#((or criticize her heavily for her crush on him)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

Hi! Could I request a plus size!reader with James? Maybe where she gets upset because she can’t wear his clothes and she can’t do cute little girlfriend things like him picking her up and stuff like that?

Thanks for requesting babe!

cw: size insecurity

modern au ig because new girl

James Potter x plus size!reader ♡ 956 words

“I’m kind of thinking of jumping back to season four,” you call towards the bedroom. “Jess is about to leave for jury duty, and I don’t like those episodes as much.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got them all memorized anyway,” James says back. “Why don’t we just watch Friends instead?”

Your mouth twists even though he can’t see it, but luckily, the feeling behind the expression carries in your voice anyway. “Because it’s not as good.”

“Okay.” James rolls his eyes lightly as he emerges from your bedroom, now clad in pajamas to match you. “We can do New Girl again, but I need my pillow, please.”

You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance as you uncurl your legs from underneath you and prop your feet on the coffee table. James hurries over, sprawling out on the couch and settling his head on the cushion of your thighs. He’s due for a haircut. His thick curls spread out around him like the sun’s rays. He smiles up at you, dopey, and you tamp down a grin as you start the episode.

Not ten minutes in, there’s a flashback about when one character was in college. Bigger, dorkier, romantically inept. It’s played for a laugh. You glance down at James. He’s wormed a hand under your leg and is kneading the fat there like putty. It’s an absentminded gesture, nothing critical about it, but you wonder if he’s correlating you with the actor on screen, bumbling and the butt of the joke in his fatsuit.

You comb a hand through James’ hair, and he looks up, catches you watching him. He’s never been one to mind being observed. He shoots you a smile, catching your hand with his other and pressing it to his lips.

You smile back. “Do you ever wish you had a skinny girlfriend?” you ask him.

If he’s surprised by the abruptness of the question, he doesn’t show it. “Nope,” he answers. “Never. What would I do for a pillow?”

You consciously keep your smile in place, fixing your eyes back on the screen. The one character is telling the story of how embarrassing it was to lose his virginity. Like sex was borderline impossible, just because he was chubby.

You feel James’ head shift on your legs, and look down to find he’s turned towards you. “We manage just fine,” he whispers conspiratorially.

You exhale amusedly through your nose. “Yeah? I don’t near crush you every time?”

“It’s really cute that you think you could, lovie.”

You roll your eyes, letting them land on the TV. “Sometimes I wish I could do more…quintessential girlfriend stuff.” You can feel James’ eyes on you, but he keeps quiet. “Like when girls steal their boyfriend’s hoodies and stuff.”

You look down, and James’ eyebrows have lowered slightly. “You could borrow my hoodies if you wanted to,” he says. “Angel, you know I think you’re the perfect size, don’t you? Do I not tell you that enough?”

You give him a little smile, shoulders coming up bashfully. (He does. He makes little comments all day long—how pretty you look, how he loves your thighs, how soft and warm you are when you’re cuddling, how lovely and squishable your ass is in his hands.) “It’s not you,” you say, “it’s just hard not to think about those girls who, like, drown in their boyfriends’ clothes, you know? And your stuff fits almost tight on me.”

James looks at you considerately, nodding. You and he aren’t vastly different sizes, with James’ bulky frame and wide shoulders. You just…he treats you like you’re precious, but sometimes you wish you looked precious standing next to him, too. You wish he could pick you up with one arm or make jokes about you being tiny like a chihuahua or whatever else it is the boyfriends of petite girls do.

“I realize this is rather selfish,” James says, “but I actually quite enjoy that I’m able to borrow your clothes from time to time.” He glances pointedly down at his shirt, which you now realize has been pilfered from your wardrobe. “And if it’s baggy clothes you’re looking for, I could always get a couple loose-fitting hoodies, wear them around and get ‘em all smelled up, and then pass them on to you.” You must look about as lovesick as you feel, because his smile returns, brown eyes sweetly knowing. “Does that sound like something you’d like?”

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip to keep from beaming too embarrassingly. “Yes, please. Thanks, Jamie.”

“Course.” He gives your thigh a hearty squeeze, turning his head to press a wet smooch to your skin. “You know, those other girls are missing out on things, too,” he says. “I doubt their boyfriends spend so much time lounging on them, and I know how much you love it when I make your legs fall asleep.”

You snicker. “You’re right, I do love that.”

James’ smile spreads wider at your response. “I know you do, lovie. All for you, of course. Also, I know it’s not a hoodie, but I have that one red jumper that’s pretty big on me. You know the one?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” You sit up straighter. “I totally forgot about that. Could I use it?”

“What’s mine is yours.”

“Thanks.” You scoot out from under him, and James sits up, upset.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going? I was comfy!”

“To change,” you call back from halfway down the hall.

“Never change, angel!” You roll your eyes at the stupid joke, grinning to yourself. “I love you just the way you are!”

465 notes · View notes

wisebeth · 1 year

Text

“Sakura is toxic because she made fun of Naruto for being an orphan–”

She regretted it the second after Sasuke rightfully called her out and even opened a therapy center for war orphans.

Ino fatshamed Choji, Shikamaru was a misogynist, Neji misplaced his anger at Hinata, but no one ever calls them out. They were all kids, they all made mistakes.

“Sakura is abusive because she constantly punches Naruto–”

She only hit him in the manga when he did something perverted or disrespectful, it was heavily exaggerated in the anime.

It's called slap stick comedy. If you think it's aBuSiVe, I hope you have the same energy for Jiraiya who peeked at the women's bathroom without consent and gets brushed off as ‘comedic purpose’, double standards much?

“She has Stockholm Syndrome because she loved Sasuke after he tried to kill her–”

They're shinobis. Unlike our real world, it's the norm there to fight each other to death and then make up. Don't get it mixed up.

Naruto forgave every single villain in the series, including Pain who killed his master and destroyed his village. Obito, who killed his parents, started a war, was the reason for the deaths of countless people such as Neji, and Shikamaru & Ino's fathers, formed a terrorist organisation (which was responsible for multiple war crimes) yet no one bats an eye. Lee forgave Gaara who attempted to kill him, Hinata forgave Neji who tried to kill her for something which wasn't her fault. It's the norm there, deal with it.

Sasuke also tried to kill Naruto, Kakashi & Karin and they all forgave him but for some reason only Sakura gets shit for it? Double standards again.

