#i say this because the spiral is actually about how much i hate the word and the general culture around giftedness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cdbabymp3 · 2 months

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can u write something about hamzah being nervy for his first time w u cus he’s a virgin 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 i’d actually go insane

𐙚the first time ― hamzahthefantastic

notes/warnings: nsfw !! reader is slightly more experienced than hamzah this might be the first and last time i write a full length fic for this acc i went through every stage of grief making this

it started super innocent. a couple kisses exchanged in the kitchen while making dinner together. you guys had decided to have a little fancy date night at home, since it was pouring rain outside. hamzah lit candles and everything. while eating dinner, you can feel his energy radiate off of him, like he's longing for something but won't quite say what. usually he's pretty straightforward with his feelings, hating to beat around the bush, but right now... this was not the case.

"is everything alright?" you ask softly, as he gets up to clear your empty plates

he places the plates in the sink, looking up at you, "uh, yeah? why? does it seem like something's up?' he speaks a mile a minute, now clumsily rinsing the dirty dishes

"well, no. i don't know, you just seem like there's something on your mind." you further, he keeps his gaze down at the dishes, scrubbing and rinsing far more than what's needed. is he stalling?

"nah, i'm fine, don't worry." he lies poorly, grabbing a rag and starting to dry the plates. his eyes are still failing to meet yours, a tell-tale sign he's not being honest.

dating for 4 months, intimacy and sex was a topic hamzah always found a way to tip toe around. yes, you guys have talked about sex before, but it was never in a serious way. he would always make a joke to the only way you even found out about his lack of experience was during a drunken night, trying to get him into bed to sleep.

"wait, hold up-i've never done this before, i've never done this before, i've never done this before... y/n wait...." he slurred out, delirious laughter quickly turning into panicked muttering

the memory burns in the back of your mind, even more so because he hasn't brought up that night since, nor do you think he even remembers.

he's still drying an already-dry-plate with so much force, that the plate dwindles nearly in and out of his grip. he bites the inside of his cheek, eyes narrow. something's festering, it's so plain to see.

"are you sure? because you can tell me if it's-"

before you could get another word out, the plate he was holding slips out of his hand, hitting the kitchen floor and breaking into a million pieces.

"fuck." he sighs, throwing the rag into the sink angrily and puts a hand over his eyes

you step over to him slowly, trying to avoid the ceramic shards on the floor.

"hamzah-"

"no, don't come over here. let me clean it up first." he removes the hand from his eyes, revealing you standing a foot away with a hand extended towards him to reach for. he thinks on it for a moment, but takes it, walking out of the kitchen and into your embrace.

"what's going on, hm?" you rub his back, trying to calm him down

"it's so fucking embarrassing, y/n, trust me. i can't even say it out loud." he mumbles, releasing himself from the hug and taking a seat on the couch

you follow him, sitting in the adjacent chair. waiting patiently for him to speak, you give him a reassuring smile. it's silent for so long and at this point, you start to catch onto what has him so distraught; the only milestone in your relationship that's been left unconquered. you can practically see the cogs in his brain turning and processing how he wants to go about telling you this information. to save him from his spiraling, you decide to intervene. "you know i don't care, right?" vague enough not to scare him from the topic, but hopefully enough to allude to what he's trying to say.

"care about what?" he frowns, head titled

"remember that night when you got really drunk and i had to drive us home? and you were super delirious, so i had to help you get ready for bed?" he simply nods, still not seeing where you're going with this. "well-um, when i was helping you change out of your clothes and get into bed, you kept repeating 'i've never done this before' over and over again. i didn't want to assume you meant it that way, but..."

he now puts not one, but both hands over his eyes, sheer humiliation hits him like a 50-foot wave. "oh my fucking god, that's so embarrassing."

"what- no, no, no. it's okay, trust me. it's okay, hamzah, seriously."

he hunches over so his elbows rest on his knees, face in his palms, as he's trying to process this. "i-wow... you knew this whole time too, that's crazy." still reeling, he laughs nervously.

"hamzah, it literally changes nothing for me. i just want you to feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it." you get up and sit next to him, putting a hand on his thigh for comfort.

"i know, i know. i was gonna say something tonight," he lifts his face from his hands, "that's why i was so wound up, i think...nerves, you know?"

"yeah, i understand."

"i feel really guilty sometimes... like, that we haven't done anything. i don't want you to think that it's because i don't want to- i do, i really do. i don't know why, but i get so nervous anytime we're in the moment and it could happen. i always chicken out. i just want it to be good for you..."

your heart melts at his confession. "hey, no, don't feel guilty. i'm willing to wait. whenever you're ready, i'm ready." your hand leaves his thigh and rubs his back the way he likes. he snickers and your hand pauses. "what?"

"that's what i was gonna talk to you about; whether or not you wanted to, um...tonight?"

"oh! i-"

"i mean, if you don't want to, we don't have to. i thought that it seemed like a good night since it's just us and the rain outside is honestly kinda romantic, i don't know, maybe i-"

you put a hand over his mouth and you can feel him smile against your palm. "you're overthinking this."

"i-" his voice is muffled against your hand, so he lightly takes your wrist and removes it. "i'm overthinking, but also have no idea what the fuck to do. i mean-i know 'what to do' in a biological sense, but like-" he catches himself in the middle of another ramble and nods knowingly, shaping his lips into a thin line.

"we can take it slow, yeah? just breathe..." you whisper, the hand that was once placed on his back slithering to the back of his head, causing him to turn his face to you.

"okay." he matches your tender volume, allowing his body to relax with a long exhale

you wait for all the air to peacefully leave his lungs before grabbing his hand and getting up. it takes him a second, but he obliges as you lead him into his bedroom. you give him a quick kiss, crawling onto the bed as he follows suit.

"c'mere" you coo

he can't hide the excitement on his face, getting on the bed with urgency and positioning his frame above yours. you wrap your hands around the back of his head and engulf him in a heated kiss. one arm stabilizes him above you, while the other holds your hip. this he's done with you before, this was his comfort zone. what comes next is new and surprises you. his hand glides from your hip, up your torso to your right boob, giving it a squeeze over your shirt. a pleased sigh gets caught in your throat and you feel his hand hesitate, so you put a hand on top of his to continue. it's funny because you can tell he does actually know what to do, but it's obvious that doing with an actual person is throwing him off a little. after a moment or two, he moves on to your other boob, giving it equal attention. you start to play with the hem of his shirt, which he's quick to notice and pulls off. his lips connect with your neck this time and the contact makes your stomach feel incredibly warm. his position in between your legs gives you easy access to his toned chest and torso, so you slide your hands from his collarbones down to right before the waistline of his pants as he continues to his ministrations on your neck. this earns a low hum from him, the vibration of the sound against your neck makes you giggle. he giggles too, happy that some of his nervous tension is being relieved. some minutes pass and you feel what will be a generously sized hickey tomorrow morning planted just below your jaw as hamzah's mouth leaves the skin to breathe.

"um... i should probably get you out of these." his fingertips ghost under the band of your midi skirt and underwear, to which you nod more desperate than you mean to. he cracks his famous grin before sliding the skirt down your legs. once it reaches your ankles you kick it off. he looks down at your black, lacy underwear and blinks slowly. in this brief pause, you take the liberty to peel off your top. to hamzah's delight, your bra matches your underwear with a pink bow in the center.

"you're so cute" he beams, kissing your lips, mouth then heading down between your cleavage to your navel. he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses until he reaches the thin line of your underwear, giving your clothed-clit a sweet kiss.

"mmh" your hips jerk up involuntarily

"yeah? that good, baby?" he asks genuinely, his innocent voice starkly contrasting how his fingers loop around your underwear and drag them down your thighs. feeling your underwear completely off, you sit up to rid yourself of your bra but he clicks his tongue. "i got it."

"oh, you got it?" you tease and he rolls his eyes

"shh" he pulls one of the straps down your shoulder, enough to kiss where it previously was before reaching behind and undoing the clasps swiftly. the garment slips down your arms and he catches it, tossing it alongside the rest of your discarded clothes. "jesus..." his eyes widen, your bare chest on full display for him. he leans down, about to take a nipple to into his mouth when you place a hand on his cheek to stop him. "wh-do you not want me to do that?"

"no, baby, it's not that. it's just-" you take his hand and guide it down to your core, allowing his fingertips to brush past your wetness.

he raises his eyebrows at the feeling, getting your not-so-subtle hint. "oh...i-okay, you're, like, ready, huh?" his voice quivers, a rhetorical question but it's so endearing. "here-uh, lemme get a condom." he leans and extends an arm across you to his bedside table. nervously fumbling with the drawer, he grabs the packet and situates himself back between your legs. in the same position as before, one arm holding himself up and the other putting the packet between his teeth to open, you put a hand on his arm and laugh.

"hamzah, your pants."

"oh, shit, i forgot. hold up," he says, the condom packet still between his teeth as unbuttons his pants and slides them off along his underwear in no time. you can tell by the look on his face, he's getting shy, so you let him do things at the pace he wants. you swear you blink and he's already rolled the condom onto himself, positioning his body inches from where you need him. he looks conflicted, so you cup his face to let him know you're here. "i was already a nervous wreck before, but it just hit me now even more..." he confesses just above a whisper, his cheek feels hot with self-consciousness as you caress it

"do you want some help?" you offer and his eyes soften, visibly grateful that he didn't have to verbally ask you.

"sorry." he apologizes

"no it's okay, baby, here-" you put a hand on top of the one that he holds himself with and move him closer and closer to your entrance. his tip makes contact and you bite your lip, moving him along your arousal to lessen the pain you assume will come based on how sizable he feels. "i'm gonna go slow, okay? it's been a while since i last did this..." you admit, carefully pulling his hand so that his tip only makes it past your folds. his chest starts to rise and fall, his glued to yours and not daring to leave.

"y/n..." he moans, feeling himself finally enter you

the stretch alone has you grabbing for his bicep, mouth open in shock. "fuck" you gasp, trying to adjust to his size.

his eyes scan yours, seeing your discomfort bubbling. "should i stop? am i hurting you, baby?" he starts to panic

"no, i'm okay, just keep going. you can m-move now, if you want." you pant out eagerly and he does as told, pulling back, but not out and thrusting back in nice and slow. he starts to find a rhythm and repeats this at the perfect cadence.

"there you go, you got it-ah" you praise him, which only works him up more, rutting into you now with more haste than ever; he's finally getting comfortable. your nails drag down his broad back, making him whine into your neck, hitting a spot inside you no one's hit before. he knows way more than he thinks. you can feel him start to chase his release, twitching as his sounds start to rise in pitch.

"baby, i think i'm gonna-fuck!" his hips snap and stagger with one final thrust, the coil in his stomach snapping vigorously. his high leaves him trembling above you, barely able to hold up his weight.

"virgin no more" you whisper dramatically, brushing his black curls out of his eyes, a sheer layer of sweat making them stick to his skin a bit.

"b-but you didn't cum... i came in like fucking 3 minutes and you didn't-"

you interrupt him with a kiss, different than the ones you were sharing moments ago. this one held something more than lust or desire.

"i don't care, i'm proud of you." you rest a thumb on his full bottom lip, toying with it. "plus, it was your first time, not your last. you can make it up to me."

so fucking anxious to post this 🥸 yes there will be a pt.2! idk when quite yet bc i'm gonna need a couple days to recover from this

send in hc requests !!! i enjoy writing those a lot and can get them done quicker <333

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts , @junebugin-july , @itgirlvirgo (lmk if u wanna be added !!!)

#jules speaks !! 🐻ིྀ #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzahthefantastic imagines #hamzahthefantastic x you #hamzahthefantastic headcannons #slushy noobz #cdbabymp3

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ooffmlsorry · 6 months

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Getting Drunk with One Piece Men

sabo, ace, law, zoro, sanji

A/n: Ngl writing drunk characters is my bread and butter. Idk man. It's just how I am.

Content: gender neutral except female pet names in Zoro's

SABO

Y'all become idiot 1 and idiot 2, honestly you might even fight over who gets to be idiot 1

Koala's so tired of y'all omg this poor woman deserves a vacation from the two of you

You can drink him under the table, he's such a lightweight

I'm so sorry to tell you your man's a wanderer. At least once you're going to turn around and say "where'd Sabo go????" Half of your night might be spent looking for him

Despite being drunk Sabo's still a gentleman, you two are gonna stumble down the street arm and arm, he'll walk on the outside of the sidewalk closer to the street to keep you safe, and he likes getting your drinks for you

He drinks sugary drinks and will have a HORRIBLE hangover in the morning

He's not necessarily an angry drunk but he is a loud argumentative one, when he inevitably wanders off you're going to find him loudly arguing on behalf of the revolution and shit talking the world government to anyone that listens and to anyone who won't

You're also going to give each other increasingly stupid dares and stunts throughout the night

Gets affectionate as the drunkness gets closer to tiredness and then he turns into a cuddly man baby

Y'all also both crash pretty unceremoniously. Hack is going to find you two curled up in a coat closet together with a random dog and a dick drawn on your face???

ACE

two words: GOOFBALL ALERT!! He's unserious normally but when he's drunk unless something really, really bad is going down, don't expect a serious response out of him

So LOUD!!

"Ace, why are you yelling? I'm right here."

"I'M YELLING???"

You're all of his impulse control for the night and if you don't have any either than good luck to Marco...

Will loudly brag about you to anyone who listens. Probably does a toast just because you exist and will probably say something he shouldn't

Please stay near him, he just wants you to be right next to him. If you're a wanderer you're gonna stress him out real bad and he's gonna start spiraling. He's just physically clingy, he's got his arms wrapped around you, his head resting on your shoulder, sitting on his lap would make him very happy. -10 personal space.

Lights a shot of liquor on fire and drinks it to impress you. Every. Single. Time.

Speaking of that he repeats SO MANY of the same stories he's told you before

Also wants to dance with you, you've got no option unless you absolutely hate it

Tells you he loves you once every 2 minutes. please say it back. Don't be surprise if he proposes to you a couple of times when he's drunk

Inevitably starts crying...the later it is the more likely it is to happen. Just be prepared to coddle him and be covered in snot before morning.

LAW

First of all, it's gonna take a lot to get this man to actually drink. He's not a fan of being out of control. But he would do it, especially if someone told him he couldn't or told him not to

He also doesn't have the highest tolerance, the fact that he's tall is the only thing saving him from being a lightweight

You know he's drunk because he gets really expressive and talks with his hands a lot more.

I'm telling you this man is going to start talking about his coins. Fucking coins. And Sora. He's gonna out himself as a huge fucking nerd.

He's the most self aware drunk you've ever met. For the entire night he's fully aware of the things he shouldn't be doing/saying and still does them.

"I've had way too much, Y/N-ya. This is going to be awful."

*Gets another drink*

This also includes being all over you. If your relationship was a secret it's not anymore because he can't stop staring at you and keeps finding his way back to your side. And he does this thing where he keeps inspecting your hands and fingers??? He's captivated by them. You think he's trying to hold your hand without looking like he's holding your hand??? But it's kind of unclear????

The more I think about it the more I'm certain that drunk Law turns into a little weirdo.

If you touch him at all he's going to turn into putty, like his face is just gonna look like 🥴

Might start telling you secret dumb thoughts that he has or recalling good memories with Cora.

If Luffy or Kid is there he won't say no to a challenge, he doesn't say no anyway but it's so. much. worse.

He's gonna have to drink enough to put him to sleep or he's going to sober up and recall the horror of what drunk!Law was like

Please act like none of it ever happened. Please.

ZORO

This man is gonna fall asleep.

Can Zoro even get drunk???

Well, hell froze over and he did. Somehow.

Drunk Zoro is surprisingly friendly, he even almost compliments Sanji which is WILD

Like he kind of has something nice to say about everyone worth saying something nice about

There's still something really intimidating about him especially if anyone makes you uncomfortable

Suddenly Zoro can't remember your name and only refers to you as "my girl" or "woman"

Honestly, he can't believe you're actually dating him and he'll tell you several times

Will probably say something like "damn, I keep forgetting how pretty you are. 'S fucking weird."

Teases you a lot. He's like a kid pulling your pigtails because he likes you. As soon as you do it back you're going to get a big reaction out of him though

"OI! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR???"

"NOT SO FUNNY NOW IS IT!!"

He might play fight with you lmao, be prepared to be manhandled because he's rough around the edges but man does he love you

Like I said...this man is inevitably going to fall asleep, hopefully you were done partying by that point because he's not letting go of you. You're stuck. Sorry. You're his new nighttime plushie.

SANJI

Oh Sanji *long sigh*

He thinks he's being smooth but he's boderline incoherent when he's really drunk

He's gonna hype you up!! A LOT!!!!

