#can’t believe real life is way better than whatever happens on here

[persephoneflouwers]

-

#i just read with my eyes at 6.30 AM #the word ‘louddie’ #my god im surrounded bu weirdos who are not even out of high school #think he’s a drug dealer and flatearther #and cheer for children content online #(red flag red flag red flaaag) #this is the parody of my life #can’t believe real life is way better than whatever happens on here #(like so much better honestly haha) #this might be the turning point in adult life i guess #i said 3 years ago that pandemic would have ruined people and look where we are omfg

[vendetta-if]

I’m a sucker for (consensual!!!) fake-out-make-out scenarios—especially pre-relationship with a lot of unanswered emotions, sighs, pining (angst?) fjwkjfkww.

Ofc MC & each RO are more than capable of handling a situation, but I’d like to imagine that in some cases of laying low, you gotta do what u gotta do 😳

I was wondering if you already had this ask answered? 🫣 Otherwise, how would each RO react to MC initiating this trope?

I imagine at this stage of crushing/yearning, everyone would hold back in fear but ultimately give in (indulge) a little “for the sake of it looking real”. Who would try to play it cool afterwards? Who would fold after finally being able to kiss MC?

*can be as long or spicy as you want! I can’t stop playing the demo. you have a way with words ❤️

Ah, one of the downside of giving MC and some of the ROs such powerful abilities is that I won’t be able to include a fake-out-make-out scene without it feeling forced 😔✊ I suppose the closest one is the kabedon scene with Ash in Chapter 3 🤭

Ash

You don’t understand why MC is dragging you away; you’re pretty sure you could take on the group of goons by yourself. But whatever MC plans, you believe in them fully, as always.

Shouldering past the people milling around, MC takes you into a pretty secluded nook and before you can ask what’s the plan, MC pulls you in close and… kiss you.

You immediately freeze and you fear that if you move, whatever spell that the two of you are in right now would break and this little piece of heaven you’ve got going right now will be taken away from you.

You close your eyes and let MC takes the lead, sighing softly into the deepening kiss. You’ve dreamt of this countless of times but somehow, MC manages to make this real one feels a hundred times better than the ones in your dreams.

After what feels like an eternity, MC pulls away and you’re yanked back to earth. You expect regret or disgust on their face, but they’re looking at you with half-lidded eyes that just sends heat down to your groin.

Are you probably in a dream right now? And you’ll about to wake up in your bed soon? You decide to pinch your arm and… you’re still here. This really just happened.

MC says something about pursuers, but it’s a bit drowned by the sound of your thundering heartbeat reverberating in your ears. You’re still dumbfounded and just nods as you let MC drags you somewhere else.

Your mind is still reeling and you’ve got the feeling that you’ll be spending the next month or so replaying the scene over and over again in your head as you try to process the fact that you just had your first kiss with MC.

Rin

Getting pursued by a bunch of goons is not something you’ve got planned for today, but it is an expected outcome of agreeing to help MC. It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that taking a fight where you’re outnumbered is not a good idea, so you just happily let MC drags you into a more crowded area, possibly to make it easier for the two of you to lose your tails.

MC pulls you into a more secluded nook and in that instant, you know what they are planning to do. So, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when MC leans down and press their lips against yours.

You’ve seen scenes like this in movies and books, but never have you thought that this would happen to you in real life, much less that this is how your first kiss is going to be. But you’re not really complaining though, especially when it’s with MC, the only person you’re interested in for quite some time now.

Bringing your arms up, you encircle them around MC’s neck, pulling them even closer as you decide to take control and deepen the kiss. After all, the only thing you can do is to make the most of your first kiss now, right?

MC inhales sharply in surprise but soon melts into the kiss and lets you take the rein as they grab your waist. Ah, this does taste as sweet as you’ve pictured in your head.

After minutes that felt like forever, you break the kiss first, stepping back and getting out of MC’s hold as you straighten your clothes. You almost let out a laugh when you see MC still standing frozen in place with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Alright, I think we’ve lost them,” you say, taking hold of their hand. “Let’s get out of here, yes?”

MC finally shakes out of their daze, although not completely it seems. “Uh, yeah… Let’s…” they answer breathlessly as they let you drag them away.

“Next time, if you want to kiss me, just ask,” you tease with a smirk. “No need to wait for us getting chased.”

Santana

It was supposed to be a simple stakeout mission with MC, but a little misstep leads you to where you are now with the two of you running away from a group of goons. You can hear the sounds of their thunderous footsteps behind you, but you’re not going to risk turning around to see how far behind they are.

Your heart lightens as you and MC gets into a more crowded area. MC takes your hand in theirs and you happily let them lead you to the side, into a secluded nook. You’re not sure what MC’s plan is since this position is not really well-hidden, but you’ll take the chance to catch your breath a bit.

But before you can properly do it, MC suddenly leans in and press their lips against yours, catching you by surprise. Despite your budding feelings for MC, you still feel hesitation and decide to just let MC take the lead.

Deep down, you know MC is probably doing this only to blend in and lose your pursuers, but one can dream. Closing your eyes, you let yourself get lost in the feeling. It feels like there’s only you and MC as your surrounding melts away.

MC deepen the kiss and your soft gasp gets devoured. You feel their arms on your back and you reciprocate the gesture by circling your own around their hips, bringing them closer.

You’re not even sure how much time has passed until MC finally pulls away first, breaking the kiss. For a moment, the two of you can only stare at each other with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, breaths mingling with each other. Your heart is still racing hard in your chest—no longer from the adrenaline of getting pursued, but from the high of the kiss.

There’s so many things you want to say, but instead, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is, “Are they gone?”

Why? Because you’re stupid and a coward.

MC blinks and seems to snap out of the daze as they glance behind you. “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear,” they say as they step back, retracting their hands and getting out of your hold.

You feel your heart fall a bit at the lost of the contact. But then, MC takes your hand in theirs. “Let’s get out of here,” they whisper and you nod, once again letting them take you somewhere else.

Skylar

Honestly, you could have probably taken on the group of goons singlehandedly, especially with MC’s help. But it seems MC is not really looking for a confrontation right now because they decide to run away instead, dragging you with them to a more crowded area.

Either way, you don’t really mind, especially once they take you to a pretty secluded nook that’s too small to fit the two of you together. There are only mere couple of inches separating the two of you and how you want to just close the gap altogether.

And it seems like your prayer has been answered because MC is the one who leans forward and suddenly presses their lips to yours. Not letting the good fortune go to waste, you instinctively wrap your arms around their back.

You bring them even closer until your chest and theirs are flush against each other as you deepen the kiss. MC inhales in surprise before slowly melting in your arms.

You’ve kissed quite a number of people before, but somehow, this first one with MC just has something… special in it that you can’t really describe. It gives you the same feeling whenever you fly, a feeling of walking on fluffy clouds.

You swear, if those goons come and interrupt you out of this state of bliss… But thankfully, they don’t and after a while, MC breaks away breathlessly, cheeks adorably flushed.

You grin lopsidedly, still cradling them in your embrace. “Remind me, what were we doing again before this?”

MC looks at you flabbergasted. “W—We were getting chased—”

“Oh, yeah,” you sigh exaggeratedly. “How about we get out of here, hm?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been waiting for,” they mumble.

They try to get out of your embrace but you tighten your hold instead and before they can complain, you take off with them in your arms.

#asks #anon ask #ro reactions #full cast ros #drabble #ro: ash #ro: rin #ro: santana #ro: skylar #if: vendetta #if vendetta #vendetta if #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript

[blakeswritingimagines]

Sweet Nothings

Joker: "My dear I'll be with you forever. You and me we're going to change this rotten city. You deserve the best and I'm going to give it to you. Anything you want… is yours. How's that sound, sugar?"

Harley Quinn: "Anything you desire. Whatever your little heart desires. We'll spend eternity together being the stars that Gotham deserves. Anything you could possibly want is yours. I'll make you the goddess/god you deserve to be."

Catwoman: "I love you more than I can ever say. Every day I’m with you is a reminder of how lucky I am to have found you. I will always be there for you and I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what you need or want, you will always be my top priority. I love you so much and I can’t imagine what life would be like without you."

Riddler: "You make me feel safe and loved and I am so grateful for you. You are someone who makes me want to be better and I want to make you proud. You are an amazing, wonderful person and I will always be there for you no matter what. I love you."

Penguin: "Oh your eyes are like two burning embers, glowing and shimmering in the night. Your smile lights up the room and warms my heart your laugh is like music. You're the definition of perfection."

Scarecrow: "You’re my everything. My whole world. You’re so special, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much. You make my life so much brighter and fuller and I can’t imagine my life without you by my side. You are my soulmate and I’ll never let anything or anyone take you away from me. I promise."

Deathstroke: " You're a real looker. Your smile, your eyes. You're just perfect… Your every move drives me wild. And I just want to have you near me right now. You belong to me, and I belong to you."

Bane: "My darling, I love the way you light up a room. I love your laugh and your smile. I love the way you make me feel when we’re together. There isn’t anything in the world that I wouldn’t do for you. You mean the world to me and I just want you to know that I will always be by your side, no matter what."

Mr. Freeze: "I love you. I can't imagine this world without you. You complete me. I'm nothing without you. I've been waiting for you and now you're here with me…I just can't believe it."

Two-Face: "You make me want to be a better man. You deserve the world, and I'm going to fight to give it to you. Anything and everything that you need…. I'll be here for you. That's a promise."

Poison Ivy: "You are beautiful. A flower among weeds. When I look at you, I'm reminded of all the things worth fighting for. "

Killer Croc: "My days are only bright and brilliant when you are around. And I know you feel the same way. We belong to each other. Nothing, and no one, will come between us."

#joker x reader #harley quinn x reader #catwoman x reader #riddler x reader #penguin x reader #scarecrow x reader #deathstroke x reader #bane x reader #mr freeze x reader #two face x reader #poison ivy x reader #killer croc x reader #dc headcanon #dc hcs #dc comics #dc villains #dc

[coolnameloading]

Lute x Fem!reader

Came up with this idea a while ago and decided to make it a fic, I'll update eventually but it might take a while. basic gist is sinner reader gets saved by Vaggie and now works in the hotel to pay her back and meets Lute who she becomes a simp for almost instantly, enjoy.

You’ve been in hell since…well a while. You died sometime in 2021 or 2020, the details are blurry. 

The second you got to hell you knew why you were there. It’s because you ran. Whenever things got hard you ran, when you saw horrible things happening to people you ran, when your family was in danger you ran, and now that you’re in hell all you do is run.

Your soul has taken the form of a pastel blue and pink-haired human with 2 cow licks on your hair resembling cat ears...but they just resemble cat ears! Sure they might twitch sometimes and you can hear better now than when you were alive but it’s just weird tufts of hair.  Your skin is also powdery blue with pink stripes on your arms and torso, and your fingers have retractable claws. 

You were also given 2 small powers in the afterlife, it’s nothing like the V’s or Alastor’s powers but they got you out of a few tight spots.

Your first one was your speed, turns out that if you spend your life running like hell you also spend your after-life running like hell while in hell.

The second one was the ability to turn invisible for a few minutes at a time.

These abilities combined with your appearance have gotten you the nickname Cheshire which was just fine by you because you couldn’t remember your real name anyway but it felt a little too on-the-nose that your soul took the literal form of a scaredy cat. 

The unfortunate and unforeseen consequence of your powers and appearance ended up making you the favorite pastime of some bored overlords. Catching you has become a bit of a game for some of them.