“Sakura is a bitch who loves Sasuke and ignores Naruto who loves her–”

Sakura cares for Naruto, as a friend and her teammate. She's not obligated to return her feelings if she doesn't want to. Naruto doesn't ‘love’ her. He had a childhood crush on her, and it used to be mentioned less frequently than in the anime. SP exaggerated his feelings.

Kakashi didn't return Rin's feelings. Sasuke didn't return Ino, Karin and Sakura's feelings (until ch. 699 in Sakura's case). Naruto didn't return Hinata's feelings until The Last. Tsunade didn't like Jiraiya back. Then why is Sakura hated for something so ridiculous? She's allowed to make her own choices.

“She is shallow, she only liked Sasuke for his looks–”

If her feelings for Sasuke truly were shallow, she'd have moved on after he left the village, she'd have moved on after he became a criminal, like Ino did. She saw Sasuke at his worst and still chose him with all his flaws.

A ‘shallow crush’ wouldn't last for so many years. If her feelings weren't strong or deep, Sasuke wouldn't choose her in the end. If her feelings were superficial she wouldn't risk her life to save him against Gaara. If she didn't love him, she'd not be able to stop his curse mark. If they were superficial, she'd have moved on to date some other handsome man instead of crying over Sasuke.

“Sakura is useless as a main character–”

That's not her fault. That's a criticism for the author. None of the female characters in the series have as much complexity, fight scenes or power as the male characters. It's a shonen centric more to the male characters.

Sakura IS a main character because she contributes more in the manga than other female characters but she's not going to contribute as much as Sasuke or Naruto because the series revolved around men more than women.

Take Attack on Titan for example, it's a shonen where the contribution of male and female characters were distributed equally. In Naruto, it simply wasn't distributed equally.

“Sakura is selfish because she tried to lead on Naruto–”

I can agree here that she was entirely in the wrong and made a very stupid decision. But that's exactly what makes Sakura a realistic character. She's flawed. She makes mistakes. She can be irrational. And that makes her human. She didn't lie to him because she thought it would be fun, she did it to protect. She had good intentions even if she took the wrong approach.

Sasuke, as another of the main characters, did more harm to Naruto than Sakura's confession did but everyone understands and forgives him. Obito started a war and killed people and was forgiven. Itachi killed his entire clan and traumatised Sasuke but the fandom forgives because of his reasoning. Nagato killed people, and was still forgiven.

Then why can't you all be more understanding of Sakura? She did not even half of the terrible things which other characters did but gets more hate for it.

“Sakura is a bad friend to Ino–”

Sakura was SEVEN when she announced Ino as her rival. I'm sorry y'all are morally uptight who's never made a single stupid decision as a kid that you feel the need to accuse a child of being a villain for acting like a child. And it has been implied very clearly Sakura wanted to get out of Ino's shadow and only used Sasuke as an excuse to do so.

And if Sakura was this horrible bitchy friend you guys think she was then I don't think Ino would immediately jump to protect her during chunin exams. Sasuke did more terrible things to his best friend than Sakura did but once only Sakura gets shit for it.

And they never stopped being friends, only their dynamic changed, it included friendly bickering and rivalry. Ino never was mad or bitter with Sakura and even proudly told her she bloomed into a beautiful flower, this doesn't sound like a person who's been unfairly betrayed by a best friend over a crush?

In short, Sakura Haruno is fucking amazing and maybe if y'all didn't hold female characters to such a ridiculous high standard and bothered to understand the manga instead of watching filler episodes, you'd know.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #pro Sakura #pro sakura haruno #ino yamanaka #ino #kakashi #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #team 7 #team seven #antis dni #sakura haruno #naruto manga

1K notes · View notes

bronzeagepizzeria · 7 months

Text

TEN AND ROSE: WERE THEY HAVING SEX?

Disclaimer: I absolutely support people writing whatever makes them happy; this is NOT a criticism of ten x rose smutfic/established relationship/babyfic etc, I’ve read and enjoyed several of those, this is simply my reading of their canon relationship.

Every once in a while, the Rose Tyler tag sees text posts about how, obviously, Ten and Rose were sleeping together throughout Series 2, as evidenced by their absolutely sizzling chemistry in episodes such as New Earth and Tooth and Claw.

Most of them are usually in good humour—a “can you BELIEVE this chemistry” sort of thing, but there does exist a genuine belief among some that they really were sexually intimate already.

So, let's examine this canonically, from a Tentoo lens.

Were they having sex?

Short answer: No.

Long answer?

Throughout Series 1, we pick up on hints of the Ninth Doctor’s feelings for Rose growing, as well as Rose beginning to have feelings for the Doctor. It’s quite subtle in comparison to Series 2; here’s two great friends beginning to fall in love—flirting and bantering and getting jealous of other love interests xD. It’s not a very explicit romance (and this is why Rose haters tend to prefer NineRose, but that’s a conversation for another day) but it is heavily implied, and it is sealed with a kiss in The Parting of the Ways.

When Rose looks into the heart of the TARDIS and comes back for the Doctor, this romance is made explicit. When the Doctor dies to take the vortex out of Rose, the romance is made explicit. This is no longer a crush, or simple endearment, they’re in love.

The Tenth Doctor is born out of this love. He now knows the extent of Rose’s feelings, and he knows just how far she is willing to go for him. (This is a blessing and a curse, but we’ll come back to that some other time.)

Rose’s immediate reaction to seeing Ten is asking him to change back—(something that noticeably distresses him—the fact that she might not like him anymore). She spends the entirety of The Christmas Invasion mourning him, (which is fair since he never told her the tiny little detail of his ability to regenerate. Sigh.) and only really comes around to him at the end of that episode. We can safely assume, then, that they haven’t had sex.

In New Earth, they’re still very much relearning their dynamic—how do they work together, fit together now? We learn that Rose is physically attracted to the Tenth Doctor, thanks to Cassandra, and Rose's slightly mortified reaction at hearing this from him implies that there's been no confession of the sort to him.

You could argue that maybe something happened off-screen between Episodes 2 and 3, but as Ally on the tentoo x rose server pointed out, that would be shoddy writing. A physical relationship amongst the main two leads that is never even alluded to with a chaste kiss, is odd. So we can assume this major development didn't happen.

Tooth and Claw, the one episode that is constantly subject to 'they were totally shagging' discourse, has exceptionally flirty energy, yes, but this is because Ten and Rose are both very tactile people. Make no mistake, they definitely are flirting and being more touchy-feely than strictly necessary, but it would be narratively inconsistent for the reason for this behaviour to be 'they were having sex.'

Why?