Probably the most normal drunk because he's already a perv and being drunk doesn't make it that much worse

He can be a little petty though lol, not towards you but you might hear him muttering something here or there

Wants to take a bunch of pictures with you

Unfortunately over half of them are gonna be a blurry mess

Absolutely wants to dance with you

He's not drinking nasty alcohol

Honestly, he's kind of giving Brittany Broski in the sense that depending on what drink he has he's gonna gag

Sidenote: he could theoretically stomach it, Zeff didn't raise no bitch(/j) but why torture him??

So excited you exist??? Like for a moment he's gonna get philosophical and be in complete awe that the two of you exist at the same time and met??? How lucky can he be!!!?

Actually, drunk Sanji gets kind of deep after a while, especially when the two of you are alone

He's not gonna cook drunk. Big no-no. That's a hazard. But if you were drunk and hungry or wanted to sober up he'll make you a cup of coffee and something that doesn't require fire or a lot of knife skills

Would rather whisk you away somewhere quiet to be alone with you after a while. Like, he's not a wanderer per se, but he wants to be alone with you

Leans on you a lot when he's drunk

He might definitely be the little spoon that night, he gets so soft by the end of the night just hold him, okay?

#law x reader #one piece x you #one piece x reader headcanon #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #ace x reader #zoro x reader #sabo x reader #one piece

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alwynsalps · 6 days

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So obviously after the Joe breakup shit changed we had that ratty twatty and then suddenly travis. Like ratty twatty first of all made it seem like you know this person is like horrible yet you choose to be with him? Everyone called her (rightfully) out I feel like cause he is really a twat of a person and the whole ice spice collab to basically "save" Matty twattys image. I also felt like it was unfair of her fans to force her to break up with him I mean it's her life. And Joe during this time went through so much shit after the break up I remember he was papped and everyone made fun of how skinny he is and how horrible he looks (he had bags under his eyes on the photo) which is actually sad cause he lost his grandmother I think during that time and people were genuinely saying disgusting things and saying mother is looking so much better etc etc while Joe was having a downwards spiral. Again I understand no one knew his depression was that bad but fuck swifties can be more kind.

Exit ratty twatty enter travesty lord this man gives me the ick.

Swifties are blinded by their relationship but he is really not a good dude. I mean that video live of him pushing his coach and yelling? Videos online of him being openly racist, being a trump supporter (and also swifties are dumb they think bc he got vaccinated and bent the knee for black lives matter he is somehow Democrat?) honey trump is vaccinated as well. And just because he supported blm does not make him a good person. He was PAID to do all that performative shit.

I mean she has millions of fans, thousands of young girls thinking the blatant red flags of travesty is hot and shit. Tells me he can push her around too. (not to mention he supported his abusive friend that literally hit his wife.)

And it feels like she's forcing travesty tbh? Like girlie you wanted the art to be about you yet you let some man overshadow it. Because truly that's what's happening like swifties are more into him at this point and the relationship they made up in their head as Taylor.

This is where I got annoyed and took a step back. Each time they were seen Joe got thousands and thousands of hate just for what being introverted?

Then they attacked Emma (Joe's Co worker) for a cheating rumor THEY MADE UP and the shit they said were so genuinely disgusting she had to switch off her comments.

Then Ai audio dropped about Joe abusing Taylor and Ai videos circled making it seem like Joe is a cheater when he is NOT. fuck they even trended a sex scene with that Alison chick he worked with saying he said Alison (her real name) and not her character's name when he DID NOT. It was in the fucking series! This woman got slut shamed so bad she turned off comments too for literally WORKING with Joe. Swifties literally spread shit around that he cheated on Taylor with Emma and Alison when he didn't! And the fucking best of all Taylor was on the set while filming conversations with friends. She most likely saw it IN PERSON and they chose to say all this genuinely disgusting shit about Alison who I've learned is actually a pretty good person.

Here I got genuinely disgusted.

So okay again I understand that Taylor can't control all her fans but her silence while her cult mass harrases people?

Whats insane to me is Joe. Like the guy got so much hate because SHE CHOSE to lead fans on. When she announced ttpd everyone thought the title relates to Joe and Paul mescal

Joe got mass hate

Then the secret songs at eras being about cheating

Joe got death threats

ALL TO BE AN ALBUM ABOUT THE FUCKING SEWER RAT SHE CAN'T GET OVER?!

she literally took ALL the hate against Joe *knowing* she's releasing an album dissing her 6 weeks situationship is genuinely disgusting. I cannot fathom it.

And AND the only thing she could say about Joe is dude did not want to marry her bc he was severely depressed WHICH IS NOT HER PLACE TO TALK ABOUT HIS STRUGGLES?

like I am SORRY this man wants to d word next to her and she just didn't care and wanted to fuck Matty?

Her partner, that got her through her darkest times BTW, did not deserve this.

She let all this mass harrasment just happen to market ttpd. Like genuinely what the actual fuck. 2 innocent women Emma and Alison were attacked and called sluts for genuinely existing and breathing the same air as Joe. And the proof he did not cheat is in her OWN lyrics. (which swifties cannot seem to fucking read bc they'd rather attack Joe than admit this album is about a sewer nazi rat)

The hate Joe got made me cry. The disgusting things they said about him. Swifties literally threatening to bash his head in with a hammer or that he needs to hang himself and they'd enjoy seeing his body swinging from the roof.

Genuinely why would any person say this to anyone at any time?

And they made fun of depression like. What. The. Fuck. Just because Joe might not see it does not mean other people with crippling depression won't.

Oh and a side note she's still bringing up Kim on albums? Not just Kim Kim's CHILD?! leave the kid alone.

Genuinely feel like the most honest Taylor we got was during lover (a time which Joe helped her voice her political opinions and shit) and idk I just feel cheated on?

My whole life I've defended Taylor against everyone and I genuinely feel like she's showing her true colors now being with travesty and ratty and I cannot fathom how this is the same Taylor I'm seeing now as she was like a few years ago.

And it's not just Joe that got death threats BTW. When midnights came out and everyone gave honest reviews cause that evil Jack antonof little gay man ruined the production there were journalists literally getting so much death threats its insane.

Taylor gets (rightfully) called out and fans can't handle it.

She needs to address them ASAP. All these parasocial freaks. The people harrasing Joe. The people literally only seeing Taylor as a breeder for travestys children.

I can't genuinely I can't this is not how I want to feel about Taylor I mean I gave her my youth I looked up to her so much I feel so disappointed in the way she's acting yk?

Yes maybe she can't do jack shit about swifties but she can try.

And her staying quiet over Palestine? Her voice her one post about a ceasefire could change EVERYTHING.

idk at this point I can't stand to be around Taylor.

#anti taylor swift #free joe alwyn #joe alwyn #Swifties dni #anti travis kelce

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 20

I literally got second-hand anxiety hearing, “How many numbers do you think you’ll have by tomorrow?”. I was like. TOMORROW? They are Not ready. The only reason the rooftop works out is because they’re the fucking Beatles. No one else would pull that out of their butts so well.

If only John could’ve listened to Glyn about Klein. smh

Classic Paul. Starts out saying “us” ends up just talking about John. “The best bit of us always has been, and always will be, is when we’re backs against the wall and we’ve been rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. And he knows it’s a take on the dub. And he does it great.” It’s okay, Paul. We all know you like to get him up against a wall. No but seriously, Paul is not okay about John.

Takes every opportunity to flirt, doesn’t he?

“I can’t wait to work here, you know . . . I mean, here in our life, it’s like home.” It’s the gentleness, yeah. But it’s the focus, too. Most people (I know I would) would be so done with him and his anxiety spirals and his neuroses and over-thinking on and on and on by this point. John probably is, but he shows no sign of that fatigue at all. He is zeroed in on working him through this. He’s done it a million times before, and he’s ready to do it as many more times as Paul needs. Ugh, they make me into such a sap!

“Yeah, well that’s why I’m talking to John, not you.” If Paul can talk like that to George Martin, one of the most respected men in his life, when he’s in the middle of a thing with John, imagine how he must’ve bullied other people that tried to worm their way in.

That smile he gives George though! That’s how he got away with all his shit, isn’t it? So fucking cute.

“I agree with you, I think it’s disappointing, but all right, we only got to seven. Let’s do seven.” The tone of voice, man. So. Fucking. Gentle. No wonder Paul can't stand the projected "acerbic, tough Lennon" shit. If that was how someone treated you and took care of you? And then everyone acts like that part of them just didn't exist, and emphasizes the parts of them that they themselves hated and actively worked against? Yeah I'd be pretty pissed too.

Glyn reassuring Paul that there’s no reason they can’t come back and do a TV show later. Yeah, fifty years later.

John’s eyes constantly flicking back to Paul as George is talking . . .

George really does take so much better care of himself than the other three at this time. Pictured here, silently begging viewers like you to chip in just ninety-eight cents toward his freedom.

I actually think, though, that if Ringo had said he didn’t want to go on the roof either at that moment, that they wouldn’t have done it. I think they look to him for common sense in their decision-making, and Ringo saying he didn’t want to do it really might’ve broken the whole thing.

George’s reaction to Ringo voting for the roof VS John. It’s giving tragic heroine VS villain origin story

Honestly heartbroken at the “I love you, blue”. How many times did John just straight up say those words to Paul only for Paul to be completely unresponsive? That genuinely hurt to watch.

The tiny little looks they give each other. “Okay. We got this.”

“Fuck all that. I’m just gonna do me for a bit.” Good for you, baby.

“I had a good dream last night, you’re black or you’re white, you want equal rights.” I know some people say it’s hypocritical or preachy or whatever, but I ADORE this John. Look how fucking happy he’s making Billy right now and then talk to me about how John’s political side is meaningless. I think it’s beautiful.

I think it’s actually too embarrassing for them at this point to sing Two of Us without being insane.

“We’re all sleeping at Georgie’s tonight. Get in the mood.” Oh how I wish they actually had. I mean, maybe they did. Someone write the fic!

Oh, the “who knows, Yoko,” moment. It’s so embarrassing. The fact that there was just no response whatsoever. Yeesh.

So many nerves when I saw the camera zooming into that circled date with “Rooftop Concert” written on it. What is wrong with me?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back #only the rooftop concert left guys!#this was so fun thank you all so much for supporting my obsession and melodrama #all the comments in the tags that I don't respond to because they're tags I just want you to know I appreciated all of them #You all have made some excellent points #And I want to make a post of the tags after this I think #Thank you thank you everyone

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beegalactica · 3 months

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the power of positive self-talk

The words we speak hold so much power. Our words can enforce our positive self-concept, or drag us into endless spirals of self-doubt. The way we talk to and about ourselves is important more than ever in a world where others' opinions, beliefs and expectations are constantly being forced down our throats.

It is so easy to get stuck in a fixed mindset, where you catastrophise every little inconvenience as if it's the end of the world. You know it's not, but at the moment, it feels like the worst thing to ever happen to you. Here's how to tackle those negative emotions and affirm yourself through the art of positive self-talk:

Rewrite the narrative. You are the author of your own story. Instead of "I don't think I can ever recover from this", tell yourself "I don't know how or when, but I will get through this."

'Fake' it till you make it. I hate this quote generally because I believe that new things will feel foreign and strange at first, but this doesn't mean that it's a fake practice. Do whatever you need to do, to get you to believe, but don't lose sight of yourself. It might seem strange at first, but one day you'll be able to say that you'll be okay and actually believe it so keep moving towards that moment.

Practice the art of consistent practice. Learn to catch yourself when you find yourself growing in negativity. Try to reaffirm yourself, and metaphorically swim back up to the surface. Some days, it will feel like the tides are against you, but catastrophising events in life can lead to a whole host of physical, emotional and mental side effects.

Allow yourself to feel. Positive self-talk should not be misconstrued with toxic positivity. You are allowed to be sad. You are allowed to sit in bed and bawl your eyes out. You are allowed to feel your emotions. You just need to be able to acknowledge how you feel, and still be able to bounce back.

You are your own best friend. If your best friend was having a bad day, would you tell them that they're pathetic and they deserve it, or would you try to show them just how loved they are? If you'd put them down, then you need to rethink what a friend is. If you would try to uplift them, why won't you do this for yourself? Instead of blaming yourself, comfort yourself. Be that friend and tell yourself those words of encouragement that you would give to someone you love and care about.

At the end of the day, you should be someone that you love and care about.

#lifeblr #becoming that girl #girlblogger #girlblogging #it girl #self improvement #that girl #self care #self talk #self reflection #positive self talk #positive thoughts #positive affirmations #life #life advice #positive thinking

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oreosmama · 4 months

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What's in a Virtue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Gaz wants you, but the hotel bar you work at has rules; when a bartender calls dibs, all others have to back off. It's how the peace is kept, and as the new girl just trying to rack up some savings, you're not willing to rock the boat.

But Gaz doesn't take kindly to you avoiding him, and he's never been one to beat around the bush. From confessing his love on the first night you met to shouting your name seven times from across the bar, he's not letting you off the hook that easy. Not when he's seen the proof that you've fallen just as hard for him.

A/N: idk man i accidentally googled who ghost was like a week ago and fell so deep into the hot cod men rabbit hole so here we are. Enjoy!

Word count: 8261

Gaz is pretty sure he’s in love with you.

It’s a surprising discovery at 11 pm in an American hotel bar drinking the worst scotch he’s ever had. It’s even more surprising because he just discovered you existed all of thirty minutes ago.

He’s got his glass swirling between two nimble fingers, trying to find that line between hating his drink and actually putting it down. And he’s watching you.

You’re the same bartender who’d asked him (in a horrible imitation of his accent) if he’d wanted his neat scotch “shaken, not stirred.” You’d flushed after you said it and promised to leave him joke-free for the rest of the night. He’d laughed, a bit hollow from his circumstances, and told you it was all right. That he liked it, and that made you flush a little more.

Now, you scuttle like an ant past the other worker, a blonde who’s been making eyes at him all night. Your face is split into this unabashed grin, grippable hips bouncing off the counter as you sweep by and reach below for a bottle, giving him a view of the enviable dip between your breasts.

At first, he thinks it’s just that. Too much American booze, not enough inhibitions; both sending him into that post-mission spiral that makes him touchy and want to touch all at the same time. And he finds it’s nice to watch you rattling glasses and wiping up spills; it’s soothing, the way your eyes are alight with life in this ritzy place, seemingly unbothered by the high level of customers. He especially likes the way you mock the spoiled sods when you can get away with it.

The hotel must be experiencing the perfect storm of weddings, proms, and business meetings—not to mention one very unfortunate layover for one very unlucky special forces sergeant.

He watches as teens keep stumbling back to the counter with pink cheeks, flashing their IDs every time they ask for a new drink. Despite their prom getups and obvious ages, they swear they’re just guests from Mr. and Mrs. Weddington’s ceremony.

The girl you’re with now, stumbling from her heels but selling it as though she’s tipsy, begs and begs for another lemon drop before she “goes back to work on Monday.”

You nod either way, and he watches as you make a display of pouring alcohol into one shaker and juice into another, swapping them out when the teen looks back towards her friends.

You send her on her merry way with a sugared rim and a lemon rind, saying something like “Go easy” as she wanders back to her table. You smile to yourself, amused at this little game you’re playing with half the customers here.

You must feel the heat of his gaze, because you glance at him then. He hopes it’s burning you up as much as it looks, that nervous pinkening of your face as you give him a shrug like what else was there to do?

And Gaz, again, thinks it’s just that. Lust. He thinks about wiping that small smile off your face with his lips, stumbling with you into his hotel room, frantic fingers peeling off clothes. He thinks about how it would be—giggly, probably, despite his surprising coordination when he’s plastered. It’d be you and him swapping words back and forth, back and forth the whole time, silence only filling the room when you’re kissing him and when you feel so fucking new it steals your and his words away.

He doesn’t know why he latches more onto the idea of the moments afterward, the biggest thing being that you decide to stay. Then it’s more back and forth, hobbies and pet peeves and every little thing that’s been on your minds since the 2000s. He gets to know you inside and out, inside again a few more times even as your conversation runs on.

It’s no longer lust at that point. He knows that.

He’s ruthlessly torn from the fantasy by the blonde bartender who, judging by the looks you’re swapping with her, has gotten the entirely wrong idea about the direction of his stare.

He swears to God he was being obvious about it. It was you—it was fucking you that whole time.

But he’s noticed a couple things about you.

The first is that you’re quiet when your customers aren’t overwhelmingly sloshed; awkwardly so, for a bartender. You’re something of a mirror when they are, far more relaxed, laughing easy and cracking jokes, like you preferred your real self be forgotten the next morning.