Which is what led you to the hotel. You were running from some small fry overlord trying to heighten his status by catching the Cheshire.

He got pretty close actually, you were exhausted, had been running for days at this point and your invisibility wasn’t helping you out because you were being far too loud with how desperate you were to get away.

You kept running and running until you ran over Vaggie who pulled out her spear and pointed it at you until she saw your disheveled state and noticed that you were being chased.  

Once she realized what was happening she slashed at the overlord, injuring but not killing him and causing him to run away. 

After she helped get you to the hotel where Charlie let you have a room for a night and asked if you wanted to stay permanently the day after you agreed.

Do you believe in redemption? No, not really. But if you stay in the hotel the overlords can’t hunt you and you get a nice-ish place to sleep. Also, you feel like you owe Vaggie for saving your life so you help around with random tasks here and there. 

And everything was good for a while.

Until Charlie went to meet with Adam and Vaggie asked you to go with her to make sure she was safe. 

A few minutes after Charlie left she’d come to you with a worried expression and said,

“She’s too trusting, what if they try something? Just keep an eye on her please?” 

And you could hardly deny the woman who saved your life something so simple.

“Whatever ya say, boss.”

So you did, you turned invisible and followed behind Charlie while she tapped-danced her way to a giant elevator-looking thing. Where she had to sign in before walking into a large room with an exterminator and an angel with golden wings.

You hid behind Charlie’s chair paying close attention to everything happening with 2 major things standing out to you. 

The golden-winged angel is Adam and he’s a dick.

The exterminator standing next to him has a hot fucking voice.

After several minutes of listening to Adam talking about fucking some woman at a concert Charlie finally gets to pitch the hotel. 

Only to get cut off immediately by the exterminator, with the hot as fuck voice, who goes on a small rant about how the only reason Charlie and the other hell-borns are alive is that Lucifer cut a deal with Adam and the exterminators. 

Then she gets a little too close to Charlie for comfort and you reveal yourself hissing slightly at the exterminator. She immediately goes for her spear and Charlie stands in front of you.

“The extermination is over!”

She growls out, her horns showing and her eyes glowing red.

“You can’t touch her.”

Adam and the exterminator glare at you before he clears his throat, “Stand down danger tits…we’ll get her next time.”

He grumbles, clearly annoyed with the situation. 

The exterminator keeps glaring at you holding her spear tightly and it takes everything in you not to run.

You can’t help but look at her wings which are fluffed up in what must be aggravation, but you can’t help but notice how fluffy they are.

If she wasn’t pointing a spear at you you’d reach out to touch them. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Adam yelling, “Lute get your flat ass back here now!”

The exterminator, Lute, walks back to Adam’s side and stands there glaring at you while Adam and Charlie continue their conversation.

Charlie goes back to explaining the hotel with her song only to get cut off…by a song….at this point, you’re thinking of asking Vaggie to pay you for this shit. 

The general idea of the song was that sinners deserve death because you all suck and that they’ll be back in 6 months.

Then the hologram of Adam somehow grabs Charlie and throws her out, when you run after her you see Lute’s hand trying to grab your wrist and you move out of the way.

 You’re sure as fuck not getting caught by an angel.

The Cheshire isn’t getting caught by a fucking angel…even if it’s one with a hot raspy voice…and who probably has hot abs….and you kinda have a mask kink now.

You might legit be into this bitch…but that’s a problem for later. 

For now, you have to check up on Charlie. 

“Boss, are you alright? That dickhead didn’t hurt you did he?”

You whisper, looking over her wrists for any bruising.

“N-no I’m fine Cheshire but what were you doing in there?”

She asks you taking her hands out of yours.

You giggle nervously and rub the back of your neck, “I was worried about ya boss, had to make sure you were alright.”

You feel guilty for lying to Charlie but you’d rather not get Vaggie in trouble for being worried about her girlfriend.

Charlie looks suspicious but doesn't ask any more questions and just nods her head. 

“Alright, now come on we need to go back to the hotel and come up with a plan.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The two of you walk back to the hotel to deliver the news to the others.

#lute x reader #hazbin hotel lute #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin chaggie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #hazbin vaggie #fem reader

[sunrisemill]

♡ The little things ♡

Summary: Matt has always been pressured to live up to his father and everything that he expects him to be. Y/n has always been very quiet and has been pressured by her whole family to step out of her comfort zone and live her life free from her worries. What will happen when they unexpectedly run into each other at a random ice cream shop?

(Warnings: Toxic family members (Nothing happens though dw it’s only mentioned)

Pt.2

(Matt’s POV)

“You want me to leave?! Fine then, I’m done dealing with this shit.”

I shout out across the house before slamming the front door behind me.

This is the third fight we've had this week.

Ever since my dad found out I've been ditching classes he's been on my ass about everything.

So what? I skip a couple of art classes. It's not like it actually matters.

The thing is my dad is a stern man. Ever since I was a child he told me that I needed to learn how to be a real man.

So that means I shouldn't ever talk about how I feel. I should just suppress my emotions, so I do that.

The only downside is that my emotions come back up in bursts of anger that I can't control.

It's not like I want to be this way, it's the way I've been wired since I could remember.

But the truth is I’m scared.

I’m scared that I’m never going to escape these emotions.

Everyone is going to forever know me as the miserable grump, Matt Sturniolo.

I wish I could change it around but nobody gives me the chance.

Maybe… when the opportunity arises I might have a chance, but I know that's not true.

As I start to spiral into worse thoughts, a hot pink neon sign in the shape of an ice cream cone catches my attention.

I find myself squinting my eyes as I try to make out the letters.

“Gelato Galore”

No way they’re being serious…

GELATO GALORE?

That's ridiculous but I might as well try it, all I want is to be alone and what better place to be alone than an ice cream shop during winter?

I step through the door and I’m instantly overwhelmed by the bright colours, I feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of pink.

It’s everywhere I look!

As my eyes dart around they land on the only person in the shop besides the workers.

It’s a random girl and she seems upset, I feel like I know her from somewhere but I can’t place it.

The way she looks is something you could only describe as a depressing portrait made by a struggling artist, her hair falling in front of her face as tears roll down her cheeks.

The redness on her nose matching the small cherry on top of her sundae that she seems to be refusing to eat by the way she pushes it aside.

I feel a strong urge to check up on her but I don’t know if I should. I’ve never been good at helping people in need.

I sigh as I walk up to the counter. Whatever she's going through is none of my business.

~~~~

(Y/ns POV)

I let out a couple of sad sniffles as I push the little maraschino cherry that's on top of my ice cream to the side.

He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago…

I keep telling myself that he must be stuck in traffic or maybe he's just running late and I'm overthinking it all.

I've been repeating all the different scenarios in my head and reasons why he could be late.

My nails impatiently tap against the pink plastic spoon they gave me, I feel as though I’ve been here for hours when in reality it has only been around twenty minutes.

Why can’t he just call me or even text me if he’s running late?

That's when I see my phone light up on the table. I quickly pick it up and I'm met with his contact name.

As I read the message he sent me I could physically feel my heart drop, all of the hope I had was crushed within a second

“I can't make it.”

What the fuck? No sorry? No explanation? Nothing.

I can't believe he could treat me with such disrespect.

I feel like such an idiot…

I sigh in defeat, I place my phone down on the table and dive straight back into my ice cream to distract myself from the current heartbreak I'm feeling.

As I scraped some ice cream from the bottom of the tub, I noticed that the chair in front of me had just pulled back and someone had taken a seat on it.

“Hey, I hope you don't mind me asking, but I couldn't help but notice that something seems to be bothering you. Is everything okay?”

what? I lift my head and I'm met with the sight of a stranger.

But he's not really a stranger, It appears to be Matt Sturniolo.

Although I have seen Matt at school and around the small town that we live in, we don't necessarily run in the same social group.

I sigh as I sit up straight and put down my now-empty ice cream tub.

“I'm fine, really. Don't worry about it.”  

I look back down at the table, silently praying that he goes away but he stays.

“So…you a fan of ice cream?”

His small voice catches me off guard, I’ve never heard him talk with such little confidence.

Every inch of my body screams at me to get up and leave. To ignore the boy sat opposite. To run straight back to my room and rot in bed. Run back to my comfort zone.

But I hear my mother's voice ringing throughout my head.

“Come on, Y/n. You're not going to go anywhere in life if you don't put yourself out there. Just try it once, you might be surprised by what could happen.”

So I swallow every anxious feeling screaming at me to leave.

“Yeah. I mean… who isn't?”

A small smile on my lips. I lift my head to look at him, noticing the corners of his lips curled up slightly.

~~~~

I feel a peaceful smile tug on my lips, the scent of cold crisp air filling my senses.

I've always loved the winter. It has a sense of comfort that has always overwhelmed me.

I feel myself dipping deeper and deeper into a state of tranquillity when suddenly the boy next to me speaks up.

“You never answered my question earlier.”

He peers down at me. I sigh.

“What question?”

I know what question he's talking about. I've been asked the same question for years and I've grown to become annoyed at it as I grow older.

“I asked you, why are you always by yourself? Don't you have any friends?”

I tense up and he notices. He stops walking and grabs my wrist, forcing me to stop in the middle of the pavement.

“I'm sorry…”

I watch as his face contorts into a remorseful expression. His eyebrows knitting together.

“I didn't mean to come off as rude. It's just… I've seen you around school and you're always alone, I'm curious.”

I sigh as I look away from him. This is the last thing I need right now. I don't need someone here pointing out stuff that I already know.

It's frustrating. I tug my wrist out of his grip.

“Why don't you… oh, I don't know… mind your business.”

My tone is filled to the brim with annoyance. The way his face falls causes a twinge of guilt to seep into my heart but I push it down.

“Look, I'm just trying to help.”

He speaks through gritted teeth.

That was my last straw.

Without saying another word, I spin around on my heels and walk in the other direction. Completely ignoring the sound of his voice calling out for me.

So much for trying to make a friend.

(A/N: omg this literally took me weeks to finish 😭 I’ve been having an INSANE and extremely frustrating writers block but she’s done 😋 thank you so so much for reading <333)

Tags: @guccifrog @junnniiieee07

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #the sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you

[jackalopesao3]

The Real Real Cocytus Hall Collapsed:

This actually gave me real insight as to why Solomon is culinary challenged. Fair warning: Solomon roast ahead! It’s all in good fun and this WW gave me a laugh! I do enjoy Solomon’s character a lot!

A plastic bag? In the oven?! You know what happens to plastic bags in the oven?! I feel like I can’t say anything because I mistook wax paper for cooking sheets and made my house super smoky once.

(They were melting chocolate.)

You set the chocolate on fire?! Chocolate isn’t hard to melt! I can’t bake very well but I help my mother and melting chocolate and butter is something even I can do. There are several different ways you can do it too. With the microwave, it’s pretty self-explanatory.

Now, you have likely burnt chocolate with your melted chocolate. Why can’t you just follow the directions?

But wait…this gets so much worse!

(Read More due to length)

Shadow newt intestines?! Muddy spice?! Did Barbatos say to add any of those? No!

In all fairness they could be legit Devildom food but they could also be alchemy ingredients (or, most likely, both).

Sir, this isn’t your science experiment!

We all know alchemy ingredients can have unwanted effects. Also, assuming muddy spice tastes…muddy? That with the newt intestines is not going to be a pleasant flavor for the dessert.

Isn’t it easier and quicker just to sift it than to recite a whole ass spell?! This is just arrogance. Magic isn’t always better. We already know some lingering magic gets mixed into whatever the old man cooks when he pulls stunts like this.