I'd like to point out this dialogue we get from Queen Victoria:

This moment is extremely important; it plants the seeds for the proper beginning of one of the main themes of S2, which is the biggest reason the two of them are not constantly shagging in the TARDIS.

From this point on, something has been re-awakened in the Doctor, the fear of outliving someone he loves again.

We have to remember the Doctor is a severely traumatised man, a man who has outlived his entire species, and the idea of this girl he loves dying and leaving him alone is unbearable.

In School Reunion we get this spelt out for us. The Doctor sees Sarah Jane again, and reality strikes. This will be Rose, one day. There’s a key confrontation that takes place in this episode, an argument that remains unresolved because there are certain things Ten cannot bring himself to say.

DOCTOR: I don't age. I regenerate. But humans decay. You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone who you…

ROSE: What, Doctor?

There is a later confrontation in the same episode, where the Doctor is tempted with the idea of never having to see anyone wither and die again.

Even the infamous The Girl in the Fireplace doubles down on these themes--the Doctor's immortality. Time running out.

The Age of Steel two-parter brings with it the “gingerbread house”. Things we want which we cannot have.

This, in fact, is the crux of their entire relationship, folks. The incompatible lifespans. Rose's mortality. Untapped desire. The unsaid.

This is why it's important and impactful that Rose, on the last day she gets to see the Doctor, ever, plucks up the courage to actually put words to what she feels. This is why the unfinished confession in Doomsday hurts so much. Because they finally, finally took that plunge but it was too late.

Assuming that they've been in a physically intimate relationship all the while takes away from the gravity of this moment.

(Not to mention it's super exploitative, considering the inherent power dynamics. To think Ten had sex with Rose all that time--entirely aware of her feelings--and didn't have the decency to say he loved her and then proceeded to force her to choose between him and another version of himself...is problematic.)

I would go as far as saying it's a fundamentally wrong reading of their entire relationship, and of the Doctor himself.

I've seen people say the "baby scare" in Doomsday is proof that they'd been physically intimate, but it is, quite obviously the Doctor being afraid Rose was pregnant with Mickey's baby, not his.

DOCTOR: You've still got Mister Mickey, then? ROSE: There's five of us now. Mum, Dad, Mickey and the baby. DOCTOR: You're not?

He is, in his not so subtle way, trying to figure out if Rose is back with Mickey. It only hammers in the fact that he's missed his chance---not that the child might be his.

DOCTOR: Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth. You're dead, officially, back home. So many people died that day and you've gone missing. You're on a list of the dead. Here you are, living a life day after day. The one adventure I can never have. ROSE: Am I ever going to see you again? DOCTOR: You can't.

Again, the narrative hammers this in. Their time is up. Rose will inevitably move on one day, without him.

All this to say…

TenRose in Series 2 is a tale of what could be. Of missed opportunities, and the lives and love we could have had.

But why is this important?

In order to understand Tentoo and Journey's End, it is vital we understand this aspect of TenRose. The yearning, the skirting around feelings in the room, the denial of gratification on Ten's part. The desire he cannot give in to.

Because Tentoo is the realisation of this desire. He is the second chance.

He is the embodiment of the Doctor grabbing hold of his one, short life and deciding to live it to the fullest. Tentoo is making a choice here--a choice to truly love Rose the way he has ached to do for years. This is why it's significant that he was able to get the words out while Ten wasn't.

This is why Rose chooses him.

This snippet of an email RTD received from Pete Bower sums it up extremely eloquently:

“In having one Doctor grieve for his lost love, while the other Doctor went off with that same lost love, you have written of that moment we all have where we make a choice. It is grieving for the love we never had (and the sex we never had) because of the choices we made.”

#my meta #needed to get this out lol #rose tyler #tenrose #tenth doctor #ten x rose #doctor x rose #tentoo #tentoorose #tentoo x rose

282 notes · View notes

caseylicious · 2 years

Note

Hello again! Hope that you’re having a great day! If it’s alright with you, can I request another rise!donnie x gn!reader where Donnie is such a simp for reader?

Like Leo would tease him about it but he would deny it because of his “bad boy” image. But then reader enters the lair and Donnie is just 💜w💜.

Thank you!!!

Simp.

Summary: Donnie being a simp (more of swooning) for the reader.

Character: Donnie.

Reader: GENDER NEUTRAL

Relationship: CRUSH

Warnings: Leo and Donnie having this whole on sibling moment, but that doesn't affect the silly teasing that'll happen-

Words: 3312

Tags: @ath3nasc4f3 , @anxietyishere

A/N: My dear, there is no problem with requesting another time! Your requests place a smile on my face. I'm in love yet so hesitant with this one- because I don't want it to be to remind anybody of 2012!Donnie being whole on OBSESSED for April. With some serious thought, This is Part 2 of the Mad Scientist!Reader piece. (Read for context)

The story may be a bit wack... but im trying so hard to juice my brain for plot. (currently in writer's block.) As well of trying to follow the basic idea of your request, but overall I like this piece a lot! A few things first! I see Leo and Donnie as TWIN BROTHERS. There's just a lot that heavily implies it in my opinion! and I just imagined that one scene from Aladdin with him just swooning for Jasmine. You get me? Yeah.

I love your ideas. Come around again < 3

As always! Please, Enjoy 💐

[ If you have any constructive criticism or corrections for any of my English do let me know! :) ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

Waving the brothers goodbye from your introduction, you began climbing up the manhole with April. To your surprise, you've gotten along quite well with each one of them. Even with your "normal switch" off. You've noticed in your time with them that each one of them were different in their own way. Leo was cheery while funny person. Raph was a strong sharp, yet loveable and empathetic. Mikey was one of the loudest people you've met. And Donnie... Before you could continue with your analysis of the whole day you had. April spoke, "Well.. whatcha think man?" You thought for a second on what to say. "I need more context to that question O'Neil." She chuckled, "Of the whole meet and greet! You seemed to get along with most of them."

"Hmm.. I'd say it was a success." April's groan echoed through the sewer hole. "That means I liked them all; your friends." You assumed April grinned and was pleased, because you heard a pitter patter on the bar below you. That would've been the end of the conversation before April opened her mouth once more. "How about Donnie?" You suddenly stopped moving forwards. Which made April bump onto your calf. "What about Donatello?" She snickered. "Pfft- Opinion on Don? There's no way you'd forget him man."

