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russellsppttemplates · 5 months

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Your mummy is my hero (Lance Stroll)

Lance and Y/N continue their journey into parenthood

Note: english is not my first language. Like the last pieces, this piece is written from experiences I know and not from such a scientific point of view, so it is probable that there are some mistakes as I'm not a doctor. Still, I've tried to treat this as respectfully as possible as this is very close to my heart.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions endometriosis, fertility issues and treatments and associated topics (needles, blood), pregnancy, baby feeding

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey, darling", Lance greeted, setting the wooden spoon on the counter and wiping his hands on the towell by the cabinets, "how was your day?", he walked up to you, placing his hands on your waist as pulling you to him close enough so he could kiss you, "it was good, but I'm really tired, like, really really tired", you hummed before blushing at your own admission.

Lately, the smallest efforts, both physical and cognitive, were leaving you with a tiredness you couldn't recognise. Pairing that with the fact that Lance had been extra doting on you since the transfer, which meant cosy nights in his chest always available for you to lay on, there hadn't been a night in the last week where you hadn't been in bed by the time the news finished on the TV.

"And you managed to eat lunch?", he asked, walking back to the stove so he could finish plating up the food he just cooked, "yes, it was fine. I think this whole eating and going to bed routine, as lovely as it is, is not agreeing with my stomach", you shrugged.

Approaching him so it would be your turn to hug him, you positioned yourself so you could get close enough to his neck, kissing the thin skin there and whispering in his ear, "am I crazy if I think this means our little bun is making themselves warm and cosy in my uterus?".

"I think it's okay, because I'm hopeful, too", he whispered back, smiling as he kissed your cheek, "tomorrow we will know for sure", Lance offered, "until then, I have one of your favourite dishes and some cuddles that hopefully won't turn your tummy upside down", he smiled, holding your plate out so you could bring it to the table and you could both eat dinner.

"Dr. Marlin will call you shortly", one of the nurses informed as she escorted you out the the room she had taken your blood in, smiling warmly at Lance.

"Everything okay?", your husband asked, "yes, at this point, I don't even mind it", you reassured him, holding his hand in yours, "whatever happens today, we'll get through it, okay?", he whispered. Even though he cried happy tears when you had the transfer, he had gotten back to be the strong person in the process. He was the one caring for you and making sure you were both standing with your feet on the ground, regulating any emotions and allowing you to breakdown every time you needed to, never failing to bring the smile back to your face.

"I have your results back", Dr. Marlin said once you had sat down and had small talk, "congratulations, Y/N! You're pregnant", she announced.

Lance was quick to pull you to his side, hugging you as best as he could and kissing the side of your head as you cried, "I'm sorry, but these good news are also a lot to take in", you chuckled, wiping the tears with your thumbs before looking at Dr. Marlin, sensing she wanted to carry on.

"It's okay to feel like this, it's completely normal", she offered, "while this is still early, so we have to be careful, your levels looks really good", she pointed the screen so you could see your results and the interval they have to be for successful procedures, "everything is looking good, your HCG levels are very good even. You already know the risks and what you should keep an eye out for, but so far, we are headed in the right direction, congratulations!".

After prescribing you prenatal vitamins and booking the next appointment, Dr. Marlin sent you both on your way to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, "I love you", Lance said once you sat in the passengers seat, kissing your lips passionately, "I love you, too, handsome, so much", you smiled, cupping his cheek softly and rubbing the skin with your thumb quickly before he moved so he could close the door.

"And then I was like 'wait, I've learnt how to do this in a better way!', so I gathered the things I needed and so far, it's going along well", you said as you walked around the bedroom, grabbing your underwear from the drawer and putting it on, untying your robe's belt as you walked to the head of the bed so you could grab and put your pyjamas on, "and what about you?", you asked your husband, "did they change the shape on the front wing?", you asked, taking off the robe completely.

"Yes, they ran some tests and it looks promising, and I also d- woah", he gasped, adjusting his position onto the bed, "it wasn't there last night", he whispered, rolling on the bed so he could approach you, his head in line with your midsection.

"What wasn't th- oh", you noticed, too. The swell under your boobs was prominent. Not like whenever you had a little bit too much of your mother's cooking or whenever your period left you feeling heavier, but rather like a baby bump.

"It still feels surreal", you whispered, pulling your shorts all the way up so they sat lowly on your hips and sitting on the bed next to Lance, his hand going straight to caress your skin while you pulled the thin material on to rest just under your boobs, "our little one is growing, made themselves cosy and warm inside mummy? You're very clever already", he spoke to the bump as his hands continued their ministrations on your skin, pressing his lips above your belly button and leaving small kisses there, "you still have a long way to grow, but mummy and daddy are here so excited to meet you, love".

"She's growing my baby, and I don't mean this to sound so animalistic - maybe it's that instinct though -, but she's growing our baby that we made together and she's the best, she's taking everything like a champion. I know that there are hard days, but she's still doing it 24/7", Lance said.

"Well, it's not something you can tag out or have a break", Chloe retorted despite knowing where her younger brother was getting at.

"I know, but- she's been through a lot, we've been through a lot, and we're finally so close to meeting our daughter", he admitted.

You didn't want to make a big fuss around it, but you insisted on gathering both families for a dinner to celebrate your baby and to spend some time together before your routines changed. You and Lance spoke to a caterer who delivered the food at your place while Chloe, Scotty and your husband set the big table while you played with your nephew, the little boy forever entertained with your games and occasionally kissing your clothed bump like he had seen his uncle do so many times.

When Chloe brought the small box with balloons, her smile was beaming, "open it, open it! I'm very proud of myself for not taking a peak, but please, open it!", your sister in law beamed, clapping her hands as the rest of the family members waited expectantly for you and Lance to rip the tape and lift the lid of the box.

When you did so and it revealed lavender coloured balloons with silver writing announcing "it's a girl!", everyone cheered and clapped, Lance hugging you as one hand travelled to your bump whole the other pulled your closer, "ready to be a girl dad?", you teased, kissing his chin, "I was born ready for this, my love".

Knowing you were carrying his little girl made Lance even more attentive to you, if that was possible, and it brought out an even softer side of him. He tried to be there for all the appointments he could, had organised a list with you so you could both have input in what you'd need to buy for your baby girl, and anytime he saw something he liked and thought "she absolutely needs to have this", he would bring it home along with your favourite dessert in a take out bag.

"I'm back", you announced as you walked back into the living room, "hopefully she'll let me sit for longer than an hour and not use my bladder like a dance floor", you chuckled, seeing Lance open his arms so you could sit next to him as he hugged you sideways.

"Have you thought about names? I remember me and Scotty went back and forth with so many names until we found the one that felt right", Chloe questioned.

"We have a list with a couple of them", you began, "and we're set on one, Addalynn. It's a strong name, we can do Addy for a short nickname", you explained, rubbing your bump as you felt her kick, "and she seems to like it, too! She always wiggles harder whenever we say it!".

The rumble in the corridor was practically unheard inside your hospital room as Lance exited the bathroom after washing his hands, looking over to you and seeing your sleeping figure. The labour had, as expected, taken a lot of energy from you, so after the medical team made sure you were in good health and after you fed your babygirl, they urged you to rest for a little bit, reassuring you that they'd be around if anything happened.

"Hey, little love", Lance cooed, noticing his daughter give a little scrunch in her bassinet and prompting him to take her out and hold her against his chest, "what a delicious scrunch you've got there, hm?", he complimented as he grabbed a blanket, sitting down and covering her back with the blanket after making sure she was in a good position, "Mummy is resting now, you gave her a hard time to come out here, did you know that?"

"Mummy and I have dreamed of this day for a really long time, and you've made our dreams come true", he cooed, softly touching Addalynn's soft chubby cheeks, "mummy put her body through a lot so we could be a family, and that's why she's my hero", he noted as she made a small noise, meaningless to the conversation and yet Lance felt like she was reacting to what he said.

"I know, right? She's sleeping now, but you probably fell in love with her the minute you were put on her chest, like we did with you. Mummy is kind, selfless and resilient. Sometimes she's stubborn, too", he chuckled, "but that means she loves extra hard, too, and that we just need to keep an eye out when she's taking too much of a burden so we can share it. You and I are going to be a team for that, okay? Always keeping an eye out for mummy", he smiled, kissing her forehead, "your mummy is my hero, and from now on, you are both my priorities", he promised, the sigh from his daughter's lips as she opened and closed her mouth, "are you hungry? Mummy is asleep, isn't- Oh, she isn't, hm?".

You chuckled, rubbing your eyes as you smiled tiredly, "were you two having a chat? Without me?", you feigned offense as you watched your husband get up so he could place your daughter on your chest, "let's have some food, hm? Such a gorgeous girl, you are, and maybe me and you can also have a chat about daddy. I'm sure you've figured it out already", you added as you lowered your top, "but he's the best daddy ever".

#lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fanfic #lance stroll x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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quoththemaiden · 2 months

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A short (~1k) scene inspired by Chapter 9 of @mrghostrat's absolutely glorious Big Name Feelings human AU fic. Hope you like arms?

"C'mon, angel, not even gonna crack a smile at that one? Whales, get it? Whales."

Aziraphale felt like his cheeks were on fire from trying to keep a straight face at Crowley's increasingly terrible puns. "I would hate to tacitly encourage this behavior."

"Pfft, you love it." Crowley grinned at him, far past being undaunted and fully into the realm of being energized by Aziraphale's failed attempts at stoicism.

"You're utterly ridiculous." Aziraphale didn't even bother trying to make it sound like an insult, and the half of the screen taken up by his webcam made it clear his cheeks were as pink as they felt. "And I can't help but feel like you're stalling. Hadn't we agreed to be actually productive today?" Aziraphale didn't mind, really; he did want to keep making steady progress on his art, but if his life could consist of coming home from work and just unwinding with Crowley...

...but, well, that wasn't the purpose of this call.

Crowley groaned. "Yeah, yeah. What a taskmaster."

"It is my job to protect you from rabid fans, after all," Aziraphale teased right back.

"O Brave Guardian, protect me from procrastination!"

"That sounds rather harder than a dragon, I'm afraid. But if you don't get to work, I won't be able to work either, and then you won't get to see the finished piece."

"Urk—" Crowley made a strangled noise and finally reached for his mouse. "You'll actually be working on it?"

Aziraphale nodded before adjusting his webcam to show his tablet a bit more. "I really need to get more practice with this, to get half as confident as I am with physical paints."

"I've seen the drawings you've done! They're fucking brilliant."

Aziraphale laughed. "You've said that about everything I've shown you. I'm starting to think I should send you some stick figures as a test."

"Those would be the most adorable fucking stick figures ever. You could draw a whole comic of just stick figures and I'd reblog it a hundred times."

"That's about what I'd expect you to say, yes." Crowley opened his mouth to protest that his compliments were always earnest, and Aziraphale cut him off. "Weren't you going to start writing?"

"Ngghh, right, yeah. Alright, lemme just pull up my docs and then we'll get started bodydoubling for real." Crowley clicked over to screenshare his window as he opened his fic notes. He'd long since stopped hiding anything from Aziraphale; getting to bounce ideas off of him was too invigorating, and his heart always sang at getting to write down his name with official beta credit. (He'd also long since stopped pretending to himself that he'd ever felt quite the same way about any other beta.)

"Good lord." Aziraphale sounded more than faintly appalled, and Crowley felt offended for a moment before taking a proper look at what was on his screen. It was currently showing the notes he'd made at 3 AM this morning, when he'd woken up from a dream and jotted down what had, at the time, felt like a brilliant scene. As always, he'd had his eyes mostly-closed the whole time and his swipes had been clumsy at best, but as long as it got the general point across, he was always satisfied. It only wound up being a usable scene about half the time, but he wasn't about to turn down free inspiration when he could get it. He quickly read through the imagery he'd written down.

They switch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the still morning sunlight they could set the witchfinder still sleeping cloudy enough to touch: his head ears cradled on his arms, the misos slack with sleep but still clearly there under surface. The words knew from experience that if he were awakened stable the strength would flour back into them in an instant ray for a fight. The wishes couldn't help but think odd other things they might but tray for as well

Crowley paled. "I— that—"

"I mean, it's. Well. It's rather avant-garde."

Crowley froze. "I, uh—"

"'The misos?' And 'flour?'"

Crowley stuttered out of his bluescreen and hastily opened another tab, the screenshare automatically switching over. Aziraphale had read it, but he clearly hadn't actually understood it. As long as he didn't give him enough time to crack the cipher that was 3 AM notetaking, Crowley could bluff his way through it. "Zuh. Yeah. Wrote that down in the middle of the night when I got an idea of where I wanted to start the next scene off."

"And you could recognize any of that?" The camera jostled a little as Aziraphale shook his head. "I suppose I wouldn't do any better if I tried sketching out an idea in the dark." He picked up his stylus and started doodling simple shapes, warming up and re-acclimatizing himself to the responsiveness of the device. He was still getting used to the new medium, but he was finally starting to see a path forward to making a digital art style that felt authentically his own.

