot while writing him, on if I’m being fair or not.

Anyway, the fic itself is quite short, and grew out of a double drabble request someone asked of me some years back and I think the prompt was something like Crosby and Ovechkin and conversations. The title is from a line of Pushkin poetry and it’s (supposed to be, anyway) relevant to their actual conversations. And so it was two very short little pieces about them and each other's voicemails, and I always thought it was sorta missing something. So then I figured, oh, thematically, there should be a closing scene where they talk in person. But what are they talking about? And, well it just happened on its own.

But there's something different about this, in a way. And then he knows, and Jesus fucking Christ, holy fucking shit. This is going to piss off so many people. This is amazing. Alex is actually kind of unable to talk from the sheer delight of it.

But as the silence drags on, Sidney looks even more agonized, and the dull flush of red starts creeping down his neck as well. "So, yeah. I know things are sometimes weird but. Even so. I guess I could have handled some things different, like better. But I can, I mean. In the future.

"If you want," he adds when Alex still doesn't say anything.

"With me," he tacks on after that, like Alex actually needs the clarification.

"Oh my God," Alex says blankly, still marveling over the hilariousness of it all. "Sidney Crosby, you love me. Like, in love with me."

And he starts to laugh his ass off.

Sid blinks and then makes the exact same pissy expression that he does whenever he loses a faceoff, which isn't an sight Alex usually gets to see this close up—he's usually been off to the side and watching the way Nicky takes the draw, while hoping for a one timer chance—but he almost can't focus on enjoying the look on Sid's face because he's still too busy being consumed with the enormous glee of it all.

"Yeah, well," Sid says grumpily, when Alex doesn't stop laughing like a maniac. "I thought you should know."

"I knew," Alex says, still wheezing.

"I thought I should tell you, though," Sid says. "You. I just. Thought I should say it."

"Oh," Alex says, "good," and then he swallows the last of his laughter down in a hiccup, so he can crowd in close, then reach out and touch the little furrow line between Sid's eyes; it smooths out under his finger. "I'm glad you did."

"Yeah?" Sid asks, eyebrows raised, still a little stiff and defensive.

"Well, you don't say it like I think you gonna say it, but you say it Sidney way," Alex says. "That's okay, that's best way, actually."

"Oh," Sid says. He frowns. "Uh. I guess we can do the classic thing. I love you. Is that better?" He shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I could, like, go down on one knee, I guess."

"It's good too," Alex says. "Actually, yeah, I want one knee." A thought occurs to him as Sid is in the process of going to one knee. "Oh my God, you already got a ring too, yeah?"

"What?" Sid says, frozen halfway down, and then looks shifty. "No, I don't have a ring on me."

Alex stares hard at Sid, runs that through his head, considers everything he knows about him, and then he starts laughing in helpless joy again. "You do, though. I bet you already buy a ring. Maybe not here, but I bet you got ring hiding, like, in sock drawer."

Sid looks grumpy again and stands up, arms crossed over his chest. "I wouldn't store anything valuable in my sock drawer."

"You got me valuable ring?" Alex says, still hiccupping with laughter. "Ooh. I wanna see."

"I'm keeping it now," Sid says. "I'm gonna take it back to the store."

"You wanna marrrrrry me," Alex croons, and right before Sid can get really pissed off, he swallows as much of his giggling as he can and says, "Okay, yes. Wait, no, you don't ask. Ask. On knee, you gotta do it right. Come on, come on." He gestures and snaps his fingers.

"Okay yes what?" Sid asks. The pissy faceoff loss expression is giving rapid way to more of a confused I just heard a whistle blow and I can't tell if the penalty is on my team or we're about to get a powerplay expression. Hope and dread mixing together in equal parts, and expecting chaos no matter what.

"Ask me," Alex says.

"…right now?" Sid says, still looking like he's trying to recover from the conversational whiplash. "I don't have my notes."

"You don't need notes, you already know I'm gonna say yes," Alex says patiently. He would like to see the ring first, because he prefers classic yellow gold even if everyone's into platinum these days, but Sid is weird and conscientious enough to probably already have a full folder of research on Alex's taste in jewelry and there's no chance in hell he doesn't know that already. Hell, he bets Sid's proposal notes have multiple versions that were specifically calibrated for optimal weighted outcomes based on geography, time of year, day of the week, weather, which of their respective teams won their last game against each other, point standings, and whatever other insane factors Sid thought would possibly affect the answer.

#Anonymous #Alexander Ovechkin #Sidney Crosby #hockey RPF #writing #meme #fanfiction #Washington Capitals

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talesofadragon · 26 days

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𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

Summary: Like the ebb and flow of the tides, matters of the heart prove to be fickle. When love finds itself at a crossroads, each step forward holds the potential to either mend the fractured pieces or shatter the fragile bonds. As the path ahead becomes a dwindling maze of secrets and emotional infidelity, Y/N realizes that some promises need to be shattered for others to be forged anew.

Warnings: bring tissues

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader

Genre: Angst | Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 1.2K

ACT ONE Why am I afraid to lose you when you're not even mine?

Silver Promises Masterlist | All Masterlists

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝, I stood frozen as my boyfriend knelt before me, holding my possible fate in his hands—a velvet box cradling a bright emerald set in a silver band.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. Tears hovered on the brink of my lashes as thoughts whirled tumultuously in my mind.

Draco's smile remained unwavering, the hope in his intense gaze growing with each passing moment, oblivious to the inner turmoil consuming me.

"Will you marry me?" he had asked a minute ago, or perhaps it was five—I couldn't tell. Time seemed to elude me, slipping away faster than I could grasp.

I struggled to form a coherent response, my mind overwhelmed by the weight of his words.

Will you marry me?

Will you marry me?"

The question echoed relentlessly, each repetition more piercing than the last.

As if his piercing gaze wasn’t enough, I suddenly felt thrust onto a stage, a spotlight illuminating me, exposing me to the scrutiny of countless eyes.

Hesitation flooded through me, my veins pulsating with uncertainty. I was trembling uncontrollably. There was no other way to explain how everyone around me could sway so violently.

My eyes darted between the shocked yet hopeful faces surrounding me—each look weighing heavily on me. Draco's parents stood together, his mother's shining eyes and exuberant smile challenging me, while my parents' expressions told a tale of contrasting emotions—a mother's joy and a father's reticence.

Pansy, my closest friend, who felt more like a sister, regarded me with an inscrutable look in her eyes. Was it empathy? Anticipation? Perhaps even fear?

She quickly averted her gaze, prompting me to follow her line of sight until I found him.

An involuntary whimper escaped my lips as the enormity of the decision I was about to make settled over me like a heavy blanket.

Theodore, my best friend of thirteen years, my first kiss, my first love, stood before me with a forced smile plastered on his face, and I cursed our ability to read each other like open books.

