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celesterayel · 4 months

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something out of my dreams | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x dionysus!reader

request: could you possibly write a luke x daughter of dionysus please? maybe she’s like super nice and when percy gets to camp she becomes like an older sister and luke is super whipped for her? @elz-zalarrr

IN WHICH — all he knows is that you were something out of his dreams.

"trust him like a brother, yeah, you know i did one thing right. starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night" - t.s.

w.c. 1.8k

warning(s) : cheesiness ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note okay i've begun to realize that low-key i feel like i write in cursive if that makes sense? if a feeling could describe it i'd say its like using poetry to write? that's likely not any better lol :)

there was but one person that everyone could agree they adored at camp half blood.

it didn't matter what grudge who had with whom or what ancient rivalries transcended the ideals of reality, everyone loved you. not the typical type of brittle love that crumbled at the slightest of touches, but pure adoration that endured the sands of time.

you with the gentle soul, who healed others with each laugh and smile. when new half-godlings were brought to camp, you made sure to comfort them and make them understand that they belonged here and would find a home whether they wanted to or not. you made sure that no birthday was forgotten, no deed undone.

children of minor gods or elders, of Ares or Aphrodite, you became an older sister to all who needed you. you, the daughter of fertility and chaos, the god dionysius.

there was no debate that at camp half blood there was only a before you and an after you. you were like that high right before the free fall–invincibility and smoke and curiosity wrapped into the form of a demi-god. you were the gentle breeze during summer nights when the heat became too much. and none ached more to feel it than luke castellan, who had been burning for as long as he knew.

your relationship in itself was tentative, you danced around your feelings–scared one wrong touch or word would break the shaky, fine line that lay between you two. but you could not hide the way you loved the other to yourselves nor the children of the beings of divine blood.

luke castellan loved you like the stars would fall out of the sky with one harsh touch, free and incandescently self-destructive. like you were a wild, wonderful thing out of a fantasy.

you loved him like there was no hell or heaven but the cosmos that lay in his eyes and the worlds that lay in his soul. something so sacred and rare. a love so true and mortal it put all the greek tragedies to shame.

you knew that whatever you and him were made of, in every lifetime or the next you two were made for each other.

loving luke castellan would be both your redemption and destruction in the making, your elysium for whatever good thing you had done in your previous life.

✩ ‧₊˚

you first met percy jackson when he came to camp, he was a scared little thing who had just lost his mother when the veil between reality and deception flickered. everything he’d known came crumbling as quickly as the truth was uncovered: gods and monsters were real and played games of hell and heaven on earth. some thing about him called out to the vulnerability you once knew when you first came to camp so you made it your mission to be the sister he never had.

you met him at the front of the steps of the main office, “my name is y/n, percy jackson. welcome to camp halfblood.”

“do you just somehow know everyones name,” he raised his eyebrows at you.

“yes.” no, but you supposed it’d be fun to let him think that.

“of course you do.”

“come along, i’ll show the ins and outs here. if you're nice enough, i might let you in on the cook's secret stash of blue ice cream,” you laughed out.

he contemplated his choices before grabbing your outstretched hand and shaking it, “deal.”

you showed him who to avoid and the best people to befriend. the history between your kind and why the gods were as they were. the truth behind his bloodline and the legacy that he was now responsible for. the tribulations and the pain that was cursed to follow the children of the gods.

“and this is chris. the best person to ask if you need to know what plants are poisonous,” you say, introducing him to a guy with black hair and soft eyes.

percy looks at chris before looking around to see where the hermes boy is, “we’ve met. he was with luke when he was showing me around”

you’re cheeks heated at the mention of his name; looking around to see if you can spot the familiar tan skin and soft eyes that belong to your luke.

“oh! luke! yeah, he’s around here somewhere. he’s sly like that, wandering and then popping up the next second.”

a voice pipes up behind you suddenly, “y/n, already telling percy everything about me?”

you whirl around and there he stands in all his glory with the curls you love and the sun in his eyes. your golden boy.

“just telling him the truth, castellan. you’re hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

a hue of pink covers his cheeks, “i’m never far from you.”

both of you oblivious to percy and chris who seem to be conversing about you both and the tip-toe dance you play.

percy just wonders what’s happening here: firstly, luke is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars and that’s saying something because he has shit observation skills–his analysis essays can attest to that. secondly, he swears he can see hearts in his eyes from where he’s standing and is that…is that a blush?

he turns to chris, who is just staring at the two like it's not out of the normal for what’s happening, “what’s happening here? is he blushing?”

chris just nods, “yeah. luke’s kinda–very obviously to everyone–in love with y/n. if i didn’t know better i’d say she’s gotten him insane in love. very likely as her dad’s the god of insanity.”

he turns back to the two who are laughing and standing closer than before, “like super, super in love. if there was a word for love, luke’s found it”

“huh.”

chris says it like it’s common knowledge like how the best food is blue jelly beans, “i mean i ship it, y/n’s the sweetest person around here–the type of person people write songs about. she’s like a sister to us older ones and a mother to the younger ones. the whole camp is waiting for him to just man up and ask y/n. they make each other happy, you know?”

“yeah, i think i do.”

percy thinks it’s something the poets would write about.

✩ ‧₊˚

fridays are capture the flag days.

you’re not the type of person to engage in these types of games all that often but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. someone’s got to show the percy boy how it’s played.

“okay, percy. remember, keep your senses open and make sure that no one gets close enough to engage. once they engage, it’s hard to fight them off.”

all around you two, people have begun to don their armor and raise arms. the sun has just reached its height and you’re huddled together discussing your gameplan. even though your cabin house is pretty small, you’ve joined athena and hermes for this game.

percy’s voice rises a little high as he tries swinging his sword around only to drop it, “yeah, okay. i’ll just try not to die, i guess. that’s not like hard or anything.”

“just follow my lead and if i’m not here find luke.”

you're not exactly excited about percy’s odds. the kid is lanky as is and his sassiness doesn’t help him out much when others target him for it.

that’s exactly why you’re gone to his rescue when he nearly gets hit in the face by a spear after he insulted one of the boys from house ares.

your heel nearly buckles under a sharp hit after you block the attack that’s directed to percy. you manage to reset your heel and push the sword off before you drop down into a crouch and sweep the legs of the warrior in front of you.

unfortunately you're slightly too focused on what’s in front of you and protecting percy you don’t realize that someones charging toward you from the side.

fortunately, a block from a familiar sword stops any attack that might meet you head on. no sooner do you hear the block that luke’s got the other guy on the floor and surrendering.

you grin at him, “i had that handled.”

giving you that grin that makes you feel like your future's right in front of you, he replies: “i’m sure you did. but why let you deal with him when i can save you the trouble.”

“why don’t you go and help annabeth win the games, romeo.”

he gives you a wink, throwing a quick ‘yes ma’am’ before he’s already running off again.

no sooner than later, a quick gong resounds throughout the camp, concluding the games. you’re standing slightly battered while percy walks behind you pointing out all the flowers he’s found. you definitely need to teach him how to defend himself.

the players are just trickling in for the woods they’ve been fighting in to reband together and in the distance you see a figure running toward you.

holding onto the flag, he continues to look at you like you’re everything he’s ever needed to breathe. he’s taken his helmet off and you can finally see him fully: brown eyes and all dimples.

“see you’ve found the flag.”

he takes a couple of steps closer to you until only two steps separate him and you, “yeah, someone told me to go win the game so I did just that for her”.

“really now?”

he whispers, “yeah.”

his eyes twinkle and you’ve never wanted anything more than to continue to stare at them.

you hope he’ll make the next move but luke castellan, the boy you’ve fallen for in every lifetime, is always content to admire you.

so, you take those two next steps, grab him by his neck, and press your lips to his.

he stands shocked for a minute, wondering if what’s happening is really happening. but no sooner, he’s dropped the flag on the grass and holds you like your the greatest treasure he’s ever had.

there’s a certain type of tragedy that your golden boy tastes like, fire and freedom all in this moment. it’s the price of redemption and damnation that you’re willing to pay.

to him, it’s the stars aligning like you’d will them to–the power you held and every thing he’s ever needed. your his past, future, and present: the threads in his life giving him the one thing he’s ever wanted. something he’s only ever dreamed of.

he pulls back slightly before murmuring, “in every lifetime or the next, i am yours. i don’t know what i did to deserve you. you’re something only out of my dreams, y/n.”

"you sap"

you just kiss him again, ignoring all the campers and those still trickling in.

✩ ‧₊˚

“definitely a child of dionysius. she’s reduced him to insanity,” pipes up percy as he tears off the petals of the flower he holds in his hand.

chris just grabs a flower and continues to rip the petals off like the boy beside him.

“damn straight!” shouts luke toward the two.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo fandom #pjo series #luke x reader #percy jackson show #percy jackson x reader #luke pjo #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo #ignore the cringe

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mask131 · 4 months

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The truth about Medusa and her rape... Mythology breakdown time!

With the recent release of the Percy Jackson television series, Tumblr is bursting with mythological posts, and the apparition of Medusa the Gorgon has been the object of numerous talks throughout this website… Including more and more spreading of misinformation, and more debates about what is the “true” version of Medusa’s backstory.

Already let us make that clear: the idea that Medusa was actually “blessed” or “gifted” by Athena her petrifying gaze/snake-hair curse is to my knowledge not at all part of the Antique world. I still do not know exactly where this comes from, but I am aware of no Greek or Roman texts that talked about this – so it seems definitively a modern invention. After all, the figure of Medusa and her entire myth has been taken part, reinterpreted and modified by numerous modern women, feminist activist, feminist movements or artists engaged in the topic of women’s life and social conditions – most notably Medusa becoming the “symbol of raped women’ wrath and fury”. It is an interesting reading and a fascinating update of the ancient texts, and it is a worthy take on its own time and context – but today we are not talking about the posterity, reinvention and continuity of Medusa as a myth and a symbol. I want to clarify some points about the ACTUAL myth or legend of Medusa – the original tale, as told by the Greeks and then by the Romans.

Most specifically the question: Was Medusa raped?

Step 1: Yes, but no.

The backstory of Medusa you will find very often today, ranging from mythology manuals (vulgarization manuals of course) to Youtube videos, goes as such: Medusa was a priestess of Athena who got raped by Poseidon while in Athena’s temple, and as a result of this, Athena punished Medusa by turning her into the monstrous Gorgon.

Some will go even further claiming Athena’s “curse” wasn’t a punishment but a “gift” or blessing – and again, I don’t know where this comes from and nobody seems to be able to give me any reliable source for that, so… Let’s put this out of there.

Now this backstory – famous and popular enough to get into Riodan’s book series for example – is partially true. There are some elements here very wrong – and by wrong I do mean wrong.

The story of Medusa being raped and turned into a monster due to being raped does indeed exist, and it is the most famous and widespread of all the Medusa stories, the one people remembered for the longest time and wrote and illustrated the most about. Hence why Medusa became in the 20th century this very important cultural symbol tied to rape and the abuse of women and victim-blaming. HOWEVER – the origin of this story is Ovid’s Metamorphoses, from the first century CE or so. Ovid? A Roman poet writing for Roman people. “Metamorphoses”? One of the two fundamental works of Roman literature and one of the two main texts of Roman mythology, alongside Virgil’s Aeneid. This is a purely Roman story belonging to the Roman culture – and not the Greek one. The story of Medusa’s rape does not have Greek precedents to my knowledge, Ovid introduced the element of rape – which is no surprise given Ovid turned half of the romances of Greek mythology into rapes. Note that, on top of all this, Ovid wasn’t even writing for religious purposes, nor was his text an actual mythological effort – he wrote it with pure literary intentions at heart. It is just a piece of poetry and literature taking inspiration from the legends of the Greek world, not some sort of sacred text.

Second big point: The legend I summarized above? It isn’t even the story Ovid wrote, since there are a lot of elements that do not come from Ovid’s retelling of the story (book fourth of the Metamorphoses). For example Ovid never said Medusa was a priestess of Athena – all he said was that she was raped in the temple of Athena. I shouldn’t even be writing Athena since again, this is a Roman text: we are speaking of Minerva here, and of Neptune, not of Athena or Poseidon. Similarly, Minerva’s curse did not involve the petrifying gaze – rather all Ovid wrote about was that Minerva turned Medusa’s hair into snakes, to “punish” her because her hair were very beautiful, and it was what made her have many suitors (none of which she wanted to marry apparently), and it is also implied it is what made Neptune fall in love (or rather fall in lust) with her. I guess it is from this detail that the reading of “Athena’s curse was a gift” comes from – even though this story also clearly does victim-blaming of rape here.

But what is very fascinating is that… we are not definitively sure Neptune raped Medusa in Ovid’s retelling. For sure, the terms used by Ovid in his fourth book of Metamorphoses are clear: this was an action of violating, sexually assaulting, of soiling and corrupting, we are talking about rape. But Ovid refers several other times to Medusa in his other books, sometimes adding details the fourth-book stories does not have (the sixth book for examples evokes how Neptune turned into a bird to seduce Medusa, which is completely absent from the fourth book’s retelling of Medusa’ curse). And in all those other mentions, the terms to designate the relationship between Medusa and Neptune are more ambiguous, evoking seduction and romance rather than physical or sexual assault. (It does not help that Ovid has an habit of constantly confusing consensual and non-consensual sex in his poems, meaning that a rape in one book can turn into a romance in another, or reversal)

But the latter fact makes more sense when you recall that the rape element was invented and added by Ovid. Before, yes Poseidon and Medusa loved each other, but it was a pure romance, or at least a consensual one-night. Heck, if we go back to the oldest records of the love between Poseidon and Medusa, back in Hesiod’s Theogony, we have descriptions of the two of them laying together in a beautiful, flowery meadow – a stereotypical scene of pastoral romances – with no mention of any brutality or violence of any sort. As a result, it makes sense the original “romantic” story would still “leak” or cast a shadow over Ovid’s reinvented and slightly-confused tale.