A second of silence passed before you finally answered, "Well.. he's okay." An audible gasp could be heard. "What do you mean okay?! You talked about so much with him!" You looked away from the bar in front of you as she kept ranting. You enjoyed the turtle's presence, you truly did. He seemed to understand everything you were talking about. And it was one rare moment in your life where you kept up a conversation which you found interesting. However you somehow "knew" that he'd leave you like everybody else.

The foreign memory which you've tried to suppress began to play. How you ate all by yourself, which led to you staying in the abandoned science lab for most of your lunch. How you've practiced normal conversation in the mirror. Researching popular trends which you've tried copying to the point of creating an image of somebody you just weren't. It just all didn't click with you. For some reason, you just couldn't fit in with the crowd of your school. And it became the reason for the bad reputation you had.

Personally, you wouldn't blame him for leaving. Eventually he'd see how you were.. "weird." But... good always lifts from the bad. Would it be really a bad thing for him to notice you being "weird?' Hypothetically, if you tried hard enough to "fit in," you wouldn't have had a great time with the turtle. Ideas which you've suppressed wouldn't have been unleashed. And you would still be complaining about society being awful and needing a fix. A grin made itself onto you for a moment before you felt your head hit a flat surface. Adjusting your focus, you have found the manhole cover on top of you. You began to lift the object, moving it to the side. Hearing the metal fall, you then climbed onto the ground. Reaching a hand inside for April who was still ranting on how you and Donnie got along so well. "You understand though- Right, Y/N?" You blinked for a couple seconds before patting her back. "Yes. I agree completely. Let's put a pin on this discussion and come back to it. How about it?" She agreed walking down the street with you. Before the both of you separated due to her route being in a different location. Watching as April ran off, you sighed in relief.

You made your way back home, unable to stop thinking about that encounter you had. That special conversation which made you open up. Where you felt normal. But that's silly, right? Out of every logical and fictional existing thing in this universe, a turtle seemed to comprehend anything of what you said. Who was this "Donatello?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

💜 Donnie

Brzzt. Brzzrt. Brzzrt-

A hard slam landed on the device. It was around 6 in the morning and two tired eyes opened. The tired figure slowly sat up, stretching from side to side. A robotic yet humanoid voice spoke, "It's too early to wake up dad.." A chuckle could be heard. "Shelldon, you understand we have work to do. Acquire yourself some coffee and I'll get some bolts ready for you." As odd as that sounds, the purple drone swirled in a circle before exiting the room. It has been about exactly 4 months and 27 days since your introduction.

In those 4 months you both had been interacting with one another nonstop. Mainly on electronic email and/or text. It contained random ideas and topics which you both enjoyed immensely. He couldn't help but feel a genuine boost of optimism seeing your username and email. Especially on random facetime calls the two of you had. How you showed off your school AP textbooks to Donnie, and how Donnie showed off his battle shells explaining each function. And the best part? You listened and seemed to be genuinely interested in his work. It was strange, but he liked it. a lot.

Before he chose to finally get up, he waited for the hot coffee. Which arrived in the matter of seconds. Taking a sip, he let out a sigh of relief. "Ahh.. That's good." He whispered. The soft-shelled turtle walked over to his desk. Inspecting the blueprints in front of him, his eyes noticed a doodle in the corner of the sheet. Donnie groaned, while a smirk quickly formed. It was probably his younger brother Mikey. He was always one to enjoy doodling on his brother's stuff with or without permission. "Did Mikey touch my work?- I swear... alright, let's see what on earth he drew this time-" What Donnie saw made him shut up. Which was rare for somebody who seemed to love explaining everything he knew and believed in. But what did the young turtle see? No, it wasn't anything inappropriate. And no, it wasn't anything hateful. It was something quite far from any of those things...

It was your name traced over in the blue paper. With what seemed to be hearts surrounding it- and was that a cloud? Whatever the doodle was, he was speechless. Silence filled the room before suddenly he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. "Yo D what are you do-" Donnie quickly grabbed his screwdriver. "EAT LASERS INTRUDER!!-" His brother quickly raised his hands above his face, "Hey-! Chill- it's me Leo!" The purple turtle stared at his twin brother for a couple seconds. Before his face became red, flicking his forehead. Leo quickly whined in pain holding his forehead with one hand. "Scoff! Learn to knock next time brother. What are you even doing up this early?" Leo chuckled poking Donnie's plastron with his finger. "I should be asking you that... but you're always up early. So I won't ask!-" Donnie quickly wore his bandana, glaring a little at Leo. "That doesn't answer my question Nardo'."

"Woahh! Chill, chill. I just got up to the sound of Shelldon making coffee... anddd.. because we're-" For a few seconds, Donnie really hoped Leo had a different reason. "Please, don't say it."

"Because we're twin brothers Donnie~" His drawn-on brows furrowed together. "That isn't a proper reason." A grin formed on his brother's face, "Oh, but it is now! Anyways back to me." He paused. "What's that you're working on?" Donnie should've rejected Leo, he knew clearly it was a trap for some sort of teasing. However could he resist to explain one of his creations? No, he could not. "Well- if you insist. I'm working on a suitcase which can hide weaponry such as my staff. So next time we ever choose to go out in disguise, I won't be held back for a couple minutes for silly reasons such as "illegal weaponry" and-" Leo quickly snatched the blueprint out of his hand, "Hey!-" He browsed the paper for a couple seconds before aggressively pointing at the corner of the paper. "And thinking about Y/N! There's no way!!-"

His eyes widened- "Leo, could you at least lower down your voice!" Donnie watched as his brother giggled for a few minutes on the sight. He tried remembering when or why he chose to write your name multiple times on his own piece of work. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. There was no collection of him daydreaming about you. As the laughter died down, his brother spoke. "So- what is this? You got a crush on them or something? Lord-"His cheeks flared up, blinking aggressively down to the floor. "Man! This is almost as bad as you and Atomic Lass! Ha! You and Y/N??" Expecting a snarky comeback, he was responded with only silence. Donnie glanced down. Looking away from Leo with shame, genuinely unsure on what to say or do.

Leo frowned, gently placing his hand on his shoulder letting him sit. "Uhm.. You don't gotta talk about it if you don't want to. I know how you are with stuff like this. My bad." He didn't respond, tension filled the room. "Errm..Want me to leave?" Donnie opened his mouth, but closed it. Trying to find the words. Leo waited for him to figure out what he wanted to say. "..N- no. It's fine, don't leave... I'm sorry just.." He took a quick sip of his coffee. "I don't really know if I do. Is i-.. is it okay to feel like this? I've never felt like this and-" He paused, not knowing what to say. "Well, yeah. It's okay to feel like this man! I'll listen if you really want to talk about them." Donnie blinked a couple times, staring at Leo in disbelief. He hasn't had a "heart-to-heart" moment like this with him in a long time. For obvious reasons. He slowly grinned with a nod.