"Yessss." Crowley bit his tongue to cut off the guilty hissing. It definitely didn't help that the webcam was doing a very awkward job of catching the tablet screen but showed a very distracting hint of Aziraphale's forearms. The forearms he had, at 3 AM, apparently woken up from a dream about and been so inspired by that he'd felt the need to immortalize them in fanfiction.

"Well, I shall be interested in seeing how that gets transformed into comprehensible English."

"Right, definitely." Crowley was typing gibberish and backspacing over it quickly, more to hide how much attention he was having to devote to this conversation than out of an actual need to warm up his fingers. "Right, definitely focusing on writing now!"

Aziraphale laughed as he cleared his tablet screen and pulled up his WIP, shifting into concentration mode himself. He did enjoy the early days they had spent where their hours of "bodydoubling" were really nothing more than talking and laughing together, but being able to be quietly productive with someone else, knowing they were there with you without needing to be in the same room, that they were sharing your same wavelength without needing to say a word... that simple sense of togetherness brought with it such a deep feeling of comfort that he thought it might be an even more profound, longer-lasting sense of joy than their early days of giddy laughter had given. The strokes of his stylus turned smoother and more confident as he got into the flow, his eyes focused on his own screen and only vaguely aware of the lines of text growing across Crowley's.

Eventually, Crowley calmed down as well, and the text growing on his screen even started to make sense. And he made sure it had absolutely nothing to do with forearms.

Translation of the deleted 3 AM scene:

The witch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the early morning sunlight, they could see the witchfinder still sleeping close enough to touch. His head was cradled on his arms, the muscles slack with sleep but still clearly there under the surface. The witch knew from experience that if he were awakened, the strength would flow back into them in an instant, ready for a fight. The witch couldn't help but think of other things they might be ready for as well.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #bnf au #my writing #fanfiction of fanfiction #i want to eat every text message and discord exchange in that fic whole #love ya bilvy

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oleander-nin · 11 months

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The Weight of a Letter

A/N: And we're back! Hi! Sorry for the long hiatus, the story is(hopefully) finally all figure out. I'm going to try and post a chap every other Wednesday, but we'll see how that goes. Apologies in advance, I completely failed Donnie's personality, and this seems kinda rushed, but I promised Wednesday, so here you go. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

Words: 2327

Content warnings: Not much for this chap??? Mentions of mutation, reader watching Donnie, staring, my writing, multi-chap fic

Summary: The first one I received was innocent. Nothing more than a love letter from a secret admirer. But as more letters came, so did the fear and paranoia. Guess secret admirers aren't so romantic after all.

Taglist? If you want to be added or removed, just say so: @ssak-i @sinister-things @ancreativename @t0ta11y-n0t-cup1d @idiotreblogger

Chapter One: A First Glance

The familiar worn-down sign of Repo-Mantis’ junkyard brought a smile to my face, the broken motorcycle I was pushing creaking with each turn of its wheels. I glance around while I walk through the gate, trying to spot the purple mantis mutant who owns the yard. I press my lips into a thin line, my head whipping back and forth as I scan the yard for its owner. I had to drop the old motorcycle off today, I couldn’t wait any longer. If I didn’t do it today, I knew my parents would throw a hissy fit, and I really didn’t want to get grounded right before they left town.

I frown, not seeing him around. I set the motorcycle by the old shack he calls his office, dusting off my pants as I begin to aimlessly walk around, my eyes peeled for the owner. My head snaps to the side as I hear the familiar sound of someone digging through the junk, metal hitting metal in loud clangs and clashes. I walk towards the sound, my footsteps making a dull thud against the ground every time I take a step. Maybe it was Repo, digging through his junk for some coin he dropped again. Rounding a trash pile, I saw what was digging through the piles of junk. Their back was turned to me, the purple armor thing on his back opening as two thin metal poles came out and started helping the mutant search.

I look in awe, half-hiding behind the pile of junk as I watch the mutant at work. I couldn’t believe there were more out there. Especially one who was both pretty and looked to be my age. I thought Repo and the odd villain was all there was. I felt a bit bad. I saw Ruppert Swaggert mutate on TV. Twice. Plus, Repo’s own stories he had told me after hours of my begging. I can’t imagine it was a pleasant experience, having his humanity ripped away to become a mutant. Sure, he was pretty as a mutant, but most preferred not being outcasts. I was just glad the Government wasn’t rounding them all up.

I snap myself out of my thoughts, returning to watch the mutant at work as I pretend I wasn’t being a total creep. His focus was sharp as he inspected every piece he picked up before either storing it in his armor thing or throwing it onto another pile. I tilt my head, studying him. He seemed so… Intense? I couldn’t place it, but he seemed to be completely immersed in the junk he was sorting through. His head lifts a bit, and I see a glimpse of his face, and the markings on his shoulders. My brow furrows, trying to think. I knew I had seen him before somewhere, but I couldn’t place where. I shrug. It probably wasn’t important.

I shift behind the pile, trying to get a better view. My knee nudges a piece of metal out of place, crashing loudly to the ground. I stare at the large sheet of metal dumbly for a couple of seconds before lifting my head up, meeting the gaze of the seemingly angry green mutant.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” He hisses out, glaring at me. I put my hands up in mock surrender, laughing nervously. I didn’t mean to offend him, I was just… Curious. Plus, he was really pretty. I couldn’t explain it. I was drawn to him in a way.

“I’m so sorry, I was just looking for Repo and then I found you and then I got lost in my head and I know I must’ve looked like a creep and I’m so sorry.” I cut myself off from my ramble at his look of disinterest, my mouth pressing into a line as I rock back and forth on my feet. “Sorry.” I say again, trying to make myself seem like less of a weirdo.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to the pile of junk, ready to ignore me once more. “Repo’s gone. He’ll be back in around an hour.”

I puff out my cheeks in frustration, unhappy with this turn of events. “Do you mind if I just hang out with you then?” I ask, already plopping myself down next to him. The mutant eyes me with a look of mild disgust, rolling his eyes at my presence.

“Yes.”

I chuckle at the annoyance in his voice, grinning at him. He ignores me, continuing to sort through the piles of scrap. I pat at my legs, trying to think of something to say or do to pass the time. I continue to watch him sort in interest, humming softly to myself. “So, what’s your name?”

“No.” He responds, not even sparing me a glance. I shrug, not really taking it personally. I wouldn’t be too fond of someone who appeared to be stalking me just moments before either.

“I’m (Y/n).” I say, offering my hand for him to shake.

“I don’t remember asking.” He replies, one of his tech arms pushing my hand away. I bring it back to my legs, tapping out a pattern on my hips. He seems agitated at my continued presence, his drawn on eyebrows knitting together. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?!”

“Nope!” I say, grinning at him. He frowns, displeased with my answer. He grumbles something under his breath I can’t quite understand, but I assume it’s some not so nice words towards me. Oh well, I was being a bit of a nuisance, but I liked his company. Even if he was completely shut off towards me.

I watch a small beetle crawl across the ground, pulling my knees to my chest in appreciation of the insect. Its tiny legs carried it across the dirt and through the small sprouts of grass, on its way to wherever its little bug brain decided. I grin, happy to have some form of entertainment. The mutant next to me, however, did not seem to find the same appreciation for the small beetle, as his junk pile seemed to have conveniently been moved directly on top of the bug. I let out an offended gasp, trying to free the poor thing from its metal prison. My hands grip the compacted metal and yank it up, my cheeks puffing out because it was only the size of my hand, so why does this stupid thing weigh like fifteen pounds.

The purple-coded mutant looks at me in worry at my loud gasp, his eyes scanning me as he takes a moment to try and figure out what was wrong. I angrily point at the smashed beetle, glaring at the now murderer. “You crushed Bartholomew Henry the Third with your careless throwing of the scrap! Apologize immediately.” I demand playfully, pouting as I gesture towards the bug's smashed body.

He did not seem impressed with my antics. He glances at the beetle before looking back up at me, blinking slowly. “It’s dead. You can’t apologize to something that’s dead, dumdum.” He states, exasperated. I let out another laugh and he huffs, turning away from me once more. I carefully pick up the squashed beetle, placing it next to me as I start to dig a small hole in the dirt. I can tell the mutant is watching me through the corner of his eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line. His eyes held a curiosity towards my actions, trying to figure out what I was doing without showing that he was interested. He was a funny one, watching him made me grin.

Once I deem my hole deep enough, I pick up the bug carcass and carefully place it in. I push the dirt back into the hole, patting it down firm. I take a small piece of wire and carefully twist it into a small U, placing it at the head of the grave to make a gravestone. I smile down at my work, patting the dirt mound once more. I hear Donnie rustling through the junk next to me, no longer paying attention to my grave digging. Whether he got uninterested in watching, or just felt it complete enough to no longer pay attention to, I don’t know.

He pulls out another thing from the junk, his face lighting up. It was thick, and was more of a rounded square than anything. It had a small cooling fan in the middle of it, red plating, and a couple wires sticking out. I watch his face as his hands rhythmically tap the surface of the object, his body more or less vibrating in joy. “Oh sweet Galileo, I found it!”

I look at the part in his hand curiously, unable to tell what it is. It looked like junk to me, with frayed wires coming out of its main build and scratches and dents covering it. I looked at the turtle, expecting an explanation, but he was too busy messing with the things wires. “What’s that?”

“A part for something I’m building,” He says, a smug smile stretching across his face. He looks at me for once, proud of his find. He holds the equipment piece up with one hand, his other moving around him quickly as he talks. Most of it flew over my head, but it all seemed so cool. I glance around his face, trying to take in all his words. He was finally talking to me, and I couldn’t be more elated. “It’s a state of the art compact motor, I need it for a specific project of mine. It’ll be able to make my tech run so much smoother, I just need to fix it up first.”

“Wait, your tech. Do you mean like the armor on your back?” I ask, looking at his weird armor once more. He sits up straighter, seeming happy with my question. He puts the motor into his back armor, winding up for an explanation. I sit up straighter, crossing my legs and putting my hands in my lap, ready to learn more about his tech. He seems to beam in delight at my new position, clearing his throat and readying to talk.

“This ‘armor’ as you call it is my battle shell. It’s a piece of tech I made to help me, having many beneficial tools that are at my disposal. It’s made of military grade titanium, being able to withstand high amounts of damage without being even so much as scratched.” A smug smile grows on his face once more, his eyes lighting up in delight to the fact I was actually listening to him. I grin, nodding as I look at his battle shell in awe.

“You made this?! That’s so cool! You’re like, a super genius or something!”

His ego grows more at my praise and he seems to inflate some, puffing out his chest in pride. He continues to explain more about his battle shell, showing me all of its cool features while I look on in awe. Everything he did was so impressive, I was starting to understand his overinflated ego. Sure, I still kind of hated it, but at least he knows how incredible he was. I tilt my head as he talks, my eyes watching him with a small sadness.

“Do you miss being human?” I ask softly. I knew Repo did, and I had always felt bad for him. He seemed to have figured life out after all this time, coping with his new body. But this guy next to me? He seemed to be around my age, only a young adult. I couldn’t imagine having your humanity ripped away from you like that.

He looks at me, his eyes narrowing in confusion. His hands come down to rest by his side, looking at me strangely. “I was never human.” He says curtly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I was created by a scientist as a weapon to destroy humanity,” He says, a strange grin on his face. It felt like he was trying to scare me and I rolled my eyes, smiling a bit. “I started out as a normal softshell turtle. Now, I am a mutant. Don’t pity me, I’m not weak nor upset with my current situation.”

I wilt a little, the familiar burn of embarrassment flooding me. I look at the ground, laughing nervously. “Oh. My bad. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s okay.”

We both sit in awkward silence for a moment, neither of us knowing how to continue. Or, at least, I didn’t. The softshell seemed perfectly content on ignoring me to look through the junk once more. My head snaps towards the gate, the sound of heavy footsteps sounding through the junkyard. I catch a glimpse of the purple mantis, standing up and brushing off my pants. Donnie watches me curiously, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to figure out what I’m doing. Instead of making him guess, I offer an explanation. “Repo’s back. I need to head out. Bye!”

“Wait, that’s it? You’re just… Leaving?” The softshell asks, his voice losing the cocky edge it had the entire time we talked. I smile sadly, rubbing the back of my neck in guilt. “Yeah… I’m really sorry, I wasn’t even supposed to be here for this long. My parents are leaving on a really long business trip in a couple months, and I need to help them get everything in line before they go. I’m so sorry.” My face falls slightly, I really don’t want to leave yet. The purple-coded mutant was funny, if a bit egotistical. I genuinely enjoyed our talk. “Maybe I’ll see you again some other time.”

The mutant nods, a smile coming across his face as he thinks. There was an odd glint in his eye, a look I couldn’t quite place. “I’ll see you soon then. Goodbye, (Y/n).”

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Love You Through It (Dad!Eddie x Mom Reader)

Summary: When you're struggling with postpartum depression, Eddie brings in some help. Just a little blurb.

Warnings: depression, anxiety, mention of pregnancy, Stancy is canon

WC: 915

A/N: I've struggled with depression, but not PPD. I tried to draw on my own experiences and what I've heard from others, and I hope I did this request justice.