His tight-lipped smile clashed with the iron grip he had on his goblet of fae wine. If I didn’t know any better, I'd say the chalice was ready to explode from the pressure of his fingers. Despite the curt nod he gave me, the crease between his eyebrows betrayed his inner turmoil. His clenched fists were hidden in his pockets, and the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

The fear lurking in his dark hazel eyes was unmistakable even in the dead of the night.

A gentle yet suffocating grip on my hand pulled my attention away from him and back to the question I dreaded answering.

“Darling, what do you say?” Draco's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts.

How could I say no?

How could I refuse my boyfriend, who had put so much thought and love into this moment, who had gathered our families and friends to surprise me? How could I break his heart?

A salty taste on my lips signaled that tears had escaped.

‘But how do you say yes?’ a voice inside me whispered. ‘You're accustomed to kissing his warm lips, but have you grown accustomed to the emptiness that follows, the absence of fireworks that should ignite your heart?’

Am I ready to say yes? Am I ready to feel his lips roaming outside the boundaries of my own, exploring my face and tracing the outline of my body?

Theodore. The thought of him swept into my mind, bringing memories of that foolish kiss we shared when we were fifteen during that ridiculous game we coerced ourselves into at Hogwarts.

My gaze shifted from Draco to my best friend, and suddenly, it all came rushing back to me like a violent wind. The warmth of his lips, the tenderness of his touch, the magic in his eyes, and the fluttering in my heart.

I remembered growing up with Theodore—our jokes, our pillow fights, our Quidditch matches, and our midnight broom rides beneath the stars. It felt like every moment we shared was etched into my memory.

"Y/N, you are the definition of crazy. Bloody hell, how do you always manage to get me into these messed-up situations?" Theodore had tried to sound stern, but his escaping smile gave him away.

"Yeah, maybe I am," I had replied, propping myself up on my elbows after collapsing onto the ground. "But it's not my fault you blindly follow me."

He chuckled and plopped down beside me on the grass. "Yeah." Pausing, he lay back, gazing up at the stars. "That's what happens when you love your best friend too much."

I knew he didn't mean the "I love you"s the way I wanted him to, but deep down, I wished he did.

As I glanced at him once more, I couldn't shake the feeling that he, too, was realizing something—that I might be slipping away and that he never tried to hold me back. Perhaps, he regretted not holding me back.

Memories crashed over me, accompanied by an onslaught of voices in my head, each one clamoring for attention.

My mother's voice echoed, praising Draco and insisting he'd bring me happiness. His parents' joyous declarations welcoming me into their family mingled with my father's urging to give Draco a chance, citing Theodore's apparent lack of admission to feelings towards me. According to him, it was time to "live up to the expectations of our family's last name and preserve our lineage."

Then came Blaise's solemn confession, "They’re my best friends, and I never want to choose between them. So, I can imagine how it is for you. But Draco doesn’t love you like Theo does. Not in the way you or he thinks."

Amidst the senseless chatter of my friends extolling Draco's virtues, Pansy swore that Theodore and I had harbored love for each other all along, too afraid to admit it aloud. And Theodore. His absence in the conversation was deafening, yet his presence weighed heavily on my mind.

I wanted to flee, but I was trapped within the confines of my own body.

I longed to scream, but the cacophony of voices drowned out my own.

I yearned for Theodore's touch, but Draco's grip felt like it was tearing me away from my thoughts, pulling me back to reality.

"I—" The word hung in the air, barely escaping my lips. I could have sworn Theodore's grip on his goblet tightened for a moment, but the tears welling in my eyes made it difficult to see clearly.

My knees gave out beneath me, and my heart followed suit, the world fading into piercing screams as my eyes rolled backward and my body braced for an impact that never came.

Instead, I found myself enveloped in someone's arms, their scent of musk and berries flooding my senses, a stark contrast to Draco's familiar fragrance. Instinctively, I nestled closer, tightening my grip around my savior's neck as they whisked me away, their whispered words a soothing melody I couldn't quite decipher.

His embrace tightened as I caught fragments of his reassurance, "You're safe, little sprite. I've got you."

At that moment, there was no one else I wanted beside me, holding me, touching me. As he gently laid me down on the silky sheets of what I presumed to be my bed, his warm breath carried the lingering scent of fae wine, further intoxicating my senses.

And it was then that my heart knew the answer long before my mind could comprehend it.

No, Draco. I can't marry you.

Hi witchlings!! This baby has been sitting in my drafts for two years! I toyed with the idea, with no set protagonists in mind, but I find that this fits our favorite Slytherin boys perfectly. This fic is going to be a two-shot, with possible outtakes/extras if anyone is interested in diving more into this love triangle's story.

Hope you liked it!

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Draco Taglist: @imabee-oralizard @ameliaphoenix @arcana-greenleaf @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @ye0nvibezzn

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thoughtsofasentientbeing · 7 months

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I decided to share my notes whenever I write something about my journey through overcoming my ed and depression plus other issues

I think it will be the best thing for me to share my thoughts , and hope that if someone has ever had this thoughts feels a little understood and mostly that they are not the only ones going through something and that they are not alone.

This is from a year ago:

I started to vomit a few months ago it all started because I ate too much one day and I felt that the food got stuck in my throat so I drank water, a lot of water and then I tried to vomit. I felt I could finally do it you see, because before that, it was really weird for me to vomit like I really rarely did it so I felt kind of Happy because I no longer felt like I was stuffed or too full so I was like "oh this is huge I could eat a lot if I drink a lot of water because it helps the food go out way easier" and that was the start of everything actually it was just the start of my vomiting because this has started months, no even years, like it's like vomiting was the last straw, most of the time didn't eat breakfast just ate lunch and then dinner I didn't eat a lot or I would like live off my lunch, then there were a lot of days where I started binge eating it like I ate half my lunch and then I would later eat lot of dinner or I would eat a lot at lunch and cup of tea for dinner

I sometimes just ate snacks and junk food instead of lunch, I tried to sleep till late so I didn't have to eat breakfast you know I always looked at myself in the mirror and photos I didn't feel comfortable taking photos of myself, there's a short periods of time where I felt comfortable taking photos just when I feel like I was size a smaller skinnier or just like I lost weight I would feel like all my clothes looked way better on me but I still didn't felt skinny enough, my family didn't help at all because every time they saw me they're like

"you've gotten fatter,

this kind of clothes you shouldn't use,

your cousins would wear better so just give it to them,

or wow that fat, cellulitis and stretch marks are looking awful on you,

you know at your age I was never that fat,

because you're getting fat and look at those arms look, your legs, that bellyfat,

are you even doing exercise?

are you even taking care of yourself?