"Well... Y/N- where do I begin. Oh okay.." Leo pulled out a stool, sitting on top of it. Donnie closed his eyes imagining one of the special calls he had with you. "Well, their hair. It's this color that just looks so nice in the dark and light. They have these eyes that just shine like gems found in the deepest caves of the world- and wow their voice. Their voice is a whole conducted symphony Leo..." His brother nodded his head, listening in. Surprisingly not making a comment. "Uh huh- and? What else? That can't be it." He placed his hands on his cheeks, trying to remember one of his favorite voice calls. "We like so many things- Our interests just match! It's as if the constellations aligned perfectly in one part of the world. They just know so much that I know- which is just so mesmerizing..." A short but long 'hmmm.' came out of Leo.

Donnie watched as his brother placed his own hand on his chin. "Well? What is it Nardo?' Leo empathized with his twin brother, mainly on how he spoke about you. He spoke as if you were a holy deity, a treasure, maybe even a blessing! He just seemed to understand how Donnie felt. Even if he wasn't a touchy feely sort of person. "You really like Y/N that much, huh?" Donnie nodded, covering the lower half of his face with his hand. "Well honestly, expect me to tease ya." Before Donnie could scold him, Leo spoke again. "But go for it. Nobody is stopping you from being with them. And I'll be cheering from afar."

Donnie hummed, glancing back at Leo. "..That's actually some smart advice Nardo... Thank you, brother." Leo smirked. "Getting soft on me Don?"

"Don't ruin it."

"Yeah, yeah- You're welcome! Chill!"

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

Bzzrt. Bzzrt. Bzzrt-

Your hand quickly grabbed the wire clippers, cutting the wire which was attached to the device. Opening one eye, you glanced to what you have cut. The purple wire. Your eye twitched realizing which wire your hand instinctively chose to cut, which frankly saved your life. again. "Ughh.. What genius am I, if I keep cutting that wire?"

Quickly, you got out of bed, slipping your slippers on. Making your way to your closet, the calendar on the wall of your room was marked. In bold red letters, "HANG OUT. 11:00 AM." That's right! You and your newly made friends made plans to hang out together. Excited as you were. You specifically were excited to share your ideas with one particular person of the group. Donnie.

Mentally you had to slap yourself. It was irritating how he always seemed to be on your mind. Just because he chose to listen to your thoughts? Please. It was almost humiliating how just of one person, you'd be this distracted. You suspected it was because how isolated you were. How you were the 'outsider.' Maybe because he seemed to know about titanium and uranium. Or maybe because he genuinely wanted to become your friend. Your hand reaching for a pen, making a repetitive clicking sound. "Pascal Triangle, prepare yourself to be solved."

You were a fan of mathematics. It being one of your favorite subjects in school. April knowing this information, usually asked you for answers. In which you've always responded, "Giving you the answers isn't going to help your education O'Neil!" "Urgh-! I hate it when you're right Y/N." The thought made you grin, until you looked back down to your paper. None of the pentagons had answers in them. "Wh- what? I thought I was answering these..." Needing reassurance, you flipped through all of the pages in your packet. Expectedly you answered them all. To the questions which required the most simplest distributive property, to having to identify graphs. You didn't seem to second-guess yourself, so you were confident in your work of elimination.

Just.. why now didn't you know what to write? You weren't one to be seriously invested in your grades. Surprising? Yes, however you more focused on whether you knew how to perform the work. Were grades going to help you in the long-run of your "world-domination?" No. They would not, but the Pascal Triangle really shouldn't be this confusing. You didn't want to admit it, but you needed another pair of eyes on this question. Well let's do the simple process of elimination with the friends, or more specifically acquaintances you've made.

April? No offense to the poor girl, but could you really get answers out of somebody who asks you for them? Pass.

Mikey doesn't even know what on earth the Pascal Triangle is. Poor him.

Raph and Leo would give you a detailed look of confusion. Calling over...

Donnie.

Out of everyone on the list, Donnie was the most logical choice. It was obvious he would understand what on earth this was. A groan escaped from your lips. "Can't believe I have to ask him for help on this problem. C'mon Y/N.. you're a mathematical genius! Why can't I solve a simple pattern?" You didn't even notice it, but you woke up at ten o'clock. Due to this one question and overthink, you've wasted another thirty minutes. Leaving you now with... "Oh- SHOOT!" As you launched yourself out of your rollie-chair to change...

Running down the alleyways of New York, you were advised by April to remember the specific manhole which led you down to their quarters. What did the manhole look like again-? You inspected each manhole you passed.

Too Large. Too Small. That isn't the right color. That's a whole pizza dropped on the ground.

Eventually you found the manhole, attempting to lift the metal plate as discreetly as you could. Placing it back as you made your way down. You learned from the last time you visited that it was quite dark. So you turned on the flashlight on your phone, stepping through the puddles, your name echoed throughout the sewer halls.

Finally, what felt like walking in the same direction for so long, you made it to the lair. Nothing seemed to change from your last visit, the graffiti was the same, there doesn't seem to be any new furniture, and.. Splinter seemed to be watching the same commercial like yesterday. Mikey was the first to notice your arrival and waved to you like a kid who just ate a batch of Halloween candy. It was adorable, platonically of course. He ran up to you, a visible grin on his face, "Y/N! You made it!!" You smirked, moving a hair strand behind your ear. "Well of course I made it. I couldn't miss out on a hang-out with you and your brothers."

While Mikey kept speaking with you, you could feel a gaze upon yourself. It wasn't necessarily bad, but it was.. sort of strange. You were the outcast, the 'weirdo' of the school. Who on earth would be staring at you?

Donnie, obviously. He was leaning against a wall, standing near the edge of the skate ramp. A small smile growing as he observed your very movement. You just were able to speak in a way that could make his heart flutter. Donnie suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, jumping in surprise. Realizing who it was, his sharpie-brows furrowed together. "L- leo! Do not creep up on me like that." Leo cackled, noticing that you've arrived. "Checking out Y/N? Gotta say Don, not your sort of thing to do." It was quite obvious for Donnie that his twin brother, wasn't going to ever let this go. An unnerving feeling, he didn't like it. "Aren't you going to talk with 'em? Y'know, make your move?" Donnie frowned unapprovingly, "I wouldn't use that saying, but yes. I was going to talk to them..." His twin brother only stared at him, waiting for the second half of the sentence. Soon realizing, that was it.