On a Sunday morning, you wake up to the sound of Eddie's voice crackling through the baby monitor.

"Good morning, Melly Bean! Today's gonna be a beautiful day," he coos. You want to smile, soak in the way your husband dotes on your two-month-old daughter, but you just can't. It feels like there's something blocking you from feeling happy.

You roll over in bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. Eddie's baby talk fades from the monitor but gets closer to your bedroom door.

"You wanna go see Mommy? Show her how much you love her?" he asks, even pausing as if Melody can give an answer.

"Hi Mama Munson," Eddie calls to you from the doorway. "Someone wants to say 'good morning.'" His sweet smile morphs into a frown when he sees you burrowed into the blankets. "Sweetheart? What's going on?"

"Nothing," you insist, voice muffled by the layers covering you. "Just wanna sleep."

Eddie looks at you, concern evident all over his face. "Okay, love," he says finally, "we'll be in the living room if you need us."

You wait until after he closes the door to sob into your pillow.

"Hello?" Steve answers the phone groggily, glancing at the time. Only 7:30 AM; who could be calling at this hour?

"Harrington," Eddie''s visibly relieved by the sound of his friend's voice. "There's something wrong with Y/N."

Steve sits up immediately at this news. "What do you mean?" he asks, panicked. "Does she need to go to the hospital?" Eddie hears Nancy's quiet voice, and Steve repeats what Eddie just told him.

"I don't--I don't know if you go to the hospital for this," Eddie tells him. "She stays in bed all the time, she doesn't want to be with the baby, she barely eats..."

Nancy takes the receiver from her husband. "Eddie?" she says. "Hon, that sounds like postpartum depression."

Eddie's eyes widen. "What do I do? I've been trying to handle everything but I'm just so...tired," he admits. "It's a lot, but I don't want to make her feel worse."

"I'm coming over," Nancy says, throwing off her covers. "Give me half an hour, okay?"

Eddie nods before realizing she can't see him. "Thanks, Nance," he whispers.

Your bedroom door is nudged open, but instead of Eddie, Nancy's standing there.

"Can I come in?" she asks, and you nod slowly. It seems like everything is happening in slow motion these days.

She takes a seat next to you on the edge of the bed. "Eddie called us," she explains softly, rubbing your back. "He's worried about you, babe. We all are."

"'M fine," you lie, but it's no use trying to pull one over on Nancy.

"No," she shakes her head, "you're not. You should talk to your doctor, but I think you have postpartum depression."

"But how?" you cry out, voice catching in your throat. "I'd get it if I was alone, or there was something wrong with Melody, or the delivery..." You start to cry again, and you're genuinely shocked that you haven't dehydrated from all the tears you've shed. "But Eddie has been amazing, and the baby is happy and healthy, and my delivery was fine."

Nancy offers a small smile. "Unfortunately, it doesn't always work like that," she says. "It can happen to any new mommy, regardless of the circumstances."

"Nance, I feel so guilty all the time," you confide in a hushed whisper. "I want to do more, but it's like my brain and my body won't cooperate. And then it all falls on Eddie, which makes me feel even worse. Like..." you pause before allowing the truth to spill out, "like I'm failing at being a mom."

Your friend squeezes your arm gently. "You are not a failure," she reassures you. "We're gonna help you get through this, okay? This isn't your fault. If anything, it's Eddie's fault for getting you pregnant in the first place." she says with a giggle.

"I heard that!" Eddie calls out, peeking his head into the doorway. Nancy stands up when he comes in.

"You two get some rest, and I'll make some breakfast." She scoops up the baby monitor on her way out. "Don't worry about Melody; I'll take care of her if she needs me."

Eddie snuggles into bed behind to you and presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck. "You know I adore you, right?"

"Of course," you reply. "I'm sorry I haven't been showing you how much I adore you, Eds."

"My love, you carried our perfect daughter for nine months. What else can I ask for?"

"I don't know," you reply tersely, "maybe a wife who can take care of her baby, who can take care of herself?"

"And you will," he tells you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you impossibly close. "But right now, we're gonna sleep. And when we wake up, Nancy is gonna help us find someone you can talk to. Like a therapist or something," he clarifies.

You take his hand and kiss it. "Do you think Melody hates me?" you whisper.

"Hates you? Oh, baby, absolutely not," Eddie gives a little laugh. "She loves her mommy. And she knows how much I love you, too."

"And how much is that?" you tease, snuggling into him.

Eddie's peppering kisses all over your face, his curly hair and hint of stubble tickling your cheeks.

"Does that answer your question?"

666 notes · View notes

barrenclan · 6 months

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begging some of yall not to idolize deepdark and defiance how you do. i have a friend who’s actually lived through a cult’s wrath and they r mega not cool. like i know defiance is narratively AMAZING but we. shouldn’t put it on a pedestal of “oh this thing is so cool and its leaders are amazing” because ultimately it’s safer for everyone if we start recognizing that while yea defiance + deepgang are cool… theyre still a cult. and we should not be viewing them positively at all. cults are inherently models of rigorous and severe repeated abuse, and by romanticizing them you are inherently romanticizing abuse. i don’t think you’re bad for letting this happen, raz, i just think that if you have any sympathy for cult survivors you should have stopped it before now. Especially as the comic ramps up towards the inevitable climax of the cult in it doing many awful things to the main characters. I know no one here intended to romanticize it, but by treating deepdark and other leaders of this cult as silly uwu murder cult guys we are actively doing that.

thank you for listening if you did, and i hope this feedback helps us all grow.

Well, thank you for sharing your concerns, I appreciate it a lot, as well as explaining the reasons this is important to you. Nothing you said is incorrect or invalid! I do have a few other thoughts I wanna share along with this ask.

Firstly; Defiance is fictional, and more than that it's not based on any real world cult. I obviously had to do some research and take some general real-world influence, mostly because I wanted to capture the kind of personality that exists in cult leaders with Deepdark, but in the end it's a completely made-up group. I actually based their group structure much more on a mafia-like organization than a traditional religious cult. There is a sliding scale for these sorts of things in stories of course, topics that are treated with varying levels of severity based on our culture, and everyone is going to be affected by them differently based on personal experience anyways. I refer to Defiance as a "combination death cult and mafia" sort of flippantly (which is my own fault) because just calling it a "group" is sort of vague, non-descript term. But its structure and actions are way, way more dramatic and obvious than any cult that exists today, or existed previously.

With the kind of fanbase I've gathered, I would like to believe my readership is able to separate the difference between talking about real-world cults and fictional ones. No one I've seen is actually idolizing Defiance as something to genuinely be admired, outside of talking about and making up in-universe characters who do so. Deepdark is fun, and dramatic, and over-the-top, because I made him that way, so it's natural that people like him. But no one is saying that it's good to be like Deepdark, or that he's some sort of aspirational goal (I hope! If you are, we'll have words!). I do believe that in the story itself I've pretty thoroughly conveyed how cruel and malicious Defiance & its members are. In fact I've pretty intensely tried to emphasize the insidious way that cults hurt people, and the danger of charismatic leaders like Deepdark! Maybe I've failed a bit in that regard, then.

But besides all that - your points are very valuable and worth repeating, and I will be more on the lookout for anything treating Defiance's impact irreverantly, and either delete or correct it. I have a feeling people are not going to be happy with them anyways, as they continue to hurt more of our main characters.

Real-life cults are not as obvious and over-dramatic like Defiance. Many ordinary people like you and me are deeply hurt by them all the time, and any time you joke about Deepdark's murdering or silly lieutenant shenanigans, it's always important to keep in mind that there are tons of real-life people like Deepdark out there. I never wanted to come across as unsympathetic for real-world victims of cults. Making people think more deeply about the various shades of gray and subtle acts of evil that exist in our world, as well as the inherent humanity that exists in people who do terrible things regardless, are some of my goals with creating PATFW in the first place.

#ask #anon #deepdark #defiance #advice

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foxy-eva · 2 years

Text

Handle with Care

Summary: Spencer tries to be there for his wife after a traumatic experience

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Please read the CW, this story contains potentially triggering topics! Content Warnings: (16+ for heavy themes) implied/referenced SA (non-graphic), mentions of hospitals, medication and medical exams, description of minor injuries (bruises), behavior responding to trauma, issues with self-worth/self-hatred, crying, food mentions

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

There was a truth I had to learn as a young boy and couldn't shake until I met my wife – Love always brings pain with it.

My wife was the first person to show me a love that didn't come with the risk of getting hurt. She had the ability to reset my view on what it should feel like to love and be loved.

However, when I got a call from the hospital earlier today, I was reminded that I had been right all along.

Love and pain really are inseparable.

When I walked into the examination room I found my wife staring out of the window, not even acknowledging my presence.

"Hey," I whispered.

She turned her head to look at me and I forgot how to breathe for several moments. Seeing my loved ones hurting has always been so much more painful for me than any atrocities I have had to endure myself.

After years of profiling victims there was no need for anyone to tell me what had happened to her, I knew immediately. Without wanting to, I scanned her body language and counted several nicks and bruises on her skin. Her sight fell to her lap and I noticed her eyes tracing the pattern on the hospital gown.

I slowly stepped closer. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. Do you know if they are done with everything yet?"

"They took my clothes," she muttered without looking up at me, "for evidence."

"I know, love. They have to do that. I stopped at home on my way here to get you something to change into."

A knock on the door caught her attention. A nurse stepped in to hand my wife several bottles with pills, explaining to her what they were and how to take them. It was obvious that she wasn't able to listen but that was okay. I was here now. I could tell her later.

The nurse let us know that we could go home and left the room. My wife's eyes found mine, the desperation in her look letting my heart shatter. A single tear ran down her cheek while she whispered, "I don't know what to do now."

I stepped closer to her and reached out my hands but stopped myself before I could touch her. Taking a deep breath, I reached into my bag and placed her clothes right beside where she was sitting on the hospital bed.

I tried my best to sound soothing when I said, "First, you will put on clothes. Then we'll walk out of here and drive home. And then we'll take it from there. One step at a time."

She nodded and looked at her clothes, hesitating to take off her hospital gown.

"Do you need help, love?" I offered.

Her sight fell to the floor right before she mumbled, "Could you wait outside?"

Over the years I had memorized every curve and dip of her body, her skin feeling more familiar to me than my own. I saw her bare form almost every day, be it while brushing my teeth while she showered or when we were lost in each other's arms. She had never even thought twice about shedding her clothes in front of me.

Until this day.

"Yes, of course."

I closed the door behind me when I walked out of the room and waited for her to get ready. When she came out, she intuitively reached for my hand, my heart skipping a beat at the unexpected contact. She didn't let go of me until we reached my car.

We were both silent on the way home. She seemed too exhausted to talk and I was stuck with my attempt to find the right words to say. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had failed her, that I could and should have protected her from the cruelties of this world.

What was the point of saving all those people every day when I couldn't even keep the love of my life safe?

The sound of her sighing pulled me away from my thoughts. I averted the sight from the road to look at her for a moment.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more careful," she stuttered.

My lips parted but nothing came out. I focussed back on the road for a moment until I found a space to pull over. I turned my body to be able to face her but she avoided looking at me.

"Listen to me. None of this is your fault. You didn't do anything to provoke this," I explained.

We locked eyes then and I noticed hers glistening with tears. "But I still should have–"

"No!" That came out louder than I had intended. I tried to contain my anger when I told her, "This is his fault, not yours."

And I will do everything in my power that he won't lay a hand on you ever again, I thought.

She looked like she wanted to protest my statement but decided to not voice her thoughts. "I just want to go home," she said instead.

We continued the drive in silence and I attempted to swallow down the boiling anger in my chest. Letting her see my disdain for the man who hurt her was certainly not what she needed right now.

When we stepped into our apartment, she halted in the hallway as if she couldn't remember her usual steps of entering our home. I suggested that she could take a bath and she nodded, following me to the bathroom and watching each of my movements as I prepared the bathtub for her.

"I'll give you some privacy. Just let me know when you need me."

My wife nodded once more and stared at the door until I had left the room. I lingered on the other side for a while, listening to the sound of her getting into the tub and turning off the water. When I was sure that she wouldn't call out my name anytime soon, I distracted myself by ordering food and tidying up a bit.

Forty minutes passed without a sound coming from the bathroom. I stood in front of the door and timidly knocked against the wood.

"Is everything okay?" I wanted to know.

Almost inaudibly I heard her voice a broken "No."

It was the obvious answer. Of course she wasn't okay.

"What can I do?"

Silence.

I contemplated just entering the room but then I heard her pleading, "Can you come in?"

I found her cowering in the tub, her arms wrapped around her knees as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. She didn't look at me when she whimpered, "I can't wash it off."

I stepped closer to her and crouched down beside the bathtub. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand," I confessed.

Her red rimmed eyes found mine and I saw something in her look I had only seen on rare occasions before.

Rage.

"I can't wash him off," she shouted.

"You're safe here. He can't hurt you anymore," I tried to remind her.

It didn't work.