Delicious?!

Delicious?!

Get out of here with your deadass tastebuds, grandpa!

Magic can be an absolute must for sorcerers in their careers and yet be separated from cooking and baking. It doesn’t need to be in every aspect of your life, especially when proven time after time to cause disastrous results. Remember when your cooking sent MC back in time?!

Pics taken moments before disaster strikes.

Oh Luke, what was that noise indeed? I believe it was the death cry of any hope that MC had for a relaxing afternoon. No wait, that’s just the poor oven finally succumbing to probably centuries (I mean he’s stayed there before) of Solomon’s torture.

RIP Good Soldier - You fought bravely

Barbatos has the tired mom look. He didn’t need to use his powers to know this would happen. Someone please give this man a vacation.

Funny that you think there’s a kitchen left to check on, Barb. MC is probably trying to scramble out of the sinkhole that was once Cocytus Hall. The oven exploding probably opened up a rift in space/time.

(un)Fortunately, Luke, Solomon is immortal. He will live to torture us yet again with his cooking. 🤣

Conclusion: It’s not that he can’t cook, or that he’s clueless. Solomon’s hubris from being a sorcerer (magic will make it better!) and dependence on magic (I strongly believe he’s dependent on it at this point) are the reason for his disastrous dishes.

Solomon, you silly old man, I love you but you gotta get with the times and stop using magic for everything!

#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #om! swd #obey me spoilers #obey me nightbringer #nightbringer spoilers #om! nightbringer #om! nb #om! solomon #om! barbatos #om! luke #obey me! #obey me #obey me solomon #barbatos obey me #luke obey me #obey me barbatos #solomon obey me #swd solomon #swd barbatos #obey me! solomon #obey me! barbatos #obey me! nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date

[its-time-to-write]

Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame. 

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself. 

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster. 

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door. 

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says. 

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago. 

God, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him. 

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie. 

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing. 

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses. 

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger. 

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right. 

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh. 

Everything’s all twisted. 

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?” 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around. 

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble. 

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off. 

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes. 

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie. 

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger. 

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs. 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle. 

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand. 

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet. 

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit. 

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk. 

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had. 

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty. 

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question. 

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse. 

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat. 

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable. 

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie. 

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again. 

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright. 

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you. 

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye. 

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you. 

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying. 

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except- 

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication. 

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back. 

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue. 

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech. 

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions. 

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell. 

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests. 

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships. 

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off. 

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting. 

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw. 

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able. 

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

“You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch. 

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?”  you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?” 

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day. 

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think. 

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep. 

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice. 

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid. 

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle. 

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road. 

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever. 

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply. 

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act. 

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car. 

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend. 

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait. 

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle. 

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says. 

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm. 

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy. 

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra. 

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan. 

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca. 

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster. 

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease. 

 “The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right. 

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall. 

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place. 

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty. 

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move. 

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.” 

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say. 

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod. 

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug. 

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry. 

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin. 

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak. 

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[cloveroctobers]

NOTHING SWEETER — BODE LEONE: [Spring Prompts]

A/N: This will probably flop since it’s basically a ghost town in this tag but here I am! Plus it was also requested for me to write for Bode (again) lol which I don’t have a problem with, we love that guy over here. They’re wrong for going on break after giving us what they gave us! I also just want to say that I really miss Max’s curls but here it goes!!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + I’m using: 18.  “Damn, I hate pollen.” + 8.  “IT’S A DEER!” “Yeah, and?” “I CAN SEE IT!”

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡ ♡

Eve was lucky you loved her.

Being up this early on your first day back in Edgewater to give her a ride to Three Rock (her car was in the shop) was a lot to ask! Not really! but what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t complain a good portion about it on the ride up to camp?

“If I get you an iced coffee, would you love me again?” Eve pinched the space in between her brows, elbow resting against the car door.

You hummed while using one hand to tap on your chin, “Add in a Mozzarella, Pesto, and tomato bagel then we’ll talk.”

Eve twisted her lips upwards, “…that’s a thing? Whatever happened to a simple cream cheese with eggs and avocado?”

“You’re lucky I’m not asking for a soft boiled egg stuffed with caviar.” You respond as you reduce your speed once you cross the bridge, spying the familiar deli spot up ahead.

Eve scoffed as she side eyed you, “oh yeah, Switzerland done made you bougie.”

Which earned a laugh from you as you pulled the Toyota 4Runner into the small parking lot. If you weren’t a bundle of nerves you would have got out of the car with Eve to see what changed about the deli you spent many afternoons in with your old friends. However you let your mind wander a bit as you stared out into edgewater’s view.

You were home…except your childhood home was just a memory now that your divorced parents no longer resided in Edgewater. So you crashed at Eve’s although you were completely fine staying in a hotel since Jake talked you out of an air bnb after watching some movie called, “Barbarian,” and you were tired of hearing the statistics and other real life horror stories he pulled out of his ass. Eve was your number one best friend and she was more than willing to open up her place for a friend like you.

As you took up a interest in archery and later turned into a professional Archer, you were inspired to see what the world had in store so the sooner you got out of Edgewater, the better it was for you. Some just didn’t get it (your parents mainly, with your mother being an orthopedic surgeon and your father a fire chief before his MS took over) and expected you to start your own roots here. It was kind of a thing here in this small town, that you were to begin again and build your own legacy. However you were in the tiny group of odd’s that wanted more than the expectations hanging over your head.

Which is why you were proud to say that you’ve been participating in the Olympics every few years because of your passion for archery. Of course you had people down your neck all throughout your career but you still stood as tall as you could.

Now you were back home in the place that was full of doubts but the tightness in your chest wasn’t as noticeable the closer you got to camp.

“Thanks for dropping me off, I appreciate it.” Eve starts as she spots a few inmates hanging around on the yard already, “If you stick around for a minute I’ll even do you a solid and send Bode your way. Since I know it’ll be difficult otherwise.”

Taking a deep inhale you say, “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“Yeah well…if he stays on the right track this time he’ll be out even sooner.” Eve tells, “He’s still a big pain in all of our asses but I think it would do him some good to see you…you did come all this way.”

It’s been years since you last saw each other but you came back for Riley’s funeral and you reached out to Bode when he moved away to a few towns over and changed his last name. You tried to be there even being ocean’s apart but when Bode felt low, it always felt like he wanted to take the world on his shoulder’s and find a way to make it spin again. Yet that landed him in prison and Eve had no problem filling you in on everything in between.

Would he even want to see you? It’s not like your relationship turned sour or anything…it’s just been awhile being in contact with each other. You weren’t nearly this anxious seeing Eve and doubted you would be when you had lunch with Jake and Cara—which was still weird to you—But being near Bode was different from everybody else and you knew that.

“I did…didn’t I?” You loll your head to face Eve, who studies it for a moment before dipping her head.

She tapped her hand against the outside of the door, whispering into the spring air, “it’ll be fine. He’s in a much better headspace and you’re still family no matter where you disappear off to, you got that?”

A watery smile goes Eve’s way before she leaves you to collect yourself. You’re pulling your mirror down from the sun visor, patting underneath your eyes and beginning to second guess yourself. You were here for two weeks and there was no way that you planned on not seeing Bode. You ran into his parents just last night at the bar, craving some wings before heading to Eve’s, just to be received with warm arms and classic banter from the Leone’s.

They were the parents you could talk to more than your own. If you weren’t crashing at Eve’s then you would definitely be at the Leone’s but then Bode and Cara happened so that’s when some of the distance was created. They didn’t last, like most teenage relationships but out of respect you felt like it was the right thing to do.

It felt right being back, even if it was only temporary.

Maybe that’s just how you had to view Bode’s situation. He wasn’t a temporary kind of friend although you couldn’t socialize as much but you tried to be hopeful. Even climbed out of the car pacing back and forth, not paying much attention to anyone around until you spotted the green dust decorating the navy car.

Scowling in disgust, you swiped the arm of your jacket around the hood of your car before cringing at the greenery you wiped on your sweatpants afterwards.

“Damn, I hate pollen.” A voice comes from behind, which makes you slowly stand up straight and glance over your shoulder.

There he was.

Bode Leone, standing in the flesh, hands deep in his jacket pockets, and a small smile on his lips.

You fully turn to face him and tilt your head to the side, “Didn’t I tell you once before that Orange isn’t your color?”

Bode lifts his shoulders with humor in his blue-green eyes as he motions towards the spot on you, “yeah, well maybe green isn’t yours either.”

You scoff as you motion to your outfit, “what? You don’t think I’m pulling it off?”

The blond chuckles as he takes a step towards you, “As long as you don’t start itching then sure, whatever you say.”

“Oh,” you scratch at the back of your hand and shoot a glare at the man who’s got crinkles by his eyes now, “why did you have to go and say that Bode! Now I’m doing it!”

“Sorry! It’s just that I sorta remembered that you were sensitive to almost everything including air.” He says to you, teasing somewhat, now standing face to face with you.

Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help but to smile at that. You didn’t know what it was growing up in high school, you were highly allergic to almost everything which landed you in the nurses office a lot but it seemed to relax as you reached your twenties and moved away. You always joked that maybe it was Edgewater that was making you sick. Yet the longer you stood in this town and interacted with not only Eve but Bode, you knew that wasn’t completely true.

“It’s good to see you, Bo.” You lightly shove his shoulder back while he nods in agreement, “can I give you a hug?”

Bode blinks the furrow of his brows away as if you were being ridiculous, “of course you can.”

And you’re cradling the back of his head while his fingers are at your spine, swaying from side to side in a firm but gentle squeeze. Then he’s burying his nose into your shoulder and the feel of the embrace tells you that this was meant to be.

When your eyes open, you realize that you could live just fine in Bode’s arms. You remember your final kiss goodbye in Drayscott, one month before you left the country and one month before Bode attempted to pull off a robbery—it was the sweetest thing—the kiss obviously! because it should have been happened. It didn’t come out of nowhere, it was full of intention, full of wonder and love but you were aware that it wasn’t the right time to be something more.

Maybe some day it could be.

Little did you know, Bode kept that memory not far away. He was kicking himself for the what if’s but when he manages to pull himself out of the blue, he thinks about the best possibility being you.

The both of you could be good together, could see the world together and he wasn’t sure how it all looked but he was willing to imagine.

A gasp makes Bode pull away, alarmed.

“IT’S A DEER!” You point, over Bode’s shoulder.

He glances over his shoulder to in fact see the said brown animal, peering at the two of you, “Yeah, and?”

“I CAN SEE IT!” You attempt to lower your voice but the excitement got the best of you as you almost bounce on your toes.

Bode’s still lightly has a hand resting on your waist now, as they watch the beautiful creature sniff at the grass and carried on deeper and away into the woods.

“Are you telling me they don’t have deer out in Switzerland?” There’s amusement in Bode’s voice as he peeks back at you.

“I’ve been in the city mainly but it’s been awhile since I’ve really been one with nature, you know? Which reminds me, I’ll have to make time to go off roading with this baby one of these days. Or hiking.” You jam a thumb back at the car.

Bode nods, “you’ll be careful won’t you? Don’t get so easily impressed with animals, not all of them will have the best intentions.”

You were an animal lover back in the day, so much to the point you wouldn’t dissect a frog sophomore year, which landed you in the principal’s office.

“What?” You blow a raspberry, “I’m like freaking Princess Aurora. Animals love me.”

Bode squints his eyes, “…didn’t you get bit by a goat when we were like what? Fourteen?”