Step 2: So… no rape?

Well, if we go by Greek texts, no, apparently Medusa was not raped in Greek mythology, and only became a rape victim through Ovid.

The Ancient Greek texts all record Poseidon and Medusa sleeping with each other and having children, but no mention of rape. And the whole “curse of Athena” thing is not present in the oldest records – no temple of Athena soiling, no angry Athena cursing a poor girl… “No curse?” you say “But then how did Medusa got turned into a Gorgon”? Answer: she did not. She was born like that.

As I said before, the oldest record of Medusa’s romance but also of her family comes from Hesiod’s Theogony (Hesiod being one of the two “founding authors” of Greek mythology, alongside Homer – Homer did wrote several times about Medusa, but only as a disembodied head and as a monster already dead, so we don’t have any information about her life). And what do we learn? That Medusa is part of a set of three sisters known as the Gorgons – because oh yes, Ovid did not mention Medusa’s sister now did he? How did Medusa’s sisters ALSO got snake-hair or petrifying-gaze if only Medusa was cursed for sleeping with Neptune? Ovid does not give us any answer because again, it is an “adaptational plot hole”, and the people that try to adapt Ovid’s story have to deal with the slight problem of Stheno and Euryale needing to share their sister’s curse despite seemingly not being involved in the whole Neptune business. Anyway, back to the Greek text.

So, you have those three Gorgon sisters, and Medusa is said to be mortal while her sisters are not. Why is it such a big deal? Because Medusa wasn’t originally some random human or priestess. Oh no! Who were the Gorgons’ parents? Phorcys and Keto/Ceto, aka two sea-gods. Not just two sea-gods – two sea-gods of the ancient, primordial generation of sea-gods, the one that predated Poseidon, and that were cousins to the Titans, the sea-gods born of Gaia mating with Pontos.

So the Gorgons were “divine” of nature – and this is why Medusa being a mortal was considered to be a MASSIVE problem and handicap for her, an abnormal thing for the daughter of two deities. But let’s dig a bit further… Who were Phorcys and Ceto? Long story short: in Greek mythology, they were considered to be sea-equivalents of Typhon and Gaia. They were the parents of many monsters and many sea-horrors: Keto/Ceto herself had her name attributed and equated with any very large creature (like whales) or any terrifying monster (like dragons) from the sea. The Gorgons themselves was a trio of monsters, but their sisters, that directly act as their double in the myth of Perseus? The Graiai – the monstrous trio of old women sharing one eye and one tooth. Hesiod also drops the fact that Ladon (the dragon that guarded the golden apples of the Hesperids), and Echidna (the snake-woman that mated with Typhon and became known as the “mother of monsters”) were also children of Phorcys and Ceto, while other authors will add other monster-related characters such as Scylla (of Charybdis and Scylla fame), the sirens, or Thoosa (the mother of Polyphemus the cyclop). Medusa herself is technically a “mother of monsters” since she birthed both Pegasus the flying horse and Chrysaor, a giant. So here is something very important to get: Medusa, and the Gorgons, were part of a family of monsters. Couple that with the absence of any mention of curses in these ancient texts, and everything is clear.

Originally Medusa was not a woman cursed to become a monster: she was born a monster, part of a group of monster siblings, birthed by monster-creating deities, and she belonged to the world of the “primordial abominations from the sea”, and the pre-Olympian threats, the remnants of the primordial chaos. It is no surprise that the Gorgons were said to live at the edge of the very known world, in the last patch of land before the end of the universe – in the most inhuman, primitive and liminal area possible. They were full-on monsters!

Now you might ask why Poseidon would sleep with a horrible monster, especially when you recall that the Greeks loved to depict the Gorgons as truly bizarre and grotesque. It wasn’t just snake-hair and petrifying gaze: they had boar tusks, and metallic claws, and bloated eyes, and a long tongue that constantly hanged down their bearded chin, and very large heads – some very old depictions even show her with a female centaur body! In fact, the ancient texts imply that it wasn’t so much the Gorgon’s gaze or eyes that had the power to turn people into stone – but that rather the Gorgon was just so hideous and so terrifying to look at people froze in terror – and then literally turned into stone out of fear and disgust. We are talking Lovecraftian level of eldritch horror here. So why would Poseidon, an Olympian god, sleep with one of these horrors? Well… If you know your Poseidon it wouldn’t surprise you too much because Poseidon had a thing for monsters. As a sort of “dark double” of Zeus, whereas Zeus fell in love with beautiful princesses and noble queens and birthed great gods and brave heroes, Poseidon was more about getting freaky with all sorts of unusual and bizarre goddesses, and giving birth to bandits and monsters. A good chunk of the villains of Greek mythology were born out of Poseidon’s loins: Polyphemus, Antaios, Orion, Charybdis, the Aloads… And even his most benevolent offspring has freaky stuff about it – Proteus the shapeshifter or Triton half-man half-fish… So yes, Poseidon sleeping with an abominable Gorgon is not so much out of character.

Step 3: The missing link

Now that we established what Medusa started out as, and what she ended up as… We need to evoke the evolution from point Hesiod to point Ovid, because while people summarized the Medusa debate as “Sea-born monster VS raped and punished woman”, there is a third element needed to understand this whole situation…

Yes Ovid did invent the rape. But he did not invent the idea that Medusa had been cursed by Athena.

The “gorgoneion” – the visual and artistic motif of the Gorgon’s head – was, as I said, a grotesque and monstrous face used to invoke fright into the enemies or to repel any vile influence or wicked spirit by the principle of “What’s the best way to repel bad stuff? Badder stuff”. Your Gorgon was your gargoyle, with all the hideous traits I described before – represented in front (unlike all the other side-portraits of gods and heroes), with the face being very large and flat, a big tongue out of a tusked-mouth, snake-hair, bulging crazy eyes, sometimes a beard or scales… Pure monster. But then… from the fifth century BCE to the second century BCE we see a slow evolution of the “gorgoneion” in art. Slowly the grotesque elements disappear, and the Gorgon’s face becomes… a regular, human face. Even more: it even becomes a pretty woman’s face! But with snakes instead of hair. As such, the idea that Medusa was a gorgeous woman who just had snakes and cursed-eyes DOES come from Ancient Greece – and existed well before Ovid wrote his rape story.

But what was the reason behind this change?

Well, we have to look at the Roman era again. Ovid’s tale of Medusa being cursed for her rape at the hands of Neptune had to rival with another record collected by a Greek author Apollodorus, or Pseudo-Apollodorus, in his Bibliotheca. In this collection of Greek myths, Apollodorus writes that indeed, Medusa was cursed by Athena to have her beautiful hair that seduced everybody be turned into snakes… But it wasn’t because of any rape or forbidden romance, no. It was just because Medusa was a very vain woman who liked to brag about her beauty and hair – and had the foolish idea of saying her hair looked better than Athena’s. (If you recall tales such as Arachne’s or the Judgement of Paris, you will know that despite Athena being wise and clever, one of her main flaws is her vanity).

“Wait a minute,” you are going to tell me, “The Bibliotheca was created in the second century CE! Well after Greece became part of the Roman Empire, and after Ovid’s Metamorphoses became a huge success! It isn’t a true Greek myth, it is just Ovid’s tale being projected here…” And people did agree for a time… Until it was discovered, in the scholias placed around the texts of Apollonios of Rhodes, that an author of the fifth century BCE named Pherecyde HAD recorded in his time a version of Medusa’s legend where she had been cursed into becoming an ugly monster as punishment for her vanity. We apparently do not have the original text of Pherecyde, but the many scholias referring to this lost piece are very clear about this. This means that the story that Apollodorus recorded isn’t a “novelty”, but rather the latest record of an older tradition going back to the fifth century BCE… THE SAME CENTURY THAT THE GORGONEION STARTED LOSING THEIR GROTESQUE, and that the face of Medusa started becoming more human in art.

[EDIT: I also forgot to add that this evolution of Medusa is also proved by strange literary elements, such as Pindar's mention in a poem of his (around 490 BCE) of "fair-cheeked Medusa". A description which seems strange given how Medusa used to be depicted as the epitome of ugliness... But that makes sense if the "cursed beauty" version of the myth had been going around at the time!]

And thus it is all connected and explained. Ovid did invent the rape yes – but he did not invent the idea of Athena cursing Medusa. It pre-existed as the most “recent” and dominating legend in Ancient Greece, having overshadowed by Ovid’s time the oldest Hesiodic records of Medusa being born a monster. So what Ovid did wasn’t completely create a new story out of nowhere, but twist the Greek traditions of Athena cursing Medusa and Medusa having a relationship with Poseidon, so that the two legends would form one and same story. And this explains in retrospect why Ovid focuses so much on describing Medusa’s beautiful hair, and why Ovid’s Minerva would think turning her hair into snake would be a “punishment fit for the crime”: these are leftovers of the Greek tale where Medusa was punished for her boasting and her vanity.

CONCLUSION

Here is the simplified chronology of how Medusa’s evolution went.

A) Primitive Greek myths, Hesiodic tradition: Born a monster out of a family of sea-monsters and monstrous immortals. Is a grotesque, gargoylesque, eldritch abomination. Athena has only an indirect conflict with her, due to being Perseus’ “fairy godmother”. Has a lovely romance with Poseidon.

B) Slow evolution throughout Classical Greece and further: Medusa becomes a beautiful, human-looking girl that was cursed to have snake for hair and petrifying eyes, instead of being a Lovecraftian horror people could not gaze upon. Her conflict with Athena becomes direct, as it is Athena that cursed her due to being offended by her vain boasting. Her punishment is for her vanity and arrogant comparison to the goddess.

C) Ovid comes in: Medusa’s romance with Poseidon becomes a rape, and she is now punished for having been raped inside Athena’s temple.

[As a final note, I want to insist upon the fact that the story of Medusa being raped is not less "worthy" than any other version of the myth. Due to its enormous popularity, how it shaped the figure of Medusa throughout the centuries, and how it still survives today and echoes current-day problems, to try to deny the valid place of this story in the world of myths and legends would be foolish. HOWEVER it is important to place back things in their context, to recognize that it is not the ONLY tale of Medusa, that it was NOT part of Greek mythology, but rather of Roman legends - and let us all always remember this time Poseidon slept with a Lovecraftian horror because my guy is kinky.]

EDIT:

For illustration, I will place here visuals showing how the Ancient art evolved alongside Medusa's story.

Before the 5th century BCE: Medusa is a full-on monster

From the 5th century to the 2nd century BCE: A slow evolution as Medusa goes from a full-on monster to a human turned into a monster. As a result the two depictions of the grotesque and beautiful gorgoneion coexist.

Post 2nd century BCE: Medusa is now a human with snake hair, and just that

#greek mythology #medusa #gorgon #athena #gorgons #poseidon #neptune #minerva #ovid #rape in mythology #greek monsters #roman mythology

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for telling my her ex I read her poetry?

I (F19) dated my ex (F18, Lacy) for about 9 months. I broke up with her because she had a lot of issues I just didn't know how to deal with and I also fell in love with my best friend (NB19, Alex, he/his pronouns), so I decided it was the best course of action. I broke up with Lacy on January of 2023 and started dating Alex in February.

Around this time, I found an Instagram account that posted poetry. There was nothing that could identify the author, but the poetry was really good so I started to follow them. With time, however, the poems started to look... familiar. Not the writing style, but some situations on them, for example: one of them said something like "your brother's night sky truck that took us to the stars" (my older brother has a dark blue truck he would lend me so I could take Lacy on dates) and another said "that old guitar you had that you never learned to play like you played me" (I have an old guitar I inherited from my father and I indeed never learned how to play it). These are only two examples, but I found many others that convinced me that account belonged to Lacy.

I know I should have left it alone the second I realized the account belonged to her, but it was so flattering to see she wrote all of that about me. I didn't tell anyone, not my friends or Alex, but I kept following the account and reading Lacy's poetry. I think my feelings for her started to rekindle after that, because no one ever wrote about me like that and, as months passed, she kept writing about me. She never got over me.

My relationship with Alex also started to have problems during this time. He got a job at an ice cream parlour and he started a D&D campain with his friends, which means we started to spend less and less time together. He didn't seem to be as interested in me as he was during our first months of relationship, and I feel like he's taking me for granted. Lately, more specifically since December, we started to fight a lot over small things too.

We went to a New Year's party one of our friends was hosting and Lacy was there too. That enough was reason for Alex to start complaining, since he has a lot of feelings of jealousy regarding her. We ended up having a fight because he thought I knew she'd be there, which I didn't, and he went to stay with our friends, avoiding me the whole night.

It was New Year's eve and I had just fought with my partner, who was monopolizing all of our friends and leaving me by myself, so I started to drink. I know that wasn't a good idea, but I was angry and frustrated and I thought that would help. It didn't, I just got super drunk.

Since my filter disappears when I'm drunk, I went after Lacy and told her her poetry was really good. At first she was confused, so I said I found her poetry account and her poems were amazing, and I was flattered she still thought about me like that, because I didn't think anyone else ever saw me in such a beautiful way.

After that, the panic in her eyes became clear. She started to cry, not full on sobbing but some tears rolled down her face and she didn't answer me, just left. Alex saw the interaction and came to ask me what happened. I ended up telling him about Lacy's poetry account, we fought again and I decided to go home. In that same night, I searched for the poetry account and it was deleted.

This whole situation didn't leave my head since it happened and I don't know what to think. Alex has also been avoiding me and I don't understand why everyone seems to be against me. Lacy blocked me everywhere and I'm beginning to think leaving her for Alex was a huge mistake. It was also never my intention to make Lacy feel like she had to delete her account.