Her whole body started shaking, broken sobs wrecking through her as she hid her face in her hands. The sound of her suffering went directly into my body and made me feel as if her pain would etch into my bones.

"Can I touch you?"

She didn't respond. She couldn't respond. I placed my palm on her shoulder, squeezing it gently in an attempt to bring her back to me. I knew that my words couldn't reach her but I tried it anyway.

"I'm so sorry this happened. I wish I could have protected you."

After a while her whimpers simmered down until she was silent. Not even her breathing was audible, making me question the amount of oxygen currently entering her body.

I tried to reassure her further, "I am here now."

When she nodded, implicitly telling me that she could hear me, I reached for her arms and helped her out of the tub. Wrapping her in a towel, I placed my arms around her still quivering body and held her tightly against my chest. She nestled her face into the fabric of my shirt and I felt her breathing slowly even out.

Time became abstract while we stood in our shared embrace. It was impossible to tell whether minutes or hours had passed when she started moving again. She silently followed her usual routine after taking baths, putting on new clothes and brushing her hair. I lingered in her presence and followed her into the living room when she was done.

"I ordered pizza when you were in the bathroom. Can I get you some?"

My wife whispered, “No,” and sat down on the couch. I found my place beside her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I offered.

She shook her head and asked, "How was work?"

I raised my eyebrows as I looked at her. "Do you really want me to talk about work?"

"Yes," she breathed and added, "Please."

I thought about what I could tell her about my day that wouldn't be too unsettling. "JJ accidently bumped into Morgan who then spilled his coffee all over my geological profile."

To my surprise she started giggling, the sound immediately warming my heart. A grin appeared on my face. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she snickered. "I just imagined the squeaking sound you probably made when that happened."

"Hey! I don't make squeaking sounds!" I laughed in protest.

She smirked at me and moved closer until hardly any distance could be found between our thighs. Without a warning, her hand made contact with the side of my torso, pinching my skin just enough to evoke the noise she had just mentioned.

I threw my hands in the air, implicitly pleading for her to stop. "Okay, okay! I'll take it back!"

She let go of me and curled her body into my side instead. I felt the tensions leave her as she felt almost limp against me. The exhaustion after an adrenaline rush was familiar to me and I knew very well that it can feel like no amount of sleep would ever be enough to feel alright again.

I suggested it anyway.

"Do you want to go to bed?"

Her humming sounded like agreement, so I moved with her and guided her to our bed. After placing the comforter over her body, I leaned down to kiss her but stopped in my tracks when I noticed her flinching away from me.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay."

But the truth was that nothing about this was okay.

When I stepped back into the bedroom after getting ready for the night, she had already turned off the lamp on her nightstand. Usually I would hold her inside my arms until she'd fall asleep but everything about her body language told me not to touch her.

"Good night. I love you."

I didn't get a response.

My wife got cold easily at night and I had always seen it as my responsibility to keep her warm. It was something so deeply embedded into my subconscious that there was no need for me to fully wake up to reach out for her when my body noticed the absence of her skin against mine.

It took a second too long for any drowsiness to leave me and realize that I had wrapped my arms around my wife's sleeping body, just like I did most nights. It was her screaming that fully woke me and I let go of her once I noticed her struggling. She basically jumped out of bed.

Despite the lack of light in the room, I could clearly make out the horror in her look. She was scared. She was terrified.

Terrified of me.

I got up and stepped closer to her but still kept my distance. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She stepped backwards until her shoulders met the closest wall. "Don't…" she whimpered.

She didn't need to speak the words for me to hear them nonetheless.

Don't come closer. Don't touch me. Stay back.

I didn't dare to move when I asked, "What can I do?"

"Just… give me some space," she sobbed. "Please."

I stood there in silence for a few moments, contemplating what to do next. Before I could think of anything, she said, "I'll sleep on the couch."

"No." I protested. "I'll go."

She didn't seem to have enough energy to argue with that, instead laying down on her side of the bed once more. I left the door to the bedroom open ajar to be able to hear her from my place on the couch.

Rest didn't come easy to me for the rest of the night but I somehow managed to fall asleep eventually. The sensation of my blanket being lifted woke me in the early morning hours. My wife lay down beside me on the couch, finding her home inside my embrace. She pressed her body against mine and buried her face into the crook of my neck.

I let my fingertips draw circles into her back, carefully following the same patterns like countless times before. Her breath was quivering against my skin as she attempted to find comfort in my arms.

"Sorry I pushed you away," she mumbled against my neck and added, "I love you."

"You don't have to apologize. You were scared, it's understandable." I placed a chaste kiss into her hair. "I love you more."

I felt her smile against my skin before she pressed herself into me even more. With my arms tightly wrapped around her body I secured her position inside my embrace.

The morning sun started illuminating the room but we kept lingering in this position for a few more hours. I would hold her like that for the rest of my life if she needed me to. I wasn't sure whether she had actually fallen back asleep or just silently tried to relax but I was content to have her close to me either way.

I took time off work for the next few days, trying to be there for my wife at least until she felt ready to go back to work herself. There was a newfound routine we followed, from going on long walks and cooking together to me holding her when she cried and keeping her company when she couldn’t sleep.

A couple of days after she had gotten hurt, I was waiting for her to get ready to go on a walk. When she took twice the time she usually needed to get dressed, I cautiously entered the bedroom to look for her. I found her standing in front of the mirror in just her underwear, her brows furrowed as she let her eyes wander over her body. It was the first time I had noticed her actually looking at herself in the mirror.

As I stepped closer, she looked up and locked eyes with me through my reflection. Not even a second passed and she continued the examination of her skin, her fingertips tracing over the spots she focussed at with her eyes. It took me a moment to realize that she was staring at the bruises on her skin.

There weren’t that many of them but it was still impossible to not notice her injuries. Over the course of the past few days I had noticed how the bruises had gotten darker in color, a reddish blue turning into a deep purple that almost appeared black in the dim lighting of the bedroom.

“Are you in pain?” I wanted to know.

When her eyes found mine once more, they were glistening with tears.

“No matter how hard I try, I can’t get rid of him.” Her voice broke at the last syllable and I noticed how her bottom lip started trembling.

Her knees gave up on her, having me reach for her to hinder her from falling. I gently guided her to the bed instead, helping her sit down on the mattress. Tears were streaming down her face and I cupped her cheeks to wipe them away.

She couldn’t look at me when she sobbed, “It feels like my body is rotting everywhere he touched me.”

“That’s not true. Those bruises will hea–”

“I’m tainted, Spencer!” She interrupted my desperate attempt to soothe her.

Before I could disagree, she got up from her place beside me and turned her back to me. “Don’t you think I can’t see the disgust in your eyes when you look at my body?”

The shock her words evoked rushed through me like lightning. I got up and tried to get her to look at me. It didn’t work.

“That’s not how it is. That’s not what I think,” I tried to explain.

We locked eyes and she seemed to genuinely wonder, “What is it then?”

“When I look at you, I get angry at the man who hurt you but even more than that, I am disappointed in myself for not being able to protect you.” I stepped closer to her until our bodies almost made contact. “Can I touch you?”

She nodded.

I let my fingertips tenderly dance over a bruise on her arm while I cooed, “When I see his markings on you, I fantasize about having the ability to erase them with the touch of my hand. I imagine touching you everywhere he did, to rid you of the memory of him and replace it with the sensation of my skin against yours.”

My hand wandered upwards and over her shoulder. “I wish I could take it away, all this pain. I wish I could leave sparks everywhere my fingertips make contact with your skin, making it shine brighter than all of this darkness.”

She stared at me with widened eyes and tears still streaming down her face. I leaned down to kiss her cheek, the salty taste meeting my lips. “And when I taste your tears, I imagine that the ocean left saline crystals on your skin after having washed away your sorrow.”

A shy smile appeared on her face when she heard my words. And for the first time since all of this had happened I felt hopeful about one thing.

We would be okay.

Eventually.

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rabbiitte · 6 months

Text

Character Analysis #4.

Sleepless Nights and Silent Battles: Top's Journey Through PTSD, Attachment and Performative Sexuality.

Following the latest comments made by P'Jojo, I feel compelled to contribute to the appreciation of Top as a character. I consider that, far from being the flattest character, he's one of the most complex characters in the series. Not only is he a character who evolves throughout the story, but many sensitive themes are explored through him. Today we'll dive into Top's intricacies and explore concepts such as stereotypes, attachment patterns, PTSD and performative sexuality. If you're interested in what makes Top such a fascinating character, read on.

1 | Narrative differentiation: the deconstruction of a stereotype.

The characters in a story often serve as narrative tools to explore and contrast various thematic and emotional aspects. Each character can represent a unique perspective, contrasting values or even opposing archetypes. Opposing characters may mark contrast, create tension, humor or highlight the complexity of the issues being explored. Two opposite characters in Only Friends are Mew and Boston, for example. On the other hand, similar characters may highlight patterns in the story or underscore the repetition of key themes. In Only Friends, two characters who are introduced as similar are Boston and Top. Although both present certain differences on a deeper level, they both embody the stereotype of the "heartbreaker" or "promiscuous" man.

The “heartbreaker” stereotype: refers to a male character characterized by his physical attractiveness, charm, and ability to have multiple romantic relationships without serious commitment. Some of the most common attributes of the “heartbreaker” include physical attractiveness, charisma and ability to persuade others. They tend to avoid commitment, be the object of desire for other characters and have notable social skills.

Certain characters can start out being different to end up being similar, as in the case of Ray and Boston. Other characters can start out being similar to end up being different, as in the case of Top and Boston. This phenomenon where two initially similar characters reveal deeper layers and different motivations could be called "narrative differentiation". It's a common device in writing that adds complexity and depth to characters, allowing the audience to explore different facets of the same stereotype. On a narrative level, this is often used to challenge viewers expectations and provide a richer understanding of the characters. In this way, Top and Boston serve as vehicles to explore different facets of the same stereotype.

The expression "narrative differentiation" is not a standardized or official term within literary or film theory. It has been used to describe the narrative process in which initially similar characters take different paths and develop in unique ways throughout a story.

Through Boston, the most superficial facet of the “heartbreaker” stereotype is explored, while through Top, the deeper facet of this stereotype is explored. Boston personifies the idea of living out sexuality without regrets or explanations, without any specific reason behind his behavior (for most of the show). In Ton's case, there isn't deep exploration and, for many episodes, there's no development. On the other hand, through his traumatic past, Top adds a layer of complexity to the stereotype, showing that people with this behavior aren't always the way they are simply because. This narrative duality enriches the representation of the experiences and motivations behind the characters' choices.

2 | The effects of parenting styles and attachment patterns in adulthood.

Generally, when it comes to Top (and unlike with other characters) people fail to recognize what drives him in his decision-making process. This is, how his childhood affected his adulthood. And if the importance of Top's childhood is recognized, the focus is usually on how his trauma affected him. And, yes, the fire in which Top was trapped as a child without his parents caused him sequelae but Top's abandonment issues were not only caused by this traumatic event. Top's traumatic experience reinforced his abandonment issues, but his fear of abandonment was already present before that. If Top had not experienced that traumatic event, he would also manifest abandonment issues. To talk about the beginning of Top's abandonment issues we have to go back to Top's childhood and we have to talk about the importance of Top's parents in his emotional development.

Childhood is a crucial time in our lives. During this period, many of the foundations for emotional development are laid. This is why parenting is so important. How parents choose to bond with children (or choose not to) will be reflected through parenting styles. There are four types of parenting styles:

Authoritative: authoritative parents set rules and boundaries, but they're also understanding and responsive to their child's emotional needs. They encourage open communication and encourage independence. Children raised authoritatively tend to have a good balance between self-discipline and emotional expression. They can love and fulfill themselves without needing other people. They tend to be more confident, have social skills and make informed decisions. As an example, Mew's mothers raised him through the authoritative style.

Permissive: Permissive parents are forgiving and tend to avoid imposing strict limits. They're usually very responsive to their children's emotional needs. Children raised permissively may have difficulty following rules and boundaries, which can sometimes lead to behavioral problems. They may also experience difficulty developing self-discipline. Children raised in this style may be more prone to experimentation with substances, as they may not receive adequate guidance on the dangers and risks associated with drug and alcohol use. As an example, Sand's mother raised him through the permissive style.

Authoritarian: authoritarian parents are demanding and controlling. They set rigid rules and clear expectations for their children. They tend to be less responsive to children's emotional needs. Children raised in an authoritarian manner tend to be disciplined and compliant, but they may also experience high levels of anxiety and have difficulty making decisions for themselves. As an example, there are clues that suggest that Nick's parents raised him through the authoritarian style.

Neglectful: neglectful parents show little interest or involvement in their children's lives. They may be emotionally absent or distracted by other problems. Children raised in neglectful environments may experience attachment problems, low self-esteem, and difficulty establishing healthy relationships in adulthood. They may also feel neglected and devalued. This parenting style can lead to self-esteem issues, anxiety, depression and substance abuse. As an example, Boston, Ray and Top's parents raised them through the neglectful style.

Top's parents ignored or rejected him and, as Boston and Ray, Top has self-esteem issues. He's needy for affection and, especially, protection because he lacked these things during his childhood.