“You’re really killing my vibe man and I don’t like that.” You yank on the end of Bode’s hair who laughs again.

He raises his hands in surrender and grips your wrist from his head, “alright, alright. My bad but if it makes you feel better, I still have that scar after that horse kicked the shit out of me when we had too many drinks partying at Tamsin Kadoka’s farm.”

“Really?”

Bode nods, “yeah, right on my lower back and it’s shaped like Utah.”

You meet each other’s gaze before bursting out laughing in unison at yet another memory. He’s gripping your shoulder again while he’s got your attention, “just promise me when you’re out there in those woods that you’re careful. I’d hate it if something happened to you.”

“Well the feeling is mutual, Bo.” You state, “you just had to go on and choose firefighting huh?”

Bode shrugs, “Must be in the Leone blood.”

“Yeah, must be.” You murmur, staring at him like there’s stars getting ready to rise in your eyes and Bode can’t help but to lean forward to place a lingering kiss on your forehead.

His facial hair pricks you but you don’t mind.

“Leone!” A guard calls out, which means your time is up for now.

You hold his hand, interlocking your fingers, which he squeezes with a smile to match, eyes wandering all over your features, almost as if to tell himself that you are in fact really here.

“Until next time?” He questions.

You smile, “See you soon, Bode.”

And he grins at you, those crinkles by his eyes returning before he slips his hand from yours.

This was brief but sweet and you’re mentally kicking yourself for thinking that this could go wrong.

You’re watching Bode walk away from you and he can’t help but to jog backwards to get another look at you. Almost as if you would disappear again and you would never see him again. When he turns back around, heading to the guard on shift who announces the inmates need to get ready for line ups inside at the bunks, he meets up with Cole on his way.

“Who was that?” Cole nudges his chin in your direction.

You’re seated in the driver’s seat, window down, leaning on your arm as you watch the men in Orange make their way back inside.

Catching Bode’s eye, you wave before rolling your window almost all the way up and pull away from the camp site.

“Someone i would like to give the world and more to once im out of here.”

Cole is smirking but appreciates the honesty as he claps Bode on his shoulder, already knowing what that look is for. “Then let’s make it happen, Leone! Nothing sweeter than having something on the outside to fight for, you know?”

“I agree.” Bode pulls his gaze from your retreating car, finding himself standing up straighter as they awaited for Eve to start their day.

When Eve’s brown eyes set on Bode’s, he just barely tips in his head in thanks, which the woman echo’s as she carries on along the line.

Bode already can’t wait for the next day he can get reconnected with you in person again so, he bites his smile away.

⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡♡✿ ⋆˙⟡ ♡

Continue with my spring anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #fire country #fire country season 2 #bode leone #bode donovan #bode leone x reader #bode Donovan x reader #eve edwards #spring prompts #queued #max thieriot

[grimgrazia]

Doors and Denji:

Doors are a common motif in CSM and hold many meanings. They act as a gateway to Hell, a metaphor for repressing trauma, and a symbol of the unknown. I believe they have some other meanings as well, but I’ll touch on those later. This is just the beginning of my analysis for now, and it focuses on Denji’s dream. This isn’t really an analysis on Denji’s character, I plan to do one for him later on. Also let me know if there are other parts of CSM I should analyze. I make plans for an analysis and then school gets in the way so I’ll forget about whatever I wanted to do.

The door in Denji’s dream is one of the most notable parts of the series. Behind the door are suppressed memories from Denji’s traumatic childhood. Each time he has this dream, a voice tells him not to open the door, and he doesn’t. I think it’s important to note that Denji shut those memories away himself. Denji doesn’t need permission to open that door because it’s his door. That being said, suppressing memories is a common response to trauma, so Denji is never aware of the fact he can choose to confront his past or not, because he forced himself to forget. After the Darkness Devil arc, Denji decides he is better off not opening the door, and he’s learned that knowledge isn’t always a great thing.

The door isn’t just locking trauma away, it’s also a symbol for the unknown. There is no foreshadowing or hints as to what could be behind that door in the manga, all we know is that it’s probably not good. We find out at the same time Denji does, when Makima forces that door open. Why would Denji want to open a door that most likely has something bad behind it? Why would anyone want to do that? Even in real life, no one can be 100% sure of what is behind a door (unless it’s transparent but that doesn’t apply here.) It’s kind of like putting a cat in a box and leaving it there for a long time. The cat could be dead, alive, or missing but it’s uncertain until you open the box again. Does the cat even exist still if you can’t see it anymore? (Plz tell someone knows this story I’m talking about). The closed door, like the unknown, leaves room for POSSIBILITY. Denji can’t know for certain what is behind that door until he opens it and sees for himself. To Denji, Aki might not be a fiend until he opens the door, just like the cat might not be dead until you open the box, if that makes sense.

Also, this room for possibility can make finding out the truth even more harmful. In Oedipus Rex, Oedipus was so sure of himself and his life. To be fair, he had no reason to believe that he was unsuccessful in avoiding his fate. His entire life was a lie. Denji remembers his father’s death as a suicide, instead of killing him in self defense. Like Oedipus, Denji had come to terms with a lie. Accepted it and moved on. It only makes sense for Oedipus and Denji to react with pure horror when learning or remembering years later. For so long, they believed they knew what happened. They were sure, so there was no need to think about it anymore. Everything in their lives were not as they appear, both Oedipus’ skepticism and Denji’s tendency to trust easily did more harm than good because of it. Neither of them did anything wrong, they simply responded to their respective situations. Responding to the circumstances is really the only control anyone truly has.

Unlike Oedipus, Denji is okay with not knowing what is behind that door. Denji can accept that he does not know everything, doesn’t need to know everything, and never will know everything. It’s impossible and attempting to do so can cause more trouble than it’s worth, like in Oedipus’ case. Learning about something that happened in the past won’t change anything, what’s done is done.

Denji’s decision to not open it can be interpreted in a few ways. You could see it as healthy and as Denji moving forward. He has a great bond with Aki and Power, he’s content with his life, why jeopardize it? Even so, this could also be seen as Denji avoiding the door. The door would have opened eventually, it was inevitable. The question was if Denji would do it himself. Denji wasn’t ready to open it yet. It’d be healthy if Denji confronts his trauma on his own terms, but that’s not what happens. Makima forces that door open on purpose. She’s well aware Denji isn’t ready, so she sees this as the perfect opportunity to ensure he can’t bounce back. That he can never live a normal life, thus breaking his contract with Pochita. Confronting trauma and healing from it is a slow process, but people can still move forward and live normal lives. However, it becomes extremely difficult when you’re overwhelmed by all of it in the matter of seconds.

Even though Denji CHOSE not not open the door after the Darkness Devil Arc, it opens anyways later on. The door was always going to open, it’s something Denji never would have been able to avoid. What he can do, is control how he reacts to it, but he doesn’t realize this immediately. Makima is counting on the fact that after what happened to Aki and Power, on top of forcing the door open, Denji won’t be able to move forward. If she is confident in Denji’s reaction, she has control. She orchestrated everything so she could be certain that Denji will be totally hopeless, and never live normally. She understands it’s difficult to control how people respond to things, especially when someone has lived a life like Denji’s.

“Time eases all things,” is a famous line from Oedipus Rex. By this, Creon means that over time, people move on or at least find ways to cope so that they can go about their daily lives. Makima realizes that after Himeno’s death, Denji does not get attached nor is he fazed easily. I think this is when she realizes she can’t just throw him into horrific situations, but must build his ideal life, let him be happy, and then rip it all away. The deaths of Aki and Power being so close to one another was crucial to this too, because Makima didn’t want to give Denji time to process what happened, or “ease the wounds.”

Makima becoming a mother figure for Denji contributed a lot as well. Fujimoto stated in an interview that their relationship is based off abuse from documentaries he watched. Unhealthy family dynamics cause conflicting feelings, especially if they are all you have. If Kishibe did not get to Denji in time, Makima’s plan definitely would have worked. Makima made Denji believe that he had no where else to go, he had no choice but to die. It’s in the safe room with Kishibe and Kobeni that Denji realizes he has not reached a dead end, or rather, reaching a dead end on one path doesn’t mean the same will happen on another path. He does what the mouse in Kafka’s “A Little Fable” couldn’t do: change his direction.

I hope this makes sense, I feel like I got off topic. Anyways, this doesn’t even scratch the surface of CSM, but this is all I have energy for right now sorry.

Also, I posted this on my tik tok too but it kept getting taken down. My TT is grimmjowstoenail for anyone who cares 🤷🏻‍♀️

#chainsaw man #makima #denji #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #csm analysis #gojo satoru #writing #anime and manga

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // eighty-one

| @sani-sims

next / previous / beginning

KYRIE: Mm. She takes her job personally. Not that she really ever cared for us. Being entrusted with our guardianship went to her head years ago. I always remember her arguing with the council about what we ought or ought not to be doing. She never liked sharing the responsibility. Guess it made her feel important lording over God’s chosen. EVE: She acts as if you’re still a child. KYRIE: I don’t think she could ever see me otherwise. EVE: Do you ever miss your real mother? Don’t you… wonder about her? KYRIE: Hard to miss something you’ve never known. I could say I wish I’d had the chance to know her, but then… I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been complacent in surrendering us to the church in the first place. EVE: I never knew my mother, either. Yet, I often dreamed of how my life would have been different had she lived. When I would see other children with their mothers, the happiness they showed… it made me yearn for something I, too, had never felt, but still wanted, deeply. KYRIE: In a way I envy you. I haven’t the imagination to fathom things like that; Whatever it must have been like to grow up as someone else. EVE: But you had your sister. KYRIE: Yes… I had her. EVE: Kyrie, you shouldn’t give up hope that she might still be alive. Tell me, honestly. Is that the real reason behind your decision? KYRIE: I don’t know… Maybe. I just don’t see the point anymore. I had hope. But I can’t feel her. It’s just… silent. Is it better to think she’s out there somewhere, in pain and alone? I don’t know. Everything is so dark. EVE: Surely, she wouldn’t want this for you. And she’s not the only one. There are people who care for you now. KYRIE: I could hardly believe that. EVE: It’s true. Don’t you think I worry for you? KYRIE: You’re… different. EVE: I’m not the only one. Kyrie there’s… something you should know. KYRIE: What do you mean? EVE: I… was nervous to tell you. I don’t know if this is something you should hear now, considering your condition, but if I don’t… If your sight returns, perhaps just saying so now would be kinder. KYRIE: Eve? EVE: It’s Tayuin… He’s gone after that witch. The one who cast the curse. KYRIE: He’s… what? EVE: He, Eira and Lord’Tevus left sometime in the night. Only a few of us know they’ve gone. I expect that’s for the better. KYRIE: But… how… Why? EVE: Isn’t it obvious? To save you. KYRIE: That’s— I’ll… I’ll go, then. I’ll go after them, I— EVE: You’re in no condition to do anything. And certainly not the type to go traversing dangerous terrain. KYRIE: I can’t let them. This is all— EVE: It’s done, Kyrie. You’ve nothing to do now but accept that. KYRIE: How can I? If something happens to them— EVE: Calm down. You’ll exert yourself too much. KYRIE: But… EVE: You know they’re capable fighters. And clever. Well… KYRIE: laughs Some more than others. EVE: If for no other reason, I will acknowledge Lord Tev’us is a powerful force. Though, I would be lying if I said it didn’t concern me greatly to hear he’d gone along. On the one hand, his abilities are nearly unmatched. On the other, it’s hard to know where his loyalties lay. If he has any at all. I admit, part of me thinks he’s only gone for selfish reasons. He’s shown us well enough he cares for no one but himself. KYRIE: I know your experiences with him have been unfavorable. However, I… don’t know if what you say is the heart of it. EVE: What do you mean? KYRIE: Lord Tev’us is… complicated. Perhaps, not easy to like. EVE: Not easy to like? He’s callous and self-serving. Do you forgive all that he has done? KYRIE: I didn’t say that. But I needn’t forgive him to understand that he and I have wildly different perspectives. That doesn’t mean I agree with his, nor that I think he’s absolved of judgement. But do I think that he is beyond redemption? Do I think him incapable of caring for anyone outside himself? KYRIE: My answer to that is…

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: eve ravenclaw-silvermoon #had to cut the transcript because of tumblr's arbitrary word limit so I omitted the beginning just fyi for text readers

[woundlingus]

Okay, Unfinished Business 13x20 THEE Gabriel master thesis of episodes for his characterisation tells me one very important fact about him, and that’s that he is an unreliable narrator.