The second is that you’re soft. Around the edges, all pillowy at the hips and thighs, a sloping curve down each side. And you were soft with your words, no yelling, no arguing with customers, just easy little jabs that no drunk mind would ever cotton onto.

You were only snappy with him the second his head started growing fuzzy.

He wants more of it, even as the pretty bartender makes friendly conversation.

She asks about his day, then his job, then his adventures. Three of the last things he wanted to think about tonight, let alone discuss with a stranger who wants in his pants. However, because she “loves a man with a British accent” and he’s too damn polite to give her the boot, he reveals a little.

Yes, his job is hard. Yes, he’s jumped from an airplane. Yes, he’s killed someone. Of course they were bad.

Until they weren’t. But he won’t tell her that.

However, above all things, Gaz is a planner. And though he’s caught the wrong fish with his bait, his plan B is working excellently.

Gaz glances at you, brushing your hair behind your ear in the increasingly crowded room. The wide array of customers spread out among the limited seating are starting to flood the bar. You can’t pass out beers and shake cosmopolitans at the same time, and a wonderful warmth blossoms in his chest the second you glance at him too, growing desperate.

There’s something like an apology in your eyes. You’re sad you have to ruin your friend’s chances; meanwhile, he thinks it may just be the best part of his night.

The third thing he discovers about you: you’re trying to be the wingwoman for your pretty friend here, and Gaz won’t have it.

You’re going to have to come over here. Beg for help from your friend.

Ruin this little flirtation she’s got going on—what a shame.

You’re too damn polite, just like him. The second he talks to you when you make your way over, you’ll think you have to stay. Humor him for a bit. He’ll ask you for a drink, forcing you to come back a second time around, when the bustle has slowed. He’ll rope you in for the rest of the night by then, and the wait’ll be over.

He feels like a damn schoolboy when you take that first step toward him, and he’s practically vibrating when you get close enough that he can hear your voice for the second time today. It’s far less grating than your friend’s, he’s certain of it—he wouldn’t mind if it was you badgering him, is what he means.

After all, Gaz was on leave, and when Gaz was on leave, he liked things slow. Fresh off a mission, he liked to roll through the motions, order drinks and let the memories turn into static from the corner of the bar. He’d planned on calling Price and damning him for saying it was a blessing to get trapped in the US, set up at a posh hotel on the task force’s budget.

But you stop before him, contrite eyes softening, and he’s getting better at seeing the upside of it all.

“Hate to interrupt—I know you two are trying to get all cozy in the dark over here, but I could use your help, Jeanne. ‘Hugh Janus’ is asking for another beer and our non-alcoholic tap just ran dry.” You look off into the distance, frowning slightly. “I fear we may have genuinely drunk teens on our hands soon.”

Jesus, was her name Jeanne? Gaz hadn’t caught that.

On the bright side, he’s able to confirm one of his sneaking suspicions. Your eyes really are fucking gorgeous up close, and they’re so expressive that he can read you like a book.

But he hates the way you say “you two.” It’s so nonchalant.

Was it too much to ask for a little envy? Just a hint of spite, to prove that some part of what he’s feeling, even a little speck of it, isn’t one-sided?

Your friend— Jeanne , apparently—gives him a disappointed sigh, looks at him like he and her are two conspirators planning on eloping any second. “Duty calls. I’ll be right back.”

He nods, trying to find that balance between polite understanding and absolute relief, but his head grows foggier by the minute and all he can manage is a “sounds good.”

You dive into an explanation when the pair of you are far enough away to inspect the taps, gesturing at a couple of them, and then discreetly at a group in the crowd.

From here, he can see it a little more clearly. You’re younger than the blonde, probably just by a couple years, which means you’re newer here. Younger than him, too, since he pegs Jeanne at around his own age.

The blonde disappears into a storage door wedged between two shelves loaded with glass bottles and illuminated white-blue. A manager, maybe.

Only thing he knows for certain from observing this quick interaction is that you’re finally alone.

He flags you down, and his chest floods with that warm, fuzzy feeling all over again when you hustle over, genuine smile on your lips—because you’re so damn easy to read.

“Know you’re busy, ’nd I hate to bother you, darling, but can you get me another scotch? Shaken, this time, if you please.”

The pet name lands perfectly. Even through all the chatter and music, he can hear the quick stutter in your breath. Then you laugh at his joke, like you think he deserves it.

It’s cheap of him to force that laugh out of you with a shitty joke like that, but he’s feeling a little needy. Wants a preview of what the real thing would sound like.

Fucking music, surely.

“I’ll go get it—”

Not yet. I need more time.

“Not right now. I’ll finish this one off while you work through that fresh hell–” he nods toward the anxious crowd “–then you can come back to me. You’ll find I’m pretty patient.”

A little less so, when it comes to you, but you don’t need to know that yet.

The slight slur to his words must be comforting, because you give him that small smirk you’ve been conservative with all night. “I’ll hold you to that. I’ve heard Brits are perfect gentlemen; be a shame if you proved me wrong.”

“I’m all that and more, darling.” He winks. “You’ll see.”

He could be the bloody worst man on the planet, too, if you wanted.

And he could come out and say that to you, all the things he could be for you tonight, if he wasn’t so keen on the instant change in you.

Because here’s what he expected: a few more little flirtations back and forth, everything kept light and easy. He’d keep you smiling and smirking like that, comfortable in your own skin for just a little bit longer before you have to go back to the other customers and slither back into your shell. He’d get to see that breathtaking blush of yours, pink splotches that tell him he’s on the right track. And then he’d get your rapt attention for the remainder of your and his night, quite like he’s given you his.

But that’s not what happens.

Instead, you’re instantly sheepish, finding yourself leaning a little closer, so close he could reach out and run a finger along the back of your hand (a small touch, but it would certainly floor him).

And then guilt. Pure, heart-wrenching guilt, like you’re taking every word of his to heart in the worst possible way.

Gaz panics.

But you’re not wearing a ring, so no husband, no fiance. He guesses boyfriend or some long-standing crush he can’t—shouldn’t—burrow his way in front of. It’s a disappointing discovery, something he’ll be stewing on for the rest of the night or maybe week, depending on how long he’s stranded here.

He’s not a fan of infidelity, and he sure as hell isn’t changing his opinion on that anytime soon. So he settles himself for a night at the bar cut short. Maybe he’ll order drinks up to his room from now on, praying the task force won’t try and shift the bill onto him. He can’t imagine coming down to the bar and seeing you will be nearly as satisfying anymore.

“I shouldn—I mean, Jeanne really likes y—I mean, we kinda have this rule where we, um,” you fumble with the rag on the counter, suddenly invested in a stain he’s been avoiding all night. You swallow. “I’ll just, uh, bring you your drink later. As promised. I should go help her.”

And you dash off as fast as you can between the counter and the precarious wall decor, almost running into the storage door the other bartender whips open while dragging out a new keg for the tap.

Meanwhile, Gaz…

He has a question.

Were you feeling all that guilt over some “dibs” rule at your bar?

He wants to laugh. The whole first-come, first-served thing makes you look as guilty as if you clubbed a baby seal. So what if Jeanne wants to ask him out? If he says no, does that mean he gets you?

Then he actually laughs a little, because it’s so ridiculous that it’s honestly cute. You care about and respect your coworkers, and support them when they’re hitting on guys at bars. So cute. You’re like the ultimate wingwoman, he’s sure, but that’s not going to change the fact that he wants you.

But the night drags on, and this half hour of patience Gaz promised you becomes paper-slim when you pass off his drink to Jeanne and avoid his end of the bar for far longer than is acceptable.

But you’re still giving her reassuring smiles and manning the bar as she lays her interest on thick, asking how long he’ll be staying and telling him when she gets off.

Gaz isn’t laughing anymore. And that little thing you do where you back off and play wingwoman? Definitely not as sweet as he’d thought it was.

Fuck, it might be the one thing he hates about you.

Because you avoid him for the rest of the night, and he still can’t take his eyes off you.

Not to worry, though. Gaz is a patient man. More importantly, he’s a planner.

He’ll find a way.

He always does.

~~~~~~

Gaz barely sleep that night. Too busy thinking about the mission, the lives that were lost, all that blood that had coated his hands just three days ago.

The way it bothers him comes and goes in phases. Some missions slip off him like rain water over a slick road, rivulets down drives, and he sleeps just fine.

Others soak into him, further than skin deep, where his body becomes a subcutaneous cache of nightmares and gunpowder, and he wakes up choking, smoke filling his lungs, tearing at the tissue of his throat enough that water can’t soothe the burn.

Mornings like this is where he fights fire with fire.

The hotel bar is unsurprisingly destitute but still oddly open at 11 am on a Thursday morning, and he takes a seat more daringly center-staged than he had last night. He glances around, letting thoughts of you, a bartender whose biggest issue was a dibs rule on men, swathe around him.

Admittedly, a lot of it is foggy. He remembers wanting you—a lot , actually. Too much, he might even say, but after all he drank he’s surprised he even found his way back to his room. But the place, a little more aglow with the open windows (that make his head fucking spin, by the way), looks the same as last night, which means he can still envision you wandering over every inch of it.

And he thinks no, you probably weren’t that attractive. Maybe your snipes weren’t that funny, and he’d had no reason to get so upset with you over a rejection. And every little wish he’d had that you were the woman who could warm his bed while he was out on missions and greet him when he came home was a bit over the top, even for drunk Gaz.

Sober Gaz knows better. Sober Gaz knows that no other human being can have that much of an effect on him anymore, because he’s had to rebuild himself after joining the military, after seeing the most honorable and dishonorable things humans can do, and he’s just not fit for something unconditional.

Drunk Gaz, though….

Hammered and horny. That’s all it was. A terrible mixture, and he’s damn ashamed that an innocent girl like you became the target of it. God, did he even tell you his name? Or was it just instant come-on and creepy watching from the corner of the bar?

Gaz notices he’s not alone as he lets his eyes wander; there’s a group of three elderly women jabbering in the corner, waving too-friendly when he spots them. He tosses them a dashing smile, the one that makes his grandmother’s friends burst into titters and giggles.

It has the same effect.

“Who knew you’d be just as charming sober?” a familiar voice rings out.

Gaz’s heart thump-thump s forcefully.

“In all fairness, you do have a shot with them too, if you really wanted to take it.” You lean a little bit closer over the counter, one-ended smile pulling at your lips, and when he catches a trace of that same perfume, his chest twinges.

Fuckin’ hell.

“She’s newly widowed,” you nod to the gaggle again, demeanor conspiratorial, “and happy to be, apparently. Why am I not surprised you’re popular to all ages?”

He’s got no clue what you’re talking about. Damn, he’s not even listening. Your lips look too soft to him right now, and it’s downright unfair how domestic you look in morning light, placid and playful, like the last thing you were made for was exacerbating nightlife.

“All ages?” he mumbles, because he can’t quite think straight, and the best thing he can do is repeat the last few words he’d heard you say before his train of thought had caught fire, derailed, and crashed explosively against brick wall.

He’s struck still, is what he means. He can’t quite think past the idea of you, coming a little closer to him, letting him trap you against his chest. Letting him breathe in the scent of your hair as you tell him about your day—boring, maybe, if it wasn’t you who was telling the story.

But your voice and tone, that playful edge that sounds like the sweetness of cotton candy and would taste like fucking everything to him, it draws him in.

Gaz comes to the conclusion that not everything was a drunken haze last night.

And he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t quite the fisherman he thought he was, trying to catch you. If anything, he was the fish snapping after your line, bait or no, wanting to be yanked out of the water and gutted until everything he ever was was bare for those pretty eyes.

And he’s that very same fish this morning, gaping and blinking wide-eyed.

Fuckin’. Hell.

“My God, those teenagers last night? And then Jeanne, and the bridesmaids? And, okay, I shit you not, even the bride. You’re a menace in this bar, you know that?”

“Are you included in all that?”

If he remembers anything from the night before, it was the way you clammed up after he made his first move. You’re the spitting image of it now, pursed lips and antsy fingers, even after all that big talk.

It’s an absent thought that flies past him in that moment, but he recalls that you were only loose enough to joke around with people already tipsy. He lets a small consideration tag along, a half-thought, really, that maybe you felt as comfortable around him as he did around you.

That, or he still looked smashed from last night.

You dodge his question completely.

“So what can I get you this morning…?” You let the tail end of the question drag on a bit, and he decides it’s because you can’t remember his name. He tries to stave off the gross pinch in his stomach by recalling there’s an all too real chance he never even told you.

“Kyle.”

You shake your head quickly, mumbling, “No, I—I remember.”

Gaz, though he can’t help but feel like an asshole for it, grins at your stutter.

“Surprise me, then.” He sits back, not remembering when he made the decision to lean a bit closer. “YN,” he tags on, smiling a bit more at your nervous laugh.

You look him over, some short glance that stuffs his head full of cotton, and start working on a concoction with a small grin.

He’s patient, minds his own business and fiddles with his phone as you shake and pour.

No messages from Price, and Gaz shoves down any distant panic that he might have sent an aggravated text or two in his state last night.

But no messages means no updates, which means it’s safe to assume he’ll be marooned at this hotel for another two weeks.

Not as bad as he thought it would be, so far.

You step away with a tray of drinks and return empty handed. Then you slip a glass in front of him, frosty and golden, slowly seeping red by a single maraschino cherry.

He guffaws. “Mai Tai? What, no umbrella?”

You slip a mini umbrella into his drink. “You underestimate me.”

His headache is killing him. The sun’s too bright, and he’s thanking God that the music in here isn’t nearly as pounding as it was yesterday. The memories still haunt him, horizoning his mind. Every drop of blood, every plea, every blank-eyed stare.

And then there’s you. Just you. You read like a sheet of paper, and you’re soft around the edges, and you couldn’t even comprehend half the things he’s seen.

You spoon another maraschino cherry out of the cooling jar and pop it into your mouth, laving your tongue over it before biting down, the juices dying your tongue red.

Fuck.

Gaz wants to kiss you.

He wants you to taste the Mai Tai on his tongue and sigh happily, eyes rolling the exact same way. He might die if you don’t.

“It’s on the house, only because you were true to your word.”

He gets peeks of that red tongue of yours and shifts in his seat. “What d’you mean?”

“You were patient, as promised, and I’m afraid I’ll need a little more of that today.”

Any of it. All of it, for you. Fuck, he could be so patient for you.

Gaz furrows his brow anyway. “Didn’t know you were so greedy. Why d’you ask, love?”

“I guess you couldn’t tell from last night, but I’m a pretty shitty bartender. That’s why they got me working mornings.”

He glances at the Mai Tai. “So you’re sayin’ I’m shit outta luck.”

“I’m saying that if you’re going to let me pick your drink, you’re going to keep getting whatever’s left in the mixer from formerly Mrs. Jones’ group of three. I should warn you, they party hard.”

Gaz sighs. “What’s next on the menu?”

“More mimosas. That was their warm-up. You wanna catch up?” You frame a carton of orange juice in your hands enticingly.

Fruity drinks from here on out. Gaz doesn’t exactly mind the idea, though he’d come down to the bar for something with more of a kick. But he’s wondering how long your shift runs if you’d worked the night before and the morning after.

He’s got a chance here; without your friend present, your guilty conscience must feel balmed.

Gaz shakes his head, tearing a finger at the mini umbrella’s ridges. “I’ll stick to their schedule. Have a feeling I should be pacing myself with that crew.”

“Good feeling,” you nod.

The air of silence that settles is comfortable. There’s the rattle of ice and champagne, the slow slosh of orange pooling in three going on four glasses, and Gaz watches you through it all. But he can see the way his gaze makes you nervous. Your movements are all rickety, and you can’t quite find that rhythm between shaking the mixer and making eye contact.

Gaz wasn’t lying. Most if not all the women he’s met (sans a few of his targets) agree: he’s a kind man. Chivalrous, soothing, amiable.

So he’s not sure why seeing your nerves gets a lovely thrill rattling its way down his spine. Sure, he wished you felt a smidge less timid, a lot more loose and sunny in his company. But, he guesses, it’s because with you, he’s willing to settle. Take what he can get; it’s not unlike a stakeout, really. He’s parked here, waiting for you to come out of your shell on your own time.

Can’t really help that he’s greedy when it counts, though, and when you set the mimosa in front of him, he reaches before you can pull away, getting that warm slide of your fingers against his.

“So what are you doin’ here, in a place like this, if you’re not a good bartender?”

He has to salvage your courage before you slip into the backroom for space to think. He can’t let that happen, overthinker that you are, and you’re too nice to abandon him mid-conversation.

He’s okay with manipulating you that much.

“Gap year. Several actually, but I don’t like to think about that.” You’re fidgeting with a rag, twisting it until the damp cotton creases under your fingers.

“What are you gappin’ to?”

You huff out a laugh. “Med school, hopefully. Grad school, possibly. Just want to do something more, you know? Since apparently a bachelor’s gets you nowhere nowadays, and I’m just thirty grand in hole for nothing.”

“It’ll work itself out. For you, I’m certain of it.”

And he thinks he’s nailed it.

Look. Look at all he can say and do to make you feel comfortable. And look! He can make you laugh and smile. And his touch was nice, right? Warm, gentle, everything you’d want. He’s got it right here. Waiting for you.

And then you blink, long and slow, eyes on the counter. Then…

“You know, I’m really jealous of Jeanne. I mean, she has it all figured out.”

Gaz fights the urge to grind his teeth, but he drops his elbows to the counter and cups at the mimosa. Not good enough, doesn’t burn enough. Too easy on the champagne, and he distantly wonders if you pull what you did last night all the time.

That thing where you go easy on drinks by coming around less, or neutering them completely before you pass them out.

That thing where you’re trying to do better for everyone , where you think you know better. He can only guess that it’s come so often with a cost to you that it’s all you know how to do anymore—giving, no taking. Helping always; never, ever hurting, no matter what you want.

“C’mon,” he mutters, but you’re reaching for another red cherry. Chewing on it as it dyes your teeth pink.

“She’s one of the managers here, did she tell you that? And she’s only a couple years older than me, and she’s just… she knows what she wants. And goes for it, too.”

Is that what it was? You weren’t willing to go for it?

He’ll build that bridge for you, dammit. He’d hold you hand across the whole fucking way if you’d just let him.

“She’s the only person in the whole area willing to give me a chance, even though I’d never bartended before.”

He lets you ramble, lets the sound of your voice sink into him, gives encouraging responses when he has to.

Jeanne likes to go hiking.

Jeanne likes to swim.

Jeanne loves nights out.

Sure, yeah, okay. But do you like any of that?

You don’t. You hate it all, actually. You even have a fear of drowning, heights, the whole works. You’re very much a homebody, curled up on your couch reading, drinking tea—not a huge fan of wine, or alcohol, actually, but don’t laugh! It was the highest paying job you could find, and yes, you do see the irony. Yes, you make a good cup of tea. Why?

Trying to find out even that much about you was like playing a damn tennis match. You won’t stop shoving the topic away, getting all insecure when he asks what you like. What you want.

He plans to change that.

But for now? Fine. You won’t talk about you. But he’s not going to let you talk about Jeanne.

So you’re talking about him.

“We don’t get much of your type around here.”

“Special forces?”

“British.” You give up on wiping the counter, instead leaning on two hands and watching him sip at the piña colada you’ve just made. He’d offered you the pineapple slice. After you’d said no, he watched you watch him bite in, wiping off the juice off his lips with his thumb.

He had to remind himself that it was patience you were looking for, even with your lips parted in a daze like that.

“Special forces, though, huh?” You glance around with faux wariness. “Should I be worried?”

“Depends. How many people round here are up to no good?”

“I mean, there’s the occasional bad tipper but, between you and me,” you lean in, give a small shrug, “I deal with them in my own way.”

Gaz raises a brow, smile growing. “Maybe I’m the one who should be worried.”

“Depends. Are you going to be rifling around for a five or a twenty-five dollar tip in that wallet of yours?”

Gaz sighs, “The best company always comes with the highest price, don’t it?”

“Not as high as you think,” you laugh.

If there was ever a groove to find between you and him, he’s finally located it.

Five minutes too late, it seems.

You’re glancing at the clock when you hear rustling in the storage room, and the blonde bartender that’s bloody haunting him now pushes through the swinging door.

“Jeanne.” You voice is a wonderful mixture of fake enthusiasm and slight disappointment. “Look who’s here.”

Trapped. That’s what he is.

And you leave without a goodbye or a glance in his direction, too.

He tells himself you’re shy, insecure, delicate little thing that he keeps pushing the boundaries of, trying to find the edge of having you and scaring you off completely.

Like taming a wild animal.

Fucking patience. For all his years, all his adventures, he never knew he’d run out of it in the most civilian of circumstances.

He sticks around a while longer, humors Jeanne’s interest. Amazingly enough, they have so much in common, who would have thought?

And who would have thought that after last night, that was the last thing he’d ever want.