you shouldn't eat anymore,

you shouldn't eat more,

no you can't ask for more,

no you can have seconds,

no you should eat less,

no you should have a small portion,

No your mom told me you can't eat this/order this

no waitress / no waiter she won't jave that

you should order something healthier

No you can't have those clothes because they won't fit you

You are embarrassed because it doesn't fit right

a size 34 or 32? your cousins they are a 28

When I see myself in those pictures I just see how big I am, I'm fat enormous, my thighs, my forearms my arms, my double chin, my side profile, I just feel so big and then there's those times when I start losing weight and I feel better with myself but because the people around me are pressuring me so much like

oh you're losing weight but you got still got a long way to go

you have a long way to go to 10 kg more

you know lose more kilos and you're you'd be perfect

oh you still can't eat a lot of those things

you know try to exercise

I actually don't see you make you put the effort

I see you and you dont have the will

You are just using your depression as an excuse for eating

You are eating a lot this days, you are going to relapse

I just touched your back rolls and your belly so you know about the fat up there

Look at yourself don't you feel bad that you can't fit your clothes

Most of this phrases my mom told me at the time I made that note to this day, it's difficult to overcome this, I want to lose weoght yeah, but mostly because of my health and because I miss doing some activities I cant do now, my depressions made me relapse again this year and because I'm no longer taking medicine it feels so horrible when I'm alone, at the same time univerity hase occupied so I'm not alone with the horros in my head for too long, but tbh I have to overcome this , I just want to be happy and at peace and get rid of this horrible thoughts about myself

#ed #tw disordered eating #tw eating issues #disordered eating mention #deppressed #depression #bingedisorder #bingeandpurge #mental illness #mental heath support #actually mentally ill

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klinemcknight40 · 1 year

Text

Atkins Diet The Flaws

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#Vidapur CBD Gummies

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slutabed · 3 years

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#tw: body image #tw: eating disorders #oof I knew I’d been gaining weight lately and I’ve been trying not to weigh myself #and working from home was fine bc I was just in sweats all day LOL #and now my work clothes are mostly fine except the pants that didn’t fit bc things aren’t cut to be so form fitting for work #but I went out with my brother and his wife last night and we took pictures #and fuck I look horrible #and it’s not even just size like there are people bigger and smaller than me who look amazing #it’s just my body I look fucking horrible and misshapen and awful #and my perception of myself is so off bc I thought I looked okay recently #but like last year I thought I was enormous when I was losing weight to the point that my ex was like ‘where did you go??’ when he saw me #like pre-pandemic I was just disappearing and I wish I could’ve seen that and appreciated it lol #bc now I look fucking awful and then I saw some family today for a socially distanced bday celebration #and in the pictures #god I hate it so much #it’s like everything about me is just wrong #skin hair face eyebrows body #i can’t hide behind filters in real life and without them I truly look like a monster I don’t even look human #and you’d think I’d be old enough by now to not care about looks!!! looks shouldn’t be important!!!#except I’ve been skinny and bigger and I’ve been cute & blonde and I’ve been whatever I am now #and people fucking treat me differently based on how I look and it’s awful to know now I’m back in the ‘doesn’t deserve respect’ category #I’ll delete this I just #it’s always harder to be bigger in the summer bc clothes are smaller and it’s hot and I’m just uncomfortable in my skin all the time #I want to be swaddled in at least three layers of clothing and blankets at all times

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ticketstomydaydreams · 3 years

Text

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

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aizawasbedtimestories · 3 years

Note

Hades!Aizawa x Persephone!reader?

Uff, I love greek mythology! Enjoy!

»—————————–—————————–

There was a different feeling to it, as you two roamed the colorless gardens of the Underworld this time.

Even if this was your favorite place in his domain, Aizawa only ever saw you plant new greens into the earth here bitterly. As soon as they left the tender care of your hands, sought in the last touches you gave to them after setting them into the dirt, they’d wither away, turn black and brown, and finally, to ash. Times and times again, Aizawa told you to keep your expectations low as you brought back more plants from your mother’s domain. Yet, every time, you were bitterly disappointed to have one die again.

But not this time. This time, it would be different, and he made sure of it.

It felt like forever since your last visit, the spring rolling around quicker than he anticipated. Besides work, you were the only thing in all the worlds that could keep him company, yet, he feared to have neglected you once again that winter. And once you were gone, you were gone; there was nothing he could do to change that.

All the more he treasured your return, your arms wrapped around his as you strolled through the Underworld’s garden. You weren’t scared to die from touching him. You weren’t even afraid to suffer by his hands. Even if the Underworld wasn’t a domain you could get accustomed to, you loved him, and Aizawa loved you, more than anything he ever possessed. No riches, no duties, no family could ever mean as much as you did to him. But it pained him even more that he couldn’t give you what you needed, while you gave up everything for six months every year just to be with him.

“It’s peaceful,” you admitted, taking a deep breath. “There was a lot of work this year. A lot of fields, great harvest, sunshine all the way.”

Yes, you didn’t want to hurt him with your words, but he knew that you loved your work even if you welcomed the break you were permitted. You were like a flower yourself, but for six months, you’d wither down here, leaned to an old, dead tree as Aizawa was.

“And I am glad to be with you again!” This time, you looked up at him as you spoke, eyes sparkling and a smile as happy as you could be. In truth, it was only ever him who worried and fretted. When you were with him, and when you were gone, Aizawa couldn’t let go of his regrets that he took the person he loved the most from the place you belonged and thrived in.

Yet, taking your hand to his lips, he kissed it, putting all his feelings into the affection before replying, “And I cherish your return.”

It was such a courteous gesture, but it made you smile even more, and he felt his heart swell with affection at that, leading you further and further into the gardens. True, they weren’t as vast as the ones on earth, but he hoped you’d notice the change. As you two walked on, you’d occasionally reach out, your hand brushing through the branches and petals that aligned next to the path, and soon enough, Aizawa had to cover his mouth to hide his grin as your brows furrowed.

“Did this all grow from the seeds I scattered?” you asked, confused as you found your garden full of flowers and plants you had never planted and never seen before. “Not quite,” he chuckled, and you turned to him full of curiosity, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“You see...” he mumbled, dropping your arm slowly in favor of reaching for your hand to pull you along. “I did some gardening in the few times I was resting, and that’s the outcome,” Aizawa revealed, gesturing over the grounds you were walking through to emphasize what he meant. You gasped, looking around quickly as if you had to take in as much as you could in a short time.

“All of this? That’s... That’s amazing, Shouta!”

“Well...” he replied, unnoticeably flustered by your compliment, and rubbed his chin. “But there’s one thing I really wanted to show you.”

Squeezing his hand, you gave him the go to lead the way, enthusiastically trotting along as he led you to the most center part of the gardens, a newly grown tree sprouting from a plot of sparkling dirt. You made a loud “Wow!” sound as you saw it in its full glory.

“How did you make it grow?” you asked the King of the Underworld, wholly amazed by the miracle. When your hand met its bark, you could feel it breathe in and out like you could feel any plant do, but this time, when you took your hand away, you were surprised to see it wasn’t withering from losing your blessing.

“Took a while,” he admitted as he stepped up to you, laying his hand down against the bark as well. “But I might have found a way to infuse the dirt with ambrosia, and that seems enough to make the plants finally grow, even if--”

Taking a deep breath, he hesitated, looking up at the black leaves, the occasional purple shining in them at best. “They are probably not as pretty as the ones you raise up there.”