This is perhaps not even his fault, years and years of suffering the worst kind of abuse it’s hard to think clearly about much at all, let alone the intricacies of what happened to put you where you are and trying to understand other perspectives. It’s hard when you’ve spent a near decade (or undisclosed amount of time being shifted between Earth and Hell) with only the worst kind of torture at the forefront of your mind.

Or maybe, he does know. He is the trickster in every way that matters regardless of if he’s the original Loki or not. I’d find it pretty hard to believe that the trickster who haunts Sam Winchester’s nightmares would be unaware of the irony of his situation and the symbolism of his own torture, I imagine that makes the punishment all the more humiliating and bitter. Gabriel is also a show boat. A peacock. He’s always paraded himself around as tough and unknowable, he’s also a known liar and both of those traits work together to create a very convincing story in whatever episodes story it is he wants to tell. But he is a liar.

What sounds better? Gabriel ran away to hide under the skirt of his pagan friends?

Or, Gabriel was living a luxurious life where he was pampered and beloved;

(That’s right, the pornstars obviously)

That these so called friends wined and dined him, fed him his fill, and then when he was at his most vulnerable after they’d made well sure he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down- THEN, and only then, did they strike out against him. He could have never seen it coming. The ultimate betrayal.

Gabriel can’t keep his story straight the whole episode. He opens with a bold faced lie (can you spot the resemblance to any other lies so far?)

He knows this looks bad. He’s already so fragile, and he knows the Winchesters want him for his grace so I can’t imagine him knocking on their door for help was a decision he came to easily. So these two men who are bigger than him, stronger than him, and have a bone to pick with him, bring him into their motel room while he’s bleeding his guts out and can barely stand. He peacocks. I’m fine, “you should see the other guy”, wink wink. God forbid they know he’s weak, god forbid they think he’s any more pathetic than they already do.

He’s guarding his very fragile ego right now, frankly, it’s the only thing he has left.

I don’t doubt for a moment that Loki’s POV is any less clouded by his own personal prejudices and ego, they’re very much the same after all. Loki was in that cave, Gabriel did rescue him.

These are facts. That doesn’t change that Loki freed Gabriel from a cave of his own and saved him from his family as well.

They are equals in this fact. But neither willing to admit to it. Loki I understand, he’s given very little time to plead his case and so he gets right to the point. I saved Gabriel’s life, he killed my father.

Gabriel however, has plenty of time to explain himself and wastes it spinning a story in which he can both simultaneously look cool and still find himself to be the ultimate victim in. He wastes time keeping the Winchesters in the dark and it could have cost them their lives when they ran in after Gabriel without the whole story. Lucky for them, no one here cares about the Winchesters lol Loki is as occupied with Gabriel and he is with Loki. But they could’ve been hurt!

I’m not saying Gabriel doesn’t deserve catharsis, that he shouldn’t get to kill Loki and his children. I don’t need to, Gabriel does-

Maybe that was the tricksters best trick so far, that Gabriel managed to warp his own memories and perception of what happened to fuel his own survival, and now that he’s out and the world is real again he can’t make himself let go of what he had to tell himself. That Loki was unnecessarily cruel. That Loki snapped out of nowhere. That his closest confidant sold him out for money of all things. He can’t let himself remember it was more complex than that, he tells himself he needs this, because if he doesn’t he’ll have to admit that under all this peacocking and lying he is that weak and broken and scared. If Gabriel has to sit down with the reality that he’s never going to be that cool and sexy guy who gets everyone he wants and couldn’t care less, he’d probably want to kill himself (which is what really starts to get him down in the following episodes because guess what, killing Loki didn’t fix anything he’s still broken, :( always will be)

I think he believes if he can lie hard enough, this fabrication could be real. It can be real to him at least, so he doesn’t have to face the humiliation of either admitting to his own stupid naïveté and he didn’t see the obvious coming, or that he knowing and wilfully begged Loki for a place by his side and got throw down hard for his cowardice. But it’s not like there’s anyone left to contest his story now.

#this is so ramble-y I’m so sorry 😭 this probably doesn’t make a lick of sense but it’s plaguing me #gabriel spn #supernatural #spn #supernatural s13 #supernatural 13x20

[kirbyprompts]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐎 ( 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍 ) 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

feel free to change the prompts as you see fit! warnings: mentions of death and murder and violence.

❝don’t start a fight.❞

❝c’mere or i’ll shoot you.❞

❝you remember your training.❞

❝if i wanted you dead, you would already be dead.❞

❝you can’t go back!❞

❝i suppose we could stay for a bit.❞

❝can you believe how lucky we are to be alive right now?❞

❝now, let’s eat, and you can tell me who or what is trying to kill you this time.❞

❝you poor dear.❞

❝there has to be another way. i won’t let any more innocents suffer on my account.❞

❝you’ve grown up.❞

❝i believe you.❞

❝i’m the one who has to fall off the roof. stop complaining.❞

❝it has to look real.❞

❝let me in, and i’ll shut up.❞

❝THIS. IS. SO. COOL!❞

❝what’s wrong?❞

❝you really have changed.❞

❝sorry. i just—i’m tired of talking about problems i can’t fix. i want to help.❞

❝that’s a lot of ifs. i don’t like scenarios with more than one if.❞

❝the whole concept of ‘have to’ is strange to me.❞

❝you’ll find out tomorrow.❞

❝when do you have to leave?❞

❝i wonder if there’s anyone i haven’t neglected, hurt, or overlooked.❞

❝dude, you scared off my groupies.❞

❝i was just… passing by? wandering around, waiting to die? i’m not sure.❞

❝i trust you with my life.❞

❝i have to go back. i have to see if i’m strong enough.❞

❝i don’t care about the paintings, but if you get any color on you, you’ll ruin that whole black-and-white aesthetic you’ve got going.❞

❝come in quickly. the cattle are watching.❞

❝you’ve started having visions again.❞

❝i’m not super fond of cows.❞

❝a god is telling me that something is a myth?❞

❝we have to get out of here now.❞

❝do we fight?❞

❝i’m learning to believe in all sorts of things that can kill me!❞

❝art can be made again. people can’t.❞

❝i didn’t want to see you die.❞

❝it’s okay. you’re with friends.❞

❝i’m so proud.❞

❝to be human is to move forward, to adapt, to believe in your ability to make things better.❞

❝i’ll make things right. or i will die trying.❞

❝no time to nap!❞

❝we have to help one another. that’s the only future worth fighting for.❞

❝see you tomorrow for another day of evil business transactions!❞

❝gods forbid we jaywalk and get hit by a car on our way to a painful death.❞

❝take whatever you think might happen and turn it upside down and inside out.❞

❝do you want me to surrender or not?❞

❝remember what’s important.❞

❝if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?❞

❝a sense of humor? you really are indestructible.❞

❝i have determined that our situation sucks.❞

❝do you want a sandwich?❞

❝assuming everything goes according to plan. but let’s be honest, so far things have not gone according to plan.❞

❝dreams are a vehicle, like a chariot. you have to drive them. you can’t let them drive you.❞

❝i don’t have time for you right now.❞

❝always a critic.❞

❝i’m glad you’re not dead yet. because i’m going to kill you slowly.❞

❝you’re getting blood all over me.❞

❝there’s only one person here you need to listen to: yourself. trust yourself.❞

❝no one hits my boyfriend. and no one kills my dad!❞

❝you would kill yourself just to kill me?❞

❝how hard can it be to destroy myself?❞

❝you were so strong. so brilliant.❞

❝just keep saying that. i’m right. you’re wrong. been waiting months for you to realize it.❞

❝just come back to me, dummy. that’s an order.❞

❝we all have a duty to rescue each other, wouldn’t you say?❞

❝i told you so.❞

❝wisdom. it comes in handy.❞

❝what’s the first thing you’ll do now that you’re back?❞

❝no story ever ends, does it? it just leads into others.❞

❝i won’t forget. the memory is part of me now.❞

❝next time, maybe give me a heads-up before popping in.❞

❝you’re back.❞

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #roleplay memes

[vyunok-obyknovenniy]

A little analysis of this part in the Odyssey:

Reading time: ~10 minutes

Book 23, The Great Rooted Bed, Fagles' tr-n There he sat, leaning against the great central column, eyes fixed on the ground, waiting, poised for whatever words his hardy wife might say when she caught sight of him. A long while she sat in silence … numbing wonder filled her heart as her eyes explored his face. One moment he seemed … Odysseus, to the life— the next, no, he was not the man she knew, a huddled mass of rags was all she saw.

“Oh mother,” Telemachus reproached her, “cruel mother, you with your hard heart! Why do you spurn my father so—why don’t you sit beside him, engage him, ask him questions? What other wife could have a spirit so unbending? Holding back from her husband, home at last for her after bearing twenty years of brutal struggle— your heart was always harder than a rock!” “My child,” Penelope, well-aware, explained, “I’m stunned with wonder, powerless. Cannot speak to him, ask him questions, look him in the eyes … But if he is truly Odysseus, home at last, make no mistake: we two will know each other, even better— we two have secret signs, known to us both but hidden from the world.”

Odysseus, long-enduring, broke into a smile and turned to his son with pointed, winging words: “Leave your mother here in the hall to test me as she will. She soon will know me better. Now because I am filthy, wear such grimy rags, she spurns me—your mother still can’t bring herself to believe I am her husband.<...>

Telemachus is a precious baby, we've established that.

But he does act a bit like a brat with Penelope a couple times. Of course I don't think that any of that is malicious or that he doesn't love her, but he's still being a bit of a brat.

They both suffered, their pain was similar, but also very different, their experiences and the way they processed it were different as well.

Moreover, at this moment Telemachus has already spent some time with Odysseus. They already had their meeting/reunion and they already cried it out (to an extent. I'm sure there's more crying they'll do afterwards). They even had a father-son bonding activity (a.k.a. the slaughter of the suitors). Telemachus got to know his father at least a little bit over the past couple of days and at this point he processed and accepted the idea of Odysseus being back.

Penelope, on the other hand, was told about it just a moment ago. She can't immediately go "oh, you're saying Odysseus is back? Wonderful, let me greet him", no. Odysseus wasn't away on a short hunting trip or something, he was away for two whole decades, half of that time he was pretty much thought to be dead by most people (the first half wasn't that much better, as he could've still died any time during the war, but at least he wasn't lost, Penelope knew where he was).

Now she needs time to wrap her head around what is happening. We even see her thoughts as she goes to meet Odysseus:

Penelope started down from her lofty room, her heart in turmoil, torn … should she keep her distance, probe her husband? Or rush up to the man at once and kiss his head and cling to both his hands?