~~~~~~

You’re doing that thing again, where you ignore him.

He’d think it’s cute, how shy you were, if you only didn’t sic your friend on him each time you did it. He’s fairly certain his interest is clear.

He’s been going to the bar for the last few days. Sometimes he sees you, sometimes he doesn’t. He prefers the former, and when it’s the latter, he’s reminded of just how shitty the alcohol is in the US, and that he’s trapped here, and how it’s starting to become hell.

But he won’t tell you that. That your home and this hotel are the last places he wants to be on the whole planet, present company excluded.

Despite the fact that present company feels like she has to include her friend in every conversation. He loves how selfless you are, no man left behind and whatnot, but he wishes you could see the failing attraction right before your eyes.

You try to slip off, leave the pair of them alone, but Gaz won’t have it. If you wander too close, he’ll drag you in, call your damn name across the bar if he has to, wrench on that ever-guilty, ever-pleasing heart of yours to go and answer him, talk to him, pay him the attention he needs nightly, apparently.

As of late, you’ve started playing this game. Gaz’ll bring up a topic, anything from the horrors of war to butterflies.

And you think there might be some upsides to the horrors of war, maybe. And butterflies are ugly and gross, always.

Gaz loves how beautiful the mountains are up north; you despise them. They look cold.

But he thought you loved cold weather?

Well, you don’t like cold weather when it’s… on mountains. You guess.

An interesting play, he quite thinks. Such odd tactics you have running in your mind. But you’re trying so hard to be this good, loyal friend. You want so badly to find the middle ground here, please Jeanne and Gaz, let them both be happy.

But when push comes to shove, Jeanne had dibs. And Gaz has to bear the brunt of it.

Two weeks have gone by before Price contacts Gaz again. Tells him the 141 had lain low long enough that he can come back home and get some well deserved leave. The news makes him fucking ecstatic when he first hears it. Thank fuck he’ll never have to use the launderettes here again, never have to listen to the damned click-click-click of the aircon or the mini fridge.

He misses so many things from home.

Shepherd’s pie. Good cigarettes and tea. A whiskey sour from that bar just three blocks down from his flat.

And his flat. His bed. His sofa, the kitchen he barely uses, the door that whines because he can’t bring himself to oil it; gone too long, too often for it to really matter most days. The toaster he doesn’t plug in ever because it damn well almost burned down his flat last time he was out for two months.

All of it empty. Cold and bare. Too unused to really miss.

Gaz slows while packing his things. He stops, grabs his phone, then lowers to the bed. He stares at the recent calls list, Captain still at the top, call ended twenty minutes ago.

Home has a different taste in his mouth than it used to. Not horribly bad, but different enough to notice.

It’ll be quiet. Gaz used to love quiet.

Being here has changed something in him.

Nothing big—all small things, in fact.

A pondering floats down on him, comes to his mind and makes the rest of his body tighten, a coiled spring waiting, wondering. It’s such a small question, too, but things with you always seemed so small and insignificant, until he got a moment of quiet to consider it.

Do they sell your perfume in the UK?

It’s not a huge thing if they don't.

Really, it’s not life-changing. He’s just trying to consider never having it again, never having it flood his senses when you get too close, lean a bit closer to slide him his drink.

Then it’s you not leaning in close ever again. Then no you, ever again.

Gaz can’t quite make it make sense.

Home is good. Hell, he misses it.

But home is no set place anymore. Home could be two poles repelling each other but attracting him, pulling at each half of him, waiting to tear him down the middle while he tries to decide.

Two fucking weeks? Gaz has to check his phone to make sure. Has that really all it’s been?

Bullshit.

Tell him why it feels like it’s been years. Tell him why he can’t imagine going home as anything other than a misstep, one bad fucking decision away from sealing his fate.

A slice of shepherd’s pie and a nice cup of Earl Grey—it can wait.

A little longer, at least. He needs some time to make certain on some things. A month, maybe. On his own dime now. After all, what’s four thousand dollars compared to a missed opportunity for something better?

…He’ll see if they have deals on extended stays.

~~~~~~

“YN.”

Nothing.

“YN.”

Still nothing.

“YN!”

You’re avoiding eye contact and maintaining a six-foot radius at all times, like he’s got the damn plague.

It’s been the same setting for the past four weeks; corner of the bar, closer to the same dark shit that swirls in his glass now, aiming for privacy and good company.

He used to think he was a good shot, but his accuracy’s been bloody terrible as of late.

Twelve times. He’s tried asking you out twelve times.

After the most recent attempt crash-landed with you interrupting to tell him about your sister’s obsession with popping zits, he considered it. Oh boy, did he consider giving up, asking himself why the hell he ever got so desperate in the first place.

Tonight was supposed to be some last hurrah of sorts. His flight leaves tomorrow morning, and his patience with you has become so thin it could snap with a single breath.

But he gets here, sees you.

Sees you bustling around the bar—which, in his mind’s eye, is his flat. And you look right at home, by the way. Wandering in and out of his room, his kitchen, the living room. Curled up on the settee, your soft thighs winking at him from beneath his own sweatshirt. Then you’re dancing in the same way, hips swaying to the obnoxious beat, leaning in closer instead of pulling away when he grabs onto you like he ought to.

For all that’s good and pure, you never distance yourself like you do now.

There’s no easily spooking the you in his head that wants him just as badly as he does you.

Your name falls from his lips an unavoidable number of times from the corner of the bar, and you finally fold.

See—wasn’t so hard, was it?

Not so painful if you’d just give in and go on a date with him now, too.

You saunter over, a world-weary sigh falling from your lips. “My God, Kyle, you sound like a damn cockatoo over here. Or my mom, which was a bit unsettling. Need I remind you I regret telling you my middle name.”

“Then you won’t be surprised to know you’re getting a good scolding, with the way you’ve been avoiding me.”

That same look takes up your features, pouty lips and wrinkled brow, like he’s barking up the wrong tree all over again. Might be his favorite expression of yours, second only to that little grin when you see him each day.

The same one that keeps him barking.

“You know it’s for a good reason, Kyle. I’ve told you this.”

“Remind me again, darling. Is it a boyfriend?”

You huff a sigh. “No.”

“Husband?”

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Lesbian?”

“What?” You stare at him wide-eyed, and he shrugs.

“Just makin’ sure my bases are covered. So what is it, then?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m also dead fuckin’ serious,” his voice raises when you try to walk away. He can barely refrain from swatting out at your wrist, spinning you back around to look at him. Over the weeks, he’s discovered your biggest weakness is his eyes, and he puppy-dogs them now. “Out with it. Please.”

His white-knuckled hands ache from where they grip under the bar’s ledge, and he’s trying blessedly hard to keep still as you look him over. Every scar, every bag under his eyes, every premature wrinkle. You can see it all and more, probably even see the nightmare he had three days ago, where it was you tied up, enemy’s gun pointed at the pliable skin of your temple, your cries echoing in the empty warehouse.

Where, a building over, in sniper-position, Gaz’s frozen. His fucking trigger finger won’t twitch, and he can’t breathe, can’t move even as the gunshot lit up your skin, and he rolled out of the same hotel bed, coughing on the floor, wheezing.

He tops off his eyes with a dashing smile, pleasant like his mind hadn’t painted the picture of you bloody and dying, still haunting him.

Gaz isn’t as easy to read as you are. You wouldn’t be able to tell.

“You’re looking at me like that again.”

“Like I’m whipped?” As if he could look like anything else.

“No, like…” You bite your tongue, and Gaz would give anything to know what you’d planned on doing with the hand you’d raised toward him just then, only to let it drop down at your side. “Never mind.”

“C’mon.” God , his hands ache. “Just tell me. Thought we were friends?”

“We are friends, Kyle.” You ignore how smug he gets, fixing him with a look. “But that’s all we are.”

Gaz scoffs, “I don’t get it. Just because your friend has, what, a li’l crush on me, and she doesn’t even know me, this can’t happen?”

You know what this is. He knows you know what this is. And he knows you want it, too.

“It’s…” you bite the inside of your cheek while avoiding his gaze, and he knows it’s because you can’t think when he looks at you like that. Pleading. Desperate. And so damn breathless at the sigh of you that it makes it that much harder for you to say you don’t want him. “It’s a whole big thing we agreed on when I started working here. It’s how the peace is kept, not just between Jeanne and me—but for everyone. That’s just how we do it.”

“YN…”

You ignore him. “And I like this job, Kyle. I do. I don’t care that I’m horrible at mixing drinks, and that I can’t handle drunk people to save my life. It feels good to have something to do when I don’t know what else to do with myself, and I can’t have some little lover’s quarrel ruin that.

“And Jeanne is a great person. And I know you don’t like it when I bring it up, but it’s true. She saw you first and called it. So I’m stepping back, not getting in the middle of it because I owe it to her, and I don’t get why you won’t just do me that solid and give her a chance. You two are a much better fit than you and I would ever be—”

“You hate camping.”

You fall silent, staring at him in confusion. “What?”

“You hate camping. And the woods. The outside, really. You told me that. Then you told me your daily circuit is the bar, then your home, sometimes to the café down the street from here, but that’s rare. And that you like books, but I know s’not the cute, adventure-y ones you pretend to like. I googled a few of yours, ones I caught you sneakin’ on your breaks—dirty little bird, you are, by the way. But I like that about you. All of it. Everything you think you have to keep under wraps.”

“Kyle…”

“I like the way you say my name, too. And how soft your skin looks, and those thighs—fuck me. Is your perfume cherries, by the way?”

“Peaches,” you mumble. He nods.

“That too. I mean, every little thing, darling. I swear, I want it. Don’t care that we’re complete opposites, that you’re scared of what I do, what I’m built for. I need you to know that I want you because of that, not in spite of. I don’t need you all the time, I promise. But I don’t think I could handle it if I didn’t have you at all.”

You want him. He can see it. You’re melting into a goddamn puddle before him, wandering nearer and nearer like you can’t help it.

What else can he say? What the hell else does he have to do to prove that he wants you so bad it’s driving him up the walls? Gaz is wrenched so tight in his seat that he could snap and hurdle the counter, drag you out of here and show you everything he’s willing to give.

He needs a promise before he leaves. Something.

“God, Kyle, I didn’t…” your breath stutters, but you won’t pull your gaze from his. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were so serious about this.”

You didn’t know? You couldn’t fucking tell? After a month of him puttering around here, begging for your attention, doing anything he could to get you to look at him—

“I thought you were just…”

Fuck.

Gaz shakes his head.

Fuck.

Messing with you? Teasing you? That’s all you thought it was?

He tips his head back, locking onto the ceiling.

What could he have said during the past five weeks that would make you think that?

He runs through every conversation, every interaction, every whipped, needy look he couldn’t hold back because he couldn’t stop them around you.

And then he thinks about Jeanne. How you’ve been pushing her on him. And how he’s a perfect fucking gentleman and entertained her interest with polite conversation.

Then there’s you, his shy little rabbit watching from the other end of the bar, so damn skittish that he can only draw you back in after she’s long left him alone. Not even surveying or passively watching, but crafting wildly inaccurate conclusions in your little overthinking head.

No.

No, no, no, because, fickle as you are, you’re a giver.

And Gaz’s been stealing that role from you this whole time.

He hasn’t let you show your worth. He doesn’t need to see it, no, but you think you have to prove it. You like your trials by fire. You don’t like winning by default.

You don’t think you could be wanted for wanting’s sake.

In all fairness, Gaz didn’t think he functioned like that either—unconditional terms and all that. So he thought he’d had to give back. Give back so much that it frightened you, and you couldn’t hold up what you thought was your end.

A bloody fool. That’s what he is.

His little American rabbit plays by different rules. In the UK, women in bars are so straightforward, so honest.

What a fuckin’ sod he is.

His flight leaves in nine hours, and he hasn’t packed, hasn’t slept.

Too busy thinking about you. How much of a wrench you’ve been in his plans.

He didn’t think wanting you would be like asking the world to spin the other way.

And, hell, what’s he supposed to do when he does leave, gone off on the mission Price’s hinted to him, the one that’s halfway across the globe, and you’re back here, trying and probably succeeding at forgetting he exists.

Fuck.

You not knowing he exists.

Him having never met you.

The ideas make him sick.

But Gaz…

Gaz is a planner. Above all else.

And if you want an opportunity to show what you can give him, he’ll give you just that. While he’s on a mission, mind on worse, far more horrible things, he’ll give you that chance you’ve been itching so hard for.

“Your phone.”

You’ve been watching him go through phases, even refilled his glass while he was out. Scotch on the rocks, this time. Like you thought he had to start taking it easy from here on out, like you think he deserves it.

“What?”

“Let me give you my number.”

“Kyle… that’s not a good idea.”

“Don’t care, love.”

To your credit, you have a healthy amount of wariness. In several jerky movements, you pull your phone from your pocket, open it to a new contact, and pass it to him, eyeing up every little thing he types.

Kyle (Hot Guy from the Bar) Garrick.

His phone number.

Then he texts himself quickly, saves your number too, and holds your phone out.

When you grab at it, he holds tight, tugging for your attention.

Like he hasn’t, in a most wonderfully heady way, already got it.

“No funny business with this, love.” His features turn grim. “No giving it to your friend so she can woo me—”

“Woo you?”

He gives you a stern look. “A phone call. A text. A fuckin’ pocket dial, I don’t care. But I want it from you, or no one, yeah?”

Only after you nod, slow and unsure, does he push himself out of the barstool for the last time, nodding to you. Eyes soft as he whispers, “Have a good night, darling.”

Your eyes don’t leave him as he walks away, phone still gripped tightly in your hand.