“Shouta...” you mumbled, but before you could scold him for putting down the groundbreaking work he did just to compare it with his regret, he surprised you with a smile, catching your attention with his deep, dark eyes you could get lost in for all eternity. “Come, I want to show you the best thing about it.”

Without waiting, Shouta rounded the tree, and you quickly followed, only to find a swing hanging from a thick branch on the back of the tree. He gripped its sturdy ropes as he smiled at you, motioning you to sit, and you didn’t let him ask twice before taking your seat, feeling him push your back to rock it.

Laughing - a rare sound in the Underworld - filled the gardens as you swung back and forth, Aizawa giving you the occasional push and watching the non-existing wind - you two created with your motions - flow through your hair and clothes. There was rarely ever the time for you two to be playful and frolic around like this, and all the more was he overjoyed that he was able to bring this into your lives.

“You must have worked really hard for this,” you thought out loud as you two rested in the underworldly grass growing around the roots of the enormous tree. “I am sure it would have been easier for you,” Aizawa replied, a smile still playing around his lips.

“Why?” you asked, and he looked at you questioningly. “Why did you do it? You never cared much about the garden before.”

For a moment, Aizawa remained silent, his eyes fixating a point far in the distance. “But I care for you. I wanted to make this home for you too. And you are home where there are plants, right?”

Leaning against him, you shook your head slowly. “Wrong,” you corrected him, and he was surprised over the answer. “Home is where my family is. And you are my family, Shouta.”

Kissing the top of your head, he hid the warmth spreading through him and over his pale cheeks from your sight, holding your hand in his tenderly. He knew this moment had to end, but he also knew it wouldn’t have to end right away, so he could enjoy it some more.

Especially now that you had, yet again, lifted some weight off his shoulders, simply by loving him as well.

#Aizawa #Aizawa Shouta #Shouta Aizawa #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha scenarios #bnha fanfictions #bnha imagine #bnha writing blog #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #aizawa x reader #aizawa x s/o #aizawa bnha #Anonymous

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

i remember that you once said something about privateer nesta could you elaborate? please? *shrek cat eyes*

WHO TOLD YOU I AM COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TO THE CAT EYES??

okay, so admittedly I don't remember the context in which I said this?? But I still SUPER super love the idea

and it matches with what we'll call the Dream ACOTAR Extended Universe Plot, almost canon.

We begin with the final battle against Hybern. Tamlin dies, closing the loop of his tragic, misspent life. Amren stays dead, a magical being on to the next adventure.

Rhysand stays dead.

He functionally (magically) threw himself on a bomb, and took the whole blast. He's not the Cauldron- and no one man could repair what it once was, but he could contain the fatal, drastic implosion of an object that was meant to endure forever, fractured into more and more peices.

Why is this important?

Because it leaves a world where Feyre Archeron- twenty-ish, romantic hero, prop, prisoner- becomes High Lady in her own, true right.

(I don't think she's necessarily good at this job, because why would she be? It's not even her fault- Feyre has no idea about how faery politics work, no real tangible knowledge of her own inherited kingdom.)

But both the men who stole her and defined her and loved her and hurt her are dead.

And it not only sets her on a journey to become, on her own, an actual character in her own life, but it galvanizes the Archeron sisters.

Feyre's basically fucking comatose after the battle. Elain has been a mess this entire time, but after that last fight with Grayson, walking into the war and stabbing a king in the throat- she is as vital and herself as Nesta has seen her in years.

Nesta just watched her father die and felt nothing- and she hates herself for it. She and Elain had taken the head of the man who stole everything from them- and she doesn't have a single regret.

Feyre screamed until she could no longer- there's so much magic seething out her it hurts to look at-

There's a dark well inside herself that could rise. But why should Nesta let it? So what, if she doesn't mourn her father? He'd never cared about her and Elain- not when they were young, too busy and important to even speak to his own children. Not when they lost everything, and he'd tried one last time to sell them both into marriages to recoup the family loss. Not after, in the starving cold, no matter what she'd tried to force him into action.

Nesta had been mourning all along a human girls human life- what is an absent, neglectful, shitty in the most ordinary of ways human parent if not a part of that lost future?

Their sister owns a fucking country- their sister is, at this minute so hemmed in by her followers no one can see her, much less comfort her- there's a war camp falling apart around them- there's Nesta, Elain, and Azriel, unhurt, upright, alive.

(she does not let herself think that an hour before she'd been ready to die and thought it right, the ending the meant to be conclusion of her story. she does not think about how she'd wished Cassian healed beneath her hands and that he had healed, that she'd wept to learn she could do more than destroy.

that she'd still been weeping, her mouth bright with his blood, when he'd pulled away, dragged himself to Morrigan's waiting arms)

Nesta Archeron is alive. Her sisters are alive. They're free, and she'll be fucking damned if this all falls apart before Feyre can heal.

Nesta turns to Azriel and asks if he can take control of the legions.

She has no time for his blank, angry eyes- she knows he's hurt, he's mourning, he's lost- but she needs him. Cassian's...down. Rhys is dead. Feyre and Morrigan are not coming out of that tent.

And he just listens. Thoughtfully. Asks what Nesta intends to do.

And Nesta looks at Elain- soft, kind, gentle Elain who'd never once wavered now when life was on the line. Who hadn't cried a tear for their father, or for the man who'd kidnapped and then married their baby sister.

The danger wasn't over- and neither had the steel faded from Elain's spine.

Nesta tells Azriel she's going to find Keir.

Nesta isn't blind- she's walked the Hewn City, spoken to the eldest darkness. She was also at the joke of a Summit- Autumn wants new territory, Keir wants to rule Night. And here Night is, weakened, a lamb to slaughter.

Nesta's not going to lose again- she's not going to give these ancient, cruel lords another chance.

Elain grabbed her hand and squeezed- the one person, always, who Nesta never need explain herself to.

Aren't the High Fae technically Morrigan's Elain asked, a bare whisper as they walked through the camp.

It went without saying yes, but Nesta had never seen any indication they respected her enough to listen to her. She made a face, and Elain made one right back, rueful. She had eyes too, after all.

They're not going to listen to us in these clothes, Elain also told her.

She was right, of course. They were High Fae, and that mattered to those vile pricks, but they'd been outfitted for flight. She would do almost anything, actually, to be free of leather pants.

Which Elain, a gleam in her eye that Nesta was learning meant magic, dreamy and happy- led her precisely to a gold topped tent, stepped inside, bowed, and asked without a trace of hesitation if Helion Spellcleaver, Lord of Day, would perhaps do them the favor of loaning them some garments.

Solid gold eyes gleaming against blood and smoke tinged dark skin, beautiful, glorious Helion, smiled.

Day-white against Night- but also, Nesta knew, taking care with her crown of a braid, the splatter of blood left on her throat, her mouth, her cheeks like fine paint- white was the color of death.

Elain covered herself completely- shawl wrapped over her hair, tucked around her neck, breathing easier now, in human modesty- but hung from a golden belt that Helion, with the clear air of someone who knew something about seers, had found, metal hammered with stars and flames, was Truthteller, the long blade without a sheathe, black metal swallowing up light.