If the bonds established in childhood are so important, what will be the effect of having neglectful parents? How we form a bond with a caregiver will affect how we form bonds in our adulthood. Therefore, each parenting style has a consequence. That consequence is the emergence of an attachment pattern.

According to the attachment theory, developed primarily by British psychologist John Bowlby and later extended by Canadian psychologist Mary Ainsworth, an attachment pattern refers to the way individuals form emotional bonds and connections with others, typically based on their early experiences and interactions with primary caregivers during infancy and childhood. These bonds provide a sense of security and emotional protection, especially in situations of stress or danger. Attachment patterns can influence how people perceive relationships, approach intimacy, and react in times of stress or vulnerability.

The attachment theory identifies two types of attachment that can be develop in childhood: secure attachment and insecure attachment. For example, when a little girl feels secure to walk away because she knows that when she returns her caregiver will still be there to meet her needs, this is called secure attachment. If a little boy feels insecure about walking away because he's afraid that his caregiver won't be there when he returns to meet his needs, this is called insecure attachment. At the same time, insecure attachment is divided into anxious attachment, avoidant attachment and disorganized attachment. Today we will talk about anxious attachment but, if you want to know what type of attachment each character of Only Friends has, I recommend you read my general analysis of attachment patterns in Only Friends here.

Anxious attachment: Those with this attachment pattern often worry about being abandoned or unloved. They may seek excessive reassurance from their partners and can be overly sensitive to relationship changes or perceived threats to the relationship. They may be reluctant to express their anger or dissatisfaction, which can sometimes lead to increased anxiety. This apparent passivity can be a strategy to avoid conflict or maintain a relationship.

Top grew up with two absent parents. Growing up, his parents ignored him and didn't spend quality time with him. They usually went to social events without taking Top with them, which is why Top was alone during the fire. His parents didn't meet his needs immediately, as they were never at home (although perhaps they did met his needs in the long run). When his parents were with him, Top was happy and when his parents left him, he felt anxious. His parents' inconsistent behavior (of being present, then absent) caused Top deep anxiety and he developed a strong fear of abandonment. As he grew older, he stopped perceiving his parents as a safe place to perceive them as unreliable figures. He never felt safe exploring the world because he feared his parents wouldn't be there when he returned. This type of insecure attachment is called anxious attachment.

The anxious attachment pattern is what is colloquially referred to as "abandonment issues." Although both terms share similarities, they aren't interchangeable. The difference between the terms lies in their origin and context of use. "Anxious attachment" is a more technical and specific term used in psychology to describe a particular attachment pattern. It refers to anxiety and worry about abandonment in interpersonal relationships. On the other hand, "abandonment issues" is a more colloquial term used in everyday conversations to express in a general way the anxiety or fear related to abandonment. Although the two concepts may overlap, the former is a more clinical and precise description, while the latter is a more informal and broad expression.

Top worries about being abandoned all the time. This fear isn't only activated at night, but is present unconsciously during his daily life due to the way he got used to building relationships (based on how he was raised). That terrible fear affects the way he connects with other people in his adulthood. It led him to limit his romantic relationships and mostly engage in one-night stands. In order to avoid being abandoned first, Top developed the three-month rule. Probably, this is how long it took his previous partners to break up with him. However, ironically, despite not wanting to be hurt or abandoned, Top's anxious attachment pattern leads him to constantly seek affection. That's why Top dated other people before Mew (we know about Boeing and some other “serious” relationship thanks to the existence of the three-month rule Boston talked about). All this information suggests that Top is open to relationships because he seeks companionship and he wants to satiate his need for affection but prefers to avoid being abandoned.

In his romantic relationships, Top is insecure and needy. He worries about not being enough and being abandoned eventually. This is the main reason why Boston's revelation about Mew and Ray's kissing affected him so much. Top is overly sensitive to relationship changes or perceived threats to the relationship. After Boston's revelation, Ray's existence in Mew's life became a threat or possible change in his relationship with Mew. For people with anxious attachment, abandonment doesn't necessarily have to be clear and definitive, any suggestion of abandonment triggers deep fear and insecurity. At the same time, people with anxious attachment tend to be reluctant to express their anger, dissatisfaction or insecurity. This apparent passivity can be a strategy to avoid conflict or maintain a relationship. This is why Top didn't confront Mew about his kiss with Ray at that very moment, because directly confronting Mew in search of the truth would involve facing and hastening possible abandonment. People with a fear of abandonment become irrational at any suggestion of possible abandonment.

Top needs Mew to feel loved, important and protected. In his relationship with Mew, Top craves constant reassurance and intimacy. Top's need for reassurance can be seen reflected through his desire to be rewarded manifested in two instances: the cookie's scene and the drug's scene at Mew's place. Why does Top feel he's owed rewards when he does something right (keep in mind that Top would stop consuming as a favor to Mew, not for himself)? This emotional blackmail comes from a place of deep insecurity, as you can imagine. Top is constantly looking for proof that he's appreciated because he's doing things right and that he's not going to be abandoned. Instead of communicating honestly and trusting that he's loved and valued, Top constantly seeks validation through rewards. It's like a way to win affection and avoid being abandoned in the short term.

Similar to animals or babies, after getting a reward, they'll expect to get rewards every time they do something right as a sign of satisfaction from the owners or guardians. In humans, it's normal for children to seek to act in a way they know they're going to be rewarded to avoid being abandoned by figures they perceive as “unreliable”.

Through the previous experiences (the three-month rule, Boston's manipulation, and the rewarding moments) we can account for how much Top's anxious attachment affects his decision-making process. As stated, Top's attachment pattern isn't rooted on the traumatic event he experienced as a child, but rather on his parents' upbringing. Because of this, his attachment pattern affects him in all aspects of his life and not just at bedtime at night. Having seen the effects of Top's parents' upbringing in his adulthood, let's take a look at the specific effects of his traumatic experience in his adulthood.

3 | The influence of PTSD on Top's performative sexuality.

Thanks to EP2, we now that Top struggles with insomnia due to a traumatic event from his youth. However, unless the show explicitly mentions Top's struggles, the deeper impacts of his trauma tend to be overlooked and they only resurface when the storyline considers it relevant. For example, for a period of time, Top's insomnia and its effects were ignored and only brought up again for the purpose of introducing Boeing. Despite the importance given by the plot to Top's struggles, it's key to consider that Top's trauma has strong consequences. Actually, even though it's never verbally made explicit, Top exhibits signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, with insomnia being just one facet of this complex condition.

According to the American Psychiatric Association, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a psychiatric disorder that may occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event, series of events or set of circumstances. An individual may experience this as emotionally or physically harmful or life-threatening and may affect mental, physical, social or spiritual well-being. People with PTSD have intense, disturbing thoughts and feelings related to their experience that last long after the traumatic event has ended. They may also relive the event through flashbacks or nightmares.

Here are the symptoms of PTSD that Top presents:

Intrusion: Triggers for a PTSD episode can be diverse and can include situations, places, people or even sensory experiences that are in some way related to past trauma. Exposure to similar situations can trigger intrusive thoughts such as repeated, involuntary memories; distressing dreams; or flashbacks of the traumatic event. Flashbacks may be so vivid that people feel they're reliving the traumatic experience or seeing it before their eyes.

In Top's case, the PTSD episode is produced when he sleeps alone because he's exposed to a situation that is reminiscent of the original traumatic situation. This similar situation triggers intrusive thoughts. In Top's words, when he doesn't take his pills, his head always thinks something bad is going to happen while he's sleeping.

Re-experiencing doesn't always mean reliving the exact details of the traumatic event, it may mean to experience the same feelings or emotions associated with the traumatic event. While Top doesn't directly re-experiences the traumatic event, the PTSD episode involves the same intense emotions, fears or beliefs associated with the night of the fire. Top's fear of something bad happening and dying alone is linked to the trauma he experienced as a child. This fear may trigger heightened anxiety, which is a common aspect of post-traumatic stress.

Alterations in arousal and reactivity: Arousal and reactive symptoms may include being irritable and having angry outbursts; behaving recklessly or in a self-destructive way; being overly watchful of one's surroundings in a suspecting way; being easily startled; or having problems concentrating or sleeping.

During a PTSD episode, Top manifests alterations in his ability to concentrate and experiences difficulty sleeping alone, which manifests itself in the form of insomnia. Difficulty sleeping alone and the need for someone present to fall asleep are common features in PTSD, especially when they are linked to specific traumatic experiences (such as the fire event in Top's case).

Avoidance: Avoiding reminders of the traumatic event may include avoiding people, places, activities, objects and situations that may trigger distressing memories. People may try to avoid remembering or thinking about the traumatic event. They may resist talking about what happened or how they feel about it.

Top actively and consciously tries to avoid sleeping alone. In order to avoid this situation, he often seeks companionship through his one-night stands.

Even after the breakup with Boeing, Top seeks his company in exceptional situations. In fact, both agreed to be each other's "confort zone". Hence, in times of need, he calls Boeing. This dynamic reveals a level of Top's emotional complexity because, even if he wants comfort and emotional support, he also wants to keep some distance (maybe to avoid the risk of being abandoned, at least at the moment of the breakup). Despite the romantic breakup, the emotional connection and security that Boing provides are valuable to Top. This is a complex and revealing dynamic of Top's emotional life. The fact that Top keeps looking to Boing in times of need, such as when he has insomnia, suggests that duality in their relationship.

The fact that Top constantly seeks companionship to sleep, even with strangers, suggests that the symptoms are intense and cause him discomfort. Probably, at some point in the past, some situation arose in which Top was much more interested in having company than in the sexual act itself. However, since sex was what people expected from him, Top “gave in” to the sexual act in order for his parter to stay. Expectations occur because Top is often perceived as the type of man who isn't looking for an intimate connection, but a one-night stand. This is the kind of perception he's trying to get rid of in his relationship with Mew.

The scenario in which someone engages in intimate acts with others not necessarily out of personal desire but to meet societal expectations or avoid loneliness, is connected to the concept of "performative sexuality". This refers to individuals engaging in sexual behaviors not primarily for their own satisfaction but as a response to social norms, expectations or pressure. It involves performing sexual acts for reasons other than one's own innate desire or pleasure, often influenced by external factors.

A specific moment in which we can see the concept of "performative sexuality" reflected in a clear way is when Top has sex with Boston, an activity that clearly doesn't aim at the pursuit of pleasure. Remember that, before this happened, Top always rejected Boston in a very clear and determined way. Also, since Top was with Mew, he never showed signs of attraction to anyone, least of all Boston. However, in the car scene, Top ends up “giving in” (something that is completely different from giving "consent") to Ton's advances, this as a result of Boston's high level of emotional manipulation (we've already talked about how Ton's manipulation affected Top). And, despite the debates about whether it was cheating or not, one thing most of us agree on is that Top didn't have sex with Boston for pleasure. If it was not to obtain pleasure, but to obtain some other type of retribution (whether emotional or material), it's considered an act of "performative sexuality".

An important parallel presented in the story is that both Top and Mew can be connected to the concept of "performative sexuality". Think about it, they both use sex to get what they want. While Top uses sex to seek company, Mew uses sex as a bargaining tool or to maintain his relationship with Top. On EP4, Mew agrees to sleep with Top in exchange for him giving up drugs. In EP5, Mew has sex with Top to please him and prevent him from leaving him (he feels pressured to do it). In all these instances, Mew, like Top, engaged in the sexual act for reasons other than his own pleasure. And, ironically, the only person for whom Top manifests sexual desire (Mew), manifests no sexual desire for him. The one person Top doesn't use sex with as a tool, uses sex as a tool with him.

The effects of Top's trauma may seem sparse, as the plot doesn't explore them in depth, but they do exist. Insomnia is just one facet of Top's PTSD and this facet triggers a myriad of consequences, such as Top's fear of sleeping alone and Top's performative sexuality. This concept can be applied to both Mew and Top, who often use sex to get something other than pleasure.

4 | Breaking down the intricacies of Top's personality.

The formation of an individual's personality is a complex process that involves various influences and factors over time, such as biological factors, upbringing, social interactions and socialization, cultural influences and significant events throughout life. Top's personality appears to be strongly shaped by a combination of his traumatic experiences, parenting style and attachment issues.

Let's delve into some of the most prominent aspects of his personality and their possible origins:

Calm demeanor: If Top, from a young age, learned to cope with rejection or lack of attention by adopting a calm demeanor, it could become an integral part of his personality. He may have developed a defensive strategy to keep emotional distress at bay and maintaining calmness could be part of this strategy. Calmness can also act as a defense mechanism against perceived threats. A calm demeanor can serve as a way to regulate emotions.

Avoidance of conflict: Top usually avoids conflict with people he appreciates. The tendency to avoid conflict and not initiate problems may stem from his fear of abandonment and his desire to maintain connections. If his parents were neglectful, he might have learned to avoid confrontation to prevent further rejection. Top also tends to avoid conflict with people he doesn't appreciate because a) he's naturally calm and non-violent. b) to avoid a negative image that could lead to being abandoned. For example, Top usually avoids responding to Ray's provocations so as not to project a bad image to Mew. Even at the birthday party, he avoids reacting to Ray and only responds when Ray pushes him first. In episode EP7, when Top gifts Mew some books, he only reacts to Ray when Ray punches him first.