~~~~~~

Part 2

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #cod gaz

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sukiipjs · 2 months

Text

✮ BLONDIE : PT 1

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ nick sturniolo x masc reader

↳ words - 2239

↳ summary - you’ve been having a hard time realizing and accepting the fact that you’re gay, and in love with your best friend. you try to ignore the feelings but that only makes everything worse until you can’t hide it anymore.

↳ contains - swearing, angst, use of y/n, internalized homophobia, depression, crying, idk??? [READ PT 2 - PT 3]

↳ song - blondie by current joys

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

nick has been my best friend for years, he’s always been there for me, and me there for him. we met in the first grade when he saw me alone at recess on the swings and he ran up to me, asking if i wanted to play with him and his brothers. one of the many things i love about him, hes always there, always there to help, or just be with. from that day on he’s always been my number one but honestly, i’ve been kind of avoiding him lately.

of course i don’t want to, i really really don’t want to, trust me, but i don’t want to make anything bad between us either. even though pushing him away is probably fucking things up anyway.

the thing is, for months, maybe even years now i think that i might be coming to a realization: i think i’m gay, or not gay but bi? i hate labels, i dont want to be put into a box, its honestly just hard to fit into one too. i mean i’ve had girlfriends before and i’ve liked that, but nick…

okay i might be coming to another realization: i think i’m in love with nick. and to make everything worse, i can’t even talk to anyone about this because the only person i would tell is nick, but if i told him, well i just cant, it could destroy our friendship. he’d hate me, i cant lose him.

but maybe i’m not in love with him, i mean i love nick, i always have but maybe its not love love? maybe its just me appreciating our friendship more. okay who am i kidding it’s definitely becoming more, I LOVE HIM. he’s just perfect, in general, to me, to everyone. i want to spend every moment of my life with him, i want to hug him and never let him go, i want to be with him, i just want to see him again.

i can’t even imagine what he’d say if he knew i liked him. he’d probably be disgusted, i’d ruin our friendship forever. i cant do that, i can’t risk anything like that, i need him even if that means the best thing i can do is just stay away, make up lies of why i cant hang out, slowly stop texting him, i mean maybe it's not the best thing but its either i do this and try and force these feelings down or i tell him and ruin everything. this is better, or at least that’s what i keep telling myself.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

nick 🫶

| wanna hang out today? haven’t seen you in forever, i’m boredddd

| i know i’m sorry, but i cant today, really really sorry. still not feeling good

| that’s okay, hope you feel better though 💕 if you need anything tell me okay?

| i’d rather hang out with you and get sick then spend one more second with my idiot brothers over here 💀

i stare at the message on my screen, i’m not sick, i’m just trying to be a good friend… by avoiding my best friend… sure, whatever.

i slam down my phone on my mattress, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow. muffled screams from my mouth as tears, start to pour from my eyes. every time i message him, saying i cant hang out i immediately regret it. i want to see him, i always do but again, i cant, i fucking cant. it would only make my feelings stronger and i just need to get rid of them as soon as i can so things can just go back to how they were.

fuck, here comes the spiral that ive been replaying in my head forever. do i even really like him? am i really bi, gay, straight, whatever the fuck? i don’t even know, it’s all too confusing and stressful right now. why can’t i just be me? and have my best friend with me again? actually hang out with him, see him?

all i can really do right now is continue screaming and crying into my pillow about how much of a shitty friend i’m being, great. I constantly stalk his instagram, trying to see if i do really like him and try to see what he’s up to without me, i miss him so much.

…i wish he was a girl then i would be straight and all this shit wouldn’t hurt so much. i’m not trying to say that being gay is bad, all i’m saying is that it would be easier to figure all this out if i was straight and he was a girl. i know that’s so messed up to say but i don’t know how else to put it.

if he was a girl, i’d know that i’m in love with him, i wouldn’t be so afraid to accept myself because there wouldn’t be anything to accept. i’d just be me and he’d she’d be him her, i’d get to be his her boyfriend and we’d be a happy couple. i’d be happy and i wouldn’t have to push the person i love most in this stupid world away…

i smash my face into my silky white pillowcase over and over, shaking my head as i force the sides of the pillow into my face more. i want to suffocate.

i scream into my pillow more and more. ‘i love you nick, i love you nick, i love you. i DONT love you nick, i DONT love you nick, i DONT love you… but i do, i really really do, but i cant… i really really fucking cant.’

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

i stay rotting in my bed, spiraling about random shit, taking random quizzes of ‘am i gay?’ or ‘am i in love with my bestfriend?’ or ‘is it a crush?’ like i know.

soft blankets cover me, my silky pillows supporting my back as i rewatch rupaul's drag race on my computer until i finish it again, oreos and empty dr pepper cans surround me. and of course, nick always in my mind, everything reminding me of him, those stupid quizzes, his favorite show, his favorite drink. i wish he could be here, like how we used to hang out before i started ruining everything but i could be ruining it more, at least im keeping my mouth shut.

every once and a while, a message from nick pops up. him sending me a tiktok or telling me about how spacecamp is going or just something random, asking how im doing, if im still sick. most times i try to ignore him, turning off the notifications but i answer sometimes, only one or two words, maybe just an emoji, just trying to say something. i don’t want him to think i hate him or anything, i still of course love him.

the only time i ever get up from my bed is to go the the bathroom or get more food, ive been wearing the same two sweatpants alternating them and random shirts that i throw on the floor after i wear them for enough. my hair shaggy and a scratchy stubble on my face. i look and feel gross. i didnt think that forcing my best friend away and trying to figure out my sexuality could make me this depressed, who knew.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

weeks pass of me ignoring (or at least trying to ignore) nick and weeks of screaming into my sheets and sleeping all day become more and more. i finally decide to leave my apartment and stock up on some random things that will help me rot in my room even more: coffee, chips, oreos, whatever else i might want.

as i scan the aisle for dr pepper, standing in my gray hoodie with the hood covering me and one of the two sweatpants i’ve been wearing on, i hear a voice at the end of the row calling to me, “y/n?” my head turns to see who knows me that’s here, about to see how disgusting i look and just my luck, it’s nick.

“nick” a bright smile floods my face, i haven’t seen him for what seems like forever, i look at his blonde hair with grown out brunette roots, plus that signature nose ring and star earrings, of course he looks great.

he runs up to me, giving me a warm hug as he smiles too, “oh my god i haven’t seen you in decadessss” he exaggerates, laughing at me, “you feeling better now?” i tilt my head a little, confused but then i remember my lie. “oh yeah, i am. even though i dont look it” i try to scoff a laugh, looking down at myself, excusing how ‘i dont care’ i look right now.

“you look fine.” he laughs back again, “you know… me, chris and matt were gonna go out for dinner soon, wanna come?” i can tell he really wants me to be there and i really want to but i try to push it away, still.

“uhhh, i think had something later, sorry” my small smile slowly fading as his does too, i don’t think i’ve seen his smile leave that fast. “really? we haven’t talked in weeks, i miss you” he jokes a little, but really we do miss each other.

“i know, i’m sorry, but i promise we’ll hang out soon yeah?” i try to fake a small smile, trying to make this a little better but nick still looks sad, “yeah okay, see you later then?” he looks like he hates me, he looks just annoyed, hurt. i feel terrible.

“yeah, later” i’m about to walk closer to give him another hug but he leaves, to i assume go find his brothers, before i can. i’m terrible.

i finish up grabbing my things before leaving and driving off, replaying our interaction in my head. i could’ve just went? it was one dinner, that’s all. not a big deal. but it’s too late, it would just be weird if my schedule suddenly cleared up now.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

i make my way back to my apartment, putting my bags down on the counter before going straight to my room again, flopping down on top of the pile of blankets and stuffed animals that cover my bed.

i dig in my pocket for my phone, taking it out as i grab a blanket to pull it over my face, closing off the sun that shines through my window.

i go straight to me and nicks messages, thinking of texting him. ‘i’m sorry’ too short, plain. ‘sorry, i was wrong i can go’ feels like i’m pitying him, plus just dumb. ‘i love you’ yeah definitely not. ‘come over? sorry’ again, stupid and he can NOT see the mess i have over here.

i decide on nothing and put my phone to the side of me, burying my head into my pillows again, tears flooding my eyes again again again. it’s too much. this is all stupid and i need to get over it all. this is terrible.

i go back to my cycle of curling up in warm blankets, eating my now new oreos and dr pepper and rewatching shows i’ve seen a million times before. and obviously stalking nicks instagram, he posted a story of him and his brothers at dinner. he’s still wearing those earrings and that same beige jacket he was wearing before, and he still looks great.

i swipe up, about to message him. ‘you look great, sorry i couldn’t come’ i quickly delete it and just like the story. i need to stop trying to message him when i’m trying to ignore him.

₊ ° .☆ °:. *₊

after falling asleep shortly after i finished looking at nicks story i wake up to like five texts from who? nick, of course.

nick 🫶

| are you ignoring me?

| like did i do something or what?

| are you okay?

| can we just talk or hang out please?

| y/n?

| okay sorry actually, never mind

my heart drops, i feel so TERRIBLE. nick did nothing and i never want him to think that he did something wrong. he’s perfect.

i pick up my phone to respond but honesty i don’t know if i should… i want him to know that he did nothing but he’s right about me ignoring him… fuck this. i just ignore him, still.

i shut off my phone fast and roll to my other side, curling up my legs and staring at the small textured bumps on the off-white wall that i face. i take in every detail, trying to distract myself with something else. i spot all the tiny discolorations or stains on the wall, the way it all starts to blur when tears, again, rain out my eyes.

they drip on the curves of my cheeks and lips, my hands are tucked under my legs as he tears drop onto my sheets, i don’t bother wiping them off. they make a small circle ish shape when it hits on my bed with a darker gray on my gray sheets.

my spiraling hits again when the ridges on my wall go dark as my eyes close. why can’t my best friend just be my best friend? why can’t i just be a normal person? why can’t i just forget it all? why can’t this all just go away? why? why? why? why?

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @will-yummy

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆#sukiipjs #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆

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drama-glob · 6 months

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SPOILERS FOR HELLUVA BOSS SEASON 2 EPISODE 7!!!!

Let me start off by saying F*CK YOU MAMMON!!!! >:( >:( >:(

Okay now, I LOVED THIS EPISODE because as much at it broke my heart with how much of a gut punch it was that Fizz has been putting up with Mammon for years, the fact that he got his freedom at the end with the constant support of Blitz and Ozzie, who genuinely care about him melted my heart as well. ^_^

I knew going in I was going to hate Mammon (because with how he runs his ring, I couldn't see how he could have any redeeming qualities), but he seriously was a bigger abusive d*ck and was way more blatant about than I expected. >:( Poor Fizz right off the bat with his unhealthy work ethic that he's not good enough and that his value is tied into his work, something that many of us (me included) have been guilty of. I blame Cash for being the most likely factor in why Fizz thinks that way, along with his idol worship of Mammon playing into it. >:( Also, that creep getting in Fizz's head was so messed up because we come to see how genuinely nice Fizz is and he sadly let what that guy said get into his head. ;_;

I'm so glad that Ozzie from the start is looking out for Fizz's well being and mental health, which is also really sad because he has no doubt had this conversation many times with Fizz about not needing to please Mammon and that he is good enough, only for Fizz to insist everything's fine when it's not. ;_; I also had a feeling Ozzie wouldn't be a fan of the Robo Fizzes given that he loves Fizz so much and knows what people use them for, so most likely it's part of the whole blackmail deal/Ozzie can't break out of making them so long as Fizz doesn't call it quits. ;_; I'm also happy that Ozzie clearly harbors no ill-will towards Blitz (which we already saw in "Oops," but it's nice that he knows Blitz wouldn't like the state Fizz is in and needs to cut ties with Mammon). :)

Fizz is just so talented with his craft, but the further pressure that he had actual competition from Glitz and Glam just made things so much worse, but of course Mammon don't care. >:( One of the absolute best moments though had to be the sweet little deaf kid signing to Fizz and Fizz signing back as well as sign his picture, so it was sweet and it helped Fizz's mental state temporarily. It was unfortunate that flipping creep came back and messed with Fizz once again, only adding to Fizz's panic attack that goes into overdrive once he sees Glitz and Glam perform. ;_;

My sadness only built as Fizz spiraled and tried to make himself "fine," but my man Ozzie being there as soon as he hears (from Blitz no doubt) that Fizz is not okay and him not leaving until he can get to the bottom of way Fizz is so adamant about doing this while trying to comfort him was wonderful. I legit cried, as I'm sure many of you did, when poor Fizz admits that he feels like practically nothing next to Ozzie and that without his job and the fame, he'd eventually leave Fizz despite how many years they've known each other and how much Ozzie does to remind Fizz that he loves him for who he is. ;_; ;_; ;_; It's sad too that Fizz has put up with the year of abuse because he felt he owed Mammon for leading him Ozzie, even though that's certainly not true. It really brought it in home just how much trauma Fizz has suffered and affected his mental state. I can only imagine how bad it'd be if he really didn't have Ozzie in his life. O_O The sweet, honest words from Ozzie afterward just reinforced my belief that Ozzie is the best boyfriend and their song "Crooked" was so saturated with lovey-dovey sentiment, I went awwww so many times and shows how lucky they are to have each other. ^_^<3<3<3

Fizz's "2-Minutes Notice" was absolutely incredible, (especially considering this was improv ;) ) and the fact Mammon didn't realize it was about him until the end was hilarious! XD But Fizz certainly proved how amazing he is and I'm sure Ozzie was more than happy to provide the magical backup to really stick it to Mammon. ;) ^_^ <3 It was really cool getting to see full demon Mammon and Ozzie, but it was especially amazing that Ozzie announced he loved Fizz to everyone so that he could no longer be blackmailed by Mammon and so Fizz could be free of that asshole; plus, he already seemed tired of hiding it. ^_^<3<3<3 Although Mammon will definitely come back for revenge on this sweet couple, Fizz and Ozzie get to at least have their peace for now and will face the future of their relationship being outed to all of Hell together. Also, those giant nuzzles from Ozzie are everything to me! ^_^<3<3<3<3<3

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seawater-aurelia-writing · 1 year

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Broken { The Break; Chapter 2}

Pairing(s): Fem!MC/Yuu/Reader x TBD

Summary: MC awakens after her fall but the reactions of others make her spiral worse - but not all is as it seems.

WARNINGS

I am not the best at labeling warnings or triggers but I can say that this story is laden with neglect, self-depreciation, self-neglect, anxiety, possible depression and attempts to justify the above. There could be more labels that I can add but i’m unsure how to word them - so please exercise caution.

I liiiiiiiiiiiive! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I restarted this SO many times and yet I could never get it to feel...'right'...So I hope this lives up to yall's expectations! Sorry for the bad summary lol

One last disclaimer though! I have not seen the entirety of Chapter 6 and I have avoided pretty much all content for Chapter 7 as far as i'm aware. So I may not have everyone exactly in character in new things were revealed for them.

When M/C awoke, she half expected to be in the infirmary as she was when she was knocked unconscious during the Magift Tournament. But the other half of her?

She didn’t expect much. Be it the stillness of the void around her, or the library floor if Professor Trein left her where she fell – there wouldn’t be much difference. It's what usually happened anyway; She could handle her injuries herself if that was the case. However, she supposed there was some form of upside to being in the infirmary.

If she was left in the void, how else would she know firsthand how she burdened and upset those around her.