Keir was easy to find, and in fine form, surrounded by Darkbringers, who looped back behind the sisters the second they were close.

Nesta was not afraid- she'd thrown power into the sky and it had hurt. Not in depth, but because she was still holding on- it wanted out-it wanted to devour-

Elain dipped a flagrantly rude, swallow bob of a curtsey. Nesta didn't even bother- just let Keir hail them, royal family that they were. He liked the sound of his own voice, but he was also clever- they'd come here of their own volition and now they were trapped.

She could smell the reinforcements, the utter Autumn reek.

Nesta interrupted, and asked Keir to come and swear fealty to her sister.

It was never going to get the right answer, but it had to be said. It had to be heard.

She'd been right- they'd been right- Keir enjoyed the cruelty of getting close to Nesta, denying straight to her Archeron face that no, Rhysand's bloodline was ended. It was time, it was right, for the House of Truth to once more hold their throne.

He spoke his treason aloud, looming over Nesta- close enough to touch.

So Nesta did.

She'd willed Cassian alive and whole. It was so, so much easier to remember fire, death, drowning, to push and want the revolting man's destruction.

And when he fell, silvered fire that had filled his lungs spilling from his throat, Nesta did not flinch. She looked to the next lieutenant, a frankly indistinguishable golden haired pale-eyed blandly handsome man in black armor, and asked, if he, as the new commander of the Darkbringers, would like to give a different answer.

He did.

Azriel met them halfway back to Feyre, grim mouth flickering for a second at the sight of Elain, before looking, stone-faced, at Nesta beside her, leading a crowd of the highest ranked Night Court faeries she could find.

Keir? He asked.

Dead, Elain answered, and that was that.

The Shadowsinger fell in step with the Seer, a threatening shadow to two pale beacons.

It was Azriel who actually went inside the tent. Who said what needed to said, what made Morrigan splutter loudly enough to be heard outside, before she burst out the tent in a whorl of hair, before blanching.

Nesta had just enough control not to roll her eyes. They come to swear fealty.

And Morrigan, chewing her lip with all the dignity of a child- Elain and Nesta had been trained out of such gestures at eight, what did she think was happening here? - shook her head. She's not well, it can wait.

No, Azriel said, from behind her, it can't.

He was supporting what looked like the entirety of Feyre's weight. Dead-white, blue eyes a blaze, Feyre looked blearily out at all of them like she recognized no one.

Elain, treasure that she was, came forward to take her sister's other hand, whispering both condolence and explanation.

And so the High Houses of Night knelt in battlefield mud, and swore eternal loyalty to the youngest Archeron.

It was only after they were gone that Nesta hugged her sister- hard enough Feyre protested, a fresh batch of tears soaking Nesta's shoulder even before Elain joined them.

It's Azriel, voice a little less like a phantom, who tells Feyre they're handling things. That if she wants to rest more, that's fine.

She was so clearly shattered- Nesta half wondered how much of that Azriel can literally feel/hear with his shadow...things.

Feyre protests that there's things to do- Feyre makes it halfway through a sentence about plans before she says Rhysand's name like he's still alive and collapses in on herself like a wave crashing.

Nesta and Elain tuck Feyre back into the blanket pile. Nesta manages to kiss her forehead before Morrigan is there, hugging Feyre putting herself bodily between the sisters.

They leave, and outside, Azriel is waiting.

To hand Nesta a gaudy, enormous platinum ring. The seal of the Night Court- Nesta recognizes it from shipping manifests, but she'd never actually seen it as an adult. Here, as a faery.

Her thoughts on Azriel's powers hold true, as he answers the dismay: Rhys only used it when he had to. It had passed between the whole Court of Dreams hands, there had not been a vizier, a lord of stars, since the time of Rhysand's father.

Nesta puts on the hideous ring, barely flinching at the brush of magic, it resizing to her hand.

Elain grasps her other, squeezing, and asks Azriel who is next.

They work ceaselessly, pausing only to sleep. Azriel, Nesta is quite sure, isn't sleeping at all- until she goes looking for him with a question and finds him finally, finally out cold, face tucked in Lucien Vanserra's neck.

In silence and gestures, they come to something of an agreement- and when the Night Court comes to the table to talk peace, it's with Lucien. Jurian, who Nesta immediately liked.

By the time they return to the North, there is not a Lord one who does not know the names and nightmarish qualities of all three Archeron sisters.

Feyre mourns, and learns to govern slow. Cassian goes back to Illyria and does not return for a long, long time. Morrigan becomes Feyre's second- Nesta laughs, not altogether kind, when Lucien tells her this. No one has been able to answer her as to why, if Morrigan is so powerful, why did she not fight? what does she actually do?

What answers to her questions she does find are appalling. Why does Winter block our every turn? oh, Rhysand killed more than a dozen children. Why is Summer refusing our trade? Well, Rhysand stole their ancestral pride. Why is the Hewn City so wrathful at even the slightest form of intervention? Because Rhysand had left Keir to rule alone.

Nesta doesn't want to rule the fucking court. She thinks she could leave all of these politicians to rot- but she won't let Feyre misstep her way to death, shouldering a burden of her dead mate.

There's nothing they can give Winter but apology and so that's what Nesta does. On her knees, in a gilded palace of ice, stars caught in her hair and the seal on her. Kallias, bright and young, seems to know something about inherited problems- he does not ever forget, but he forgives, at least, the Archerons.

Summer is more complicated- but Nesta does what she can. Gives them every melted, ruined piece of the Book. Offers reparations for the next millennia. Ends up paying for what she is appalled and embarrassed to learn is a two hundred year old debt for a building the head of the Night Court's armed forces- Cassian, fucking Cassian the ghost haunting Nesta- had destroyed. During a brawl. At a solstice party.

She deals only with Cressieda, and they come to understand each other very well.

Nesta was not raised for politics and bullshit- her mother wanted her to marry a crown, but Nesta wanted the family empire. Trade. The Archeron legacy, denied to a girl. She likes Summer more than any place in Prythian, and she doesn't hide that. She relearns old lessons of tide and routes in secret, before Cressieda reveals that of course, she knows who the Archerons were.

It goes well, until Morrigan finds out what she's been doing, and tells Feyre.

The youngest Archeron had been doing better. Morrigan has been right by her side, through everything. Cassian is in Illyria, and Feyre understands why, writing him letters. She writes letters to Rhys too, if only to have a way to direct the words.

Azriel, spectral and busy she sees the least of, but Feyre never doubts his presence, keeping her safe. Elain comes, drags her out into sunlight, brings Lucien and it makes Feyre happy to see them together. Nesta comes too, with them both and alone, with papers from Feyre to sign, with affection sharp-edged but true.

Feyre knows she owes them all more than can be said- she's not stupid, she knows they're keeping Night together. That slowly those responsibilities will fall to her, when she's ready.