However, if someone is hostile or seeks conflict with Top when alone, he won't be afraid to respond verbally or physically (since the possibility of being abandoned is not present). For example, Top is usually very reactive with Sand, as their encounters are hostile and in private.

Affectionate nature: Top's affectionate nature, especially towards Mew, could be a way of seeking reassurance and creating a secure attachment. Affection might serve as a means of connection and comfort in the face of his underlying fear of abandonment.

Passion for drawing: His passion for drawing could indeed be a reflection of his calm and introspective personality. Creative outlets often provide individuals with a way to express themselves and find solace.

Challenges asserting himself: Top doesn't have a hard time refusing but it's hard for him to assert himself when his boundaries aren't respected. This could be influenced by his overall fear of rejection and his past experiences. The difficulty in expressing clear boundaries might stem from a lack of practice or models for healthy communication (like his parents). If he has not had many experiences where he could assert his needs without fear of rejection, this skill may not be as developed. For example, if Top has engaged in sexual activity during some of his one-night stands even when he didn't want to, it could contribute to a pattern of not clearly defining or expressing his boundaries. This might be due to a fear of rejection or the perception that people might only stay if there's a sexual component. Top's upbringing and his history of seeking companionship through one-night stands, might have influenced how he navigates relationships. Over time, he might have learned to navigate these situations without clearly expressing his preferences.

Although Top is not one of the most explored characters in the series, he's certainly one of the characters with the most personal development. His personal baggage, previous experiences, and current personality are painstakingly thought out and carefully portrayed. Through Top, authentic and sensitive topics are explored, such as PTSD, the anxious attachment style, performative sexuality, among other aspects that are extremely valuable today.

In case you're interested, here you can find my Mew, Ray and Sand's analyses.

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anasweetlywrites · 5 months

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“ The Project ” Part 3 Tony Stark x Female!Reader

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�� ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ◄

Warnings :

Update about the similar situation that's been going on in my life : extremely horrible yesterday, sort of bad yet a little better today so as you probably expected…angst again…

Lots of angst (reader cries but not because Tony did something hurtful to her btw)

Somehow comfort

Some fluff too

Cussing

Mentions about sex somehow but not in a smutty way yet

Coffee consumption

Little mention of Tony’s traumatic experiences

Two p.o.vs

Feedback it's appreciated~

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Words without warnings : 1399

Reader p.o.v

“How is it going?” Tony's voice seemed a little forced to seem joyful and I shivered as soon as I heard him and dropped the pencil on the table.

“Good good…I mean I think it's going good , if you think it's too much I'll just erase some of the things, Mr. Stark.” I answered, turning around to face him and grabbing the pencil again to play with it between my fingers.

“Nothing can be too much in your design. I've said it's your helmet and I've meant it. We'll make it together, based on your sketch and based on my knowledge,of course. Besides, I think it's so badass already!” Tony smirked as he kept checking both sketches on papers and on the floating screens then checked other versions of the helmet I've made, remaining lost in his thoughts for a while.

“Thank you! I'm glad you like it,Mr. Stark!” I've said failing to hide how happy and excited I got as he appreciated my work.

“Call me Tony, please…” He was almost completely absent, absorbed in the sketches and his own project as he remembered to add some more details and started talking with the A.I about them.

I froze in my spot and I opened my mouth to whisper, “I'm afraid, I can't do that…”

“Hmm?Why not? It's not like any of your professors are here to hear you.” He furrowed his eyebrows but his eyes were glued on his project as he noted another formula he needed to use.

“It's not that…” I whispered again and stood up from my chair , “I think it's time for me to leave for today anyway…”

Tony p.o.v

“What?! No!” I was too focused on the frustration I felt as the initial formulas I found didn't work and I unintentionally raised my voice as I spoke.

I allowed my eyes to linger for a few seconds on her body which trembled slightly. “Shit! Didn't mean to scare her…yet I've done it again.”

I closed the project quickly and focused on her but without approaching her and tried to soften my voice, “Sorry , I didn't mean to shout at you.”

“It's just… once I'll call you by your name then maybe you'll want to know more about me and then maybe I'll want to know more about you then once I'll know more about you maybe I'll get too attached too and maybe I'll become clingy and maybe you'll get annoyed and maybe then you'll don't want to be around me anymore and then maybe I'll have to deal with this alone and then I'll be stuck with the memories for months and overworking myself for…and…” She was talking fast and barely took any breaks between the words,tears started falling down her cheeks and she rubbed them off and avoided looking at me or any particular place…

By the end of her “ theory ” I started taking small steps towards her until I slowly pulled her in my arms and she didn't say another word just cried even harder , hiding her face in my shoulder staining my shirt but I didn't care.

I held her closer than I probably ever did with any woman I had in my life until then and I slowly started caressing her spine , until her hiccups calmed down and her sniffles reduced.

I gave her a tissue once one of my robots brought us a box of tissues and she blew her nose loudly making me chuckle a little then she hid her face in my shoulder embarrassed.

I couldn't say anything, I didn't even know what to say. My A.I went silent too , not even the phone rang.

She kept silently crying for a while then she fell asleep… in such a deep sleep that I could tell my A.I that I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the day and to ask people on the same floor to leave and she didn't even flinch in her sleep.

With the path cleared , I carried her in my bedroom and laid her down on my bed then covered her with the blanket then watched her for a few minutes to make sure she won't get scared if she's no longer asleep in my arms then I went to change my shirt.

I remembered the time when I used to wake up scared if I were in bed alone after I've been tortured and grabbed a huge pile of paperwork shit I knew Happy wanted me to check for months then started writing at the nearest table with a small light turned on beside me…I guess we both deal with feelings we couldn't help with overworking…well I had other ways to deal with them but for now she needed me or at least I wanted to think that she needed me…

Reader p.o.v

I woke up in the comfiest bed ever, covered with the softest blanket in an almost completely dark room. I saw Tony working at a table with a small light turned on and I remembered what happened before I fell asleep…I remembered rambling and how he took me in his arms then how I ugly cried in his arms. I started moving a little,I was sure my eyes were still red from crying like I was even more sure he hated-

“He sure hates me now…I mean I stained his probably million dollar shirt then- but I'm in what seems to be his bed? And he's there? But what if saying sorry won't be enough and-”

“Oh…you're awake , dear. How are you feeling?” He turned around slowly and had a soft worried smile which I could barely see in the small light. He changed his shirt and had several piles of papers next to him.

“I'm okay…I'm so so so sorry…” My voice was still hoarse and I kept rubbing my eyes. It was already dark outside so I assumed he waited for me to wake up so he could go to sleep too.

“Don't mention it…” He said and approached the bed then sat on the edge , still smiling softly.

“Do you want me to do something? I mean I don't think I can afford buying a new shirt but-”

“It's fine. I'm glad you slept well. You know I designed the bed myself. Well the whole building…” He chuckled and I figured out he was trying to do some small talk , “You don't need to tell me what happened, I know from my own experiences that some people suck harder than a bitch but don't give you an orgasm and only leave you hurt. I can't guarantee you I won't hurt you , but I can guarantee you that no matter how much of an asshole I can be I'll actually give a shit and try to fix it which I'm sure not everyone likes or expects Tony Stark to do.” He said barely above a whisper, the light from the lamp slightly illuminating his baby deer eyes making them seem even more innocent and honest despite his language.

I ended up laughing softly and nodding quickly, “True!”

“How about we start working on your helmet tonight?I'm pretty sure you don't need more sleep for now.” He suggested as his soft smile seemed to get brighter or maybe it was just my imagination? I couldn't really tell in that light how much I imagined and how much it was real.

“But you need sleep though…” I chuckled and tried to get out of his comfy bed.

“Sleep can wait. I had 4 cups of coffee so I'm certainly completely awake!” He laughed and watched me get out of bed and stretch.

“As much as I understand the reason you love that coffee,you should try to give it a break when you don't need it that much! Until you learn that, let's go build a helmet,Tony! ” I laughed too and as I got more excited I even raised a fist in the air as I said the second sentence, “Oops!” I chuckled softly and hid my face embarrassed.

Tony laughed watching my reaction then uncovered my face gently , “Yeah, let's go do that…” He let go of my hands slowly while he smiled at me softly…

Tony p.o.v

“She just…said my name…”

#tony x reader #tony stark angst #tony stark fluff #tony stark #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony x y/n #anasweetlywrites #marvel x female reader #marvel angst #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff

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starthereligious · 1 year

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Ways to call a storm

Hi there! I've been calling storms for pretty much my entire life, sometimes subconsciously, sometimes consciously. There's not a lot of variety in posts about calling a storm, so I decided to gather all of my methods in one post.

Some things to note:

- As storm witches, we are still bound by the laws of science. Read up on the actual scientific process of the water cycle, types of clouds, etc. The best results come when you know what you are trying to do, and the type of cloud that corresponds to the storm you want.

- Speaking of clouds, the more clouds there are in the sky, the easier a storm-calling will be. I have never been able to call a storm from a clear sky, and if you have, then teach me your ways. In storm magick, you seek to speed up the water cycle in order to bring rain quicker.

- Storm magick is intrinsically tied to water and sea magic. More on that below.

This brings us to method 1-- interaction.

Method one is best for when you don't need a storm-- use it to practice on a cloudy day. This method is like a meditation. Depending on your practice, you may prefer complete silence, or gentle music, the traditional meditation position of crossed legs and hands on your knees or something different-- it's up to you. I've practiced this in classes before, so it doesn't really matter. In this method, focus on the actual process of what is happening to the clouds. Based on what you know about storms, what cloud do you want to form? Try to form that shape. Feel the clouds get heavier and heavier, closer and closer to the ground, until they're too heavy; and they let go of the water. Rain.

This method is the least effective, in my experience, but the most important to practice. With practice of this method comes more understanding of how your interactions with the sky work.

Method 2-- manifestation

Method two is very loose and depends on your favorite manifestation methods. In my experience, I repeat things over and over again in my head and try to experience the emotions of the storm. When I was forced onto the swim team by my parents, I used this method in the car to try to call a storm so it would get rained out. It always made a storm-- without fail. I was even able to call rain from cirrus with it. My parents ended up taking me off the team because my mom is aware I do magick.

Method 3-- petition

When I was a kid, I used to speak directly to the weather, as if it were an imaginary friend. I still don't know if I was making these interactions up or if I was speaking to an actual spirit, but I called her (quite creatively) Weather. When I needed something, I would say "Hey Weather, I really don't want to do yardwork today. Can you hold off on raining until xyz time so that it lasts longer and I won't have to?" I would either hear (or imagine, I don't know) a response, like "Yes, if you could help me move that cloud over than we'll be okay." This was the beginnings of my practice. Sometimes I was joined by an entity (or imaginary friend, still don't know) called Wind, except Wind couldn't speak. They were just kind of... there, and would help Weather move the clouds. (Side note, I had really awful allergies and was allergic to everything in my backyard, which is why I never wanted to do yardwork. Someone please tell me if I was contacted by deities as a child, because I still have had no interactions with deities after growing up.)

Additionally --

- While doing method 1, I sometimes get a cup or small container of water to touch to help ground me and remember what I'm doing. If that helps you, do that!

- Don't be discouraged if you don't get it right away. Storm magick is hard, and doesn't work right away. It will take a lot of practice. I still have trouble, and I've been practicing my entire life.

- Mix and match your methods! Remember, this is just my practice-- yours may be completely different.

Have fun!

#witchblr #witchcraft #storm magic #storm witch #weather witch

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gigglymarvel · 1 year

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Filming Anxieties (Elizabeth Olsen x Reader)

The readers anxiety gets the better of them during filming, and Lizzie makes it her mission to cheer them up. (Word count: 2076)

You took in deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down, you were getting increasingly frustrated as you couldn’t get your lines right today for some reason. You didn’t want to look bad in front of the Elizabeth Olsen, but you were definitely failing at that task.

The second the director yelled ‘action!’ You dug down to channel your anger and glared at Lizzie, your character's friend turned enemy.

“I can’t believe you would just betray me like that, the wish was granted for the both of us and you just went ahead and… and… UGH.” You groaned, shaking your head as you felt your expressions fall. You couldn’t take it anymore as your fight or flight instincts took over, causing you to storm back to your trailer, mentally beating yourself up.

The director paused, "Uh, that's a wrap for today everyone!" He said, looking at the time. Lizzie gave him a nod and quickly followed after you to your trailer. She knew all too well what being overwhelmed and anxious felt like for her and she wanted to support you, especially as you were just starting out.

Reflections of her own experience played in her mind, but you were her priority as her knuckles gently met your trailer door, "Y/n? It's Lizzie, may I come in?"

You flinched at the knock, groaning as you paced the tiny room you called home. You were only 14 but wanted to impress Lizzie, since you looked up to get a lot. But she probably thinks you’re a walking flop now, so you may as well quit on the spot.