She wants to reunite with him, she wants this to be true, but she can't be sure of anything now. They have been apar for longer than they knew each other. Does he still love her like he used to? Is he the man she loved? Is it even the real Odysseus in the first place? She needs to process everything, as well as confirm all the information herself, and Telemachus, at least at this moment, doesn't comprehend that. He's acting quite immature, scolding his mother for not immediately believing and accepting that Odysseus is back.

This is a very interesting detail. First it once again shows us that Telemachus still lacks a lot of maturity, despite having been on his coming of age trip. He's still very young.

Yes, he definitely grew a lot in that short time, but it would've been impossible for him to learn everything at once, he still has a lot of that immaturity left in him, there's still a lot of room to grow and that's completely understandable. We, as people, grow for our whole lives and Tele is doing remarkably well, especially considering his circumstances.

Another interesting thing about this part is that it shows Telemachus', perhaps a bit childish, impatience. He is a kid, who finally met his dad (and his biggest hero), he knows that his mother was suffering and grieving for pretty much his whole life (with things getting a lot worse over the past decade). From Telemachus' perspective Odysseus' return is supposed to solve all their problems, especially since their biggest problem, a.k.a. the suitors, was just taken care of and it wouldn't have happened without Odysseus.

Telemachus just wants a happy family. His dad is back and seems to love him, the suitors are gone, now his parents should reunite, his mother will stop grieving and everything will be perfect. This is something he dreamt of his whole life and it's finally so close, but his mother doesn't immediately believe him. She doesn't immediately accept Odysseus and Telemachus doesn't understand why. He is too preoccupied with wanting things finally to be okay, that he doesn't take time to think about what Penelope must be feeling. It doesn't even occur to him. Perhaps it's also partially the need to be believed and listened to, which is also something he lacked growing up around suitors and being treated as a child, but I'm not diving into that right now.

Odysseus, on the other hand, understands what's going on. He assures his son, that everything will be okay. He pretty much does a more adult version of "mom and dad will take care of this, you go play for a bit". Odysseus understands Penelope's reaction and goes from there. Of course he wants to be in her embrace as soon as possible, but considering everything she has been through, he definitely can't just suddenly grab her and do what he wants. This is his dearly beloved wife and he wants her to take on that role voluntarily, like she did before, he wants her to accept him as her dear husband, like she did before, and for that he has to let her do it at her own pace. He tries to meet her where she's at, to do this reunion on her terms, to assure her, that he is, who he says he is and who others tell her he is.

This is just so amazing and I love their relationship so much (T▿T)♡

I also love Penelope's reaction to Telemachus' words. She doesn't react negatively, she is remarkably calm and part of it is probably the shock from what's happening, but still, she is "well-aware". I think that she knows Telemachus really well, because even though he has surprised her with how much he matured, he's still the same boy, he's still her kid. She most likely understands where Telemachus' outburst is coming from and doesn't get angry, doesn't scold him for his impatience, she reassures him. She lets him know, that he doesn't need to be scared of things falling apart and that she isn't looking to reject Odysseus. She's looking for Odysseus and she hopes she can find him in that familiar and strange man before her. She just needs time, but she will be taking the effort to search for what she's looking for, now that she has a way (she wouldn't have been able to go searching for Odysseus at sea, but now he's, supposedly, right here and she will handle it like the queen that she is).

#the odyssey #this is just my interpretation of this scene #you're completely free to interpret it differently #I wrote this analysis a while ago and now decided to share it here #hope you enjoyed #odysseus #telemachus #penelope #they all care about each other so much and they've been through a lot #just give this family all the happiness #please TT #tagamemnon #greek mythology #the “reading time” mentioned above is how long it took me personally to read this whole post properly #I just find time estimates like this helpful when I'm about to read something long #obviously not everyone's time would be the same #someone might read slower. others might read faster and that's okay #I just thought this might be helpful to someone like it usually is to me #certainly no harm in putting it here))) #odyssey rant

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 18/19)

Hello and welcome to the longest chapter I’ve ever written. I should’ve split this into two parts, but idk, here it is. I hope you have enjoyed this story, and please please please stick around for Chapter 19! I will post that tomorrow morning, as it’s fully written and edited already.

Thank you for the love and support. My daughter is doing a lot better. At the ER, they were afraid she had a concussion from taking a bad fall (tripping and hitting her head on a metal pole), but thankfully, she doesn’t. She’s totally back to normal now, but it was my first foray into the horrifying world of the bad things that can happen to your children, even if you’re just two feet away from them. Why can’t we wrap our babies in bubble wrap??

Anyways. Enjoy.

Mulder

“Mulder? It’s me.”

Shock slides down his spine like ice cubes. He unlocks the door so hastily he almost rips out the hinges.

And there she is, those blue, blue eyes peeking out from underneath a dark hood. Slowly, she draws down her mask.

Her mouth parts and for a moment, a thick silence hangs between them. And then her eyes dart away and her tongue flashes out to lick her lips. Somewhere in his foggy, flabbergasted mind, Mulder realizes she is on edge.

“I found you,” she says unnecessarily.  

“You—yes,” he says with a stupefied nod, suddenly feeling very light-headed. He grips the side of the door as dizziness overcomes him, and when her small hand reaches out to curl around his bicep, he almost passes out.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice full of concern. She lifts his go-bag from his shoulder and places it on the floor, then gently pries his fingers from his weapon. “Are you sick, Mulder?” Her warm hand rises to touch his forehead and he blinks, trying to clear his blurry vision and make sense of this apparition standing in front of him. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way she’s real.

But her eyes lift to his and nothing—not a ghost, not a dream, not a hallucination—could replicate the warmth and familiarity and love in that stare. He shakes his head in slow amazement. Just moments ago, he believed he had doomed himself to a life that would never include her. And now . . .

She lowers her hand slowly, seeming to realize his reaction is based in shock rather than illness. Pulling back her hood, she gestures dazedly at her baggy clothes.

“I wasn’t sure if it was safe here,” she explains with a blush. “I wanted to stay incognito, just in case . . . .” Her voice trails off and she shrugs.

He nods in stunned agreement, snapping shut his mouth once he realizes it’s hanging open.

“Let me in?” she finally asks.  

He moves aside robotically, watching her place their weapons together on a side table and then close the door behind her. Her movements are methodical, deliberate. She’s taking her sweet time, drawing things out. She shuffles off her boots, fixes the flyaways in her hair, and brushes away some imaginary lint on her dark sweater.

When she can’t seem to find anything else to distract her, she finally lifts her eyes to his. He balks. Now that she is over the threshold, she seems to have lost whatever warmth she arrived with. Her eyes are full of fear, and maybe . . . is that anger? His muscles tense. Something must have happened to her. She wouldn’t have come looking for me if everything was alright back home. Is she in danger? Did someone hurt her? What’s going—

“Are you mad at me?” she whispers apprehensively, interrupting his thoughts.

He blinks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Mad?” he repeats.

She shifts uncomfortably. “Because I—because I chose you. Because I rejected the life you chose for me.”

I chose you. The words sink into his skull, slip into his brain, cement themselves on his heart.

“You . . . chose me?” His brain can’t seem to process her words and he narrows his eyes in question. “What do you mean?”

Her lips tick up just slightly at his dazed parroting. “Mulder,” she says with a shake of her head, “why do you think I’m here?”

But before he can answer, she takes a step closer to him, her eyes pinning him to the wall. “A few days ago, you told me I wasn’t allowed to choose you. That you knew better than me, and that my life should look a certain way.” Her eyes have turned steely with resolve. “But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me. Because what’s best for me—” She swallows hard, and her chin dips. When she speaks again, her voice is tightly controlled, carefully concealing her emotions. “What’s best for me is, and will always be, you.”

Silence fills the space again as he racks his brain for a proper response. But he’s just now getting used to the sensation of Dana Katherine Scully being present in his life once again, and it’s overwhelming his ability to speak.

With an exasperated sigh, she continues. “Mulder, you begged me once to choose you over Alan—”

His brain sputters to life. Faced with the realization that Scully came here not because she is in any danger but rather because she wants to be with him, he suddenly has a lot to say.

“No, Scully, no. I told you, I didn’t mean for you to choose this.” He gestures wildly at the cabin, his voice pitching higher with desperation. “I didn’t mean—I never wanted you to choose this life—”

She grits her teeth.

“Jesus Christ, Mulder, you never get it,” she huffs with a vehement shake of her head. “I choose you. You, you the person, Mulder. Whatever that means, whatever that looks like. Whether you’re on the run or running the FBI, I choose to be by your side.” She takes a big breath. “Because even when I’m furious with you, or broken-hearted, or so deeply hurt by your idiotic choices,” she says, emphasizing her words with a smack to his arm, “I am still . . . I am still in love with you.” Her anger seems to leave her body all at once. Her voice turns soft and she links their hands together. “Because I’ve never loved someone so much. Because being separated from you is a slow, unbearable death. I don’t care if we never again see the light of day, Mulder. I just want to be with you.”

Stunned into silence, tears sting at his eyes and he takes a staggering step backwards. With their hands still joined, she goes with him, until he’s sinking to the couch and she’s settling in next to him.

“You’re in shock,” she murmurs after a minute, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off his forehead.

He looks over at her, then down at their hands twisted together. He realizes he’s shaking. “But your life,” he starts to argue again, and she leans over and grips the back of his head. Her mouth is millimeters from his.

“Why can’t you understand? You are my life,” she groans.

She releases him and ducks her head, pressing her hand to her mouth as a frustrated sob escapes her. Uncertainly, he reaches for her. When she leans into his touch, he blows out a long sigh and then gathers her in his arms, tucking her face into his neck, pressing his palm to the back of her head. Her eyelashes flutter against his skin.

“When you pushed me away that first time,” she murmurs after a long time, “when you drove me away to California, I thought I’d never forgive you for doing it. Because my entire heart belonged to you back then, and it was like you—like you were still holding my heart, but you’d sent the rest of me away. And no matter how angry I was, I couldn’t rip my heart out of your possession, because it is yours.” She takes a shuddering breath in and he winds himself around her tighter. “But then when I woke up alone in that bed last week, and you were gone . . . I couldn’t believe you did that to me again. I couldn’t believe you didn’t realize, after all we’ve been through, what you are to me. You aren’t just—just some person that can fall in and out of my life. When you’re away from me, when we’re separated, I am nothing. My life means nothing.” Her nails dig into his neck. “Don’t you get that? Don’t you feel the same way?”

She pulls away and gives him a tremulous look. Her thumbs reach up to brush at his wet cheeks, and he finds he’s still unable to speak. So instead, he simply nods. It seems to be enough for her, though, because she tugs him into her, this time pressing his head to her good shoulder. She holds him to her chest, sinks her fingers into his hair and starts running them up and down, up and down, up and down.

“I won’t say I expected a warm reception from you,” she admits after a while, and he can hear the lilt in her voice that tells him she’s teasing. “But your stony silence is a bit cutting, Mulder.”

He lifts his head. “I’m trying so hard,” he says earnestly, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions—guilt, self-hatred . . . relief.

“You’re not mad, then,” she guesses correctly, and he shakes his head. “In fact, maybe you’re even glad I came,” she adds, just a bit self-righteously.

He nuzzles her cheek with his nose, breathes in the scent of her hair and skin. “Of course I’m glad, Scully. You’re the—you’re the love of my life.” A tender noise hums through her chest. “But I’m also fighting myself right now. I’m trying so hard to let myself be happy. I’m trying to accept that this is really what you want, and that I . . . that I’m allowed to be happy that what you want is me.”