She does not think about how much of those responsibilities is cleaning up the tangled mess of betrayal Rhysand left behind. In her head, there is only Rhys- beloved and shadowed, kind and tortured.

Until Morrigan tells her that it's been acknowledged, in public, by Night, that Rhysand was a thief, and a murder of children.

Feyre loses her shit.

Rhysand had done what he had to. Who was Nesta, to say such things? She'd always hated Rhys. Rhys had always hated her, maybe he was right- the children. Rhys had mourned them in screaming nightmares, but he hadn't hurt them-

(Feyre does not stop to think it strange, that Rhys could have nightmares of memories not his own. That he might have fractured just a bit, under Amarantha. That the Red Lady had no daemati- that was why she'd kept Rhys all along.)

The fight is as ugly as can be imagined. And what proceeds is of course, worse. Feyre says terrible things she will ultimately regret and apologize for, but what becomes clear is that Morrigan thinks that Nesta means to hold power forever.

That she's taken advantage.

And Cassian, called home by rage, believes her.

That is, more than her ungrateful sister, more than the ongoing weight of cleaning up after a man she despised for good reason, the end of Nesta Archeron's Night Court career.

She'd thought she loved him- she'd been willing to die with him- but they'd lived. This was the life, the next life, and what did he think of her? That Nesta was a power hungry snob. That she was paying too much heed to politics.

That Nesta belonged quietly at home. That she should have learned to fight somewhere along that way- a point so convoluted it made Lucien laugh- that she hadn't learned anything that mattered.

That she had no right to kill Keir, because it had hurt Morrigan.

Had he ever, Nesta would wonder later, even liked her? Enjoyed anything about her but for that magical tether, telling him he was blessed with something special?

Nesta was something special, and she knew it.

And so she returned the ring to Azriel, packed up her possessions, and left.

First to Day, where Elain had bought a house. Fury and tears both met the explanation of what happened- fury and tears that turned to getting inadvisably drunk in sunlight, when Lucien and Azriel snuck away to join them.

For the first time in Nesta's adult life, she had no obligations. Magic, money, freedom- the whole world was out there.

She stopped wearing black. Learned pants where actually lovely, when they fit correctly and weren't made of leather. Learned Azriel could laugh, and Lucien was as clever as she'd always thought.

She read books, she ate fruit, she took Helion up on several of his more lascivious offers.

She thought of Cassian, and it ached, but not enough to go backward.

Elain's house was by the sea, right on the water. The scent of salt reminded Nesta of Summer- but also of her oldest, most secret dreams. The warehouses of goods, like mysteries to solve. The account books she stole, learning by candlelight the trade in her blood.

Ten years after the war, Nesta bought a ship.

She set out to be a merchant, use what she knew, but what happened was this: Nesta Archeron did not care anymore for rules. And so when she came upon Hybernian remnants-for they were an island kingdom, even more one with the water than Prythian- pillaging a Summer town, she destroyed them.

She stole their treasure, gave much of it back to the people.

Found, unexpected, that she had much more of a taste for marauding than she would have expected. There was still trade of course- proft made and shared- but Summer needed someone willing to do some destroying out on the sea.

Twelve years after the war, Nesta Archeron became a privateer under the Summer flag, pearls in her hair and a true smile on her lips.

Things grew, as all things do. Feyre wrestled herself the reins of government, stymied by the councils Nesta and Azriel set up as much as she often was by Azriel himself out of truly petulant action. Morrigan remained second, golden blades bright as her gowns within reach. Cassian became a sort of seneschal, reigning over Illyria in Feyre's name cold and alone as the wind through the mountains.

(Feyre thought he might never get over the war, but Azriel knew the truth.)

Elain took herself wherever the future led, a sort of mediator and councilor, walking in all Courts- but always back to home, that isolated green, green cove, where Nesta would land.

When war came again, there was no great Lordly alliance, no cut-throat summit. There was a fleet of ships whose sails where edged in purple, whose announcement across the water was silver fire, whose accompaniment were monsters of old.

Violence did not touch Prythians human shore, because Nesta Archeron did not let it.

She was death on the tide, and she remembered what shores had borne her.

She had a home in Summer, a place in Day, her family across the continent- she had her ships, full of faeries from every walk of life, who wanted as she did the freedom as much as the profit, the endless, endless blue, where sea meets sky.

It was eternity, and the Archeron sisters, free, had made it their own.

#i'm sorry this is literally a novel #but!!!#this is my dream plot actually #all about legacy and complicated feelings #the total failure of cassian as a partner #of rhys as a ruler #of feyre as a sister!!#there's so much love in the end but its not easy love #and they do have to fight for it #Nesta Archeron has always been exactly who she is and that shouldn't have to change #Elain has never GOTTEN to be who she is and that should change #Feyre standing alone is all i want yall #a true overturning of the patriarchy actually #yes this a luzreil universe #Elain...mhmm.... definitely just has a string a very romantic love affairs #marriage as a prospect caused her so much pain #she's done #I feel like Mor comes off almost too badly in this #but like #she would??#she's SO possessive of her people #and totally weird about Feyre's sister's from the start #Nesta having power?#Nesta having Azriel's backing?#NESTA BEING CASSIAN'S MATE?#its never going to go well

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harrywritingsbyme · 3 years

Text

Just The Way You Are

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: Anon…tysm for helping me out of my brain fart and suggesting/requesting this concept. I may or may not have cried (more like bawled) while writing this one. I love it sm and I feel like it’s perfect bc it’s so relatable for so many, so I hope you like it bby🥺!! and I just realized that this is my last full post of 2020 which is absolutely insane…enjoy🙃

What you saw in the mirror was always a struggle for you. You were heavy in the chest, your hips were wide, you had chub in places where you didn’t want chub, and you had an endless supply of thighs. For the longest time you’d been in the never ending battle with your weight and with your figure. For years, you struggled to lose weight and slim down, trying your hardest to fit into the mold and standard of beauty that was placed before you. You tried so many of the fad diets you’d found on the internet and countless workout routines that were supposedly going to give you that instant gratification and the appearance you were chasing after.

But at the end of it all, you got nothing. In fact, you came out with less than what you came in with. The only thing that came out of those efforts was even more disappointment in yourself. And the disappointment and dissatisfaction that came from those efforts was just a portion of the mountain of disdain and sadness that was already growing inside of you towards yourself. There were so many times where you just wanted to give up on it all. You felt like you’d never be seen as beautiful by yourself or by anyone else. You felt like there was absolutely no hope and that you weren’t going to be able to be loved by anyone because of your outward appearance. You felt stuck.

And you felt stuck for a while. You went back and forth between fighting to get out of this state and just letting it be that way for who knows how long. You went on and on in this cycle until you became tired of being that way. It became exhausting. You’d reached your lowest point, you were drained. You realized that you couldn’t stay like this forever, nor were you going to allow yourself to stay like this anymore. So you pulled yourself up and you came up with a way to get yourself up. Even though it probably wasn’t the best mindset to have, you came to the resolve that if you couldn’t change it and if you weren’t going to be accepted and loved by anyone on the basis of your looks, you might as well accept and love yourself the way you were. And believe it or not, that pessimistic yet strangely optimistic mindset actually got you to a much better place. Sure you still had your insecurities about the way you looked and sure your heart sunk a little bit when you looked in the mirror, but you were feeling better than before and that’s all you cared about. You weren’t completely over the hill in regards to the negative feelings towards yourself but you definitely made progress and that’s all that mattered to you. You were finally feeling better.