AITA for telling her I knew about the poetry account?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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comradekatara · 1 month

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i don’t want to watch natla but i appreciate very much you posting about “zuko’s little faggot diary” that shit made me crack up laughing ty

that’s just canon to me. he’s a boy who loves to monologue. of course he keeps a diary. how else is he gonna keep track of his special interests. where else is he gonna write down his angsty poetry. you know he spent months tracking aang down taking detailed notes on his garb, his fighting style, his flight patterns, and not once ever bothered taking note of his name, even though he easily could’ve learned it from the million times katara screamed it over the course of their fights.

which, if you’ll allow me to go on a tangent, is another thing that bothers me. when ppl are like “zuko learned their names because they all say one another’s names constantly.” and you think that means he actively made an effort to REMEMBER it????? you must be out of your damn gourd if you think that the most one-track minded human being in the history of the universe is paying attention to anything that doesn’t directly interest him in that very moment. but i digress.

i just KNOW that zuko was soo mad that he lost his diary after his ship got blown up by zhao because years of precious poetry and avatar lore, burned to cinders by that PHILISTINE!!!! and then as a refugee in the earth kingdom, he languishes, diaryless, because he’s too embarrassed to actually spend what little money they have on something so extraneous. and then once back in the fire nation he obviously can’t keep a diary because azula will do everything in her power to read it (he learned that the hard way as a child). but then, finally, once he flees to the western air temple, he can actually keep a diary again, now that he is surrounded by nice, normal people who don’t actually care enough about him to snoop through his belongings.

or so he thinks.

now, aang, being a respectful young lad, would never share his findings with the rest of the group, especially since none of them have actually warmed up to him yet. but that doesn’t prevent him from reading everything zuko has ever written in that diary. and of course, he doesn’t tell zuko, because he has the tact and savvy to know that if he alerts zuko to his snooping, then he will simply hide his diary better, or even worse, stop writing in it altogether. and zuko can’t stop writing!! for he has a poet’s soul!!!

also, zuko has somehow gathered a lot of information on sokka that aang himself did not know, despite being friends with him for nearly a year now (like the fact that he dated the moon??? or the fact that his mother was killed by the fire nation??? although that one he really should’ve figured out on his own. considering that he and katara are siblings, and thus logically would share a mother). and so aang really needs zuko to keep updating his SOKKA LORE notebook because he feels kind of guilty that he knew basically nothing about his friend and yet zuko, the least observant person he has ever met, is somehow an expert in sokkology (although aang is deeply offended on katara’s behalf that he simply refers to her as “sokka’s sister” or sometimes “the angry one”).

for the record, aang never actually puts together WHY zuko is so fascinated by sokka. he’s just like “of course he’d be intrigued by sokka. he has a very complex mind, what an adventure to attempt to fathom the depths of his psyche.” like he just assumes that zuko is using sokka as a case study for completely innocuous reasons. he also assumes that zuko, like any teenage boy with eyes, is infatuated with katara. not at first, obviously, because to zuko she is still “girl sister, long hair” but eventually. once they reconcile, and become friends. and then his diary makes a sharp turn from carefully documenting any and all sokka lore to “katara said this really funny thing today” “katara is so nice and pretty” “katara is such a good waterbender” and suddenly aang is NOT having fun anymore!!!! halt the presses!!!!!

so aang just kind of sulks to himself for a while because it’s not like he can TELL anyone about his NEW ROMANTIC RIVAL in the BID FOR KATARA’S AFFECTIONS, but he does try to vaguely intimate to sokka and toph that it bothers him. and toph’s just like “what?? you mean all those times she hooked up with haru at the western air temple???” and aang’s just like. “HARU??????!!?!!??!?!?”

anyway. zuko isn’t a complete idiot, so after a few good years of being friends with aang, he finally catches onto the fact that aang has been keeping up with his diary every time he visits the palace, after like, the fourth or fifth time that aang accidentally lets a piece of information slip that he only could’ve known via reading zuko’s diary. so zuko decides to mess with him, and starts keeping a fake diary in the place he used to keep his real diary (columbus style) and writing shit in it like, “aang’s recent experimentations with facial hair are so embarrassing. just because you’re finally old enough to grow a weak little mustache doesn’t mean that you, under any circumstances, SHOULD. i bet katara is throwing up puking every day just having to kiss his horrendous furry mouth.” or, “katara said that she thinks roku was not only hotter, but also a way better avatar than aang, and personally, i agree. if he was still the avatar today no one would ever go hungry and we would have total world peace.” or, “aang is way too comfortable going shirtless. if i had that scrawny lanky body i would cover that shit up with a big ol sweater every day.” or, “aang said something really mean the other day and it hurt my feelings and i cried alone in my room for 3 hours. aang is literally a bully????”

and aang can’t even SAY anything because zuko is allowed to say whatever he wants about his friends in the privacy of his own journal, but also he decides that if zuko truly hates him so much, then he will simply stop visiting the fire nation so frequently, out of respect to his friend. at which point zuko realizes that he may have gone too far, so the next time aang visits him, he puts his real diary in his drawer with an entry that reads, “i can’t believe aang keeps falling for my fake diary prank. he doesn’t even know that im messing with him. and he never will, because my system is flawless, and i’ll never ever lose track of which diary is the real one and which one is the fake.”

at which point aang runs headfirst into a meeting between fire lord zuko and his senior council and is just like “ZUKO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!” and tackles him in a hug with no regard for propriety. he nearly gives zuko a concussion from the force of his hug. but dammit if it isn’t worth it.

#boyfriendgideon #asks #all of this is canon btw.#zuko #aang #aang&zuko #katara&zuko #aang&katara #sokkaxzuko #also yeah. don’t watch natla. truly NOT worth it in the slightest . u made a good call there

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amelee23 · 11 months

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I didn't accidentally love you | Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Hopelessly romantic fluff, angst, poetry, a little comedy

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x gender neutral reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: reader is an insecure poet, heartbreak, bad self esteem, poetry clubs, Hyunjin is dripping charisma, shameless flirting, reader thinks hyun is a jerk for like a second, reader.exe stops working multiple times, reader gets shy, i just HAD to be funny at the end OKAY

Synopsys: Your friends forced you to become part of a poetry club, and when you receive a task to write a poem about sadness, you realize you accidentally write it about Hyunjin, the guy you had a crush on and tried to forget about. And he finds out.

A/N: I promised @astraystayyh to write this, here you go sugar <3

Artists have many moments of weakness.

Those moments when you start to question your craft, whether you're even worthy of being called an 'artist' or you're just a fleeting talent that is going to wash away with time, just like the hobby or interest of a preschooler. You inquire if you're worthy staining pages with ink, using the words of the dictionary just to feel the high of belonging - the high of doing show and tell with your emotions like it's a new toy your parents gifted you; or you should just remain a consumer, and observe the beauty that lies in others, the beauty others can create. Could your craft ever rise to all these expectations?

But what else is there to life, if not making art?

Perhaps you've always been clinically insane, but you've only truly felt alive when you felt the beauty of the world - dark and bright alike - conveyed through you in the form of poetry and words, sent by the angels above for a mere human to toy with. So you pick up the pencil again.

The paper before you is blank, and you're frankly uncomfortable in the position you are in, notebook on your thighs, back curved over the page as if you're shielding unwritten words from the sun itself to not read them. But you've always felt more at ease writing outside, under the natural light of the sky, with the clouds passing by carelessly, like they don't have doubts about their worth like a human would. But the stares of the students passing by are not exactly comfortable. You take a breath and urge yourself to focus; they don't care about what you're doing, they're just heading to their classes, living their lives (hopefully) with that same hunger you have for art, for their chosen subjects.

You face your paper again and remember the prompt you were given - writing a poem involving the feeling of sadness - that you're supposed to hand over to the club in a couple of days. Insecurities and procrastination led you to keep putting it off, but the dread of a deadline has always been a great motivation for humanity. Your friends urged you towards this, to join the poetry club of your university - it's a small, non-profit club put together by a bunch of random art and literature students. It's so non-profit in fact, that it barely has any funding at all. They had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed to host the club meetings every week in the sculpting room - and that, late in the day, when the cleaning staff unlocks the doors for their cleaning sweep. You sit on awkward, stained chairs, and make sure to raise your feet up one by one to not stand in the way of the mop and brooms. But the club members would withstand anything, and would pretty much commit homicide to keep the club running. One more reason why, when faced with the passion and fighting spirit your club mates have, you wonder if you even have a space with them. You had to be shoved - one could say even blackmailed - by your friends to take the step forward and join, so you could be able to share your craft with others. You were perfectly happy letting your poems stack up in endless notebooks on top of your dusty bookcase. You didn't feel the need to share them, per se - but everyone else insisted it would have been a crime to keep them to yourself selfishly like that.

Sadness, sadness. You need to embody sadness for this prompt. You look around for inspiration, but there is no sad sight to see. The sky is clear, in colors of baby blue and soft whites, the branches of the green, young trees are barely even swaying in the wind, and there's college students laughing all around. Has anything sad happened in your life lately? Not really, nothing to inspire poems at least. Not that you are bursting at the seams with happiness, but you believed no one really is. There's a lot going on behind the cover of every human passing by, and even if all you can feel is the slight shoulder brush of a stranger, you do know those shoulders carry as much, if not even more weight than yours.

That's it. You start writing, and word by word they flow, one line, two lines until you have seven of them - you even managed to rhyme! It's not much, but it's honest work. Since there is no one close by, you begin to read the poem out loud softly. Hearing what you wrote always helps you perfect the rhymes, the punctuation and change around words if they sound too awkward. After erasing, rewriting and erasing again just to end up redoing the whole last two lines, you finally thought it was good enough.

---

Here and now, I must take a vow:

You'll never hear me confess, that in the depths of my weary chest

Underneath the smile I wore, there's a sadness in my soul;

Nothing's wrong - it's my biggest lie, hiding a muffled cry

Just behind a giggle and a laugh, acting is my biggest craft;

I loved you - but heard the ticking of the clock and thought

No more. It's time I stopped and gave you up.

---

You smile, because for a split second you actually think your poem sounds really good. But then, the insecurities crash on top of you again. Your club mates are probably writing long, heart-wrenching poems that are going to make you cry when you read them. Your idea will surely seem shallow and rushed in comparison to theirs. With a sigh, you wish to be able to just give yourself this one. Tell yourself you did good enough by trying and move on - brush it off and think progressively, that your next poem is going to be even better than this one. But you don't truly feel that way, so you begin to beautify the first letter of every line with calligraphic letters to overcompensate for the lack of skill you feel you have. The capital H at the beginning of the first line, the capital Y at the beginning of the second line and so on; you turn them into beautiful, aesthetic calligraphy as much to your ability. In the end, you just think you've made a mess, and that there is simply too much ink on the page now.

---

Here and now, I must take a vow:

You'll never hear me confess, that in the depths of my weary chest

Underneath the smile I wore, there's a sadness in my soul;

Nothing's wrong - it's my biggest lie, hiding a muffled cry

Just behind a giggle and a laugh, acting is my biggest craft;

I loved you - but heard the ticking of the clock and thought

No more. It's time I stopped and gave you up.

---

Oh no.

Your eyes open wide and you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

The first letter of every single line, from top to bottom, spell HYUNJIN. The name of the boy you swore to yourself you've moved on from.

Hyunjin, who spoke about life as if it was art itself and spoke about art as if it was life itself.

Hyunjin, with the calm and warm voice - quiet and observant and yet, from the ocean in his eyes, bathed in a soft moonlight, it always seemed like his mind was in faraway lands, dreaming, humming, sighing before a field of lilies in the middle of the night.

Hyunjin, who seemed like through every song he listened to and sang, every poem he read and wrote, every painting he saw and painted, he dicovered all the secrets the universe had. As if human life was a melancholic, nostalgic memory to him, life experiencing itself all over again - he seemed so kind, so unfazed, so utterly in love with existence.

Hyunjin, who read every single one of your poems and told you he'd never allow you to leave the club. He was always so warm, you could hardly believe he wasn't doing it out of habit, spreading his magical touch over the wounds in your heart just like he would with anyone else. But it wasn't his fault you always questioned your worth.

Hyunjin, with whom you've fallen in love with gravely. For every smile he showed around you, for every squeal-like laugh he gifted you, for every time he held your hand gently to calm your nerves, you added one more day to the delusion of hanging on to him.

Hyunjin, who was merely a pipe dream.

He is the co-leader of the poetry club you're in. That's why you've always considered his compliments and encouragements to be just him doing his job - and yet they continued to fuel that foolish fire of yours for far too long. You never confessed to him, of course. But there would be nothing wrong with you two dating, from an ethical point of view. This is just a poetry club ran by students, it's not like having a crush on your boss. But still, the title of co-leader put him above you in a way you couldn't describe. Maybe it's the fact that he has more experience in art. Maybe it's the fact that he's more skillful. Maybe it's the fact that he's taught you many techniques and actually became a figure to rely on. Therefore he was still above you in a way, and so was the leader.

The leader of the club, she resembled Hyunjin in an almost eerie way. People do say, someone who is beautiful on the inside will always radiate beauty on the outside, too. That was a clear description of both of them. She too, was a romantic and an artist, she had a feather light laugh, star like freckles dusting her face, and eyes that could hold galaxies. She was the end of Hyunjin's sentences and the beginning of his thoughts. They made an incredible pair and their teamwork was impeccable as leaders. They weren't dating, but your heart kept telling you, that one day they will. It would be simply impossible for two souls so perfectly woven for each other to simply separate and go their different ways. And yet, you still foolishly had fallen for Hyunjin and every single week, the pain in your chest grew.

Oh, it hurt. It shouldn't have, really. You were just a newcomer being silly and they were fit for a lifetime. You had no chance nor the courage to hope and dream a miracle would land you in Hyunjin's loving arms. She wasn't to blame, he wasn't to blame, your pain was fully your fault. You fell in love and you had to fix it. So you made an oath with yourself to let it go, get those heavy rocks off of your lungs and allow yourself to breathe. There will be other boys in your life. They will not be Hyunjin, but other boys will exist.