"Well! If you are then get down there." Leo moved behind Donnie. He became suspicious immediately, "Nardo- what do you plan on do- ING-!!" He was suddenly pushed down the skate ramp, now rolling towards you like a wrecking ball. Immediately jumping into action, his battle shells' metal claws grabbed hold of the floor. Throwing him back into the air, to land on his two feet. As he was about to glare and scold Leo, you spoke. "Oh my God! Donnie that was- so impressive! Was that apart of your shell?"

To the sight of his shell acting like a sixth sense, your curiosity blasted off from there. Did Leo know you'd react like this? ... Maybe. Donnie wasn't the only brother with smart ideas. They're twins after all. Donnie only blushed, as you began to circle him. In a respectful distance, "What coding did you use for them to do that! Oh my- look at this! Are these compartments for items?" After a few seconds of silence, Donnie coughed, collecting himself. "I- indeed! Well, specifically, more of an Object-Orientated type of programming." The two of you didn't even notice as Mikey left, letting you both infodump. "Really? That sounds like absolute hell! You have to teach me how to code something like that... Oh right! I need some help for this math assignment. Know about the Pascal Triangle?"

Donnie chuckled, "Do I know the Pascal Triangle? Y/N, who do you think you're asking? They're the training wheels to the most amateur of equations." Suddenly he watched as your eyes lighted up. A grin filled with relief and joy. Something that felt so amazing to experience in person, "I completely agree! Mind if we go into your lab? It'd be better to discuss there." He nodded his head as you ran off. A lovesick grin visible on his face. Wow you were... just perfect.

"Ha! Lover Boy-!!" "NARDO."

#morilicious #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt 2018 #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie

572 notes · View notes

audiblehush · 2 months

Text

I know this isn’t really relevant to the recent promo we’ve gotten (which I’m still swooning over, for the record), but I’ve been thinking about how some people in this fandom have been fussing over Pen having a potential suitor (or suitorS, we don’t really know) this season, and I don’t understand their complaints, I guess?

… like, I’m pretty sure that it’s meant to MIRROR Season 1.

(…see what I did there? ;)

There are multiple ways in which Colin and Penelope’s stories / situations have mirrored the other. They are not perfect mirrors (that would be dull), but they ARE similar and I truly believe that it’s intentional to reinforce both Polin’s compatibility and ultimately their empathy for the other.

A few examples:

—

Colin: is viewed as the “one-dimensional” easy-going, un-serious, charming brother who never rocks the boat; never gets angry.

Pen: is viewed as a shy, quiet, harmless wallflower who never steps out of line and is kind of a doormat.

—

As a result of the above perceptions:

Colin: is desperate for something to fill his time and energy the way his brothers have something, SO he impulsively courts and proposes marriage to a girl he barely knows to feel needed and wanted in a way that makes him feel mature; and he gets the validation he seeks from Marina, as it suits her needs (I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, she genuinely needed him to be desperate for validation to get a quick marriage). A heady feeling, someone relying on you and telling you that you are desperately needed…

Penelope: is desperate to feel a part of the ton in any way she can, because her and her family are tolerated at best, and heavily criticized at worst. So rather than suffering through the season, crushed, and always on the sidelines against her will, after choosing to start LW —perhaps on a whim, perhaps it was discovered and encouraged by chance like in the books— she “chooses” to hug the wall and not be noticed… (not at all a coping mechanism and a fear of rejection, amirite??) …and she eventually gets the acceptance and validation she seeks by having the ton hang off her every word as LW…. Again, a heady thing for a lonely 17-18 year old who wants to be heard and who craves acceptance, however she can get it.

—

Penelope: has to watch the man she’s in love with, one of the few people who listens to her and who she shows aspects of her true, (sometimes cutting self) with, court and eventually propose to a girl she knows is actively manipulating him.

She then (quickly, imperfectly and messily) interferes to spare Colin from the plot… without his input (after a failed first attempt to appeal to him, in her defense… and then the time limit became a problem).

Colin: quickly and imperfectly interferes in Jack’s ruby scheme in order to fix his own rashness, but also to spare the Featherington family… (without their input, it must be noted, even though he says he does it for them).

…And now in season 3, Colin will need to watch as Pen attempts to attract suitors, possibly while he watches with feelings of jealously if she has some success (Edit: Though I doubt it will get all the way to an engagement; too redundant)

(And this is nothing but speculation, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if Colin either discovers something about one of the suitors, or about another plot entirely and is forced to make a difficult decision regarding it, that impacts Penelope).

—

Penelope: writes things that can have a negative impact on or hurt people, sometimes for her own own comfort (LW), even if it’s not intentional.

Colin: says and does things that hurt others or that are misleading / obliviously harmful, sometimes for his own comfort (avoiding the needling of those men at the end of S2), even if it’s not intentional.

—

Penelope: has self esteem that has been in the TRASH since the beginning of the series - this poor girl hates herself, and has had it reinforced often (and likely from a young age) that her thoughts and opinions aren’t worth hearing, and that she is never enough (and is one of a few reasons why I find the “she wanted Colin for herself!” takes about the end of S1 pretty laughable)… so she hides behind LW. Colin is one of the only people she’s hinted to that she can be biting (Eloise gets glimpses of it), and I think the ONLY one she has hinted at that she has “grand dreams”

Colin: ALSO has self esteem that is pretty low, desperately seeking something that he thinks will make him feel whole and complete, the forgotten middle child (same, bro…), and he masks this uncertainty by flaunting a fake confidence and hiding behind his hobbies and being what everyone wants him to be… also he he can keep people from looking deeper… while simultaneously desperate to be seen by those around him. Pen is the only person he’s really hinted at that he’s unhappy when they discuss purpose.

—

EDIT: How could I forget?! BOTH are the third children in their family. Colin is the forgotten middle child, and Pen is the youngest, but both are criticized by their acting heads of their household (Anthony for Colin, Portia for Penelope), and criticized by their siblings. Penelope’s sisters brutally mock her often: her weight, her skin, her letter-writing, etc. Colin’s siblings clearly mean to just tease him, but it’s obvious how much their lack of interest in him as a person hurts him and makes him feel invisible and unwanted (my poor boy 🥺…)

—

Mirrors, mirrors, and more mirrors. Sometimes they are funhouse mirrors, the situations aren’t ever exact, there are nuances and specific context to each, but imo the similarities are very intentional.