And you only got better. After making it to the point of feeling a bit better about yourself, you met Harry. He managed to shower you with all the love and affection you never thought you’d ever receive from someone. Even though you were strong in your convictions when it came to finding any type of approval in a man, you couldn’t resist Harry. He was an absolute dream. Along with loving you and your body, he was everything you could’ve wanted in a partner. There was no other way to describe it, he was just amazing and you didn’t want to let him go, nor were you planning to. You didn’t even entertain the thought. You held onto him and you enjoyed the pure bliss that came from being together. The both of you were completely head over heels for each other. And as you and Harry’s relationship grew, you blossomed. You became confident in yourself and you were able to stop putting yourself down. You’d reached the better place you were desperately searching for all this time. You were happy. This time, it wasn’t a facade that you were putting up to disguise your true and beyond negative feelings. You were truly happy.

But with all good things of course, they either come to an end or come at a price. And being with Harry came at a price. You and Harry tried your best to keep your relationship away from the prying eyes that were constantly surrounding him. But you could only do but so much with that. It wasn’t that long before everyone found out who you were and made things a bit harder for you. After a little over nine months into your relationship with Harry, you began noticing an all around influx in your social media’s along with the press in general. Your picture was everywhere and there were so many people who were taking and interest in you and talking about you. You knew it came with the territory of dating someone who had an enormous amount of fame the way Harry did, but it was still very foreign and it was something that you weren’t prepared for. There were so many comments that made you happy and feel better about the situation. They were so happy to see you dating Harry, especially since you were very different from the women he’s dated and has been associated with in the past. Seeing those things always melted your heart and made you feel so good inside.

But for some reason, the bad always crept in and overshadowed the good that was being brought your way. Along with an influx in positives, there was an influx in the negatives with the main target being your appearance. You tried to block it out and not focus on the negative, but those feelings that Harry was able to break through in the beginning came creeping back. Harry tried to console you in any way possible given the fact that you had talked to him a little bit about your past struggles. He took the time to remind you that you were desirable and that you were beautiful and that he loved you. Now while you were still down about what was being said about you, Harry’s words definitely provided comfort to you and made the situation tolerable. They didn’t miraculously change your thinking on the matter, but Harry’s words were able to stop you from going into the dark place you were in before which was what you needed at the time. Since everything was coming down onto you all at once, that was exactly what you needed. And eventually, with Harry’s help, you were able to make it through that incredibly intense time.

Not too long after the news broke about your relationship, you and Harry celebrated your one year anniversary together, the both of you were beyond ecstatic about the milestone and your lives together going forward. The both of you were so happy to be together and so happy to have made it through the hell that was the past three months following the revealing of guys’ relationship. As you two continued on together, the negativity still came your way though. You tried your best to block it all out and keep moving forward to the best of your abilities but you weren’t able to let it all roll off you back. Some of it stayed with you, prompting you to just spring into action. Because you had so many people talking about you and your appearance, picking you apart at every turn, you were became determined to make them shut up. And the only way you knew how to do that was by going to work out with Harry. You figured that if you were able to do what he was doing, you’d be able to transform and as a result get them all to shut up and leave you alone.

So you gave Harry the lame excuse of wanting to accomplish the health goal you had set for yourself which marked the beginning of your anxiety and stress filled workout journey. Harry bought right into that positive notion too, completely ready and willing to help you accomplish your goal and completely oblivious to your true motives towards wanting to start working out with him. From that point on, the two of you got up early at the same time five days a week to work out. It was incredibly hard for you to do but you were beyond motivated to shut everyone up and go back to having that peace you once had within yourself.

You just wanted it all to stop.

Now while you were extremely determined to workout, Harry began noticing some things that prompted red flags to go up in his head. The main and number one thing that got his attention was your excessiveness in regards to working out. After helping you get accustomed to working out the way he did and on the schedule he did it, you ran with it and never stopped. You began working out all the time, making your schedule seven days a week and sometimes twice a day. You were pushing yourself so hard and he was worried about you. He knew that you struggled with your confidence and body image so he didn’t want to discourage you. But he didn’t want you to hurt yourself either, nor did he want you to feel like you had to work out and change yourself for him or anyone for that matter. He knew that something had to be done and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He decided to step in and do it all this morning. Normally it’d be an off day but since you were on seven days a week, you were getting up early to head downstairs to the gym. As you were moving to sit up, Harry tightened his grip around you, keeping your body down on the bed and against him.

“Harry, you have to let me go.” You whisper back to him, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip.

“No I don’t, you deserve a rest day anyways.” He mumbles back to you through a yawn, beginning to fully wake up as well.

“I need to do this babe, I don’t be long.” You try and reason with him, still trying to release his grip from around you.

“Okay fine, but can we please talk before you go down?” He bargains, even though he had no intention of letting you go down there.

“Sure.” You agree, stopping your attempts to free yourself from his grip.

“Thanks baby.” He hums before unwrapping his arm from around you and sitting up in the bed to almost hover over your body. “So what’s going on?” He asks calmly yet bluntly.

“What do you mean?” You reply back to him with a puzzled look spread across your face to match your response.

“You’ve been working out so much recently and it’s becoming a bit concerning sweets. I want you to reach your goal, I really do! I just want you to be healthy about it.” He softly points out to you, bringing his hand down to your cheek.

“I’m fine Harry. I really want to reach this goal so I’m doing everything I possibly can.” You attempt to justify your actions over the past weeks, trying to steady your breathing a bit as well as you adjust to the touchy subject at hand.

“Well I understand that and I’m so proud of you for going at this with that determination, I really am. It’s just that I don’t want you to be doing this because of all the things going around online.” He explains, his voice filled with worry and concern. “I know it’s hard, but if you’re doing this, you should be doing this for you baby. That’s it.” He adds.

When he says this, your heart sinks. You weren’t doing this for you. And you didn’t want him to find out your actual reasons for working out seven days a week and practically killing yourself because if he did, which he ultimately was, it was going to crush him. And the last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you. You could see all the worry and concern painted all over his face and you hated it. You hated it so much that you began to cry, not being able to hold back the tears that were already bubbling up in your eyes.

“Oh my-baby please talk to me!” He begs, wiping the tears that were falling from your eyes.

“It’s just so hard Harry. I’ve never had this many people coming at me about the way I looked. The only people I had to worry about before with this were myself and anyone I came in contact with. But now it’s everyone and it’s too much. I just want them all to shut up and leave me alone.” You rush out through your tears, completely breaking down below him.

“I’m so sorry baby.”