You thought you were done with the tears, with the heartache and the love-sick poems. But it seemed you did have one more poem left in you, and it bubbled to the surface.

If the sun wasn't that bright, you wouldn't even have noticed the shadow of someone looming over you. You heard a melodic hum above your head and when you looked up, your heart dropped.

"What do we have here?" He teased, snatching your notebook right out of your hands. You couldn't even react in time, he was already standing up before you, reading the contents of your poem. His lips hung slightly open and he let out a gasp, and you really thought poetry was perhaps the only way to describe the look on his face. You watched his eyes travel the page, his chest deflating very rarely as if he was holding his breath. He looked surprised, but it wasn't an anxious type of bewilderment, nor an excited one either. He was looking at your notebook as if it was some sort of mythical creature, something that shouldn't possibly exist-

And then his eyes found yours. They wrecked you from the inside out, a brown so blown out, so dark, unalike what you've seen before. There was no more serene skies and calm seas in his eyes, there was a storm, a hurricane - a complete blackout. He looked frightened. Maybe he was in fact, still shaken by the secrets of the universe. Maybe humans are not supposed to know what mythological creatures actually look like. Maybe denying their existence would be easier on the collective-

"I can explain!" You jump up from the bench you were seated on. "That was an accident - it's not what it looks like!" He's not listening to you. His mind has gone to those faraway lands again, and he's dreaming while he glances at the page. You move to take the notebook away from him, but he raises it above his head. He's too tall to reach, so you don't even try.

"Well." He speaks, softly, anxiously, awkwardly. He softly lowers the notebook, but he holds it tight to his chest. He won't let you take it back. "I think now it's only fair I dedicate my poetry to you as well." Now it's your turn to remain with your mouth agape. You're blinking at him, and you don't realize you're looking at him exactly the same way he looked at you a minute ago. You're both scared and yet in marvel, and he takes a step closer. You inhale sharply, but it gets stuck in your throat. You can't breathe, your stomach is tense, and a shiver is shaking the fingers of your hands. His eyes are transfixed on yours, and he moves even closer, he's too close - and he asks for permission. "If you'll allow me?"

He's asking you to become his muse.

But you couldn't answer him even if you wanted to. It's embarrassing, but the only thing you can muster is a whimper.

He continues to stare at your face, until slowly and gradually a smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he lets out a giggle. He waves a hand in front of your face and cocks an eyebrow, in an attempt to bring you out of your daze. You're so confused you could die.

Was the last few minutes just a joke? Was he just mocking you-? He must have been. Nothing is as good as it seems, and Hwang Hyunjin couldn't be any different. Maybe he was just a self centered jerk under the dreamy romantic aura he carried. It would be easier to start hating him than to continue helplessly liking him, right?

You barely register Hyunjin putting your spiral notebook down on the bench to gently rip out the page with the poem. He folds the page in two and then hands you your notebook back.

"As the co-leader of the club, I reject your entry. You must write another poem, I'm confiscating this one." You cock your head. What is he saying? Is this still, all part of the joke?

"What- what are you- what are you gonna do with it?" You manage to spew out a sentence, not that it was the most important question to ask. Hyunjin raises his shoulders.

"Put it on my wall? Tape it in my journal? I'll find a place." He answers nonchalantly. You see his eyebrows dance on his face as he thinks for a second, then his expression tells you he got an idea. "Or... I could give it back to you... If you visit the seashore with me."

You side eye him and furrow your brows. "To do what?" He raises his shoulders again.

"I need inspiration for all of the poems I'm gonna start writing about you." He's calm, almost too calm as he says it, and he begins to smile once more as he watches your mouth hang open again.

"Are you making fun of me?" You finally ask, and Hyunjin looks downright offended. He raises his eyebrows, and comically cranes his neck back, pointing a finger at himself and then at you.

"ME? Make fun of YOU? Why? I'm... asking you out on a date..." And you're somehow supposed to process that information without finding a million excuses why this shouldn't be happening and wouldn't be happening. But it is happening.

"So you're not joking?"

"No?" He replies shaking his head.

"You're being serious."

"Yeah.." He replies, this time nodding his head.

"Seriously?" He laughs, finding you adorable.

"Seriously." Suddenly, the situations is a little too real and too much to take. Your hopelessly romantic and yet heavily insecure brain almost ruined a moment you could have only dreamt about, and you almost thought Hyunjin was a jerk. You hide your face in your hands and let out a muffled whine. Hyunjin is extremely amused, and feeling a little playful, he comes closer and cocks his head close to your face. You can't see him, but you peek through your fingers when you hear him speak again. "So is that a yes?" You watch glimpses of his face between your fingers and nod back at him. "Great then!" His face is so bright, and you can't hide your eyes from his anymore. Today, you saw how his eyes looked with a storm in them, but now they look different once more - like a sunrise above a beach, it's all so golden and full of life, sweet like honey and rich like gold. Warmth spreads through your chest, and he places a hand gently on your arm. His thumb caresses your bicep for a few seconds. "I'll text you the details."

You feel drunk, as his touch leaves your body but still lingers. He walks away to his next class, but he turns around briefly to remind you of your task.

"And don't forget you have to write a new poem until Thursday!" He waives the page he stole from you between his fingers and laughs his ass off at the exasperated sigh you give in return and the angry squint and pout.

You're pretty sure he didn't believe you when you said that poem was an accident. And he never will, even when you try to explain it to him on your first date. And on the second date you swear it wasn't on purpose, and on the third date you tell him for just how long you've liked him and how you tried to let him go. And on the fourth date he tells you he knows your poem wasn't an accident no matter what you think or say. And on the fifth, you agree with him.

--------------------------------------------------------------

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©amelee23 do not copy or repost

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angeliczuko · 25 days

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Can I request Chuuya x fem!reader fanfic about the readers being a writer that trying to avoid conflict with mafia? But instead the reader always meets with Chuuya.

“WITHIN LETTERS FROM AFAR”

Summary: You are a simple writer who just want to live a normal writing life in Yokohama and want to avoid conflict with the mafia, for many reasons but if a man so ethereal just happens to be around, can you really not let him be your muse? Genre: fluff, romance Warnings: small mentions of blood and violence, reader is the quiet and calm type. A/N: this man can choke me everyday and I would thank him for it :3

How does he find interest in you?

To start it off he was merely visiting a coffee shop near your home when he met you writing a chapter of your book.

Chuuya has made many types of people but he couldn’t tell why he was just so intrested in you.

Perhaps it was your deep devotion to writing, or your vocal skills when he came to talk to you,or how you described things so detailed.

So it all started with a simple coffee!

How it goes + dates

I can totally see him buying you all types of paper because he probably barely knows anything about writing stuff

but it’s okay! Because after work he visits your house and you teach him vocabulary and when you used rare words and told them their meanings

He kinda of blushed because those words were meant for him <3

You two go on coffee dates and you let him read your poetry, stories etc. that is if u dislike places like restaurants

Chuuya probably buys you the most best quality and exported manuals on writing

So it goes pretty good for you two!

When he tells you he works for the mafia

You were certainly a bit taken aback when he said where he works and he isn’t surpirsed.

But he is more surprised when you take the courage to head to the mafia just to meet him! :D

For that he told his subordinates to make a separate table and office type place for you so you can stay close to him!

Conclusion

Chuuya will keep you safe don’t worry, he will try his best to keep you away from blood and violence. Especially since he doesn’t want to make you see his violent side. He has all the money in the world to buy you paper and you have all the vocabulary in your brain to write poems about him!

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

#Chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya fluff #chuuya fic #chuuya bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #Bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd stuff #bsd fic #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara bsd #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x fem!reader

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meraki-yao · 8 months

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RWRB Movie Analysis: Who I am and Who you want me to be

“For Christ Sake, Alex! For once! I wish you could see me for who I am and not who you want me to be!”

“Starting today, the world will know me for who I am, and not who you want me to be.”

Okay so let’s take a look at these two lines, shall we?

Henry views his own self as two facets: Prince Henry, and Henry Fox.

Prince Henry belongs to Britain. He is a servant of the crown. He has to prioritize the crown’s image, what the crown wants. The mindless ribbon cuttings, the convention and appearances, the hiding in the closet, it's what's demanded of Prince Henry. Prince Henry cannot pursue a relationship with a man because he has to maintain a “traditional royal image”. Prince Henry cannot be seen walking through Austin holding hands with Alex because “the nation will simply not accept a prince who is homosexual".

Henry Fox, is a romantic and a dreamer. He wants to be a writer and live in Paris. He called his first time with Alex "making love". He wore a white suit to a vacation, wowed at his boyfriend's family lake house even if he lives in a palace and jokes with his boyfriend's father. He plays volleyball and reads while lying in a hammock. He rants about literature, poetries and books. He watches Bake-off with his dog while eating Jaffa Cakes when he can't sleep. He does tequila shots and sings Queen in karaoke. He laughs when Alex splashes water all over him and kisses his shoulder.

The public, see Prince Henry.

Alex, sees both, but knows Henry Fox intimately. When you ask him to talk about Henry, he will think of Henry Fox.

So here's the thing.

Henry, is ultimately, both. He is the Prince of England's Hearts. He is also the boy who has been in love with Alex for years.

But Henry feels like one is more important than the other.

So in the Kensington confrontation, when Henry says “I wish you Could see me for who I am and not who you want me to be!"

"Who I am" refers to Prince Henry.

"Who you want me to be "refers to Henry Fox.

From Henry's perspective, in this scene, he's prioritizing Prince Henry. He thinks that he has to be Prince Henry first and foremost. That's why he's labelling that facet as "who he is", even though he has mentioned before that he doesn't want to be this image of the "perfect prince", that being Prince Henry requires him to hide pieces of himself and it hurts.

What he's saying here, is essentially Alex is not taking "Prince Henry" into considerations regarding their relationship, that he's being idealistic on the degree of freedom Henry has. He's saying that all Alex sees is Henry Fox, his private, true, personal side, that Henry, at that moment, thinks is less important than Prince Henry, which bless him, but is sort of true on Alex's part. Alex is so used to being with Henry Fox that he forgets about Prince Henry, which is why he talked about their future so casually with not much regards on Henry's part.

So this sentence can be rephrased as "I wish you could see all the burden I carry and how impossible it is for me to escape it, rather than just our happy moments together that are not meant to last.”

Now let's look at the Buckingham Confrontation, where the words are flipped: "Starting today, the world will know me for who I am, and not who you want me to be."

This time "Who I am" is Henry Fox, and "Who you want me to be" is Prince Henry, which I would say is the objective allocation of the two names.

This is Henry reclaiming his own identity and image. This is Henry pushing away the traditional, perfect, heterosexual “Prince Henry”, saying “That’s not who I am”, taking that title and merging it with bits of “Henry Fox”: the gay prince in love with FSOTUS, the romantic who writes poetry about his man’s body, the lover who encourages Alex when he loses his confidence.

There are parts of Henry Fox that they don’t show the public, that should be kept between him and his loved ones: the boy whose heart broke when his father died, the boy who struggles with self-worth and depression, the boy who likes grabbing his boyfriend’s hair. Honestly as a public figure, or anyone who interacts with a group of strangers, it’s completely normal to create a public persona that only shows parts of him.

The difference now is that he gets to decide what to show the public. Prince Henry is no longer a straight-up lie, rather than an incomplete version of Henry Fox. This is his identity to claim, and his image to build.

Now, Prince Henry and Henry Fox both belong to him.

Now, Henry George Edward James Hanover-Stuart Fox can write his own history.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #alex claremont diaz #henry hanover stuart fox #henry fox mountchristen windsor #firstprince #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #rwrb thoughts #rwrb movie analysis #again just my two cents on it #coming from the fact i used to do this #as in compartmentalize my identity #meta #rwrb meta #rwrb analysis #meraki essay

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cre8inghavoc · 21 days

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What are friends for?

PT. 7

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 2734

Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU.

Recap:

Now that your ex has retrieved his belongings, you're on a tight deadline to get everything packed by the end of the day. You have to move out tonight, especially since you're starting at a new school tomorrow. Plus, moving everything out today will make it much easier to settle into your new room before school starts. And, it's a good way to pass the time until 6:40 PM tonight, when you plan to head to the park.... Tonight will be the moment of truth to see if he decides to show up. You're overwhelmed with the need to apologize for your silence all week and for turning down his invitations to hang out. And then there's the mess with your ex, which just adds to the chaos. You really want to explain to him that your ex was only there to pick up his stuff before you move, but it's hard to make him understand when you hadn't even mentioned your plans to move to begin with.

It just feels like everything is just spiralling out of control…

MEGUMIS POV:

The phone sits there, taunting me with its silent demand for attention. My fingers itch to reach for it, to answer her call, but I know I can't. It's a battle of wills, and I'm fighting against myself. If I give in, I'll only end up forgiving her too easily, forgetting all about her with her ex.

But it's so damn hard.

She's always on my mind, her smile a reminder of genuine warmth that lingers in my thoughts. Her eyes, deep and honest, draw me in with every glance, revealing layers of her soul I can't resist. And her scent... her perfume, it's like a gentle embrace, comforting and alluring, even when she's not around. Every moment with her is like poetry in motion, each touch, each word, sparking a fire of longing within me. She's more than just a person; she's a feeling, an intoxicating presence that I can't shake.

She's a masterpiece in every sense, utterly captivating and impossible to overlook. Despite the simmering anger within me, my deepest longing is to have her close, to revel in the comfort of her embrace. Yet, I restrain myself. I can't muster the strength to answer the phone, to engage with her messages. Not now. At Least not yet….

I glance over at my phone and catch her last message: meet her at the park at 7.