‘It’s so late…’ She thought to herself, gazing out of the window across from her bed. She could barely make out the faintest shape of the moon – a crescent. Even the moon was smiling at just how pathetic she had to look at this moment.

“-C. M/C!”

Why was it so hard for her to hear? Even as she turned her head slowly, moving her eyes to gaze up at the headmaster beside her, it was as if someone had placed her in a tub of mud. She moved so slowly, without much feeling other than a sharp pain as she tried to rest the side of her head down onto the pillow.

“…Hng..”

“Thank goodness, you’ve finally awoken! It’s been two days already! What on earth did you drink to cause you to create such an awful mess of the library?! You know very well that you cannot ...poultices as other students do because of ... Furthermore, I believe I ...use it for research not as ...a playground!” He ranted but his voice faded in and out as he spoke. But why? Why can't I hear him?

Only an idiot would zone out at a time like this.

Crowley sighed, clearly exasperated when she didn’t attempt to speak.

‘He hates that he let you stay here. Who can't do simple chores?He wishes he never helped you.’

“Once you are ...leave, you are to clean up ...the library. Luckily, ...the matter with you ...I can see.” He continued after a moment, his arms folding over his chest as he gazed down at her. Slowly, it became easier to focus but the ringing in her ears never "Actually...Our nurse is ...but I see no reason ...release you myself."

“…Y-yes…sir.” She rasped, voice dry and hoarse from lack of use.How long had she been unconscious? But again, did it truly matter? But what did that matter? Clearly, the pain in her head wasn’t real and not a sign of something worse. Why should she expect something else?

'He wants you gone.'

'You're taking up space.'

'Stop being selfish.'

'Because you think you're worth more than you are.'

Ace, Deuce and Grim came to visit her that day at lunch just before her release but the visit felt hollow. They laughed and teased her for her clumsiness, even Deuce smiling a bit at the dramatics of Grim, but none seemed to notice the forced smile that M/C put on her face. None noticed how her eyes twitched at the sharp, spike of pain that formed when they grew louder.

‘They’re only here because they’re forced to be. Stop thinking about yourself.’

'Just smile. Don't make a scene.'

When M/C had been released earlier that day, she was urged straight to attend the final class of that day rather than go straight to Ramshackle.

‘Please let this go by fast…’ She thought to herself, letting Rook lead the way to their class as the pain in her head continued to grow. M/C closed her eyes for a moment, missing the way Rook glanced back at her and shifted his body to walk closer to her. 'Please...'

Yet it did not.

MC felt as if she was on autopilot as she sat in class, sluggishly marking notes where needed and nodding along with the lecture but nothing seemed to sink in, no matter how many times she willed herself to focus in. Rook would boisterously comment on things, his voice jolting her to the present long enough for her to gaze at him and then the teacher before her focus waned once more.

‘You’re so needy.’ Why couldn’t she just move past her little incident? Everyone else already had moved past it, so it clearly wasn’t very important. She had no right to wish that others worry about her. They had bigger things to worry about, more important things to focus on.

Right?

‘Why can’t you handle this on your own?” Why couldn’t she? It was only one day just like the others! It wasn’t even hard! Ruggie had gone without meals more than she had! So obviously, she was just exaggerating. Vil had more things to worry about than she did including an actual career! What right did she have to complain about doing a few favors?

‘You’re pathetic.’

‘A waste of space.’

‘What good is someone who screws up a simple thing?’

‘No one cares.’

‘You’re replaceable.’

‘Forgettable.’

As class ended, MC prepared for her cycle to begin once more and so it did. Rather than go to dinner, Kalim latched onto MC the moment she was out of the classroom. The pain in her head returned full force with his boisterous volume right beside her ear but she still smiled.

He offered to help the next time she went to the library since he knew ladders were tricky.

‘They aren’t tricky. He’s pitying you’

“Kalim, leave her alone. She needs to rest.” Jamil finally said after a few minutes, his eyes not leaving her as he spoke. He almost seemed to study her before adding, “She isn’t looking well.”

‘Pathetic.’

“Huh,? Oh right! I’m sorry! Go, go rest up! We can plan a group dinner later!” Kalim practically beamed before ushering her away from the cafeteria despite Grim’s many protests and her own stumbling feet.

“B-But -”

But they were already on Main Street by the time MC attempted to speak. Why was she always so hesitant when it came to these things? She barely uttered a word in the entire conversation and despite Jamil’s eyes on her, it was as if she wasn’t really a part of the conversation. Just a figure meant to listen but not contribute.

Always there but never meant to fully be there.

MC didn’t register her body moving as she went towards the direction of Ramshackle, her form practically shrinking in on itself as they went. Grimm was rambling on and on as he floated beside her, while she let her body guide her on a path she had now memorized.

“…Just…pathetic…” She mumbled, one hand coming up to grasp at the other elbow. That’s what she was, wasn’t she? She didn’t stand out other than being magicless but even then people seemed to forget. No one cared that she couldn’t magically make a situation better, but they expected her to do it anyway. Just like no one seemed to care about her wellbeing but they expected her to always be okay. Thoughts of Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, and Vil drifted into her mind - how each of them experienced their own breaks during the Overblots, how they opened up about what hurt them, how everyone listened and tried to help them. She thought about how Crowley actually brought in special healers and therapists just for them for weeks after their incidents and how they still have check-ins with him to ensure they’re on the right track.

Where was that for her? Her body couldn’t produce magic, she couldn’t Overblot to make others realize how badly she was hurt mentally, physically, emotionally. She couldn’t voice her worries because who would listen? Even when she tried to warn her friends about the smallest of dangers, they simply brushed her off. Her words didn’t matter; so why would her thoughts matter.

‘Is that it?’ She wondered, a sudden cold feeling filling her form. What if she truly was the issue? Why was she so focused on having her thoughts and feelings acknowledged when she knew that all others wanted was for her to help them? They are all more important than her pathetic emotions, right? They have a life and future here in their world and it’s clear she’s just an anomaly who may never return to where she was once from. Was she - overvaluing herself? Was it all-

“It’s your fault, you know!” Grimm yelled suddenly, directly in front of her.

MC stopped suddenly, a cold chill rushing through her body at the words. Her fingernails slowly began digging into her skin as she looked into Grim’s eyes. “W-what?”

“It’s your fault!! You know, I had to do cleaning duty!” He complained, his little paws resting on his hips as he scowled. “I wanted to pick up some of that discount tuna before Ruggie got all of it but I was roped into cleaning! Not to mention those creepy twins came at me about something you forgot! And you forgot the library today! I'm not cleaning that just because you're lazy and took a fall! You’re my henchman, not the other way around! Don’t be selfish! ”

M/C this. M/C that. Clean the weeds. Fetch my things. Deliver this. Talk to this person. Clean this, clean that. Keeping busy, always busy.

'It's for the best. They have other things to focus on-'

She stopped walking, her head hurting more and more, as if a little thing was smashing cauldrons over and over against her brain. Her heart joined the rhymed pounding so hard, she gripped her chest in a vain attempt to calm it.

"Stop-" She gasped but couldn't say more as she stepped back, her throat clenching.

'They are more important. Don't deny it'

'They will never care about you.'

'You don't belong here.'

“I know as the Great Magician that I am, that I need to carry the both of us since you're useless without magic but you need to watch it with the - huh? MC?!” Grimm continued, his tone shifting to something MC didn’t want to hear – something she couldn’t hear.

She backed away, one step and then two before rushing off towards the entrance gates of the College. Not once looking back.

Her surroundings blurred as she ran, not taking into account where she was truly going - just knowing that she had to get away, far away. From the Grim, from all of the others, from Night Raven College, from everything.She just wanted it all to go away!

'Useless.'

'Magicless.'

‘Selfish’

"Stop! Stop it!" She sobbed, her breath catching in her throat. Her chest began to hurt more than her head caused her to stagger in her stride. M/C felt herself tumble down and crash down a slope, the brush scratching her as she went down before she hit something hard and frigid.

She sobbed as the thoughts continued to repeat in her head; Every overblot, every chore, every demand, every reprimand, every expectation, and every sign of disappointment. Why was she truly like this? She wasn’t good for anything but menial tasks due to her lack of magic and still she can’t do any of that right.

“Make it stop, make it stop, makeitstop…”

She didn’t know how long she laid there, nor how long she was sobbing, begging and screaming for the pain to go away, for the thoughts to go away. The pain in her head only grew the more she cried, and as it grew - so did that pain and tightness in her chest.

‘Useless.’

‘Useless!’

‘USELE-’

Until the darkness took her under again.

But unlike before - the chill of the darkness grew stronger and more intense until it was the only thing she was able to feel. Just as the voices were the only thing she was able to hear. Repeating their words over and over, in a hell that she couldn’t wake up from.

After what seems like ages, a gradual warmth began to seep into the darkness around her. A spreading, far reaching feeling spreading across her body but oddly focused around her back and under her legs.

‘What is…’ She wondered as another sensation came to her slowly, a rocking kind of motion accompanied by a lightness. It reminded her of the gentle swaying of the waves of Coral Sea but was swiftly ruined by the sound of harsh thunder reigniting the pain in her head. A flash of brilliant light flashed across her eyelids, causing her to whimper.

“Are…-ake, dear?” A familiar, deep voice crooned, not loud enough to hurt her head any further but enough for her to hear it clearly.

‘This voice…I know it…I..Why is he-’

‘You’re wasting his time.’

“Shhh, your heart…racing again. You…it’s Lillia…Focus on my breathing, little one.” Lillia’s voice soothed, as the rocking motion slowed - was she being carried? M/C registered the warmth tightening around her slightly as her breath quickened unintentionally. “Shhh, focus…. You can do it. Think of nothing else but my voice and deep breaths.”

It took what felt like ages before M/C was able to focus on the steady rise and fall of her head in time with Lillia’s breathing. The ache in her chest lightened but the pain in her head did not, only worsening as she attempted to open her eyes. Another flash of lightning, red eyes and furrowed brows.

“It’s best if your eyes remain closed. The storm will only worsen the pain of your concussion.” Lillia remarked, just before more thunder rumbled. “ You worried us all, dear. Especially dear Malleus.”

“C-concussion? B-but I…don’t have a-” She mumbled, turning her head to hide from the storm before a thought flashed through her mind. “T-The library! I didn’t clean i-”

“You will not be cleaning anything nor doing any chores for the foreseeable future, little one.” Lillia cut her off quickly, his soft voice containing a firmer tone than she was used to hearing. “You are injured and have been pushing yourself too hard. Far harder than you should have.”

‘He knows you can’t do it. That’s why he said that.’

‘He knows you’re pathetic.’

“No, n-no I’m not. It’s fine. If anything I need to push harder, heh.” She forced out a laugh, attempting to lighten the atmosphere but Lillia merely sighed. “I-It’s nothing really!”

“You’ve barely been eating, little one. Silver told me as such and I witnessed it myself; We were going to ensure you ate this evening but you didn’t show. In addition, you’ve been having more accidents than usual and have been unfocused. You. Are.Exhausted.”

“No, it’s fine. I just, if I just finish this one thing then it’s fine. I-I can clean the library super fast and it’s all okay!” She pressed, fighting the urge to cry once more. Had her screw ups been that apparent? She didn’t mean to; She was doing her best!

“But it’s never just one thing, is it?” M/C faintly registered the sound of his shoes upon cobblestone, were they back on campus? “After this, then there’s another favor that’s asked of you, another assignment, another mess to clean. But – have you had time for yourself, little one?”

“…I-I do at night I have-“ The words trailed off as she tried to think of something. She did have time to herself at night but it was never for long, especially when her thoughts would become so loud or she would get those odd dreams of things she swears she’s seen but can’t fully remember.

“But you live with Grim,yes? Who boasts about how tidy you keep your shared room…so I can only wonder how much alone time you get in there at all.” He hummed,and for a brief moment MC felt the brush of something soft and silken brush her face. Lilia seemed to shift slightly, curling into her before the gently swaying became an airy sensation, like she was adrift but his warmth continued to steady her.

“…”

“And let us not forget that Malleus often takes his nightly walks in your area; Often alongside you, yes? He’s told us that he’s seen lights on in Ramshackle as late as the early morning hours even after he’s escorted you home.”

“Ramshackle…isn’t my home.” She mumbled, her eyes growing hot and tears welled within. “This isn’t my home, I don’t belong and that’s why this doesn’t matter. I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with me; you have better things-”

“Do you know what’s the scariest thing in the world?”

“Huh?”

Lilia’s voice was low as he continued to speak, “Asking for help. You have to open yourself up and admit to yourself and someone else that you need help. That you need someone there to help you stand until you get your footing once again. There’s not many people who can open themselves up to doing that. Magically inclined or not.”

MC thinks of everyone who asks her for help. “No one seems to have that issue here…”

“They do love to ask you for things but not for those matters that are oh-so troubling to them. Most would rather keep to themselves and allow their thoughts to consume them before they incite their pleas. Does that sound familiar?”

MC bit her lip, her eyes opening partially as her tears finally began to fall. She vaguely noticed the dim setting around them, but nothing was truly familiar as her tears blurred her sight. “All of you already have so much to worry about and futures to plan and…it’s just…better if I don’t ask.”

“And what, praytell, about your future, little one?” Lilia pressed as MC shakily used her hands to wipe her tears away.

“I…don’t think I have one. I don’t have magic so I can’t really….. I’m a magic-less student in a magically-based academy – how am I even going to use what I’m being taught? I’m just pathetic and worthless-.”

“Enough. I refuse to listen to you slander yourself in such a way, Child of Man.”

MC tensed as Malleus’s voice rang out firm from somewhere in front of Lilia and herself. She slowly parted her fingers, blinking so as to get a clear peek between them but quickly came to wish she hadn’t. She wished she could go back to that unknown area where Lilia had taken her from and just melt there where she wouldn’t have to deal with what was in front of her and the implications it all held.

Standing before her, in the main room of Ramshackle Dorm, were the Dorm Leaders , Grim and Sam with various expressions across their faces. -----------------------------taglist-------------------------------

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #female reader #Female Ramshackle Prefect #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #lilia vanrouge #Grimm #Grim #Rook Hunt #Dire Crowley #Malleus Draconia #It's been a while since I tagged lol

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fragcc · 1 year

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I need Kon to go through a crisis thinking he’s homophobic because why else would he want to throw up at the sight of Tim and his boyfriend kissing. It goes on so for long until Martha Kent has to sit Kon down and talk it out with him. Then Kon goes through a brand new crisis of being in love with his best friend who has a boyfriend

OMG ANON YES YES YESSSS!!! I want kon to be SO jealous that everyone (including himself) thinks he's homophobic just for him to find out that he's just timberphobic, actually. Okay, hold on, hear me out:

Everyone gradually growing annoyed and offended by Kon's poorly hidden disgust/annoyance whenever he sees Tim with Bernard to the point they take him to a corner and straight up accuse him of being an homophobe and he just p a n i c s

And we all know Kon has only like, two braincells, so he'll be so desperate because it really looks like he's an homophobe deep down but he doesn't want to be because he never would wish harm to Tim or be disgusted by him but whenever he thinks about Tim kissing his boyfriend he feels sick and so damn frustrated

Anyways, Ma Kent will eventually sit down with him to try and understand why he's so repulsed by the idea of homosexuality and he'll also try his best in the conversation because he also wants to know if he can just grow out of it. So Martha will slowly coax the nature of his feelings out of him, asking him if he would be bothered if Tim married Bernard, to which he replies with a hard "no." but his face is clearly contorted in a repulsed scowl by the idea

It all starts making sense when Ma makes a different approach to the subject, asking instead how Kon would feel if Tim was interested in him. What if Tim wanted to share a milkshake with him? What if he wanted to cuddle for movies with him? What if he was in love with Kon-El? Would that also be a problem for him? And then Kon is staring at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, heart thundering and cheeks flushing as he replays over and over again the images of Tim and Bernard cuddling and being cute with each other, but replacing Bernard with himself. And suddenly–

Suddenly he finds everything so much more bearable and enjoyable. It's like the whole cosmos aligns itself when he thinks about Tim kissing him instead of Bernard, about him being the one who gets to wrap his arms around Tim's middle and lay kisses on his neck to hear him squeak so adorably. He feels euphoric with the thought, like his heart is about to explode at this new discovery. He looks back at Ma with wilde eyes, like a deer caught in headlights, only to find her looking at him with a small, proud smile full of understanding.

"I think– I–" He gulps down the throat that forms on his throat, feeling his fingers shake with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He looks down at his boots, thinking one last time about the prospect of Tim smiling lovingly at him before he breathes out the rest of his confession. "I think I would be okay with that."