“The only reason why I’m working out so much and trying so hard to get through it all is because I love you so so much. I can’t go back to that dark place anymore, I just wanna stay out here in the light and happiness with you. It’s just so hard when you have so many people coming at you all at once and it makes you want to just give in so that you can have peace.” You sob. When Harry hears this, his heart breaks into a million pieces. He was assuming full responsibility for this. He felt like if it wasn’t for him entering your life, you wouldn’t be completely broken before him right now.

“I’m so sorry that you’re going through all of this baby. It’s all my fault and I feel horrible for even putting you in this position.” Harry sighs, feeling tears beginning to form in his eyes as well.

“But it’s not-“

“It is my fault.” He quickly interjects. “You’re going through this torture because of me and I’m so so sorry. I love you so much baby and I wish that I could just end all of this for you.” He whimpers, feeling the hot tears streaming down his face.

“I love you too Harry. And it’s not your fault.” You reiterate, making it clear that you didn’t blame him for any of this.

“I just need you to remember that I love you so much. I love all of you so much.” He says firmly to you, locking his eyes with yours to really reach you. He couldn’t stress how beautiful you were in his eyes enough. You were absolutely amazing to him and he just wanted to touch and admire you all the time if he could. He wanted to constantly shower you with all the love and affection you deserved. He wanted the girl he loved to know that she was absolutely stunning and that he couldn’t get enough of her. He needed you to know that. It was so important to him that you know how beautiful you were.

And he planned on making sure you knew just how beautiful you were. He quickly wipes his face before pulling your legs apart and moving in between them.

“Harry what are you doing?” You ask at his sudden movements.

“Shh, just let me love on you baby.” He coos down to you before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft but filled with passion. You could feel it radiating off of Harry and down onto you. As he continues to kiss your lips, you feel his hands glide down your body, tugging up at hem of the shirt you slept in. Keeping his lips on yours, he pulls it up your body detaching his mouth when he pulls the shirt off of your body, leaving you in just your panties below him. “You are so beautiful.” He admires, taking in your pretty much naked body. Everywhere he looked he found something that he loved. There was no part of you that he hated. In fact, anything you hated, he loved.

Without wasting anymore time, Harry jumps right into his praising session so to speak. He starts at your lips, leaving you one final kiss before leaving a trail of kisses down the lower portion of your face and neck, going all the way down and stopping at your chest. He brings his hands up to your ample breasts and he cups both of them in his hands. He then lifts his head up a bit to lock eyes with you.

“I love these so much. They’re so pretty and they fit perfectly in my hands.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to one of your breasts and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He then begins to suck on you, using his hands to squeeze wherever he couldn’t have his mouth. As he did this, your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open, allowing little moans to escape as you enjoyed the physical and emotional pleasure you were receiving from Harry. Even though it was just the beginning, you knew what he was doing because he’d done it many times before. And every time he did it, you had the same reaction. You were in a completely blissful state and you felt loved every single time. Those feelings were only intensified since you and Harry talked and you really expressed what you were going through. And now that you let all of that out, you felt lighter and you were so ready to feel good again. Harry then removes his mouth from your breast and latches onto the other, doing the exact same thing as before. Squeezing your flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucked on the other. He continues on like this a little longer before moving down your body.

“I love this tummy of yours.” He hums delightedly, leaving kisses all over the area, making sure to leave kisses along your sides as well, nipping at your chub every once in a while too. “Can’t wait to put out baby in here.” Harry hums, enjoying the idea of having a baby with you.

“Oh my goodness Harry!” You chuckle through your labored breaths.

“You’d look so pretty, maybe even prettier than you already are if that’s even possible.” He praises, smoothing his hand across your empty stomach. Harry then moves on to the next part of your body.

“I love these hips.” He groans biting into and kissing the flesh of your hips. “Love grabbin’ them when I fuck you. So good.” He sighs, thinking back on the times he’s pushed into you. He then moves even lower. He begins to leave kisses along the side bands of your panties, bringing his mouth closer and closer to where your need was mounting. But instead of going there, he keeps going down and stops at your thighs.

“I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m in love with your thighs. Like they’re absolutely delicious and amazing.” He rambles up to your before biting into one of them, squeezing the other as he did this. Harry loved how fleshy your thighs were. He couldn’t get enough of how they quaked and jiggled when he fucked into you. They were so soft and plushy, how could Harry possibly resist them?! Once he’s done loving on your thighs, Harry lifts himself up so that he’s kneeling between your legs before quickly pulling you onto your side to give your ass a couple swats, causing you to yelp out to him from how it stung. “I didn’t forget about your ass either baby, I love pulling it apart and having my face buried in it.” He says before pushing you back into your original position below him.

“And now to the last stop.” He announces, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, lifting your legs up to fully pull them off. He tosses them to the side and spreads your legs for him, revealing your soft and puffy center. “I love your pussy. It’s magical if m’being completely honest. It’s all puffy and warm and sticky. It’s just the best. Feels amazing around my cock and it tastes amazing on my tongue.” He heavily praises before going in. He could see that you were already dripping so he knew that it wouldn’t take long at all to make you let go in his mouth.

With his mouth on you, Harry licks a wide stripe up your folds, pushing his tongue into you. When he does this, your hands go straight to his hair and your thighs begin to close a little around his head, prompting Harry to moan a little and rut his now hard cock against the bed. Even though this was all about you, Harry couldn’t stop himself from getting hard. In fact, he got hard because it was about you. Anything you did had the power to turn him on. He was constantly getting hard because of you. In fact, as he licked into you, Harry was rutting his hips down into the bed to relieve some of the pressure in his cock. All Harry wanted was to be wrapped up in you all the time. Just like now, Harry was eating you like his life depended on it as your thighs were wrapped around his head. While you were in heaven, Harry was in heaven as well. As he continued on, your were absolutely losing it too. His mouth felt absolutely amazing on you. You were already buzzing from the way he practically worshiped your body so now that he was full on eating you, you were incredibly close to letting go.

“Feels so good!” You moan out to him, feeling a warmth spreading throughout your body. “Think m’gonna cum.” You pant, tightening your grip on him. To push you right over the edge, Harry moves his tongue up from your entrance and just sucks on your buzzing clit. This does the trick perfectly. As you let go, Harry could feel himself getting closer to his own release so he continues to push himself back and forth against the bed.

Once you’re all done and your body goes limp, Harry leaves a kiss to your clit along with a kiss to each of your thighs, both of your hips, your stomach, and both of your breasts before stopping at your face.

“I love you.” You hum lazily, still recovering from your release.

“I love you too baby.” Harry hums with a little chuckle, enjoying how tired out you are. “I love you just the way you are. I know it’s hard for you and I’m incredibly sorry for that. But we’ll get through it, right lovie?”

“Mhm!” You mumble happily.

“That’s right, and no more excessive workouts. If you wanna do some extra workouts, let me know so that we can have sex instead.” He proposes happily.

“Can we “work out” some more then?” You breathe out.

“I’d love that.

Masterlist

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