Damn, she makes it so hard to resist.

7 PM…..

The park across from my place. She'll explain what happened. Maybe it wasn't as serious as it seemed... Maybe he just showed up? Knocking at her door, threatening her. Damn it. If that's the case, what the hell is wrong with me? How could I be so blind? What if he intended to harm her, and I just walked away, leaving her alone? Is she okay? The amount of messages she sent suggests she is, but still... How could I be so reckless? What if she got hurt? I would never forgive myself. Never.

Fuck!

I have to go…. I have to make sure she's okay, to reassure myself that my fears are unfounded. And if she needs me, I'll be there, no matter what.

I glance at the time: 6:55 PM.

God damn it...

I won't make it back in time, at least not for another 10 minutes or so. With a heavy heart and a sense of urgency, I gather my thoughts and hit the gas, pushing the limits to get home as quickly as possible, determined to find her and ensure her safety, no matter the cost.

I'll just call her and let her know I'm on my way and that I'll be a little late. As I pick up my phone and dial her number, it goes straight to voicemail twice. Is she ignoring me? No, she wouldn't... Why would she? Maybe her phone's dead? Or maybe she turned it off? I have to get to her as fast as I can.

But as I arrive, the park is deserted, and she's nowhere to be seen. Dread washes over me, realizing I'm 15 minutes late. Did she give up on me? Did she think I wouldn't come? Panic sets in as I frantically search, hoping against hope that she's still here, waiting for me…

But she's not. She's gone. And the weight of that realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

I pick up my phone again, desperate, and dial her number once more. But it goes straight to voicemail again.

"Please, angel... pick up," I whisper into the void, my voice strained with worry.

But there's no answer. Just silence. And in that silence, my fears grow stronger, gnawing at my heart with a relentless grip.

YOUR POV

You arrived at the park five minutes early, hoping against hope that Megumi would show up on time.

6:55 PM.

Anxiety courses through your veins, the uncertainty of his reaction weighing heavily on your mind. Would he even show up? Or would he take your explanation poorly, not believing a word you'd say, and then leave you? Both outcomes are equally terrifying, but you can't shake the feeling that Megumi not showing up might be slightly worse. It would mean he wants nothing to do with you, and you wouldn't even have the chance to explain what actually happened. The guilt would eat away at you.

You've turned your phone off, ensuring that when he arrives, if he does, you won't be interrupted. Your focus would be solely on him.

7:00 PM.

You sit there, waiting, scanning the park for any sign of him. Each person who approaches, you hope it's him, but it never is. With every passing moment, your thoughts spiral further. Was he ever going to show up? Did something happen? Or does he just not want you anymore?

7:10 PM.

You give him an extra ten minutes, clinging to the hope that maybe he's running late. But as the minutes tick by, hope fades into disappointment. He's not coming. He didn't come. What's the point in waiting any longer? Even if he did show up, would you be angry? Upset? Feeling unimportant because of his lateness? Maybe he forgot or didn't see your message? You try to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it's hard. Trust is a fragile thing, especially after what you went through with your ex.

You stand from the bench, tears threatening to spill, but you hold them back as best as you can. The emotions swirl within you—sadness, disappointment, frustration. You start to walk away, making your way back home. You've already packed everything after kicking out your ex, so all that's left to do is go back. The movers said they'd be there by 8 PM to gather your things and take them to your new place.

At 9:40 PM, over an hour has passed since you finally moved into your new place. With the help of your friends, unpacking was a breeze, and it felt surprisingly good to be living with them. As you make your way to your room, you're pleasantly surprised to find it larger than expected. Thank goodness for Toge's spacious house, where even the rooms are sizable. And having your own bathroom? That's a luxury you definitely appreciate.

You take a moment to survey the space, considering how to arrange your belongings. With a generous window offering a view of the expansive backyard—complete with lush green grass, towering trees, and a sparkling pool—you decide to position your bed beside it. It's the perfect spot to gaze at your favorite view, especially with the moon casting its gentle glow outside.

Setting up your room with your friends was a joyous experience, making the whole moving process feel more fun and exciting. As you begin to organize, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment and anticipation for the adventures that await in your new home.

You call out to Maki, asking for her help in setting up your gaming equipment in the corner.

"Yep! Is your PC in this box?" she asks, pointing at the one labeled "fragile."

"Yes, ma'am!" you confirm with a smile.

Turning to Toge and Yuta, you assign them the task of mounting your TV on the wall across from your bed.

“Yes ma’am! You got it!” Toge says, in his usual playful manner, as he salutes.

“You’re so stupid” You say while slapping your forehead.

Laughter fills the room, easing the tension that's been weighing on you all day. You don't realize how late it's gotten until you finally check the clock: 12:12 AM.

With a mixture of relief and gratitude, you thank your friends for their help. However, beneath the surface, the lingering disappointment of Megumi's absence still weighs heavily on your mind. Though you try to push it aside, your friends can sense that something's bothering you.

"Thank you guys so much for helping me. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time!" you apologize.

"You know you don't have to thank us... We're always going to be here for you!" Maki reassures you.

"I could've been playing Fortnite, so she does have to apologize for taking up my precious time," Toge interjects jokingly, prompting laughter from everyone.

"Sorry, Toge, didn't know Fortnite was more important," you tease back, rolling your eyes.

"Just kidding, obviously you're more important!!!" Toge replies with a smirk, in a sarcastic tone, though what he said is true... you definitely are more important.

"Wow, screw you," you playfully retort, sticking out your tongue and your middle finger as you all continue to laugh.

"How are you feeling now that you're officially moved out?" Yuta sweetly asks.

"Honestly, I feel happy and comfortable. I love being with you guys, and now that we all live together, it's going to be so fun. And I'm going to the same school as you all! Speaking of which, we should probably head to sleep... It's almost 12:30, and we have to wake up at 7 AM," you say, a hint of tiredness creeping into your tone.

"That's good, and we're happy you're with us too! Goodnight, Y/N," Yuta replies with a smile before hugging you and then heading towards the door.

"Finally, I can play Fortnite," Toge jokes before noticing you picking up a pillow.

"Y/N! I was kidding! I WAS KIDDING!" Toge exclaims, darting out of your room as you chase after him, pillow in hand.

The chase leads you both around the house. As you enter the kitchen, Toge quickly runs on one side of the counter, putting distance between you. Determined to catch him, you move to your left, but he mirrors your movements, keeping just out of reach.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Toge grins and taunts you from across the counter, knowing he's outmanoeuvred you for now. But you're not one to give up easily, and with a playful smirk, you prepare to outsmart him in this game.

“Y/N IM SORRY! I SAID I WAS KIDDING PLEASE SPARE MY LIFE!!!! I BEGGGG” he yells out.

“NOT UNTIL YOU APOLOGIZED AND SAY IM YOUR BEST FRIEND AND YOU LOVE ME.” you yell back teasing him.

“NO NEVER!” he runs past you and you chase him back up the stairs but you corner him before he could get to his room.

“IM SO SORRY QUEEN Y/N MY BESTEST OF BEST FRIEND I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH!” he says in fear.

“Love you too bestie!! goodnight!” You smile innocently and make your way to your room.

“she's fucking crazy....” he mumbled to himself as he gets back up.

“mmm? what was that?” you say turning back towards him.

“Uhh... N-NOTHING!!! HAHA… NOTHING AT ALL” With a nervous chuckle, Toge swiftly opens the door to his room, slipping inside and securing the lock behind him.

Maki, witnessing the entire exchange, approaches you with a smile to say goodnight. But before she leaves, she asks about Megumi.

Your surprise is evident, but you can't bring yourself to lie to your best friend.

"It's... kinda bad right now. We're not really talking," you admit.

"What? What the hell happened?" Maki responds, shocked.

"He saw my ex at my house today. He was only there to grab his stuff, but then Megumi showed up around the same time, and my ex lied to him... I didn't know he was there until it was too late," you explain with a sigh.

"Why didn't you just call him and explain?" Maki inquires.

"I tried, but he didn't answer at all. I even texted him to meet me at the park across from his house at 7 PM to explain everything, and if he didn't show up, I'd just assume he didn't want to be friends anymore or have any type of relationship."

"And...?" Maki prompts, sensing your hesitation.

"He didn't show up," you admit, feeling your heart drop.

"What the hell? Why wouldn't he show up? That guy is literally obsessed with you," Maki says, clearly bewildered.

"Stop..." you respond, feeling annoyed.

"Stop what?" Maki asks, confused.

"Stop saying shit that isn't true, you really don't need to lie about that." you say, your frustration bubbling up.

"What do you mean?! I've known Megumi since he was a kid, y/n.. He's never been like this, not once with a girl before. Every girl that's ever tried talking to him, he wouldn't even notice or care to at least. He puts no effort in at all. Why do you think when we saw him with you on the couch together, we were extremely shocked. He barely gets near a girl, so the fact that he let you lean on him AND hold your hand shows that he likes you. Like, a lot," Maki explains, her words hitting you hard.

"We're just friends... that's all. And it's normal," you respond weakly, trying to dismiss her observations.

"Maybe normal for you, but definitely not for Megumi. He barely talks to girls, let alone looks in their direction. Seriously, Y/N, you'd have to be blind or stupid to not see that he obviously has feelings for you," Maki concludes, her annoyance evident.

You fall silent, feeling conflicted by her words as she leaves you to ponder the truth of her observations.

"Goodnight, Maki," you respond, your tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. Despite her insistence, you can't shake the feeling that what she's telling you isn't entirely true, convinced that Megumi sees you only as a friend.

"Y/N—" Maki starts, but you cut her off, retreating back into your room and heading straight for bed. Without wasting a moment, Maki quickly pulls out her phone and sends a message to Nobara.

7AM

As your alarm blares, announcing the start of your first day at a new school, a rush of nerves and excitement courses through you. But, having your friends by your side brings a warm sense of familiarity that soothes the uncertainties of the day ahead.

Last night was rough. You couldn't sleep good as thoughts of Megumi consumed your mind, denying you any peace. Despite knowing it's time to move forward, his memory persists, a constant companion in your thoughts. It's tough to shake off the memory of someone who felt so right, even when things didn't quite align.

The second alarm that goes off snaps you out of your thoughts, prompting you to get moving. With a sigh, you drag yourself out of bed and start getting ready for the day.

Arriving at the school, you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety as you head to the office to pick up your schedule. Despite the last-minute transfer, you're relieved that they've welcomed you, easing some of the nerves about starting anew.

You rush up the stairs of the school, the realization that you're running late sets in. Panic starts to rise as you frantically search for your classroom, the maze-like layout of the school making it difficult to navigate.

"Where the hell is this stupid class?" you mutter under your breath, frustration mounting with each passing second.

With your mind solely focused on finding your class, you fail to notice the person standing directly in your path. Before you can react, you run right into them, the impact jolting you back to reality.

Stumbling backward, he reaches out to steady you, his hands gently settling on your waist, you look up to apologize, only to freeze in shock as you lock eyes with the person before you.

"Megumi?" you blurt out, unable to hide your surprise as you take in his familiar features and all-black attire.

His expression remains impassive at first, but as his gaze meets yours, recognition flashes in his eyes.

"Y/n…?"

omg omg omg omg omg

finally finished this part... took longer than expected... sorry for the long wait

i rly appreciate ur guys patience <3

this part was kindaaa boring but i promise next one will get more interesting teehee

TAGLIST <3

@lavender-hvze @xbarrjallenx @atinymonbebestay @1l-ynn @chilichopsticks @dr-fluff-meow @lost-resonance @maya-maya-56 @ichorstainedskin @luciiferslover @madaqueue @vanitywoo

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randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

The List - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda shouldn't be sneaking off to your bedroom during the farewell party, and she certainly shouldn't be reading a list of pros and cons about the women you care about. Inspired by ‘Friends’ but make it Ross’s list something actually thoughtful.

Warnings: (+16) Some implications but nothing explicit, very brief angst of relationship going wrong and other lovers, implied friends to lovers, some Yelena x Reader and Vision x Wanda ‘cause they made bad choices, drinking, feelings talks, making out, getting back together, attempt to poetry and a hella of self-insert stuff. | Words: 3.052k.

A/N-> The author should be working on the last two Skam series but is doing midnight one-shots instead (self-criticism). This is short and dramatic and I just wanted something about one of the most popular scenes in Friends. Hope you like it.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

A full tower meant Wanda would be locked in her room. Or at least, that's how it used to be.

Tonight, however, there is a 'Good Voyage' banner in the middle of the room filled with friends and guests, each with their own glass of drink, wanting to celebrate your last night as an Avenger. Technically, this party was also for Wanda. In official terms, she didn't leave the team, but she had a room booked at the Harkness Residence and no belongings in her old room. For the two of you, this was the last night in the tower.

This is why Wanda was wearing a party dress and wasn't locked away from the celebration as she would have been years ago when she was a new recruit and you would sneak out of appointments to keep her company.

She tried to avoid staring so much. Whether it was the lost smiles between you and Yelena, or the lingering hugs and complicit whispers. There was nothing official, yet Natasha had commented that you had been sleeping in Lena's apartment for many weeks and that you were probably the only number saved on her secure cell phone beside the older widow.

"Would you like me to get you something to drink, Wanda?" Vision's voice made her jump in fright softly. She stared at him, and for a moment couldn't say anything, still getting used to the synthesizer's new appearance. Sometimes she missed the red, it was less intimidating than the full white.

"N-no, Vis. Thank you." She manages to reply when he looks at her curiously towards the silence. Wanda risks diverting her attention to you again, catching the moment when Yelena entwines her arm with yours and rests her head on your shoulder. It is so domestic that she feels sick. How many times has she made the same action? Swallowing dryly, she lets the robot beside her know, "I need some air. "

She left him before he could say anything else; and missed the moment he exchanged a glance with Natasha across the room as if asking her oldest friend for some kind of assistance.