The silence that follows his whispered confession is a welcoming one and he can feel Ma's approving eyes on his skin. And it all feels a little bit crazy, because Kon just realized he isn't really an homophobe. No, he just happens to hate the guy Tim is dating because he wished it was him instead and–

Oh no.

"Shit." He curses, face paling once again. Ma frowns at him, reaching out to touch his hand in reassurance but it does nothing to placate Kon's crumbling heart. "Shit, Ma."

"What is it, Kon?" She asks ever so caringly.

"I might be in love with him, Ma" Kon whispers to her, so ashamed of saying the words out loud. It hurts the elder woman to spot clear tears slowly filling those usually bright, blue eyes. "I might be in love with my best friend who's already taken. I think I ruined everything."

And before his thoughts spiral out of control, Martha has already wrapped him in a warm and placaring embrace, murmuring to him that it's okay. But Kon knows it isn't. Things will never be okay if he can't get his shit together and start feeling happy for Tim's happiness.

Oh boy. You really can't have everything, huh?

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somethinginworl · 11 months

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He would not fucking say that - Kirby franchise edition (Results)

Well! Seems like a lot of people had a lot to say about mischaracterized Kirby characters, as a matter of fact, there were a whooping 57 entries! Well, let’s get going with them, shall we? Just,,, beware that this is a LOOONG post.

Haltmann

The dude 100% did fucked up shit and needs to be held accountable but people seem to so easily forget the degree he was influenced/corrupted by Star Dream. I don't understand why people hate Haltmann and love Star Dream who is arguably the actual reason HWC started colonizing and draining planets. Also the fact that Haltmann isn't conventionally attractive to the majority of the fandom makes him less sympathetic ig?? But the dude is a grieving father who made mistakes that sent him down a spiral into being corrupted and then deleted by a heartless machine. I can't help but pity him

Prince Fluff

Go on ao3. Look in his tag on tumblr. He exists only to be Kirby or Shadow Kirby's love interest most of the time, with no personality of his own.

He barely gets recognized anymore, and if he does, it's usually as a ship Prince Fluff was a big part of my childhood, with Epic Yarn being my first game. To me, he was Kirby's fellow main character, and they had a cool sibling/best friend relationship. But now, a lot of what I see of him is just . . . Kirfluff. Which is cool and all, but man's a prince! He can do more than be a boyfriend! Heck, he runs an entire kingdom by himself! One thing that I want to see more of is Fluff as a stressed but caring ruler, not just a sidekick/boyfriend to the pink puff. Give yarn boy his deserved appreciation!.

Dark Meta Knight

Hello! I am here to spread the good word of a character with no personality. It's the mirror thing. Of course. Dark Meta Knight has No Personality. Zero. Nada. Zilch. He's Meta Knight but Dark. What does that mean? Your guess. He fights Meta Knight. And wins lmao skill issue blueboy. And fights Kirby. And loses a few times, which isn't surprising. He was dumb enough to split Kirby in four, though. Four times the Kirby is four times the amount your ass is grass. You're practically a forest at that point because you're so grass. So he's violent and has no personality outside of being violent. Woo! Triple Deluxe has him attack Dedede in Dededetour inside the Mirror. This has led people to think he fucked over Sectonia. This makes my heart bleed as much as Taranza probably did when he was punted off of Royal Road via Fuck You Lightning Ball. My man just has no sense of timing,,,, They just wanted to include a Meta Knight battle because Knight Battles are a Kirby standard at this point,,, You think a man that stupid can figure out how to take advantage of a woman's insecurity? I don't even know if he knows women exist. How many female Amazing Mirror characters are there??? Boxy??? Moley mentions having a wife once and Dameta doesn't know what he means. But other than being driven to immense violence and being scapegoated for the stuff his boss probably did, Dameta has other hobbies! Like whatever his motivation in Star Allies is. Something dastardly, I'm sure. People really like to pretend he's not part of the Star Ally club when my man is doodling with toddlers and posing with his less cool less edgy self. Would a villain have a silly little we heart kirby statue? No, didn't think so. Also I cannot imagine him as a dad to Shadkirby either. Do they even interact? I've seen both "Amazing dad" and "Outright abusive" as interpretations and I can't go with either. But I think that's because I don't enjoy Metadad that much. They're like awkward coworkers. He thinks they're student and mentor. They're not even that. Dameta barely knows Shadow exists.

Dark Meta Knight is very popularly characterized as like an abusive parent, usually physically abusive. Mainly to Shadow Kirby, of course. He's an asshole, yeah, but not THAT bad, christ. I've seen multiple fics where Shadow Kirby is some poor little hey what t the fuck hes fighting himself. um. Back to being a hater.

Shadow Kirby

Some folks still think he's shy/cowardly like from the Amazing Mirror Days. Not really true anymore. From what fans have seen from the ending of the game, he does protect the Mirror World. As for the spin off games that include him, he's pretty tough and even creates mischief sometimes.

Shadow Kirby is constantly treated as an "evil" Kirby. Especially bad after Fighters and fighters two. Not to mention "Parallel Kirby". There's also a strangely common trend of making them more sapient than pink Kirby, who tends to be infantilised to hell and back. Shadow Kirby also is often treated as a complete coward who can't do anything right, when they aren't called evil.

He's shown as completely different in several different occasions, not only in personality but in design I like shadow kirby he's purple and then he's not

Dark Taranza

Dark Taranza, gonna be honest what little characterization people give him are actually okay compared to the rest. But I'm still a hater and hang on im watching jerma clips. okay. He's like Sectonia if Sectonia was Taranza if that makes sense.

Shadow Dedede

Shadow Dedede barely gets shit but I'm going to be a little hater anyways. I don't like most characterizations. I see people make him like a dictator like bro he's literally just some guy.

Sectonia

have you seen how often people say that sectonia and taranza were boyfriend and girlfriend in canon?????? they were never!!! shes the gosh dang final boss but shes only ever used to give taranza angst. she is her own person with a personality!!!! yes their backstories are interconnected but gosh!!!!

This not too prominent but I can't stand it when people portray her as an uwu shy girl pre-corruption. While she gave in her worst aspects, she was probably always a kind of vain, girlboss! I mean she knows how to fight with rapiers c'mon!!!

idk it just feels like lots of people just see her as Taranza's tragic dead wife and like nothing else you know? like she is more than that and I feel like what little content we have of her proves that (like the soul boss descriptions (especially the original japanese text of the 2nd phase!!) and the eternal dream song) - or maybe im reading too much into those because im hyperfixating on my blorbo whoops

Kine

I'm not sure how true this opinion is considering how little people talk about Kine, I feel this is partially the anime's fault, or maybe its because of how he just looks, but Kine is cool and is not some stupid loser fish. Before the days of Crystal Shards, Him, Kirby, Rick & Coo were the dream team at the time, always hanging out going, with various activities long before the days of Meta Knight or even Dedede. Kine is an awesome aquatic rep for the Kirby series not to mention drinking and being a pirate and Kine even has a Wife! Kine has got it! I guess this is a partial compliant of Ship of Theseus which can be applied with Rick & Coo too, but I feel Kine gets the most hate if any because of people who are unfamiliar just see a dopey fish and are unaware of his origins and his past with Kirby. I'm not upset with the current representation of the Kirby cast (I love the RTDL team being the main crew) but I do hope the animal buddies get some more love, Especially Kine.

Dedede

reduced to his significantly less in-depth and compelling characterization from the anime

Anime Dedede.

Magolor

one time i read a series of fanfictions where he called every female character in the story a bitch and was portrayed as the good guy in the story

Is it possible to both be flanderized and woobified at the same time? There is a lot of "removing his responsibility for his actions" but can we get better jokes than "hehe Microtransgolor hehe scammer egg”

Always an uwu soft boy. Like no that is a criminal not a catboy.

Bro would never be intimidated by Magolor

Marx

People either portray him as a edgy sociopath or constantly bored and annoyed. Portraying him as an adult or a teen kinda annoys me as well. I'm very picky about portrayals of Marx so don't get upset if you portray him as one of these I've listed.

Sometimes I see people only joking about the "hungry so he came along" thing with Marx and it's pretty overdone

They took one look at him and said “to the insane asylum bitch”. I don’t think he’s some crazy murder hobo rather a dude with questionable morals and puts his own mischief and fun before others it seems. Though Marx is indeed one of the least “character” characters when I mean he doesn’t have much depth in comparison to other characters. But you could do anything else than have him follow the Jevil path of him being crazy. Make him evil? Sure. Make him a cringefail idiot? Sure. Make him a crybaby bitch? Go ahead. But making him the definition of what a 14 year old white girl in New Jersey that probably is addicted to Instagram and thinks Webtoon comics are the highest level of art and storytelling’s definition of insane doesn’t cut it cuz. Slapping the spaz label without a thought of what’s being done on a character who fits the mark makes the Schizoid peeved who coulda known. As this is all coming from the one person who has likely ruined Marx’s character the most for Kirblur by making him a somewhat empathetic manchild who clings to both pipe dreams of normality and being a monster btw. (Also this doesn’t mean jokes, you can joke about him being a psycho like Jerma it’s when it’s taken 100% seriously is when it’s bad). Also to add on, Woobification of Marx or any Kirby character period CAN be annoying if taken too far. I take full responsibility in the fact my variant is also woobifed to an extent but that train full of ticking bombs doesn’t bother me as much. Make him sadcry and be gay he deserves both those things. Send him to sad hell with the rest of them.

To the anon above... What?

Making him stupid or reducing him to just Silly Clown. Or just having him act in purely impulsive or spontaneous ways (which sometimes happens when juxtaposed with a more "collected" character like Magolor).

Daroach

this is something i’ve noticed specifically in chatfics, but when daroach is in the ensemble some of them tend to designate him as the Goofy Meme Dumbass for… idk, fandom quota? i really don’t know why it happens because he has a bunch of canon dialogue (and alternate continuity stuff like the novels) that show him to be cool and clever. i’m not saying he can’t have a sense of humor or anything (he’s definitely the type to have a bunch of quips), but it sucks when he’s mischaracterized because the fandom doesn’t give him that much attention as is. if you NEED a silly haha guy, marx is right there!”

Morpho Knight

"Morpho Knight is a creature of mercy. It's a benevolent entity putting tired souls to rest." NO?! I'm going to copy-paste some stuff I put in a post of my own. A while back, SYZekrom on Reddit translated Morpho Knight's entry, and it contains some... interesting information. Allow me to provide some excerpts. "He’s a red knight with butterfly wings, continuing from a pair of white wings like an angel’s, and a pair of azure wings with a bit of an evil feel." This is the first of two instances where Morpho Knight is outright stated to be evil. There's also stuff in the art book that supports my theory that Galacta and Morpho are permanently fused and the former is not dead, but I don't want to get carried away. These are its gacha figure descriptions in Forgotten Land: "The fluttering fiend that casts judgment upon final battles is drawn toward the isolated isles of Forgo Dreams. There, it feasts on the most powerful soul it finds and takes the fearsome form of a scarlet-clad knight… Let the most challenging battle of this new world begin!" –English "One of the dreaming birds, which are said to pass judgement upon decisive battles, drifts towards a forgotten, isolated isle as if summoned. There, it sips upon the strongest Soul and descends as a red knight. Finally, welcome the dusk… of the deadliest battle in this New World!" –Japanese While at first glance there doesn't seem to be any information of note, the "fluttering fiend" bit in the English version is outright stating Morpho Knight is evil, and the phrase "he deadliest battle in this New World" doesn't sound particularly heroic. But I digress... Morpho is NOT a good person! This is clearly leading up to a villain vs hero confrontation! Which, may I add, implies that reaping Galacta Knight wasn't necessarily a good thing for it to do?!

Elfilis

elfilis is NOT entirely malicious. they would gladly accept hugs and kisses. being in a fucking capsule ALONE and AWARE for likely CENTURIES will DO SOMETHING TO YOU YOU KNOW?? god fucking DAMN dude... and after the ending of the true arena in the game, WILLINGLY GAVE THEMSELF UP TO ELFILIN. also they're not fucking DEAD you PSYCHOPAYHS elfilis is STILL VERY MUCH ALIVE!!!!!!! RUUAAAGGGH!!!!!!!!!!

Susie

Being Evil or being a Sad uwu girl who has had bad things happen to her seems to be the only way most people can portray this character.

Susie isn't a friend. She's selfish and wanted to take over the company. Her "redemption" is pointing Kirby at the world-ending machine, gives him armor, and then stands around. She doesn't even know his name. The closest she does for good is tell Kirby to do something he would've done on his own.

My girl really became the subject of hate thanks to a mistranslation. I mean yeah she likes robots and shit but the fact that people think she is a terrible person and that she's still colonizing planets makes me upset. i blame the translation team for everything.

When people say she has fully redeemed herself and is reduced to cishet, pretty girl??? Like no, star allies mistranslation my ass you fell for her corporate propaganda. The female characters in this franchise, while lovable, is not nearly as popular as a lot of the male ones. HAL literally gave us a morally grey girlboss who we can still sympathise with. She actually feels like a very real character in this fictional world.

You Know How People Are About Her

she's not even my blorbo!!!!!! everyone thinks she's a huge evil bitch who has done terrible genuinely unspeakable things. i read a fic that went on and on abt the horrible things she "did" to meta knight when he was mechanized (things so bad i cant even say) and i was pulling my hair out she did not fucking do any of that!!!! yes the universe can have pretty dark moments but good lord people only use her to woobify meta knight and give fuel to ship him with others and it pisses me off lol. or people go too far the other way and woobify HER to ship with him and aughhhh no one has a shred of media literacy. she's not purely good or purely evil she's such a complex character who did bad things because she was in a bad situation and the best example of a morally grey character who's on no one's side but herself and that will always be more interesting that 100% good or 100% evil. once again she's not even my blorbo but i've never seen a character butchered this badly by a fandom

Because of mistranslation (from what I've heard) Susie's whole mechanizing planets has been the number one thing when it came to susie hate and the only reason as to why people hate this girl so much. Honestly Susie's character has been fucked up immensely and no one has such a divided spread of opinions like she does. Some people brush away her backstory and make her a soulless being with no love whatsoever.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Susie Haltmann. I cannot with the fandom interpretations anymore. It's ridiculous how bad they've gotten. Susie is a two dimensional character. I absolutely despise seeing people portray her as some sort of greedy capitalist bastard and "the one with the braincell". In canon, she's consistently been portrayed as a sweet person (with a knack for violence, but EVERYONE in this series is like that). Everything bad she did in Planet Robobot was FOR WORK and the will of HER FATHER, and even if she did want to do the things she did, she's clearly not doing them any more. The "mechanizing planets and peoples" line in Star Allies is a mistranslation. And the "punishing savages" doesn't have to mean anything bad. It could mean she's punishing evildoers with her money and resources. In fact, I've seen some translations put it like that And Meta Knight... is just the straw that broke the camel's back. Oh lord. Why does everyone insist that he hates her? There's the little scene in Star Allies... but god, that isn't canon, it's clearly a joke. If anything, Susie might have been trying to talk to him and he was just trying to avoid her in a misinterpretation of the situation. It's supposed to be funny. Why are you imposing this onto people like this automatically makes Susie a devil incarnate and anything involving those two characters in problematic? Just shut up.

Meta Knight

Everyone thinks he’s just the ‘edgy character’ or ‘the uncaring mentor figure’ while in actuality he really does care for Kirby (and Bandana Dee) more than anyone gives him credit for!

Everyone either makes him all broody and lonesome, like shadow the hedgehog or batman; or they make him a goofy dad, like Dedede or Hugh Neutron. In reality, he's a weird uncle with unknown motivations, simultaneously selfish and practical. Also, he doesn't hide the fact that he likes sweets, he eats them away from everyone so no one steals them (Dedede and Squeak Squad).

He's not Kirby's fucking dad! He's an irresponsible uncle that hands out swords! And he is definitely in love with dedede, he is the only other dramatic bitch willing to build a skyscraper to beat up kirby (I am using intense anger for comedic effect)

HES A FUCKING TWINK ASS FRUITY ASS MOTHERFUCKING CRINGEFAIL MAN. HE NEEDS TO HAVE HIS PERSONALITY INTERPRETED AS BOTH THE MANGA AND THE GAMES. YES HE IS MYSTERIOUS BUT HE ALSO WOULD TRIP AND FALL OVER HIMSELF. I NEED STAR ALLIES KICKING SWORD PISSED. I NEED MANGA ROSES BITCHASS META. I NEED THAT PARTICULAR VERSION OF MY BOY meat knight RIGHT NOW. meta knight is cringefail. half of the fandom agrees the other half does not. im explode.