The show is going out of its way to put these characters on more equal footing, and to have each of them make blunders in their lives and in the lives of others, knocked off their respective pedestals, to set them up to be like “wow, I get it, I get YOU and I choose YOU, with all the highs and all the lows” … and I LOVE it!! 🥹

People in this fandom tend to relate to either Penelope, Colin, (or sometimes both), and that’s awesome… but that doesn’t mean they don’t each have flaws. It also doesn’t have to become a “who hurt who more, who is more right?” - I am so uninterested in that: pain isn’t a competition.

What I AM interested and invested in is their growth, seperetly and together, and the removal of their masks to truly see and accept the other.

So yeah, y’all. It’s called a parallel, and I really hope we get loads of them in S3. 🥰

I honestly really welcome conversation and thoughts about this; I’m pretty new to the fandom, but unfortunately I have seen a lot of people (on tumblr in particular) be very “holier than thou” if they don’t agree on an interpretation, and it makes the fandom seem very unwelcoming and makes me nervous to even post things, which is pretty ridiculous. :/

Fandom gonna fandom, I guess. 🤷‍♀️ I just really love this show and this pairing and I’m dying for S3.

#bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

47 notes · View notes

lucistarrrrs · 2 months

Text

THERE'S A HOLE THAT YOU FILL

Genre: Drama

Summary: Darcy is a dreamer and his friends support it but his family is against it. His father wants to crush his dreams.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Part 1 | Part 2

A young boy was walking to the bridge looking down at the river he turned around and saw his friends standing there looking at him "Darcy... don't do this...we can report your father's abuse to you just don't take your life" Darcy's friend said to him. Darcy just smiled at his friends.

Seren shouted in concern, "Darcy! Step away from that edge. You don't have to go through this."

"that's right, we're here for you" Leora said in a softer tone. Darcy spoke, his voice almost breaking "thank you for your concern, I will forever cherish our friendship."

Seren and Leora tried to approach him. He was just one step away from falling. As the two got closer, Darcy took one final step. "Damn it!" Seren ran to catch him. Seren caught him by the collar of his shirt. Despite Seren's effort, Darcy still fell into the river. Darcy isn't known for his ability to swim, so he almost immediately sank. Aurora went after him. She swam ashore while carrying Darcy.

Darcy coughs and breathes heavily, looking at Aurora. His eyes were wide filled with anger "Why... Why did you save me!?" Darcy screeched and banged his hand on the ground. Aurora looked at him worriedly. Darcy has tears in his eyes, he was a mess-- wet clothes, wet hair, and his eyes vividly red due to the constant stinging pain of his tears, as it falls down to his cheeks. Darcy's eyesight started to blur due to the flooding of his tears.

Seren ran towards him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him against the wall. "SEREN!" Leora and Aurora yelled at him "What the fuck are you thinking jumping of the bridge again!! Don't you value your life at least a little?! Don't you value us, your friends?!" He growled as he repeatedly slammed Darcy against the wall. Darcy was surprised by Seren's outburst. Darcy's heart sank when he heard Seren's words. He was starting to regret his actions but the feeling of hopelessness still remained inside him.

Darcy and his friends heard a car come to a stop. He was taken aback by the fact that his older brother was present. "'Darcy... and companions'". The final moment was bittersweet for Darcy's brother. Seren, Leora, and Aurora scolded Darcy's older brother.

"What are you doing here Calhoun?" Leora said, crossed her arms and squinted her eyes Calhoun looked at Leora "Well I just need my dreamer little brother" Calhoun hissed at Leora before walking towards Darcy just as Seren let go of Darcy.

Calhoun looked at Darcy as he cups Darcy's chin "Father was right Darcy you should let go of your stupid dreams" Calhoun hissed again and tightly squeezed his cheeks. Calhoun released his grip on Darcy's face, revealing a mischievous smile. 'Oh, DarDar, you didn't call me Cally anymore' Calhoun smirked, ruffled Darcy's hair, and walked back to the car. "Now come on Darcy, our father is waiting for you...at home" Calhoun's tone was dark as he opened the passenger seat for Darcy as Seren, Aurora and Leora just standing no idea what to do.

"Goodbye Darcy, I'll see you at school tomorrow." Aurora waved goodbye to him. Darcy got into the car while Calhoun got into the driver's seat. As the car started its engine, Calhoun started to drive Darcy looked at his friends looking worried and he felt something bad was about to happen like always.

"Did our father instruct you to separate from your friends?" Calhoun criticized Darcy, and Darcy perceived an unusual and gloomy atmosphere around him, so he remained silent.

As they arrived at the mansion, Calhoun and Darcy saw their father waiting for them. "Darcy... I've been waiting for you" The tone was disliked and aggressive, Darcy just remained silent. "Calhoun you can go now, I will teach this son of a..bitch a lesson" Darcy's father stood up and wrapped the belt tightly around his fingers. As Darcy retreated, he was halted by the wall. He glanced at his father. The portrait of Lucifer falling from the heavens hangs on the wall as Darcy's cries and pain are audible.

Calhoun and his brothers heard Darcy's punishment. One of the brothers asked, 'Should we help him this time? His scars and bruises are getting worse. If our mother discovers this, Calhoun will be punished as well" Calhoun sits in his study and continues his work, completely ignoring his second oldest brother. He sighed and glanced at his brother.

"Ariticus, we shouldn't provide any assistance to him. Disobeying our father's rules is unfair. Calhoun answered and stood up. He headed towards the long window and observed the family portrait. Ariticus let out a frustrated sigh and let Calhoun contemplate his own actions.

In the family portrait, Calhoun's mother was shown smiling with gentleness, a beautiful face, gorgeous blonde hair, and blue eyes like diamonds, as she carried Darcy asleep in her arms. Calhoun paused to breathe and glanced at the nightstand, one of his brothers, and Darcy held a duck plushie all the time.

At Darcy's room...

The maid was attempting to be gentle and repair his bruises while Darcy cried uncontrollably when his father punished him. 'It's okay, my sweetheart. It's gonna be okay,' the maid consoled and wiped Darcy's tears. The maid caressed Darcy's hair and hummed a lullaby as he cried in her lap, and he felt safe around the maid like his mother singing it for him when he was a child.

While she was on her lap, Darcy fell asleep and the maid wrapped him in blankets before giving him a kiss on his forehead and the maid left Darcy's room and continued her work.