Wanda lied - It wasn't her intention, she thinks, but her feet made their way alone. She went up the elevator in silence, offering nothing but forced smiles to any stray guests she met in the hallways to your old bedroom.

The place was dark and full of boxes ready for the move. All your belongings would be shipped the next day to somewhere in Europe, where you and Yelena continued on the mission to free the rest of the Black Widows, the personal operation that had to be paused for a few months with all the problems the Mad Titan brought to earth. With the victory of the Avengers, who were outnumbered for some time, everything needed to undergo some kind of reform. No one ever wanted to be caught as unawares as when Thanos appeared, and everyone had work to do. Wanda, and her growing magical power, included.

She let her fingers trace through the closed boxes, a red sparkle doing the work of turning on the lights at the entrance. Her mind was haunted by memories of a friendship long forgotten, glimpses of movie nights under those covers, stolen touches at breakfasts, and promises sealed with kisses that would be forgone and impossible to keep when reality fell on your heads.

When Wanda thought of you, she felt a pang in her chest. Missing you hurt her physically, and even with only a few rooms between you now, she felt as if the distance she had placed was much greater. She knows she would start to cry if she kept thinking about it, but there was no avoiding it, not when there were still some of her belongings scattered on your study desk and some of these were polaroids taken by Peter Parker with his intention to keep memories of his adventures with the Avengers.

She traced the photographs of younger versions of herself smiling beside you, but at the current moment, her smile was much more whiny than happy. She took her attention away from the pictures to the computer that turned on as soon as it recognized movement, and let her fingers play with the keys for a second.

"Welcome." FRIDAY's sudden greeting made her eyes widen softly at the fright. "Little witch."

She bit the inside of her cheek at the nickname she hadn't heard in a while. She lifted her finger to touch the colorful stickers you pasted on the device but bumped into the screen and was surprised by the automatic unlock. Her shock at still being allowed to access your belongings had to be forgotten because the open file was much more relevant than overthinking about this.

There were two columns in one document. Her name and Yelena's, below each a list of items.

The witch swallowed dryly and turned her face to the door. A peek at something that contained her name couldn't hurt...

Wanda.

‘Complicated.

Complicated friendship.

Complicated everything.’

Frowning, the witch felt something in her stomach sinking. When she read Yelena's first item 'It happened as it was supposed to' she understood that it was a list of pros and cons and she immediately regretted starting to read this at all.

But there was no stopping herself now. She needed to know where this was going.

Wanda.

‘Just because she was my first love, she doesn't have to be my last.’

Sniffling slightly, she looked at the next item on Yelena's list.

‘I don't have to fall in love with her just because everyone else thinks it makes sense.’

Wanda froze. A mixture of conflicting feelings surged through her chest. She wanted to be only upset by how distressed you felt, but she couldn't help the thread of hope arising from hearing your doubts regarding your feelings for Yelena.

Clicking to advance to the next lines, she held her breath without realizing it. The formatting of the list changes, taking away the bullet points for paragraphs that pull and bring the air out of her lungs with each sentence.

“Wanda only wakes up after all the alarms have gone off, I can always watch her sleep because of this.

Yelena never sleeps, and I can never fully relax knowing she's awake and haunted by horrors I can't take away.

They're both shorter than me, and they look adorable when they ask for help picking up something high up. Yelena kicks my ankle if I get too cocky about it. Wanda slides her hand under my clothes and turns me into a complete mess at her mercy, taller or shorter, she’s the boss.”

She pauses in her reading, a smile playing on her lips. She remembers doing the latter so many times. The memories hit her hard, and she had to take a deep breath to push them away and focus on reading again.

“Wanda feels so much that she explodes.

Yelena sometimes thinks the Red Room just left an empty cocoon behind.

I think I'm in the middle.”

Wanda pauses, thinking she hears someone approaching. With her heart racing with guilt and fear of being caught, she checks the door, but it's just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Wanda invades frequently. Privacy is a problem, especially because of her telepathy. I can never keep secrets from her, much less emotions. She gets so close that sometimes it suffocates.”

The witch pauses the reading with tears in her eyes. Guilt and shame burn her chest, and she takes a deep breath. She wonders how old the list is, or if the version of her that you have of it in your head is just the young girl who tentatively stumbled over her own feelings and traumas and hurt you even though she had no intention of doing so.

She sniffles again and controls the threat of crying before reading the next item.

“Yelena goes so far away that sometimes I wonder if she was ever here at all.”

The witch needs to stop; She has for a moment, the realization that perhaps, you are better off alone. For the way she and Yelena, even if in different ways, hurt you.

And the next part of the list does not make her feel better about this. In cursive letters, and repeated for three more paragraphs, there's the name of the person responsible for putting an end to the fragile relationship that you and she used to have.

“Vision.

Vison.

She notices a machine but she cannot notice me.

She loves a piece of tin, but not the one who finds pairs of socks for her cold feet at night.

She loves the tin-man who signed the agreements that say she should be locked up, and not the person who would fight the whole world for her.”

Wanda sobs, and has to sit up in her chair to keep from falling to the floor. She cries for a moment, all the emotions that seem to have built up since the whole impasse with the Avengers two years ago hitting her all over again.

You've got it all wrong. If there was a way, she would have gone back and done everything differently. She would have told her stupid young self that you were hurting like her, and that you always noticed her like she pretended not to be doing.

That forcing yourself to invest in Vision was hurting you like it was hurting her.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda tries to stop crying to finish the list at once. It seems to be ending at least.

There is one note crossed out, and she needs to make a change and remove the underline to read it.

“Yelena never seems as happy with me as she is around Kate Bishop. She always diverts from the subject when I try to bring it up. It reminds me of Wanda when I would ask about him, and she would say they were just friends.

I wonder if I will ever be someone's first choice.”

Wanda shakes her head in indignation. You are her first choice. And her second and third. You are everything. You've always been too precious to risk losing. How can you not know this?

"People say that Yelena and I are very similar while Wanda is my opposite. Peter has been helping me try astrology and everything from Hogwarts houses to numerology.

I liked the phases of the moon where Yelena matches mine while Wanda is the part I am missing.

While Yelena mirrors me, Wanda completes me.

They say that the former is more important: That real, routine life is better with someone who resembles you. Yelena and I like the same pizza and the same movies. We never fight over silly things.

Every time I argue with Wanda I want to make her scream for another reason. She always looked so pretty moaning my name-”

The witch jumps to the next item, her face burning just like under her dress. She clears her throat quietly, fighting other memories that try to rise into her mind and which most likely would take away her ability to read anything.

‘I could write pages and pages of this, but this would be just me, running away from the truth. There is only one answer to your question, Captain Rogers.

Yelena can read me like a book, but Wanda is the only one who can edit the words.

I will meet a hundred people, and none of them will be like Wanda.

You told me that in order to make this decision, I needed to think about something simple. Who would I miss more if I had to lose in life, Wanda or Yelena? It was not so simple.

Because Wanda left me first and I had to get used to the pain day by day. But Yelena will never let me in enough to miss her. Not when she also knows that I'm always looking back, just like a little kid, waiting for the moment when Wanda Maximoff will have a spare piece of attention to trade with me.

I know I can survive missing her in my life because it is a feeling I am used to.

I just don't want to lose her again. I don't want to survive without her, I want to live with her.

I will tell her.

I will.

I-”

"Having fun, Maximoff?" The witch jumps out of her chair at your sudden arrival. It is a mixture of shock and embarrassment, she cringes like a child being caught and her face burns even more at your relaxed posture, waist resting on the doorstop and arms crossed. Her favorite smile on your face.

"I-I was just..."

"Snooping." You complete, but you don't sound the least bit angry, just provocative. You uncross your arms to reach for the cell phone in your jeans pocket. "Yeah, I got a notification of a small change in my drive. I guess I was right about the boundaries issues topic..."

Wanda steps forward, almost desperate. "I didn't mean to! I-I accidentally clicked on it, and when I saw my name, I couldn't help it-"

You chuckle, nodding in her direction as a sign that it was okay. "Relax, I'm just teasing you."

Wanda chuckles nervously, aware that you were getting too close. She holds her breath but you only lean toward the computer, humming in confirmation that it is indeed your list that she has spent the last few moments reading before turning your attention back to her.

"I'm really sorry." She murmurs embarrassedly, looking down at her own feet. Wanda really expects you to yell at her, to be angry at her for breaking your privacy and invading what is clearly a very personal vent. But you just stare back at her, and completely tear her apart as you take one of your hands to her hair, gentle fingers tracing the loose strands behind the nape of her neck to the front.

"I didn't get a chance to say that red really suits you."

"T-thanks." She risks a look into your eyes, and her heart explodes at the intensity she finds.

"Actually I didn't get a chance to say much at all." You continue, a small smile appearing on your lips. Wanda tries to focus on your next words and not on your hand playing with her hair. "You ran out of the party. I was planning to ask you to dance."

She swallows dryly, trying to calm her own nerves. She's tired of games; they've hurt you both enough.

"I don't understand your list." She retorts in an affected voice, her gaze in a mix of hope and fear. "You say...you say you're going to tell me, but you're leaving-"

"We both are." You retort as if you are reminding her. Without stopping smiling, you use your free hand to search for something in your coat pocket. "It turns out, Nat and Lena really do have a lot of time catching up to do. And well, I know you do magic portals now, but I still trust planes."

In your hand are first-class tickets to Central-Southeastern Europe. You let Wanda hold them, appraising the item in shock as you clarify:

"Agatha mentioned that you need to find out more about yourself, and I thought, there is no better place than where it all began. Unfortunately, Sokovia no longer has an airport, but we can stay around. And get a car..."

She looks at you with watery eyes. "And y-you want to come with me?"

You smile at her so tenderly that she would have burst into tears if she weren't already doing so. Your hands find her cheeks, gently wiping away her tears as you clarify:

"Isn't it clear yet, Wanda? I'll go wherever you want me."

Something mixed between a sob and a relieved laugh escapes her; You have a very similar expression, and as you wipe away her tears, you kiss her cheeks and the tip of her nose to reassure her.

Wanda sighs, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Detka, I'm so scared." She confesses in a whisper. "We've hurt each other before. I don't want to ever hurt you again."

You nod and wait for her to stare you in the eyes.

"There is no such thing as a perfect relationship, Wands." Your tone, while firm, is also tender. "And we're both complicated. But I want this, us because I'd rather work on our differences than start anything new with someone else. You're the only one I want."

She stares at you trying to absorb all the sincerity in her words. For a second, even with the list, she takes a chance:

"But Yelena?"

You give her a small smile, holding her hand in yours at the height of your heart. "She could tell even before me that there was no one but you. Lena will continue the mission with Natasha, as it should be. And I will stay with you if you choose me."

She laughs tearfully, nodding. "Of course, I choose you, idiot." She assures. "I love you." And Wanda repeats and repeats until you kiss her.

It seems ridiculous that Wanda has gone without it you when your lips meet again. The worst part is that she only realizes how much she has missed you once you touch her again. The needy sounds that escape her are almost desperate, full of passion, and tugging at your clothes, trying to bring you closer than is humanly possible.

You give her everything. Your mouth, your tongue, your hands. She is pressed against the table, kissing you as if she wants to make up for all the time wasted in a single night.

There is a ripping of clothes, her dress will end up in a pile on the floor. No hesitation: Wanda gives you the green light as she snaps your belt off. There’s a promise of a future together that she can’t wait to live in the way you worship every corner of her body that night.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines

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oriandcate · 2 years

Text

The List of Raw Quotes immortalized by the Internet:

“People who value any aspect of creation would do well not to pit gods against one another.”

“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.”

“I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.”

“Then perish.”

“I have been through Hell and come out singing.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who dies?”

“Do you think God stays in Heaven because He too lives in fear of what He created?”

“To become god is the loneliest achievement of all.”

“You kneel before my throne unaware that it was built on lies.”

“This is Hell’s territory and I am beholden to no gods.”

“Impudent of you to assume that I will meet a mortal end.”

“Bury me shallow, I’ll be back.”

“Take this gift, for the gods surely won’t.”

“One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled.”

“Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?”

“Deviation from the norm will be punished unless it is exploitable.”

“You cannot kill me in a way that matters.”

“Pick a god and pray.”

“We deserve a soft epilogue, my love.”

“We are the timeline that God has abandoned.”

“Pick a Hell and rot there.”

“Every day we stray further from God’s light.”

“I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.”

“I’d sell you to Satan for one corn chip.”

“The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math.”

“If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight as I always have.”

“I am a monument to all your sins.”

“It’s not about whether you win or lose. Sometimes it’s about how many pages you add to the rulebook.”

“You’re rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, my friend.”

“The man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one.”

“I don’t believe in divine retribution, but then life throws people like you at me.”

“God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why.”

“The fruits of the earth do not exist to be worth something to us.”

“I’ve got a date with destiny, and it ain’t gonna end with a kiss.”

“Hostage or not, sometimes it’s nice being held.”

“To sit still is to submit to a god who cannot stand to see such power in potentia mere inches from realizing itself and overcoming him.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“…but sadly I am only a little bug and you are a garden.”

“In a society where all adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”

“How many times have people used a pen or paintbrush because they couldn’t pull the trigger?”

“So hope like hell your captor is an evil man. A good man will kill you with hardly a word.”

“…For they are a scoundrel and a foul beast of fields untouched by green.”

“Do you not think that Satan, too, has some affection for the inhabitants of Hell?”

“Does poetry flourishing even in the cracks and grime of the world devalue its beauty? Is the divine rendered plain when it becomes commonplace? Would you have the sublime subjected to the gatekeeping of a self-serving elite? Better it should be used and misused as us absurd commoners see fit.”

“Lock your doors and windows. God will forgive your absence.”

“I stand here, a fool of my own making.”