He wants to look cool so bad but he is actually a huge fucking goofy goober. Any representation of Meta Knight being a badass is propaganda made by Meta Knight himself to convince you he’s cool. I mean have you seen his RTDL Deluxe pause screen description? King Dedede’s and Bandana Dee’s are in first person, but his is in third person? He’s literally talking about himself in the third person like hello????? Meta Knight is such a fucking lame goofy little man who thinks he’s the most badass motherfucker on the planet.

To fair this has been less common lately but back during 2014-2016 MK was usually portrayed in fanart/fanfic as either this wise veteran or cold edgelord. He is just an unhindged!!! Silly!!! Guy!!! He can be cool and cringefail!!! But he is also compassionate in his own aloof, awkward way!!!

i am not a big fan of the metadede ship. i think people are shipping for the sake of having a ship and nothing else. As someone with a severely underrepresented orientation (aromantic and asexual), when I see a character I like, I will project onto said character. This is the case with my interpretation of Meta Knight. I saw a cool character that I liked who a) doesn’t have any canon love interests and b) didn’t really need a whole ton of friends/significant others to be happy with life. Meta Knight always seemed to be perfectly content with the friends he has on Popstar and his crew and everyone in the anime, so I looked to him for hope that I could live the same way. I was open to the metadede ship at first, but as time passed, I felt less and less comfortable with it. It seemed to me that people were so hungry for gay ships that they just pulled this one out of thin air courtesy of Kirby Fighters 2, which is to my knowledge the only piece of media that somewhat supports this. Why can’t people just be happy with MK and Dedede being friends or frenemies? I’m probably starting drama with this bc I know how popular metadede is on Tumblr so I apologize for upsetting you if that is the case. But I also feel that I shouldn’t apologize just because I have a different opinion.

I dislike how "pathetic" the fandom has made him out to be. I don't like it when he's portrayed as overpowered but... "pathetic, whiny manlet" could not be further from the truth. How did we get to that?

Kirby

Often people make Kirby more dependent on others than he actually is. He's an extremely independent person that literally cannot be stopped by anyone who tries to get in his way

ik its been covered to death but matpat made that video about how kirby is evil and completely ignored the themes of friendship and kindness that are present throughout the entire series

dude hes not a baby. he drinks in the manga adukt kirbies are a fine interp god. and hes not a godkiller or some shit he just fights for his friends hes not some terrifying monster kirby is literally just some friendly guy. strong yeah but just some guy. he fights strong entities incidentally lol

The anime portrays them as a literal infant, and due to its overprevalence (despite not being in the same stream of canon as the games), this is often their characterization in the fandom. Canonically, they indeed are a child (at most, they'd probably be a teen in the modern games), but they are old enough to talk, and they demonstrate a high amount of emotional and even technical intelligence.

Admittedly, this is one that usually only happens to people outside the fandom, but it bugs me when people portray Kirby as a sort of immoral monster who only does good things on accident. When it’s quite the opposite! He may not be incredibly bright, but he does his best to help people. Oddly enough, there’s not many cases of “he would not say that” in the fandom for me because of how loose Kirby’s story is. It is lore heavy but the actual characters aren’t super concrete save for a few and I think that’s perfectly fine

People forget that their air bullet!! is an attack!! its literally one of their only ways of dealing damage in DL1!!! I’m looking at you Smash Bros!!! Why isn’t it their nair?????????

making them a toddler who cant speak for themself

I swear everyone outside of the fandom sees Kirby as either a braincell infant or a merciless force of mass destruction

Taranza

WHAT DIDN'T THEY DO!?!?!? Taranza, as we see him in Triple Deluxe, is such a fun villain. He's dramatic, arrogant, a total suck-up to Sectonia, and it's so. Fucking. Good. He's a devious bastard, he monologues!!! His animations in the Clash games are so fucking campy and dramatic it's chefs kiss!!!! Fanon Taranza is as plain as white bread. Sometimes as pale as it, looking at some of the gijinkas. No shade though! As little shade as there is melanin in him lmAO- He is flanderised to hell and back. There are so. Many. Fucking. Taranzas who happen to be nothing but sad and weepy about his evil dead wife. Where's the bite!!! The pizzazz!!! Even in canon, when he is a bit of a wet sack later on, he still hunts for an altar he can bring her back on. My boy's a wannabe necromancer!!! Write that shit in your lost lenore Sectonia fic you fucking cowards Queen's Phantom ain't just for show. The above is also evidence for woobification! The fucker is obviously sad his crush is dead! But can we pleeease focus on anything else. This is definitely not targeted at Hal Labs. Imagine being woobied so hard your creators backtrack your personality I would just die. "Ehehe he's the responsible mage!!" No the fuck he isn't he can't be trusted with anything he tries take control it WILL blow up in his face. He knows magic he's good at magic but is he responsible??? Fuck no my man's strongest attack is "Blow myself the fuck up via a giant burst of magic" and it shreds. Even worse is the "Taranza got mind-controlled by Sectonia" theory in tandem with this. That wasn't confirmed right. Right. God I hope not that would be embarrassing. He can't even have a moment to realise his devotion has gone too far and she doesn't love him or even care for him, and he has to finally make that decision to free himself from her like ain't that cool!!! And then making him all sad over her afterwards it's just a Little Fucked if you're tryna put it all together eh. Eh. And he's not suuuper objectified (That usually goes to Seccy rest in piss girlie) but the way he's treated in some ships is. Eugh. Fucking Magoranza amirite he's basically there to look responsible and cute (I've already explained my issue with this) and to fix the tortured soul who is Magolor (I do not like Magolor. Nor Magoranza.) Tbh Sectaranza does the same he's there to be tragic because his girlie's dead. When you give him less personality than the dead cardboard cutout you know you fucked up. Anyways these ramblings are here to remind you what Hal Labs stole from us: Taranza but not a TOTAL saddo. Theatre kid Taranza. Arrogant prick. He's even British.

For the anon above me, I just wanted to say that this entry is probably my favorite and lives rent free in my mind.

I'm definitely guilty of it and it's all we have to go off of but PLEASE he needs more than to be Sad. Give him hobbies and interests that aren't just gardening, at least. Make stuff up about him, please!

So, SO many people make him an absolute crybaby over Sectonia. Even though, yes, he has grief problems, it's not his whole freaking personality. Pretty sure they're forgetting the fact that he LITERALLY HELPED KILL HER.

Taranza is not just a little pathetic guy!! He’s a bitch— a little schemer if you will !!! He’s smug—he’s formal—he’s a little fucker!!! Taranza needs a new partner and that partner is me

Oddly enough I do think people make him out to be a bit too much of a goody two shoes. Like he has done some mean things in the past and it wasn’t all Sectonia’s fault, he literally *stole* the Dimensional Mirror after all. Don’t get me wrong I think he’s a good person in the end, but cmon. He has committed crimes

Taranza in some corners of the fandom has kinda been turned into this forever crying baby who can never recover from losing Joronia and like, I never see people who do that write about the recovery and being able to move on to the final stage of grief.

HE IS NOT A SIMP, MY GOD

Everyone needs to stop reducing him to pathetic simp. He is allowed to grieve but he's probably one of the more mature characters within the series???

People disregard everything else about his character to make his tragic relationship with sectonia his only character trait. Not sure if this quite counts as woobifying since he does canonically still mourn her (and obviously seeing a close friend/crush go down the path of self destruction and ultimately die from it WOULD NOT be something you'd get over quickly). But I'm so tired of taranza in fanart and the like being an uwu softboy with Crying as his main character trait. Like he's canonically more than that! He goes full cocky villain mode when you confront him near the end of triple deluxe and he can pack a punch in star allies with his magic! If you're going to write about him prove that you don't just know about the guy from twitter artwork!

And here’s a graph!

Anyways, thanks everyone for your submissions! What I’ve learned here is important: We’re all fucking delusional.

#I'm going to fist fight the Tumblr editor #Kine anon Ily #Kirby #Rambles #Long post

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stellocchia · 5 months

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I've talked about this already in a reblog [LINK] but I do find it fascinating how every time, without a fail, when cTommy would start getting close to someone they would immediately register as a threat to cDream.

cWilbur is the most obvious one. He was cTommy's big brother, his protector, the person he arguably loved and relied on the most. And cDream was very very obviously jealous of said fact. And he'd been jealous from the beginning. And he tried to weasel his way into the big brother role from all the way back in og L'Manburg.

I will never get over the fact that he only ever tried to change cTommy's mind on even being in L'Manburg [LINK because this is fucking funny]. And then later in Pogtopia that he left a special gift basket which included his treasured crossbow as well as the book Tyrant and a bunch of other stuff to cTommy when he only gave Techno (Pogtopia's most skilled fighter) one single either gold or god apple. The fact that, despite saying he would help from the shadows only, he still very much fought the pet wars by cTommy's side. Or that, after confession he was actually on cSchlatt's side and being against cTommy going to retrieve his stuff from his old house in public, he still allowed him in private. And then spent the whole pre-war hanging with cTommy.

He was always trying to get in cTommy's good graces. To sorta take him from under cWilbur's nose. And it didn't work because cTommy has always been about as loyal as you can get, so he went with the best possible alternative and encouraged cWilbur's self-destructive behaviors until he did the job for him. And then he just never brought him back until he was certain that he was no longer a threat to his big brother role [LINK to Tommy literally saying that cWilbur was worse than cDream].

But cWilbur was so SO far from being the only threat to cDream's fragile attachment. And, in fact, I would argue he wasn't even the biggest threat in cDream's mind.

After all, cDream never put that much effort into getting rid of cWilbur. Partially because cWilbur was already spiraling and distancing himself from cTommy, but I also think that he just didn't respect him all that much as a rival. Though that's mostly speculation.

No, the biggest threat was always cTubbo. The best buddy, best friends forever. There is a reason why during exile, while the role he was trying to cover was more akin to cWilbur's role in cTommy's life, his wording wasn't. He never used the term "brothers" always "best friends".

There is a reason why he went through the trouble of utterly destroying cClingy relationship far more than he ever did for cCrime, by framing cTommy, by demanding harsher punishments at the trial, by taunting cTommy and escalating the situation over and over again. And then still by discouraging cTubbo from visiting and by lying to cTommy about cTubbo just discarding his 'my Tommy' compass. And then, when none of that worked, he went for the ultimate betrayal, because he knew it would hurt cTommy immensely if cTubbo gave up the disc he'd been given as an ultimate act of trust, and he knew that he could break cTubbo's trust in cTommy even more. And when EVEN THAT didn't work he straight-up went for murdering cTubbo because my man was fed up (at least if we assume that the staged finale didn't completely go according to plan, but if I go on a rant about how UTTERLY MORONIC the staged finale was here I'll never stop).

cTubbo was always cDream's biggest enemy, and it really goes to show how single-minded he was as a villain that cTubbo being his nemesis wasn't even about cTubbo.

Next level obsession there.

Of course, the two of them weren't the only threats, just the biggest. Bud cDream didn't stop at them. He tried to kill Ghostbur during exile just because his constant presence was too much of a comfort to cTommy and later on actually killed him to revive the version of cWilbur cTommy seemingly hated. He took two of MD's lives because he not only was willing to move in with cTommy, but also wasn't afraid to call cDream out on his bullshit which, if you rewatch that stream, seemed to really bother cDream. Also the fact that cTommy, as soon as he was offered an alternative to follow MD's orders and rules instead of cDream's took it with pretty much no hesitation probably didn't help cDream's dislike of MD. He also never revived cRanboo, and it is very possible that it's because he knew that he and cTommy were friends.

Murders aside, he also sabotaged cTommy's and cRanboo's communication more than once when he realized they were getting close. Which shows that he ether considered cRanboo only a minor threat or simply still useful, because had anyone else visited that much they would be dead.

He also immediately threatened to hurt cPhil when cTommy started relying on him post-prison break. And let's not forget that time cLazar was literally only going to visit with a present and cDream considered it such a big threat that he made cLazar take part in abusing cTommy so thoroughly that cTommy was sure not to want anything to do with him in the future. (also, kind of an interesting coincidence that cLazar was one of the unlucky two selected to be slaughtered for the sake of science...).

Every time cTommy has gotten especially close to anyone, cDream was always there, ready to intervene, ready to deal with the threat as swiftly as possible. Because ANYONE would have been a better choice for cTommy and he knew it. And he acted accordingly.

Curiously, the only one he never took action against was cTechno, though I do wonder if that was just because of how obviously doomed cBedrock bros were from the very start. cDream does know the extent of cTommy's loyalty very VERY well after all...

#dream smp #dream smp analysis #tommyinnit #c!tommy #c!dream #wilbur soot #tubbo #c!wilbur #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #mexican dream #c!lazarbeam #c!primeboys #c!discduo #long post #I was in a 2021 mood today it seems #hope you guys enjoyed my way too long and somewhat disconnected rant!

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queenofmistresses · 2 months

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You’re not a whore

A/N this is another selfish fic because my life sucks sometimes and I need my book/tv boyfriends to comfort me

Stiles x reader

My mother always had a way to make me feel like shit. Whether it’s having a go at me for my grades or telling me how useless I am. Today she chose my outfit, and fuck does that hurt.

I spent ages picking this outfit and I actually felt cute in it, something that is really rare for me. The top I’m wearing is a bit boob-y and has an annoying habit of sliding down ever so slightly occasionally, but I wore a big jacket over the top of it to wrap around myself as well as making sure to keep an eye on the top so that I could pull it up if anything happened.

When I got to school my boyfriend wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing kisses to my shoulder, neck and face, something that is not unusual. He complimented my outfit, making my confidence boost even more, and walked me to class while holding my class.

The rest of my day was good, fairly uneventful and I was able to go home a little early after going to the garage with my car briefly.

When I got home is when it happened. I let my mum know what the man at the garage said so that she was updated and she seemed fairly normal. Then she looked up from the TV to look at me briefly and said, “The men at the garage were probably all staring at your boobs” with a half laugh which told me enough. The worst part is my dad was sat right there listening to us.

I was so embarrassed and felt so degraded so I went straight up to my room, taking the top off and putting the biggest jumper I could find on and not leaving my room. I felt so dejected, every part of me now telling me I’m some kind of slut.

After an hour of lying in bed, doing nothing but sitting and letting my mind spiral, I hear a knock on my window. I forgot he was coming over tonight.

I put on my best smile and open the window letting him in and watching him jump down onto my floor. “Hey-” he starts then pauses for a moment, “what’s wrong?” He asks, always the perceptive one.

“Nothing! I’m fine, did you bring everything?” I ask trying to deter the conversation away from me, but he seems determined to get to the bottom of this.

“Yeah… but you’ve obviously been crying.” That surprises me, I reach my hand up to feel my cheeks and sure enough there are tears.

“Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“Did something happen? Did someone upset you?” Stiles asks, already stepping closer and making me feel safer now he’s here.

“It’s nothing, my mum just, um, made a comment about my outfit today.” I try to say casually, not looking up at him.

“What kind of comment?” He asks, knowing how my mum can be.

“She said that she thinks all the men at the garage were staring at my…” I indicate, not wanting to say the word, too embarrassed by the whole thing.

“Jesus.” He mutters under his breath, making me look up at him. “You deserve better than that. It’s your choice what you wear, you’re not a child.”

I nod but I still feel doubtful. “But what if she has a point? I’m practically inviting something to happen.”

“What?? No you aren’t, you’re wearing clothes. That’s it. Whether you were wearing that or joggers and a jumper, people are creeps, I hate it but it’s true, and that is not your fault.” I can see him getting really fired up about this, which does reassure me a bit.

I look down again though not wanting to see his face when I say this, “She just made me feel like some cheap whore. Which is stupid because sex work is real work and I think it’s amazing-” Stiles stops me from my ramblings by placing both of his hands on my shoulders.

“I know what you mean. And you are not a whore. Your mum just… I don’t know but she’s wrong, and she shouldn’t have said that. You’re beautiful and I love you, okay?” He makes sure I can see how much he believes in what he’s saying, it makes me almost start crying again.

“Thank you.” I mutter and pull him into a hug, wanting to feel his arms wrapped around me.

After holding him tight for a little while we get set up for our evening and snuggle in bed together watching a movie. He holds me tight and gives me occasional kisses on the top of my head making me feel a little giddy inside. I don’t even realise I’ve fallen asleep until I wake up in the middle of the night to find Stiles holding onto me like I’m his entire lifeline, reminding me that I’m loved even if my mother can’t accept it.

#stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles x reader #stiles fluff #teen wolf fic #teen wolf #comfort #comfort fic

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instarsandcrime · 23 days

Text

Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head.

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant.

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!"

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..."

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay."

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting.

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?”

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#lu/ci/fer #a/la/stor #char/lie

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