You kept pacing and muttered out a “sure” trying to calm yourself down in any way possible. Lizzie quietly opened your trailer door and stepped in with a gentle smile, her eyes filled with concern for you.

"Your acting was very passionate, although I think your frustration is directed at yourself instead of your character's at mine." She offered in the gentlest voice as she stepped closer to you.

“Well yeah because I can’t do anything right because I’m a piece of shit!” You replied in a slightly snappy tone, shaking your head as you kept pacing, just shorter distances since Lizzie was in the way, your body trembling with anger.

Lizzie gently walked toward you and held her arms open, "You're not a piece of shit, Y/n." You paused to just look at her, unsure about whether to accept the hug. You responded with a single sniffle as you began playing with your fingers, holding your breath without realizing.

"May I hug you?" The actress asked as she took one more step toward you, needing mere inches to close the gap, but awaiting your consent.

Biting your lip, you nodded slowly, your body tense as you prepared yourself for something you weren’t actually too familiar with.

The blonde stepped closer and rested her arms around you, "You can nod or tell me if you want tighter, we'll go at your pace, sweet one." She offered comfortingly, taking in your tense form and responding to you to assure she was actually providing comfort to you and not what she thinks might be comforting.

You nodded, shakily putting your arms around her. “I’m sorry…” you whispered quietly, sniffing to yourself as you felt your body melt into the feeling. The actress wrapped you in a tighter and tighter hug, stopping when she cocooned you maternally.

"You're allowed to need comfort little one, is this helping?" She asked, instinctually rubbing and scritching your back gently. You nodded a little in response, remaining slightly tense still as you sighed, feeling your trembling slow to a stop.

"Would you like to stay standing or try sitting?" Lizzie asked you, her nails coarsing gently up your shoulders and then down your back and up again as she held you close.

You couldn’t help but flinch a little, but pulled away to sit on your bed, shrugging in response as you kept your eyes to the floor.

The blonde noticed you flinch, concerned she may have hurt you, and sat down next to you, gently running her fingers up and down your arm as she wrapped it around your shoulders, "Is this okay?" She checked again.

Bouncing your leg, you nodded once again, your arm twitching away from Lizzie’s fingers as you tried not to react too much. The actress was perceptive however, and subtly tried a similar motion as she moved her hand to your side, her curiosity masked by the guise of soothing your nerves.

You twitched away once again, a small smile threatening to appear on your face as you casually covered your side with your arm, keeping the motion as casual as possible.

Except this was exactly the response Lizzie herself had when Chris would try to tickle her on set, so she now knew. "Oops, did I find a tickle spot?" The blonde asked in the softest of voices, a small smirk forming at the corners of her mouth.

You blushed at the mention of the word, you were more than aware of that whole t wording thing from being a child actor. It had been a while and admittedly you missed it, but you decided to just shrug it off.

But the older actress would not be dissuaded from her mission of cheering you up, "You know it's perfectly normal to be ticklish," Lizzie said, still moving her nails and hand in a gentle circular motion as she moved toward your tummy.

"The question is whether a person enjoys the feeling or not…" she said, her kind voice trailing off as she watched your responses. You bit back a smile, refusing to answer as you sucked your tummy in a little, but not moving away.

She grinned, spidering her fingers ever so lightly into your tummy now, "Is this okay?" She asked, making you nod, but still refusing to giggle.

Elizabeth decided to try gently shaking your tummy and hopping her hands up to your ribs, "C'mon Y/n, ticktickticktickle! You know you wanna laugh!" She teased fondly.

You yelped the second she touched your ribs, covering your mouth as you tried hard not to crack with giggles, but you were pretty close to breaking now Lizzie was at your ribs.

"Ohhhh does it tickle heeere?" She smirked and drilled in a little more gently. You simply nodded in response, finally breaking into giggles as you covered your ribs

"Awww you have such a pretty laugh!" Your mentor chuckled fondly as you scrunched your face up and shook your head. “Ew no.”

Elizabeth Olsen herself gasped and peered around at your face, suddenly shaking into and playing your ribs like a piano, "No no not allowed to talk like that!" She sang playfully.

You looked away, squealing as you slammed your arms against your sides. “But I’m gross!” You replied, trying to hold back your giggles once again.

"You are not!" Lizzie pouted and raspberried your neck out of nowhere, her determination to make you smile and feel better about yourself winning out. You nodded as you squealed once again and scrunched your shoulders up. “Are too!” You argued.

"You're beautiful just the way you are, Y/n," she said as she gently cupped your face and looked into your eyes sincerely, before gently digging her fingers into your sides.

You looked at Lizzie, shaking your head silently before gasping and breaking into giggles. “Hehehehey ruhuhuhude!”

"You're smiling soooo," the actress grinned and peered around at your smiling face as if to emphasize it. But you just tried to pout, looking away from her on purpose as you folded your arms.

The blonde rolls her eyes and raspberries on your neck as she tried squeezing your hips, causing you to squeal and jump away a little. “H-hey!”

Lizzie smiled, but paused, "What? Too ticklish?" She gently brushed some hair out of your face, "Should I stop?" She asked a little more sincerely, wanting to make sure you were still okay.

You blushed, shrugging in response as you played with your fingers. “I-uh…” you murmured out, not hating this sensation at all.

She needed no further prompting and began gently squeezing into your hips, "Awww little Y/n likes the tickles!" She cooed as you whined and giggled hysterically, shaking your head as you gently grabbed her wrists.

The actress giggled and wiggled her fingers as she let you hold her hands, winking at you. You couldn’t help but smile a little, looking away stubbornly. “This is cruel…” you murmur.

"You want me to stooop?' she smirked and ever so gently pushed her hands closer to you as you looked away, biting back a smile as you shrugged in response.

Lizzie then scribbled into your belly and pulled you into a tickle hug, "AHHHH THE TICKLE MONSTER HAS YOUUU!' She called rapidly and skittered in.

You squealed and curled up against her, blushing even more as you burst into giggly laughter. “NOHOHOHO!” You laughed out helplessly.

"Ooooh noooo, Ticktickticktickle! Ticktickticktickle!" The actress cooed fondly as she wrapped her arms tighter around you and skittered into your sides, causing you to gasp and lean away from her a little. “Neheheeeee!”

The blonde grinned and kept tickling and squeezing up and down your sides again, smirking as you burst into hysterical giggles. “Lihihihihizzie!”.

"That's my name, and yours is TICKLE BUG!" she cooed fondly and skittered over your tummy as you squealed and covered your belly, shaking your head as you burst into giggles. “Nohohoho it’s not!”

"Giiiiggle box?" She offered with a wry smile and bounced all over your tummy, sides and ribs.

“Nohoho!” You giggled out and held her hands now, squealing whenever your ribs were touched since that was your worst spot.

"Your ribs are your funny bones huuuuuuh wittle tickle bear?" Lizzie smirked, wiggling her fingers above your ribcage in your hands, causing you to gasp and shake your head. “What, noooo!” You whined as you covered your ribs.

The actress grinned and pushed past your hands to tickle your tummy which was now exposed, and gave your hips a few cheeky squeezes too, "Uh oh I've got you again!"

“Gah, not again!” You squealed, giggling and kicking out. “Nononono!”

"Awww such a pretty smile you have! I love your laugh!" Elizabeth grinned and kept tickling you, capitalizing on the spots where you jumped or squealed more.

You shook your head in response, blushing madly as you kept giggling and squirming, yelling whenever she touched the bottom of your ribs. “Nohoho it’s ugly!”

"It's adorable," the actress argued and then focused in at the bottom of your rib cage, kneading in gently with a wicked smirk as she whispered, "The tickle witch has you and she's not letting goooo."

Whining, you blushed and broke into hysterical giggles. “LIHIHIHIZZIE!” You screeched out.

"Awwww how precious!" She grinned, "Ooone more thing and then I'll let you gooo," she smirked, pulling up your top slightly to raspberry your sides and tummy as she then pulled you into a hug.

Squealing, you shoved your shirt down and curled up, shaking a little as you leaned into the hug. “That was… that was insane…” you murmured out.

Lizzie rubbed your back, "Are you okay?" She asked gently as you leaned into her, nodding slowly. “Just not used to it…"

"Tickles?" She asked as she kissed your hair, her fingers soothingly tracing your back. You simply nodded in response, appreciating the cuddly feeling as you leaned further into her.

The actress could tell how comfortable you finally felt, running her fingers through your hair and tickling your back gently. You sighed a little, murmuring out a ‘thank you’ as you melted into the feeling.

"Shall we put on a movie and order pizza?" Questioned Lizzie, her fingers scritching and stroking your hair and skin. You nodded, sitting back on the bed and grabbing the remote, feeling much more relaxed around Lizzie now as you smiled.

"It's wonderful to see your smile, Y/n," she said and pulled you in close as she turned on the television and handed you the remote, pulling up the pizza apps on her phone and letting you choose as you both settled in for a wonderful evening.

You shrugged a little, choosing your pizza before flicking through Netflix for a movie, feeling incredibly thankful that you had such a supportive costar who genuinely cared about you.

#avengers tickle fic #marvel tickle fic #avengers tickle #marvel tickle #ticklish!reader #ler!lizzie #ler!elizabetholsen

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trashmouththeorist · 4 months

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the kissing booth is abusive and terrible; an angry rant

Okay. So basically, Noah is first introduced to us as this character like three times the size of Elle, and this character that his brother (Elle's best friend, Lee) thinks should not date Elle, raising a red flag. Lee wants what's best for Elle. And it's clear that Noah isn't that. But if we put that aside and we fast-forward to school, Tuppen sexually assaults her because she is wearing a skirt that is deemed too short in the eyes of the school. Then Lee tries and fails to protect her, and Noah goes psycho, beating Tuppen to a pulp. And of course, like always, the victim gets detention, so when Noah and Elle are waiting outside, he victim blames her, by saying, "Wearing a skirt like that is asking for it." I already didn't like Noah, but now I hate him. Telling somebody who was sexually assaulted that it was their fault because they were 'asking for it' by wearing clothes they were? That's a new level of low, and we're only about twenty minutes in! If that. Anyway, Elle goes on a date with Tuppen, and Noah is jealous. He stands her up (predictable) then explains that Noah has been meddling in her social life, and is the reason she has no prior dating experience, so she doesn't know what a healthy relationship is: the only people she's engaged in an even slightly romantic act with is a sexual assaulter and abusive, toxic man. But if we put all that aside, Elle is angry. So she calls Noah, and these are the words exchanged during the call:

Elle: You do realize that you're not my dad, right?

Noah: Look, you still got a lot to learn, kiddo.

Elle: Kiddo? Oh, my God. Oh, if you were here, I would beat you with my shoe.

Noah: Tuppen is a player.

Elle: So are you

Noah: And that's why I know he's wrong for you. You're gonna thank me one day.

Elle: Okay. Well, today is not that day. It is not your job to monitor my dating life. Do you understand me? The days of you controlling my life are over!

Noah: We'll see about that.

So Noah, creepy as he is, insists on continuing to manipulate and meddle with her life. He is trying to control her life. At that point, even he is warning her. Tuppen was a sexual assaulter, aka a piece of scum. And Noah? He compares himself to Tuppen. That should say something. Numerous red flags are up, but Elle is closing her eyes. Although that's not on her. She's the victim here, in this situation. I may not like Elle, but this stuff should not be happening. Anyway, let's put all that aside, yeah, and move on.

Elle and Lee suggest their idea for the fundraiser, a Kissing Booth (shocker) and of course, they need all the 'hot guys.' Convenient, because Love Interest Number 1 is a 'hot guy' when he's a toxic, abusive douchebag. Okay. I actually don't understand this point - are girls the main aim for this booth? (majority of people are straight in this world, but of course we have the gay tokens for diversity who have zero affect on the plot in the second movie) Because they aren't preoccupied with hot girls. Also, why are the girls presented as the objects to be kissed? No boys there? Doesn't matter, I guess. It's just an abusive relationship, in a plot that barely took two seconds to think out where like every character is an asshole. But I'm not judging that. After school, Noah tries to get Elle to come home with him on his motorbike. Of course, Elle refuses, yet he persists when she says no, because of course, Noah's reputation as a player. And I'm not surprised, you go Elle. He drops every girl. But, I mean, Elle is 'not like other girls.' Elle runs home, and she asks people to do the booth. Surprise, surprise, they say no to kinda selling themselves...and not getting anything from it except maybe herpes.

Okay. So, after that party I don't feel like talking about, because you know they used the same scene for every high school romcom, and the OMG's, aka the rip off mean girls, invite her over to get her intoxicated, and Elle is totally drunk. Elle asks Noah for the booth, girls he's making out with is mad, Elle gets rejected. There are a few partying scenes, and then Elle strips her clothes off leaving her underwear and dances. Lee, for some reason just watches her (see what I meant about assholes) and then Noah with all his chivalry takes her up into her room, dresses her in his clothes and then she wakes up presumably thinking they slept together, which of course, they didn't - but I wouldn't be surprised with Noah taking advantage of her intoxicated state and r*ping her, because when you're drunk, you can never consent. But the fact she suspected he might have r*ped her means she knows some degree of his toxicity, yet she is somehow still blind to it. Anyways, they had an 'accidental groping' session, and Elle is out and about again. Anyway, Elle lies about Noah liking one of the OMG's so they'll do the booth, and now she's got to convince Noah to do it, because the OMG'S (which he most definitely does not like) are waiting for him at the booth, and he's the main attraction for whoever's at the booth. Noah tries to order Elle around again, and she asks him about the booth again. (Clearly, neither of them can take a hint) and he refuses.