“Canon is but the sandbox in which I strike lightning to form glass. Trouble me no more with your quibbling and quorums, lest I grind you to dust beneath my heel and build stories from the remnants of your bones. Avast, foul fiend.”

“In the end, everyone is aware of this: nobody keeps any of what he has, and life is only a borrowing of bones.”

“’It’s not that deep.’ Maybe not originally, but the ground is soft and I’m ready to dig.”

“Ask the moon. Ask what it has witnessed.”

“Some things don’t belong on this plane of existence and the universe conspires to correct that.”

“Weird is a prerequisite to all things good and entertaining.”

“The sunrise has never caught me sleeping.”

“People are trying to be right no matter how wrong they are, I am here, accepting my primal desires.”

“Swear all you want, but the gods have shut their ears.”

“Tis the nature, curse, and cure of humanity to be forever attracted to the abyss.”

“If you hit a mole over the head for long and hard enough, eventually it learns to mind its own beeswax. Keep whacking.”

“If we built a tower of Babel, in this day and age, no one would stop us. We would build, and build, and one day inevitably breach the gates of heaven. And we would send in a probe, and then an exploratory team, clad in hazmat suits and protective gear, to enter the gates, and lo! before them would be a great, winding mass, a crumbling chitinous mountain range, a swooping winding wormous cavern, pale and sickly and turned to dust. And we will understand why no one stopped us: it will be the exoskeleton of God.”

“I must make time fear me most.”

“My third eye is open but damn it needs a monocle.”

“Some sins follow us, trotting along and planting themselves in dark corners, high shelves, gathering dust like a forgotten potted ficus, forever a part of the inner scenery of our minds. They thrive there. In the dark. Knowing we will someday stumble in. This is why ‘tis unwise to explore the inner chambers of our souls.”

“Ideals are made of gold and light, but human lives are made of blood and tears, and spill with slippery ease; choose carefully what hills to build and die upon.”

“I shall dig my very own shallow grave. Onward.”

“Confidence! A fool’s substitute for intelligence!”

“Weird hill to die on, but at least you’re dead.”

“Our paths may have crossed briefly, but you’ve still had the misfortune of knowing me.”

“What’s a little blood and bone? We all come down to it, in the end.”

“I could set the world on fire and call it rain.”

“War allows us to dress our monsters up as saviors, and many would say I’m one of those monsters.”

“You haven’t learned anything until you learn monsters have nightmares too.”

“To live is to haunt.”

“Can’t shake the devil’s hand and say you’re only kidding.”

“In the future, you will stand at the grave of God which I dug, weeping, and I will be the only creature you will be able to answer to. You will beg for death, but due to what you said today, I will deprive you of that luxury.”

“I wanted rain and I thought the best way to do that was to make God cry.”

“Love is dead and never existed. All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread.”

“Here’s the thing about a haunted forest: it’s not going to haunt itself.”

“Your skull is the garden where fact flowers into meaning.”

“I shall use your voice for violin string and serenade your widow.”

“If God had wanted you to live he would not have created me.”

“I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering, and tonight I intend to make you very wise.”

“If I cannot bend heaven, then I will raise hell.”

“Remember that if you go knocking on enough doors asking to see the Devil, eventually he may answer.”

"No one of honor is interred here. The dead are raw materials, and nothing more."

"That there is a feller what sat down on a snake in the grass one day, and it ain't crawled outta his asshole yet."

"Pay a man enough and he'll walk barefoot into Hell."

"All these moments will be lost in time; like tears, in the rain."

"To feel sorrow is to deserve peace."

"No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle."

"There is no light at the end of this tunnel; so it's a good thing we brought matches."

"The answer to despair is action."

"You'll be reduced down to a single atom when I'm done with you."

"What's at the end of a million? Zero, zero, zero; big old hole, with a wall around it. That's all a bank is, you know: a great big old hole you throw money into, and all it ever seems to do is make the walls higher."

"Always strive to eat the stars."

"Why would you want to savor the taste of poison?"

"The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all."

"It is better to die standing than to live kneeling."

"The anger in your heart warms you now, but it will leave you cold in your grave."

"Darkness without light is an abyss; light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side."

"We can't have faith for everybody."

"Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars you won."

"To rend one's enemies is to view them as objects: hollow of existence and meaning."

"Your soul sparks with a nonsense that makes this world bearable."

"He ain't one of the creatures God made."

“The unconscious hides in a language like a thief hides a diamond in a chandelier.”

“I just know no fruit has ever tasted as sweet as the ones I ate while bleeding under the blistering summer sun.”

“I pray nobody kills me for the crime of being small.”

“That’s the problem with gods; their pleasure and their wrath often look the same.”

“If I am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man.”

“Stupid should hurt.”

“do you think god is nuclear. do you think you cannot look upon deities the same way you cannot look at the center of a mushroom cloud. do you think the energy generated from fission is released from divine clutches. do you think that god exists in the space between the nucleus and the electrons and in the bonds of compounds and in the numbers on the page that got us there. do you think radiation is a warning. do you think it is an eraser. do you think it is wrath or a mistake or a byproduct of entropy. do you think god is plasma, where electrons are wherever you want them to be. do you think that we were supposed to find this out.”

“If you aren’t worthy enough to pull the sword, be strong enough to lift the stone.”

“I can’t go to hell. I’m all out of vacation days.”

“Despite everything, its still you.”

“The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. The more you distance yourself, the less it will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.”

“My mother says kissing a man without a mustache is like eating eggs without salt.”

“A character is a ghost, a story is what it haunts.”

“Pain travels through families until someone is ready to feel it.”

“The gods did not breathe the breath of life into us and give us gifts of a shape, a will, and a voice just so we could pay bills and die”

“you gotta have friends who are older than you, not because you’re a dumb kid, but because you’ll be terrified of growing up otherwise.”

“you’ve made me so hard i beg for softness”

“Scorn is more palatable than the howling hunger for things to have been different for you.”

“Being able to endure something does not equal an obligation to withstand it.”

“To live is to haunt.”

“I am a chewy rubber Polly Pocket skirt and God is a four year old girl.”

“The big picture is made up of brush strokes, fool.”

“Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.”

“these are old bones and i am merely a passing occupant”

“The board is getting dusty but the boogeyman has not yet blinked. when he does, you better make that move.”

“And when we kill the gods neither heaven nor hell will be waiting for them because they created those to imprison us.

“What makes a man a warrior is his willingness to place himself between what he holds dear and anything that threatens it. This is the way.”

“The anchor gives the ship the world to love.”

“In a society where adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.”

“You pretended to be the hero of a story you never saved.”

“this world is a banquet of knowledge and each of us has brought a dish to the table.”

“This is the time of vengeance and no life is worth saving.”

“The ghosts that inhabit this place are more alive than you’ll ever be.”

“May the only thing that dampens the flames of hell for you be God spitting in your face.”

#quotes #writers on tumblr #source: tumblr #raw lines #pinterest #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #writing #spy kids #halo #destiny #comics

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kalcium-yippee · 3 months

Text

BSD texting Head-Canons !!

Atsushi: Unironically uses 😁😊🤣😥. Loves abbreviations like 'ur', 'thx', 'ily', and 'omg', but always fully types out 'talk to you later'. Once said 'rawr XD' unironically to Aku and Aku put him on blast in the PM gc and Chuuya sent it to Dazai and Dazai put him on blast in the ADA gc.

Akutagawa: Doesn't realize the skull emoji is a laughing emoji and once sent 'I think I killed Atsu☠️' to Dazai. Always tries to type grammatically correct sentences but messes up you're and your and they're, their, and there.

Dazai: The most ungodly spelling. Ever. Sent 'I furcng hstw u slyt butvh' to Chuuya and he put him on blast in the PM gc. Overused the skull emoji severely. A victim to putting 'lol' after every text. Sent 'I lost Ranpo on the train lol' to Kunikida and got the good 'ol Kunikida beating.

Chuuya: ALL CAPS FOR NO REASON LIKE CALM DOWN. Can't spell the same set of words including 'Realize' 'resource' 'homosexual' and 'British'. Speaking of British- he occasionally gets those 'change keyboard to British English spelling setting' buttons after spelling things like color and favorite in British English. Messages in small texts. Like 1/3 a sentence per individual text bubble.

Kunikida: Never uses the exclamation mark. Over-uses commas. THIS IS NOT A POETRY CONTEST WHY ARE YOU TYPING WITH 7 ADJECTIVES AND 4 ADVERBS.

Ranpo: Grammar? Couldn't be me. He always spells things correctly though and never uses abbreviations except for 'ily'. Called Poe 'Pookie' in DMs and Poe sent it to the Guild GC bragging that someone liked him, but they all made fun of him for getting called pookie by someone.

Poe: Everything is grammatically correct, correctly spelled, and properly punctuated and capitalized. When he started texting, he would put 'sincerely, Edgar' at the end of every text until Ranpo sent screenshots to the Guild gc (he hacked his way in). Karl has a contact on his phone. The only contacts on his phone are Ranpo, Karl, and Francis. The rest of the Guild gc is just the numbers he memorized who they belonged to.

Nikolai: Fyodor's name on his contacts is 'demon-pooks😡'. He texts like one word per text bubble. Live love laugh caps lock. Sends 'tee hee' 'yippee' and 'hooray' unironically. Emoji god.

Fyodor: Types in FAT paragraphs. Like Abe Lincoln level speeches each text. Ends each one with "-Dostoyevsky'. Started a DOA gc thinking it would cause drama he could watch but it turned into everyone trauma dumping and connecting on a deep level. They all hated each other still but at least they could therapize each other.

Sigma: Messages once in a blue moon. Never a capital letters and he makes sure to turn the automatic caps at the beginning of sentences off. He puts emojis by everyone's names in contacts. For example: "Fyodor😖" "Nikolai🤡".

Lmk if you want more x

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beloved-calypso · 1 year

Text

・゜ ʚɞ ゜゜𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔 𝖕𝖊𝖔𝖕𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊?♡ ・゜ ʚɞ ゜゜‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

♡“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓇𝑔𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁.” ~ 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝓇𝓎 𝒲𝒶𝒹𝓈𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓃𝑔𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌♡

All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡

I. -> II. -> III. -> IIII.

ɪꜰ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ a ᴘɪᴄᴋ-ᴀ-ᴄᴀʀᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴘᴜᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ! ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ɪ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ɪɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴏʀ ᴘᴜɴᴄᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ. ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ. ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴜᴄᴋ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ.

~ XOXO 💋🎀

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 1 ๑◞꒱ა

KNIGHT OF SWORDS (RX), 3 OF SWORDS, THE TOWER (RX)

Pile 1, ya'll are slow and thoughtful speakers. You are very mindful about what you say, and you are very aware of the power words can carry, hence why you speak with caution. Your voice may be thin and reedy by how many swords cards are here. It could also be high-pitched but more mature sounding. By the way you talk, people perceive you as an intellectual. Do you like poetry? You have a big, almost poetic vernacular. Your words sound almost melancholic. You speak with a lot of emotion and are very forthcoming with what you feel. You may vent a lot or express your emotions through writing. I feel like you're a great storyteller. You know just how much inflection and drama to put into your voice to draw attention and establish an atmosphere. I also think you use your words to heal. People find your voice very soothing and your words important. They trust that you would speak the truth. You may play therapists with a lot of people. People like to vent to you and sometimes seek your counsel because its likely you've felt what they have at one point.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 2 ๑◞꒱ა

2 OF WANDS (RX), THE EMPEROR, 4 OF CUPS (RX)

Prominent fire energy here Pile 2. The emperor sticks out most to me. Your voice may be deeper than most, almost carrying masculine qualities (nothing wrong with that, I loooovvvee deep voices. Ya'll are natural seductresses). It could also be that there are a few men in this pile. Your voice is perceived as commanding and powerful. You mean what you say, and you don't usually speak if you have nothing substantial to say. People are likely more to do what you say or take your advice. Unlike pile 1, it's almost hard to read the tone of your voice. It may sometimes be perceived as flat and bored, only because you don't like to be forthcoming with your emotions. People want to confide in you because they find you to be a wise and honest speaker. I think you can easily hurt people if you don't watch your words, and that may contribute to witholding your advice sometimes. You dont sugarcoat, which is a good thing. People think you keep a lot to yourself, but your words are rich in wisdom and meaning.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 3 ๑◞꒱ა

THE EMPRESS, 4 OF CUPS, THE WORLD

Pile 3 I think people perceive your voice as being very soft and feminine. You have a good way of speaking to people. People think you speak with eloquence and proper etiquette. Your voice may be high-pitched, but not childlike. You may be apathetic to other people's attention because you're so focused on what you got going on. It's like people would love to hear you speak and hear what you have to say, but you prefer to keep to yourself. People may daydream about starting a conversation with you. People may assume that you come from an affluent family and you've received a well-rounded education that's made your vocabulary and way with words so prim and proper. You're a good public speaker and sound quite charming. People feel you have a lot of knowledge to share. I think your voice could be especially helpful in your career.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 4 ๑◞꒱ა

5 OF CUPS REVERSED (RX), 2 OF PENTACLES, 6 OF SWORDS, KNIGHT OF WANDS

I think your voice can vary in your mood. It can go from low pitch to high pitch, and people can tell what you're feeling when you speak. I see you going through a personal transition and wanting to change peoples perceptions of you. I think you may have sounded quiet in the past. Maybe you were going through a hard time and were withdrawing from most people, but you want to come back louder and stronger as ever. You're releasing things from the past that may have stifled you and your voice. You'll be saying whats on your mind and saying them with confidence and energy. You want to be more social and outgoing, and I see you succeeding! You're trying to find more balance in your life and going on new adventures. Possibly, you'll be traveling soon. Your voice now sounds young and brims with passion. I think your voice revitalizes people, gives them high energy, and is infectious when you laugh or sing.