Her brow creases softly and she smooths her palm over his rough cheek. “Yes, Mulder, you’re allowed to be happy,” she murmurs. “Remember, my life is mine to decide. And I choose you.”  

She always seems to know exactly what he needs. Like a dam breaking, joy—unrelenting, shameless, blameless joy—surges up through his body. Doubt and disbelief and guilt lift off his chest like balloons released into the sky and he marvels as they disappear into the ether. His mouth breaks into a grin and she grins back with a wet, sputtering laugh. He slinks his arms around her waist and yanks her into his lap, dragging his hands up her torso and over her breasts and along her neck until he cups her face in his palms.

“You’re here,” he marvels, tipping up her jaw to look at this woman, the person he never thought he’d see again. “I never thought—I didn’t think—” He shakes his head and presses his lips to hers.

She melts like hot wax under his hands. Her mouth opens to him instantly and their tongues tangle together. In between breaths, her baggy jacket flies off her body, followed by her sweater underneath, and then his own jacket and shirt. He mutters a curse into her cheek when his hands brush up against her bare breasts. Her head lolls back as he cups them, thumbing her nipples until they are peaked with pleasure. Her fingernails scratch at the back of his neck as he dips his head to drag his tongue along her collarbones, then across the tops of her breasts. He licks at one nipple, then the next, and she laughs in surprise when he sucks at the underside of one breast until he’s sure to leave a mark.

“Now there’s the warm welcome I was hoping for,” she hums as he slides to his knees and yanks at her socks and pants.

He chuckles against her inner thigh and she jumps when his teeth sink lightly into her skin. He blinks up at her through his eyelashes and watches as arousal floods her gaze. Her mouth parts and he tugs her underwear down, smiling slyly as he spreads her legs. She gasps at the first contact of his mouth to her center.

Her hips jump under his light touch and he hooks his arms around her thighs to hold her in place. And after just a few minutes of attention from his tongue, she comes, hard and fast. Color floods her cheeks and she jerks her legs up to her chest, her chest heaving with satisfaction, her eyes wide with desire, her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

For a long minute, he just stares up at her from his place on the floor, shocked by the slightly dazed expression in her gaze, the hunger in her parted lips, the endearing charm of her pink cheeks.

“Wow,” he says after a minute, and her cheeks darken further. “You really do want me.”

At that, she sputters a laugh and releases her legs to him. Greedily, he runs his palms from her ankles to the tops of her thighs, giving her hips a squeeze.

“If you must know,” she says primly, reaching forward to curl a piece of his hair around her finger, “it’s been a really long time for me.”

His eyes narrow in confusion. “A long time? But what about . . . him?”

Her cheeks are as red as apples, but she holds his gaze. “We didn’t . . . do that.”

His brain immediately short-circuits. Hope and relief and a possessive sort of joy rise in his body like a balloon.

“You didn’t have sex with him?” he asks in amazement, ignoring the rational part of his brain that reminds him that at one point on their drive from California to Montana, she practically shouted at him that she was indeed having sex with her fiancé.   

She tugs at his hair playfully. “Of course we did, Mulder,” she corrects, and the balloon sinks to the earth. “But we didn’t do . . . that, exactly.” He can’t help the way his lips stretch into a smug grin. “Shut up, Mulder. To answer your question, we didn’t—it just wasn’t like that with us. I didn’t—” Exasperated, she sighs. “We had sex, yes. We were together for nine months. But he—there wasn’t that spark, you know? He never made me . . . do that.”

The balloon starts to lift off the ground again. He tries to keep his voice level, calm. “Let me make sure I have all the facts here, Scully. Alan never made you come?” He’s surprised by the feral quality in his own voice.  

She shakes her head slowly and he drags his fingertips up her belly, plays with the delicate line of her collarbone.

“Did you fake it?” he asks evenly.  

She bites her lip. “With him, yes.”

“But not with me,” he says, and it’s not a question. He knows exactly what just happened in her body.

“Not with you.”

Her eyes are dark, flooded pools as he rises to hover over her. He pulls her arms around his neck and hooks his hands underneath her thighs, lifting her off the couch. His bare chest presses against her naked torso and his eyes close momentarily at the warm sensuousness of skin-on-skin. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard.

“Do it again?” she breathes against his cheek, tugging at his hair until he opens his eyes again. Her smile is warm, playful, a bit naughty.

He smiles back. “I plan to do that every damn day for the rest of our lives, Scully.”

**

For the first time since coming to this cabin, Mulder finds himself lying in the bed of the upstairs bedroom. Scully lies naked beside him, her skin warm and dewy, her breathing light and measured. He pushes his nose into her hair, hopes he never wakes up from this beautiful dream. Her hand moves languidly to cup his jaw, turning his mouth into hers. When they pull away, he can see the first rays of a dawning sun lighting her face. It is morning.

In the morning, he is supposed to leave for Canada.

Canada.

He sits up abruptly.

“Scully,” he says hoarsely, “in all the shock of welcoming you back into my life, I seem to have forgotten something very important.”

“Hmm?” she asks sluggishly. Her eyes are heavy with sleep. It’s charming, really, the way she’s able to drop like a fly even at crucially important times in her life.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he whispers against her cheek, and a small smile flits across her face.

She shifts to fully face him, propping herself up on her elbow. He takes a moment to revel in her nakedness, to trace a finger between the dip of her breasts and down to her belly button. Their eyes stay locked, their gazes both heated and sated.

After a time, he slips his palm across her hip and squeezes. “You haven’t told me how you got here.”

For a moment, she stays still, watching him closely, like she’s waiting for him to guess. But then, she flops down onto her back.

“It’s a pretty good story,” she says honestly. “One that involves a few heroes.”

“Oh?” he asks, curiosity sufficiently piqued.

She nods. “When you left me in that cabin, I raised hell,” she admits without shame. He nods with a slightly satisfied grin. “But the men claimed to have no knowledge of where you were or where you went. I called bullshit on Frohike, but he maintained his position: you had vanished without a trace.”

Mulder swallows, thinking back to the way he threatened Frohike within an inch of his life. If you so much as suggest which state I’m in, I’ll come back and kill you myself. She deserves a good life. Don’t let her miss out on a good life.

“He stayed firm, huh?” he asks lightly.

Scully nods and pinches his wrist. “That bastard,” she mutters, but her tone is composed. “So I was on the beach one night,” she continues, “thinking about how much I hated Frohike, and how angry I was at you, and how if I ever saw you again, I might just have to shoot you.”

He expects her to laugh or maybe crack a joke, but her face remains solemn and serious.

She meets his gaze meaningfully. “You had no right to do that to me,” she reminds him darkly.

“May I never invoke your anger again,” he quips, and she glares. “Tell me more about those heroes,” he adds to distract her.

She eyes him warily, shifting back to face him. Her gaze dips to the sheets, where her fingers have taken up drawing a figure eight pattern on the mattress. “My anger wasn’t all I was thinking about on the beach,” she says quietly, and his heart twists. “I was thinking that maybe life wasn’t worth living anymore. Not without you.”

“Scully—”

“Just wait,” she says, holding up a hand. “But something got the better of me that night. You were gone, but you weren’t dead, and I was so sure of how you felt about me. I knew you loved me, and that gave me some . . . hope. Some hope that even if I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with you, I could at least spend the rest of my life with a purpose.”

“Which was?”

“Looking for you.”

His heart rips in half. Had he ever known that that was how she had planned to spend the precious life he thought he was giving her . . .

“I’m so sorry,” he says honestly. “The life I thought you deserved wasn’t the life you actually wanted.”

“Why can’t this be what I deserve?” she counters, touching his bare chest. “Why can’t this be the life that I’m blessed with? Why isn’t that good enough for you?”

He huffs a laugh, running his fingers over the back of her hand. “Because I’m not really the best life. I’m not—”

She shakes her head sadly. “Maybe you’ll never get it, Mulder, but I believe you are the best life for me, and that’s what matters. I believe that my life is only worth living with you at my side. Whether that life is hard or rough, whether the path we walk down together is scary or lonely . . . you are what I deserve. Because you are so good.” Her eyes turn soft. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

He blinks, breaking her gaze. “I think it might be a long time before I believe something like that.”

“Such a skeptic,” she teases with a grin. “Thank goodness we have all the time in the world ahead of us.”

A part of him wants to keep arguing about how he’ll never be good enough for her, how this life won’t satisfy her, how he won’t make her happy . . . but he can’t really argue with the light and joy he sees in her eyes.

He decides to redirect instead. “The heroes,” he prompts again.

She nods. “So, there on the beach, I decided I would go looking for you. That that would be how I lived my life.” She clears her throat, a wry smile rising to her lips. “I was facing the ocean when I made that decision. But then I turned around, and I saw him.”

He crinkles his brow. “Who?”

**

Scully

“Alan?” she asks in surprise. “What are you doing here?” The ocean breeze whips at her hair and she tucks an unruly lock behind her ear. Suddenly, she is self-conscious of her soaking wet clothes, her tear-stained face, the despair in the set of her shoulders.

Alan gestures for her to come closer and she covers the distance between them in ten steps. He is smiling at her sadly.

“I have a gift for you,” he says evenly, “and I thought I’d find you here.”

She frowns, studying him carefully. “Have you been following me?”

He shakes his head. “I really haven’t. I promise. But I do know a few things about you, and one of those things is that you come down to this beach when you need to think. I tried your apartment first, and this was the next obvious choice.”

She nods suspiciously. “Okay. What is it, then? What couldn’t wait until we saw each other next?”

He holds her gaze for a long moment, the only sound the breaking of waves behind her. She realizes, suddenly, that his eyes are full of pain. Terrible pain. The grieving kind of pain.

“Is everything alright?” she asks worriedly.

He sighs and breaks her gaze, then dips a hand into his pants pocket to pull out a plastic bag. It looks to be filled with documents. She frowns.

He presses it gently into her hands, like he’s presenting her with an offering, a sacred sacrifice. “This is my gift to you, Dana Scully,” he says tenderly. “I love you, and I have been honored to have loved you for almost a year now.” He shakes his head. “But I’m realizing that as much as you didn’t know the real me, I didn’t know the real you either.”

She bites her cheek and he reaches out his hand as if to touch her face. Seeming to think better of it, he lets his hand fall to his side.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” he says with a shrug, “that same burning, devoted, self-sacrificial kind of love. The same kind of love I thought I had for you. I never saw you—I never felt like you matched me in emotions or intensity. And now I know why.”

Tears have gathered on her lashes and she brushes at them anxiously. He shakes his head as if to soothe her.

“It’s okay, Dana, it’s okay,” he assures her. “It’s really, really okay. Because if I’m right, and you love Mulder with the strength and intensity that I think you do, then I know you’re going to be happy. And that makes me so, so happy, because I’ve found a way to make the woman I love happy.”

She shakes her head, utterly confused.

He laughs anxiously and she suddenly realizes he is very, very nervous. “You’ve had a lot of choices taken away from you. And I’ve been watching you grieve these past few days, and I realized the best thing I could ever do to make it up to you is to give you the tools to make the choice for yourself. Of where your life goes, of what your future holds. Of who you end up with.”

Her hands start to tremble and she clutches the bag tighter.

He glances at it meaningfully. “I called Skinner, and we talked to Frohike. It took a lot of convincing. He was . . . resolute, to say the least. He feels a debt of loyalty to Mulder, and he truly believed that he was doing the best thing for you by keeping Mulder’s location a secret. Frohike loves you, Dana, but I don’t think he fully understood . . . what I understand.”