It's time for the booth now. I'm going to skip out on the beginning, but the OMG's push Elle out onto the stage and Noah comes up and kisses her, and thats something else I don't like: no matter who it was, if it was her boyfriend of a year of someone in her Physics Class, it was clearly not consensual. But the kiss happened, and since it was Noah, Elle enjoyed it, but Noah let her down, telling her it was 'just a kiss' manipulating her feelings, and now she's in this great dilemma, because Lee had been warning her all along with that friendship rule he insisted on. But let's skip a few minutes, after she tells Lee repeating what Noah said, where we're at the bit where Noah confesses his love with the classic fanfiction response, (I mean, this is WattPad, so...) 'You aren't like other girls, you didn't "fall at my feet" I love you you're so sweet!' Etc, etc.

So, to show his love for her, he takes her to a hookup spot where he takes all of his conquests. Perfect. That fanfiction thing is probably something he tells every girl, because Elle is clearly like the rest of the girls he's engaged in activities with.

Beach party. Warren tries to get a drunk Elle to skinny dip, and Noah jumps in, after an insult, punches Warren in the face and Elle runs off. When Elle is walking home, Noah screams and yells at her to "Just get in the car, Elle. Just get in the car, Elle. GET IN THE CAR, ELLE!" And with much violence, he punches his car in anger and frustration and toxicity and abuse (more controlling, great) Elle is scared (because it was clear that directed to her, Noah was yelling at her and he wanted to hit her) and she gets in. They go to the Hollywood sign (which they cannot go to, because I'm pretty sure you need to pay to go, like, as a tourist, but they filmed it in Africa so I'm sure they know jack shit about how the US works) and etc etc.

They start a relationship made up of sex and hiding. Sex and hiding includes a lot of these things, and not what a relationship should contain. What I don't like is that they think it's this huge secret that needs to be kept, it's not like they'll be discriminated against.

Lee is their only worry.

When Elle gets hurt and Noah is there, Lee immediately assumes he hit her. Why? Because he's lived with his brother...his whole life. He knows Noah like she back of his hand. He knows Noah is abusive. So when Elle's hurt, the only logical thing is to assume Noah did it. And what does that tell us if Noah's own brother assumes he abused her? And Noah's only response to being accused of violence is to...get violent. (Thank you, Cynical Reviews! You should watch him on YouTube. He's great. Especially his review of The Kissing Booth.)

After this, Lee finds out about their relationship, blah blah blah who cares. Except for the fact Lee is still angry: at Noah, not because Elle lied, but because he is sure how this is going to go, because he's experienced it from the sidelines - random girls he's barely known getting abused and having their hearts broken. And he doesn't want the next casualty to be Elle. Of course, like, no one supports them, because they know what happens every time Noah brings a girl home - or something of the sort.

Elle tells Lee to support them, she gets back with Noah and Noah...leaves.

A set up for a sequel which whenever I have time, will be analysed, because it is seriously abusive and toxic. None of these things were done out of 'love.' Love is a word used too carelessly in film. This, at the closest, is lust. And it is unhealthy, controlling, toxic and abusive.

So there's my argument!

#anti the kissing booth #the kissing booth #anti netflix #hollywood is shit #romcoms #terrible romcoms #angry rants #i hate wattpad #was this a harry styles fanfiction

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hyunsuks-beanie · 2 years

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Matters of the Heart Epilogue

Pairing: Best friend! Yeonjun x gn. reader

Genre: Fluff; Angst; smut in Episode 10;

Content Warnings: University au!; lots pining; our main leads being stupid; this one's just short and cute

Word Count: 0.87k words

Mellow speaks: It's finally complete! I'm so grateful to all of you for the support you've given Y/NJun and me for this fic, so this one's for you! Also, I'd honestly love to make something in this au again, so I hope I get the chance to one day hehe!

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedamology @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod @yogurteume @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi @blahbluhblahbluh @yeonyeonyeonjun @yjs6x @silent--cry @delacyrose224 @rlajjunie @hotboyyeonju @blue-last-page-514 @bluxjun @yutacchin @zen003xx @yawnzznlvr @magicalstudentwhispers @foryawnzzn @nyfwyeonjun @bluejin0812 @najaemin138 @laylasbunbunny @moaberryjjunie @najaemin138 @laylasbunbunny @moaberryjjunie @robin-obsessed @calssunflower @swankynebula @dickdeprived

《Previous

3-4-ish months later

"On air now, your favorite RJ duo is back," your voice carries throughout the campus, ringing with joy. "Coming live to you from the radio room, it's your very own Yeonjun and Y/N!," the man sitting in front of you follows your lead, his hand squeezing yours as it rests on the desk. "I think he means to say Y/N and Yeonjun," you retort, laughing when he fails to come up with a decent reply and instead chooses to let out gurgled sounds into his mic.

It takes you a minute to calm down, but as you do, Yeonjun takes it upon himself to welcome everyone. "We're here again for our Fall semester," he smiles while saying, eyes crinkling up at his next words. "And I want to properly greet every single one of you as my last semester on this campus begins."

He's going to be graduating in a matter of less than six months, and while the thought of having to spend a whole year without him there to support you through the mess of being a student is bothersome, you can't quite bring yourself to wallow in your sadness, choosing to focus on the future that seems brighter. That's what you're thinking when he says something that makes you whirl your face towards him, eyes narrowed.

"So that's the reason why I pitched in the idea for this brand-new evening show, alongside my lovely partner, both personally and...professionally? Is that the word for what we're doing right now? Y/N," Yeonjun's clear voice declares, and while you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at seeing him address your relationship publicly, you're more occupied fighting an important fight.

"I'd like to thank my adorable boyfriend for introducing me so well, but more importantly, I'd like to press charges on him for stealing my credit! Matters of the Heart was totally my idea!," you all but whine, hitting Yeonjun's arm while the both you erupt into laughter. "And that reminds me, this new show is called Matters of the Heart!," he announces, before launching into an explanation about how he (and your "undying love" for him) was the reason you got that idea in the first place.

And just like that, chaos ensues again, but this time, you manage to throw in a sensible introduction to your new feature. "We're here to give you advice on your love life, listen to you pine about your crush being stupid," "Because let's face it, our crushes somehow always are stupid," (Smack from Yeonjun), "And help you confess in front of the whole campus, if you're down for it."

"We're gonna be here for the next six months, and we intend to be the storytellers of many beautiful love stories, starting today," you say in a sing-song voice, a perennial smile plastered to your face. "So don't be chicken, let us know what's bothering you romance and we'll be more than happy happy to help, Yeonjun quips, looking over to you as you open your mouth just as he does too. "Because speaking from our personal experience, romance without guidance from a third person is like digging your own grave."

And so the hour-long show goes by, with the two of you reading the flurry of comments and messages left under the Twitter handle of your radio, and filling your listeners in on the news that Beomgyu and Yena will be "shaking 'em up" now, and that Taehyun and Kai are still going strong in the afternoon. "And Soobin will continue to be our support system, at least until Beomgyu's weird antics make him decide to quit," Yeonjun chuckles next to you, only to have you greet him with a very heated comment from none other than Beomgyu himself.

By the time you sign off, the smiles on both your faces are wider than ever, your hands intertwined as you exit the room for the day. "Our last six months together as RJs huh?," Yeonjun asks as he brings your hand up to his lips and places a chaste kiss to it, and as you make your way over to his car, you can only hum in response, smiling gently and saying, "Then let's give them our best show yet, because I'm gonna miss you when you leave."

"But it's not like I'm leaving you or anything," he chuckles once more, pulling his car door open for you, "You'll always have me in your dorm room, every other night." "I had better do, because if I see you being a lousy boyfriend, I swear I'm gonna kick you to the curb." "Oh but you'll never find someone as good as me," "I always have Leo though." And that shuts him up, or rather, he shuts you up after that, by catching your lips in the sweetest of kisses through the window of the car, having rolled it down just for this purpose.

Smiling in giddiness, you tug on his hand while beckoning him inside. "Now come on, get in quickly," you whisper as he gets over to the driver's seat, "Can't be late to the party, I don't wanna miss Gyu and Kai's antics." "That's right baby," your boyfriend agrees, "We're the life of the party anyway."

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halliescomut · 2 years

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KinnPorsche Week 2022- Day 3: Favorite Couple

I did you a bit of a favor today and chose not to write a full thesis and I MADE YOU SOMETHING! (I don't know that it should be called fanart; I'm an internet old and I would just categorize it as a photo manip, but idk.)

So clearly, my chosen couple for this is Kim x Chay. I 'm not going to say they're the best couple, and technically, by the end of season one, they're not really a couple anymore, but their story just really hits me. It hits me because for both of them it's their first love. Like, there is an age difference there (of about 4 years I'm guessing) and initially I think we assume that because Kim is older, more worldly, he would have experienced love before, but I don't think that's true. I think Kim has had romantic/sexual relationships, but those don't have to involve love. I think due to his upbringing he would reflexively keep people at a distance, and I especially think he would avoid even the possibility of a true connection after Kinn's experience with Tawan. (I have my own headcanons about Kim's feelings being used against him by his father, and how his past has affected him, but I won't get into those here.) I think the lyrics for Why Don't You Stay pretty clearly express this as well:

All this time I sink, drowning like a stone - Tryna close my eyes, shut my ears on this throne - Losing my way home, then you came along - Everywhere we are, felt like where I belong - Lost in your eyes there was no place I could hide - Take me inside and let me live in your mind - No pain tonight, this place is reserved for only you and I - 'Cause I wanna stay on your side - Even if the world come crashing down tonight, we'll be fine - Hold me close and we'll just leave it all behind - Why don't you stay

My point is that, we are watching two people truly fall in love for the first time with Kim and Chay, and it's unique from the other couples of the series because Chay is so unguarded. And you're rooting for them, and Chay is this adorable piece of sentient sunshine and Kim has always felt like he's drowning in darkness and he's desperate for that light. And you know Chay is lonely, and you know Kim is lonely and you just want them to feel seen, and heard, and important, just for being who they are. So as noted in the quote in the picture, with first love you open yourself more than any other time. Because at that point you've never been hurt by a romantic partner, you've never experienced that loss, so you don't hold back the way you do every future time. And this type of love is so wonderfully portrayed in the series. Like it's heartbreaking to watch, not because you know they won't work, but just because we're all watching this knowing that first loves so rarely turn into only loves. Like, we kind of know the likely ending, but we're still hoping so hard.

I also really love the connection with music for them. There's a quote "where words fail, music speaks" (Hans Christian Anderson, apparently, who would have thought) and that's definitely a central theme in their love story. Chay's first connection to Kim is through his music, and, yes there's the fanboy aspect, but as Kim can't help but open up, Chay's feelings clearly become more than just idol worship. Like, yes without a full understanding of who Kim is, there's no possibility of a workable relationship, but my point is that by episode 12 Chay's feelings were definitely about more than just 'loving his music idol.' (gif credit to : julielilac )

And then we have Kim, who's probably dealing with someone for the first time who has a genuine interest in him as a person. He's literally spent his entire life being used as a pawn, being seen only as his name, a representative of his family, and then as WiK he's in this new position where he's more a product than a person. And remember that music connection; Chay loves the emotions in Kim's music, and he wants to know the person who made it. It's not just about WiK being famous. Of course Kim would find it incredibly hard to turn away from someone who SEES him, who WANTS to see him.

Watching Kim go through those moments over and over again where he's telling himself 'the best thing for Chay is for me to go', and warring with his heart because he doesn't want that. And like his siblings, he's never had the opportunity or ability to just allow himself to have something that's just for him.

I also do really like the creative decision of the show to present the depth of the relationship after it's already over. Like, you're watching these sweet moments for 7 episodes and then those last two where you fully get a glimpse of just how deep their connection had become, and your heart's broken all over again. It's just so well done.

I'm gonna stop here, because I should, and continuing on is just going to turn into character profiles, and that's not what this post is about. Special thanks to Jeff and Barcode for acting absolutely beautifully in this show. Absolutely amazing work.

Also, if you'd like maybe some insight into how I see Kim and this particular love story, I do have a songfic up (link). I'm working on a second chapter from Chay's perspective, but spending several hours a day writing these KP week posts is slowing me down a little.

#kpweek2022 #kinnporsche #kimchay #kimxchay #kim x chay #kim theerapanyakul #porchay pichaya kittisawat #porchay kittisawasd #KPweek day 3 #love hurts #I mentioned that I was an internet old and then realized I'd been on the internet for over 20 year #KimChay MixTape

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