⊱┈───── ✧

ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀs

© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me.♡

⊱┈───── ✧

✨️ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce information that is factually true. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️

#tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reader #tarot reading #divination #tarot cards #tarot blr #tarot blog #lolitabonita's

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animentality · 24 days

Note

Thoughts on this post?:

https://www.tumblr.com/animentality/64152073250/abc-newsman-proves-danger-of-allowing-transgender?source=share

thanks for reminding me to delete that post I made in literally 2013 when I was 15 because it doesn't reflect who I am as a person anymore.

is this supposed to be a gotcha?

are people supposed to be born woke?

I am amazed you managed to even find this post with like 6 notes, where I legitimately asked people for their opinion on the subject because I was unsure about it and I had certain taught biases that I hadn't learned to abandon yet.

it might amaze you to know that I once told a guy he'd make a great wife when he mentioned he liked cooking.

this was in 2012.

how cisheteronormative of me, right?

but you were all so woke in 2012, weren't you?

you never said anything that was not PC as a teenager.

you never told edgy jokes or said stupid offensive things.

you were born perfect, I'm sure.

it's not like I'm proud of the dumb stuff I said.

but I didn't start identifying as nonbinary until I was 18, and I didn't start identifying as trans until I was 21.

I was raised by an older mother, not a gen x er or a millennial, but a baby boomer, whose inherent biases still sometimes surface in me when I least expect it.

I was raised Catholic.

I had JUST STARTED PUBLIC SCHOOL, after spending literally 6 years in a fucking Catholic school.

I DIDNT UNDERSTAND transgender issues, nor did most people in 20 fucking 13.

how the fuck could I

my mom to this day doesn't know what the fuck nonbinary or trans are, and I identify as both.

how was I supposed to know?

I'd never even met anyone in the LGBT community at that point, nor had I realized I belonged there either.

I literally didn't even know I was pan at that point, or that I was nb/trans myself, or how I felt about most political topics.

that's why I ASKED.

and I said the wrong things. yeah, I did.

but no one had taught me the right words.

and in that post, no one bothered to explain it to me either.

I had to learn that over time.

and guess what?

I'm still not perfect now. I'm still going to make mistakes because times change, as they always do.

and all we can do is try and forgive people who are trying and doing their best, and remaining open minded to things they don't understand right from fucking birth.

but by all means, do search my history to your hearts content.

honestly, I kinda wanna see what dirt you find because this was an interesting look at the kinds of things I thought in 2013.

I can look back at myself and see how far I've come.

this post was interesting to read for me because it was wildly off mark, it misgendered trans women, and it lacked political, historical, and social understanding...

and so?

yeah?

it's offensive. it's bad.

and I didn't know any better.

but lol.

people learn things. people change their opinions.

if you people spend all your time digging up dirt and trying to cancel people for who they were, rather than who they are, or who they're trying to be... I have news for you.

your existence is pointless and your efforts are meaningless.

but I am flattered you did such a deep dive, anon.

please do find more and send them to me.

I'd like to know what other gotchas you can yank out of my ass.

I used to be on Facebook in 2011 before I deleted it in like 2013.

see if you can find anything there.

I used to write cringy poetry. it might be funny to read now.

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vampsickle · 1 year

Text

mine. ☆ ( dmc5 ) dante

☆ tags - literally 0 plot, rough sex, unprotected, dubcon ? i think? idk, spanking!!, dante’s a little bit mean<3 hes a jealous guy.. use of petnames, afab reader !

☆ wc - 1.4k

☆ a/n - im a sucker for jealous men i wont even lie👍👍 um. thats all i have to say.

☆ synopsis - all you wanted to do was have a peaceful chat with vergil, but dante doesn’t see it that way. he decides to teach you a ‘lesson’.

Both you and Vergil shared a love for books and poetry. So it was no surprise that while Dante had been chatting away with Lady and Trish, you started up a conversation with Vergil over his taste in books and poetry. You didn’t like Vergil in that way. But it’s nice to get to know someone better and find a common interest, but unbeknownst to you— Dante had kept his eye on you the entire night, silently seething.

He’s always had issues with jealousy and has been rather possessive over you, but seeing you talking to his brother, smiling, even laughing, just pissed him off. Something inside of him was lit on fire. The glass of whiskey he held cracked, but no one noticed. You could hardly tell anything was wrong with the way he continued to smile and crack jokes. A part of Dante wanted you to notice him, to be with him, to hold his hand.

It was never your intention to make him jealous, in fact, you just wanted to enjoy your night.

Late into the night, everyone started to get ready to head home, Lady being the last one to leave. Vergil had left just before her, claiming he had ‘places to be’, but you doubted it. He wasn’t really a busy person, just.. A lonely person. Dante had thrown a magazine over his face, roughly throwing his feet up onto his desk, patiently waiting for Lady to leave.

“That was fun! Maybe we should invite them back again, it can be a monthly thing..”

Dante grunts in response, then he continues to sit there in silence, before blowing out a breath.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He doesn’t answer. You become increasingly annoyed, confused on what was wrong with him, but you ultimately drop it— Going to pick up all the glasses and dishes scattered around. It was instant, but you feel a wave of heat rush close to you, Dante’s hand holding your wrist. His grip is so tight that it starts to hurt, and you whine, attempting to pull away. He doesn’t have any of it, dragging you up to his bedroom, and pushing you back onto his bed, rather harshly.

“What— What the hell-?”

His arms are crossed over his chest, impatiently tapping one foot, blue eyes akin to glaciers boring into you. It’s like he wants you to apologize for doing something wrong. Your wrist still stings from his scathing grip, and you can’t bring yourself to look away from him, too nervous to try.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyebrows knit together in visible confusion, cocking your head to one side, and Dante sighs. Like he’s disappointed.

“Did’ja have fun talking to Vergil all night?”

“So that’s what this is about? Come on, Dante.. You aren’t a child. I can’t talk to someone? What.. Are you jealous?”

You almost laugh when you say it, but he doesn’t think it’s funny at all. It’s ridiculous, truly. But you don’t laugh, or smile, you attempt to remain neutral. You almost bring up the fact that he was chatting with Lady and Trish, but he steps closer to you, pulling you back up so he can take a seat on the edge of the bed.

Now you’re bent over his knees, face shoved into the soft sheets, as he squeezes your ass. You exhale rather shakily, staying still as a board, and Dante rubs your smooth flesh with his calloused hand.

“Don’t forget who you belong to.”

“What the hell are you-“

He doesn’t even let you finish your sentence before bringing his hand down onto the supple flesh, and it burns so fucking bad that it makes you cry. Your toes curl in response as you bite down on the velvety sheets, and Dante spanks you again. Even though he’s angry with you, you’re beginning to drip, your panties sticking to your wet heat. It’s humiliating that you’re getting off to this punishment.

“I’m sorry, I won’t talk to—“

Dante smacks your ass again, and you choke on a sob, tears spilling down your warm cheeks. There’s no remorse in his eyes. You’re trembling already, embarrassed at how easily you give into him, how you obey him like a dog would obey it’s master. The pads of his index and middle finger slowly rub your slippery folds through your panties, distracting you from the stinging, and your body begins to slowly relax. But he won’t let you relax, ripping off your panties, and plunging his fingers deep inside you.

You were already so wet that they slipped in so quickly, reaching so far inside you, and you cry out. Dante spanks you repeatedly while pumping his fingers, it makes your heart race, and head spin. He keeps it up, not caring that his palm is beginning to sting from spanking you so much, and your ass has gone completely numb. You beg for him to stop with the relentless assault, but your pleas fall on deaf ears, and you shut up and take it. It’s a punishment after all.

But he lets up, finally, and you gasp when he gently rubs your ass— it still feels so tender. He’s knuckle deep inside your pussy, ears perking up at the obscene squelching noises, and he’s gnawing on his bottom lip.

Before you can cum, he pulls out of you. You hadn’t even announced it and he just knew.

“Dante— Please, please,”

“Please what?”

“Just— Just, fuck me already, I’m sorry,”

You look up to him with tears in your eyes, and they blur your vision so you can’t exactly tell what facial expression he has on, but you hear the unbuckling of his belt. Dante throws the rest of his clothing onto the floor, and pulls your shirt and bra off. Well, he doesn’t exactly pull them off, more like rips them off. More ruined clothing— How tragic.

He moves you so you’re on your back, and Dante pushes your legs open, staring at the slick that runs from your pussy down past your other hole, his cock standing proud.

He’s moving your limbs around aggressively, shoving your legs up that your knees are almost touching your shoulders, and you mewl when you feel his cock rub against your swollen pussy. Even when he’s rough like this, it makes you feel wanted— Deep down, you like when he’s jealous, that even if other people flirt with him, his eyes are still always on you. Dante muffles your near scream when he slams inside you, keeping you in a mating press, his lips smashing against yours. More tears spill down your flushed cheeks, his cock head hitting your cervix, and you know it’s going to bruise. It should hurt, of course, but it feels so good.

“Dante—! It’s so— So good— Oh,”

You gasp, his large hands taking ahold of the back of your knees, pushing your legs back even further. It stings, the stretch, but you keep singing for him regardless. His pace is absolutely brutal, so rough, and even when he’s jackhammering into you— he still knows the spot he needs to hit to make you see stars.

His teeth brush against your shoulder, before digging in, drawing blood. That painful feeling blends together with the pleasure you’re feeling that you practically squirt around him, crying out his name, and he lets out an animalistic growl against the wound he left.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes-! Yes— I’m yours-“

That’s all he needed to hear from you, his thrusts becoming sloppy, but he pushes himself in as deep as he can go, moaning out against your neck as he cums inside you. It’s so fucking much that it’s leaking out of you, staining the sheets, and you’re both a mess. The both of you are panting, and it takes Dante a moment to regain his composure, slowly pulling out. But he makes sure to shove any stray cum back inside you, making you feel stuffed, and you whimper weakly.

“Good girl.. Damn… Took my load so well,”

You blush at his words, a surge of pride rushing through you, and Dante gently picks you up. You melt into his embrace, listening to the beat of his heart, pressing tender kisses to his chest.

“Wanna take a bath, princess?”

All you can do is nod in response, as your throat still stings, and Dante chuckles quietly. He knows he’ll have to make this up to you somehow.

#writing tag #devil may cry smut #dmc x reader #dante x reader smut #dmc #dante dmc smut #dante smut #dante x reader #dmc smut #dmc5 smut #im so normal!!!!

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canmom · 13 days

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reading Herbert Mason's translation of the Epic of Gilgamesh, as you do!

I went with Mason's translation after I saw it quoted here and there and seemed pretty solidly written - but it isn't precisely right to call it a translation, more a retelling of the story as Mason understands it. so it's not a line by line translation, and some major parts of it are presumably interpolations or paraphrases.

i knew the broad outline of the story but it's fascinating to put it in context, and discover parts of the story i hadn't heard about. for example, i didn't realise the concept of droit du seigneur was part of this story - I'd thought that was basically a goofy myth about the medieval period, but here in the oldest surviving written story, it's just a thing the mythological king Gilgamesh does. though the exact translation seems a little contentious - Mason writes:

As king, Gilgamesh was a tyrant to his people.

He demanded, from an old birthright,

The privilege of sleeping with their brides

Before the husbands were permitted

But Wikipedia quotes a different translation by Stephen Mitchell which says:

He is king, he does whatever he wants... takes the girl from her mother and uses her, the warrior's daughter, the young man's bride.

The general thrust is similar in both cases, but the details of the custom are different. I don't have Mitchell's translation so I can't find how he describes the moment Enkidu arrives to interfere with Gilgamesh doing one of these kingly rapes (like let's not beat around the bush here, it's a different social context and whatever but you can't possibly say no to the demigod king).

Moving on...

Viewed with modern eyes, the transition between the first chapter and the second is kind of abrupt. We've got this great establishing story for Gilgamesh and Enkidu having a rather homoerotic fight and becoming best bros, but then we abruptly skip forward to Gilgamesh declaring that they're going to go fight a monster called Humbaba, and Enkidu is all like, no, that guy is way too high level, you'll die! Modern writing advice would hold that you'd want to spend some time building up Gilgamesh and Enkidu's relationship 'on screen' here, and perhaps foreshadow the existence of Humbaba a bit sooner to build up the threat a bit - but then I'm not carving this into stone tablets, I can afford to be a little bit roundabout, and who knows what's been lost? (scholars of the Epic probably have some idea lol)

The word used for Gilgamesh and Enkidu's relationship is 'friend'. This feels like it's probably a bit of a lossy translation to me - would lover/boyfriend be projecting too much? I obviously don't know the nuances of Sumerian that well, so maybe this is the best available word, but their relationship has a lot of physicality and a lot of affection.

The woman who goes to Enkidu in the wild and has a bunch of sex until he becomes civilised is described here as a 'prostitute'. My understanding was that she belongs to a religious role here, harimtu, that's usually translated as 'sacred prostitution' but apparently this identity is contested, and also she has a name, Shamhat? I don't know why Mason doesn't use her name. Shamhat has a pretty big role in changing Enkidu and convincing him to come meet Gilgamesh, but her own motivation isn't really explored.

Still, I don't want to come off as only complaining. Whether they originate in the Epic or with Mason, I'm enjoying a lot of the poetic turns of phrase in this version - the style is just the right level of minimal - simple appropriate words, but effective for that. Mason writes in verse, but doesn't rhyme - I'm not really familiar enough with meter to say more than that. There are a lot of fairly short, declarative sentences, mixed up with an occasional much longer metaphor across multiple lines. I think you could fairly easily delete the line breaks and just have prose, but having them makes it flow in an interesting way, like waves? Poetry is not my bailiwick so I'm probably describing some fairly basic facets of the medium, but it's interesting to observe.

I'll add more when I've read a bit more, I'll be in this train a while...

#gilgamesh #epic of gilgamesh #fiction #translation

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