She stares down at the bag. “What is this?” she breathes.

Alan smiles. “There’s a piece of paper in there with the coordinates of a house. It’s where Mulder is living for now. Frohike assured me that he plans to be there for about a week or two before he’ll cross the border and disappear into Canada.”

Her hands are shaking so violently now that she has to reach out and clutch Alan’s arm. He steadies her.

“There’s documentation in there too for you. Frohike already prepared fake IDs for Mulder, and we asked him to do the same for you, so you can cross into Canada with him.”

She is on her knees now, her head hanging on her chest, her heart pounding so furiously she goes dizzy.

She senses Alan kneel down beside her. “And there’s a set of keys. You’ve got a car. You’re going to have to drive. Three days, at least, so you need to leave soon. I can help you pack your bags, get supplies, everything you need—”

She throws her arms around him and he freezes, then hugs her tightly to his chest. “Thank you,” is all she can manage. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

**

Mulder

In bed, Mulder’s eyes fall automatically to Scully’s left ring finger. When she notices the direction of his gaze, she tips her head to the side, as if to ask what’s wrong?

He shakes his head. “So, Alan was the good guy all along,” he murmurs. In the back of his mind, that old, familiar refrain is starting up again . . . she was better off without me.

Scully is quiet for a long moment, and then her hand comes up to trace his lips. “So were you,” she replies. “A little misguided at times, sure,” she says with a slight smile. She leans into him, brushing her nose against his cheek. “But if my life was so good back in San Diego with Alan, why do you think I’d give that all up to go into hiding?”

He starts to flush with shame and she presses a kiss to his lips. “Because you are worth it,” she reminds him. “I wouldn’t trade one moment with you for a million moments with anyone else.”

He meets her gaze and sees that she isn’t teasing him. She’s completely, deadly serious about this. “You think we can be happy, Scully? No friends, no family, no jobs?”

She shrugs as if those things aren’t important at all. “I’m a realist, Mulder, you know that.”

“You are,” he says with a nod.

“And I know we’ll have our hard days. But I also know, without a shadow of a doubt, that what I experienced when we were separated wasn’t even a close approximation of happiness.” She tugs at his hair until he’s kissing her back. “This is what makes me happy. You make me happy. And with that as our foundation, we’ll build a joyful life together. It won’t be normal or easy, but it will be right because it’s us.”

When she pulls away, he’s surprised to see that she’s grinning impishly. “What?” he asks.

“You know,” she says, her fingers coming to play at the waistband of his boxers, “you really can’t take a compliment, Mulder.”  

“Hmm?” he asks, suddenly distracted by the warmth of her palm as it slips down, down, down.

“I left behind an entire life to go on the run with you,” she says easily, and if her hand weren’t stroking him just so, he would be at risk of slipping right back into a spiral of shame. “That’s got to be the highest compliment you’ve ever been paid.”

“It’s right up there with the time Alex Krycek told me he liked my red Speedo,” he jokes, and her hand tightens mischievously against him.

He lurches off the bed and she pushes him away to roll on top of him, her hips slotting against his. In the morning light, her skin gleams. She rocks slowly back and forth, her eyes pinning him to the bed when she rises to take him fully in. His breath catches as she sinks down, his hands falling naturally to her thighs. Their bodies act like they’ve done this thousands of times before; how is this only the second time?

When they are finished, he slips his arms around her and presses his chest against her back. He feels her start to fall asleep again, only to jerk awake when he moves off the bed to slip into the shower.

Her eyes lift to his in utter panic and he frowns, striding back to the bed to sit beside her. He reaches out to stroke her hair and she cups his hand with hers, stilling his movements.

“Sorry,” she says after a moment, and he cocks his head. Her chin dips slightly, hiding her expression. He taps at her cheek until she looks up at him. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little agitated when I see you slipping out of bed while I’m sleeping.”

His heart constricts painfully and he pulls her head into his naked chest. “I was just going to take a shower,” he promises quietly, rubbing her back. “And Scully?”

She lifts off him. He hesitates before speaking. “You’re right. About everything. About how I took away your agency and assumed that I knew what was best for you. I was a coward by not involving you in the decisions I made, even though I thought I was being . . .”

“The hero?” she supplies.

“I was going to say selfless,” he grumbles. “If you and I are going to do this life together, I realize things have to change. You’re my partner, in every sense of the word. From here on out, anything we do, we do together.” He presses a long kiss to her forehead and feels her relax in his arms. “I promise.”  

When they pull apart, he expects to see her face limned with solemnity in light of the gravity of his promise. But instead, he’s caught off guard when he sees a naughty grin playing on her face. His eyebrows rise with interest.

“What’s that look for?” he asks suspiciously.

“You mentioned a shower?” she asks.

“. . . I did.”

“’Anything we do, we do together,’” she quotes mischievously.

Slowly, his lips creep into a wide grin, until he’s full-on beaming. “Look at you, Scully,” he says approvingly, pulling them both to standing.

Her eyes flit hungrily across his body and even so, he fights against a flicker of self-loathing. You’ll never be good enough, says the darkness inside him. But as her hands settle on his waist, her eyes lift to his, and they are full of warmth and love and honesty. Intuiting his internal dialogue, Scully lifts her palm to his cheek, her thumb brushing tenderly across his brow. For years, she has given him her unwavering trust. Even when he pushed her away, she never stopped trusting him.

It's now time for him to trust her choices, to trust what she sees in him.

“Shower?” she asks after a moment, her eyes glimmering.

He smiles.

“By all means, Scully. Together.”

#mulder x scully #the x files #dana scully #x files fanfic #txf #fox mulder #x files #msr fanfic #msr #xfiles fanfic #fox mulder my beloved

[brekker-by-brekkerr]

I don’t understand why they couldn’t have left Portwell as a cute high school relationship where they're unfortunately going two different directions, realize that together, communicate about their future, and come to a respectful breakup where they’ll have their good memories, and they’ll always care about each other in some way. That’s more consistent with these characters, it respects the shippers and the characters, and it’s something that happens in real life. I still think with the Portwell we saw in season 2 they could have worked out (like, they’ve always been in somewhat different places, like him having his future planned out and hers always being up in the air as discussed in the couch scene, but they still understood each other and connected, that’s part of why they work so well), but if the writers needed to break them up, that would at least be better than destroying them and making them out of character. 

Seriously, why did the writers act like Portwell was bad and would never work? And now, acting like Gina didn’t have feelings for EJ. I feel like I’m being gaslit as a viewer. How can you spend all of season 2 making me not want to ship R*na, pouring everything into making Portwell one of the best relationships ever, give two characters incredible growth, and then try to backtrack and act like none of that happened. When I saw the way these characters looked at each other and acted around each other. This is bad writing, plain and simple. 

It’s not just a matter of liking one ship more than the other. If R*na was handled better, if they found a way to handle Portwell respectfully in a way that made sense, I could have been on board. Imagine if they had let Portwell unfold more like Jack and Gina’s airport episode, where they’re cute and fun but at the end of the day Ricky is the one she really feels things for. Because the way they wrote Portwell, it feels real and important and they’re so clearly in love and happy together. It’s not just this cute little midgame ship, they have a connection like I’ve never seen. They fake date, they scheme together, they do so much for each other and they have so much effort put into their relationship only to have it torn apart and treated like it was never important. 

Also, once again, EJ has fallen in love with a girl and she doesn’t love him back (Gina was definitely in love with him too but whatever the writers want to gaslight us into believing I guess. Which is so dumb because you can love more than one person in your life. Why did they feel the need to completely destroy every bit of Portwell after working so hard to make us ship them). Pointing this out isn’t prioritizing EJ in the relationship, it’s pointing out the crappy writing. Why are we doing this again. I think the writers must hate EJ or something because he never gets serious songs, of the main four he has the least time spent on him (other than this season with Nini being gone), and the writing this season for him was just awful. 

And this sucks for Gina because she’s having to put in the emotional work again with Ricky, which I discussed in this post so I won’t get into again. Do they hate Gina too? She wanted the guy who shows up, and Ricky hasn’t really done that yet, not in a meaningful way because it was just him hanging out with Gina because he didn’t have any responsibilities while the only reason EJ wasn’t “showing up” for her like normal this season was the pressure on him, and he still found ways to encourage her and make sweet gestures like picking her flowers. Ricky should be putting in so much more work. 

It’s sad for so many reasons but in large part because it’s going to be hard to watch the show from here with how all the relationships were handled. I wish I could love R*na and ignore the bad writing, but I can’t. And they could have been such a cute couple. 

#portwell #ej x gina #gina x ej #ej caswell #gina porter #hsmtmts #hsmtmts spoilers #hsmtmts season 3 #hsmtmts 3 #high school musical the series #high school musical the musical the series #anti rina

[itsravenbitch]

i’m officially leaving the community bc i just feel i am the only answer i need. but i’d like to say this. <3

often, it’s always “but what if it doesn’t happen?” shit isn’t going well now, so why not give it a FULL SHOT ?! right this second, cut the bullshit & just fully live in the end. i spent all this time from success story to blog. one, we don’t know these people up here. 😭 anything could be anything. two, we all have our own ways we want to live. recognize how seeing all these success stories isn’t enough? recognize how seeing these blogs say the same thing in different colors & fonts isn’t doing anything? bc it’s literally us y’all. we have to do it within. it’s not enough because YOU need to be enough. shit, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. this may not be enough to get some of you outta of this loop of needing to see success or what blogs or whatever tf anyone has to say, but i really hope it is. what got me here?? i sit and lay in my room fucking pissed and say “what if it really doesn’t work??” “what if people are lying?” what if this & what if that. and i finally told myself, bitch what if you actually do something? 💀 i’m sorry but i literally just went off on myself. you sitting here on your ass & feeling bad for yourself bc your sad about the 3d & you don’t know if it’ll work. what is this doing tho? nothing good. shit isn’t working right now, so why not see if it does work??? why keep being in a loop of not knowing when you could just try? so that’s it. i’m on my fucking way & i got my shit together. 🤣 truth be told, we don’t know anybody on this mf. 😭 so if you believe anybody, you better believe in yourself. quite frankly, who even cares if people are lying?? you’ll move on to the next person to give you hope & wanting it to work. so make it work fr. if you’re here because you don’t believe or some other negative shit, how is that helping?? GO. GO DO YOUR THING. we got this. enough is enough, isn’t? LIVE IN THE END RIGHT NOW. it’s better than the loop. be real with yourself and let everything go and JUST LIVE IN THE END. again, we got this! ⭐️ why did it take so long to get here lmao? it’s all within fr. is anything i’m doing giving me a good result? so why not do something that could lead to a good result???? anything is better than being sad & doubtful each day. law of assumption is real. but you need to be real with yourself first. how are you really feeling? what is the issue? are you truly living in the end?? and go from there. fix it & LETS GET IT.

“truth be told, we don’t know anybody on this mf. so if you believe anybody, you better believe in yourself” 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 EXACTLY! not saying anyone is lying, but y’all believe blogs when they tell you they manifested this and that. so why can’t you give yourself the same exact energy??

i love how you worded this too, anon. hopefully this’ll give someone whatever push they need to manifest what tf they want!! do you really want to be stuck in the same loop that you complain about, but also do nothing about ?

some of y’all HATE your current life and don’t do anything bc it’s “comfortable” and its all you know. but comfortable doesn’t mean that situation is the best one. there is so much more than the 4 walls around you. and when you realize that, you’ll literally be unstoppable!