Darcy had an item of his mother's pendant that was slightly glowing, but it faded out. His eyes were wide and shocked, he sprang up quickly and breathed heavily, despite his red eye color.

Taglist:

@delusional-mushroom @homie-xidal @ilovelyneysm07 @lxkeee

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer magne #charlie morningstar #oc #stories #original character #hazbin alastor #lucifer x reader #drama #angst #angst with a bad ending

31 notes · View notes

thestrangestthing89 · 1 year

Text

Mike Character Analysis

I realize there are a lot of posts about whether or not Mike is bi or gay and how aware of it he is. I think the show clearly explains what's going on with him if you look closely. This will be looking at his character from the perspective that he's has realized he's gay in season 2. This will be an in-depth character analysis some of which has already been said by other posters but I think people missed a few key points. It's very long - season 1 is in 3 parts starting below.

Season 1:

People who believe Mike is bi and people who ship Mileven have one key thing in common - the fact that they believe Mike had romantic feelings for El in the first two seasons and that their relationship was cute. However, this is due to the fact that people are viewing this interaction through the lens of heteronormativity. The male protagonist needs to be in love with the girl. There is nothing in Mike's behavior that indicates he has a crush on her, and certainly nothing to indicate that he's in love with her (they know each other for a week in this season).

Mikes behavior toward El ranges from brief periods of kindness, to flat out hostility. A good point of comparison here is Lucas. Lucas gets heavily criticized by the GA for being mean to El in season 1, but his behavior is not all that different from Mike's. They both lash out at her when they are afraid. And they are scared of her. She randomly showed up in the middle of the night when they are out looking for their friend who is in danger. She isn't explaining herself, (not her fault, she doesn't communicate well at this point) it's a tense situation and they are 12. Lucas's temperament toward El is impatient and he's a little more annoyed with her than Mike. But Mike is frequently shown to be exasperated anytime he has to explain something to her. He rolls his eyes a few times and doesn't always explain himself well. He's impatient too. His tone may be different than Lucas's sometimes but their behavior is pretty similar. So many people interpret boys being mean to girls as them having a crush. It's awful and sexist but I think that's why we see people interpreting Mike's behavior as a crush. He's occasionally nice. And to a lot of people it makes up for when he's mean. It shouldn't. Both Mike and Lucas scream at her during this season multiple times and try to get rid of her. But it's Mike who triggers her trauma with Brenner and continues to throughout season 4. And it's Mike who is viewed as having a crush on her and not Lucas even though they both treat her mostly the same and there are 2 reasons for this. One is the obvious one - Lucas is black and is not going to be viewed as the romantic lead by the GA. Even now, there are plenty of people who have a problem with him and Max. He is also criticized a lot more than Mike is for his behavior toward El for the same reason even though, again, their behavior towards her is very similar. The second reason is that Mike lets El stay in his basement. This is the only way his and Lucas's behavior differs. Again this has nothing to do with romance. They've known her for about 10 minutes at this point. Mike is showing kindness to her because she's a kid who was wandering out in the cold and rain and was clearly in trouble. This does not mean Lucas is unkind. Just that Mike is the leader of this group. He was also the one who put the whole search party together in the first place. So he takes responsibility. Lucas is also worried that El is going to distract them from finding Will which is a valid point to make. And we know from season 2 that Dustin's house is smaller and it would have been harder to hide El there. So she stays in Mike's basement. (side note: Another difference between the two is that Lucas, at the end of season 1, apologizes to El for his behavior and calls her a friend. He never treats her like this again. Mike on the other hand never apologizes even through season 4 and continues to trigger her trauma with Brenner. I don't think this is because Mike is unaware that he needs to. He shows multiple times through the series that he's capable of self-reflection and apologizing when he's out of line. I think this has to do with the fact that anytime emotions are brought into the equation with El they get interpreted as romantic by their friends and by her as well later. Mikes feelings toward her are platonic and he avoids having to explain this to her by simply not inviting the conversation to happen.)

Again, this isn't indicative of a crush. People let their friends crash on their couches all the time and he doesn't know her. He felt bad for her so he brought her home. The Duffers even say that Finn was instructed to treat her like a lost puppy he found in the woods. This isn't a crush. Mike interacts with El here in a way that shows emotional maturity and awareness. He knows she's in trouble and tries to help. At least as far as providing her temporary shelter. Because he is in agreement with Lucas that they need to get rid of her and focus on Will. They both come up with a plan to send her back to Penhurst, where they believe she escaped from. People don't escape from places they are safe. They escape when they are in danger. It's implied here that Lucas recognizes this and it's a large part of the reason he's uneasy around her. They brought the danger to them. It's worth noting here that they have this argument loudly in front of El without regard for her feelings. Mikes emotional maturity only goes so far. He's still 12. Within the first couple days of her being there, Mike is shown to interact with her in a different way than Dustin and Lucas. They both see a girl, where Mike just sees another kid. This is shown through their scandalized behavior when she tries to change in front of them. Dustin especially can't get past this. Mike on the other hand, just goes to show her all his toys like she's a kid from school who just came over to play. (She's also thoroughly uninterested in anything Mike shows her so the interest in playing isn't reciprocated.)

This is when characters start to directly state that there is something romantic going on. They tell us even though what they are showing us says the opposite. Lucas does the 12 year old thing and basically says "why don't you just marry her". This phrase is not only immature but the fact that the GA took this to mean Mike felt romantically towards El is stunning to me. This phrase is always said by a kid who is jealous that their friend is hanging out with someone new. And Dustin confirms jealousy later. Again, there is absolutely nothing in Mikes behavior to suggest that he feels romantically toward her. But we now have Lucas suggesting there should be. And both Mike and GA take that as enough evidence that the two should be paired off. It's worth noting here that when Lucas is being dramatic and gets down on one knee to fake propose to Mike, Mike is confused. At this point he has spent exactly 1 day alone with El and it's because Lucas and Dustin didn't help him figure out what to do with her. He stayed home from school the day after they found her to try and figure out what to do. During this time, Mike learns El knows Will and it's implied when Lucas and Dustin stop by after school that Mike spent the day trying to talk to her about this. Mike is confused when Lucas proposes because he knows that there was nothing about his behavior that would have been different if it was anyone else. Lucas's reaction is out of no where and it throws Mike off. And it should be throwing the audience off too. We have seen very minimal interaction between Mike and El at this point and usually Lucas and Dustin are there too. When Lucas and Dustin are around, Mike is focused on them and only talks to El when he needs something confirmed.

Mike's confusion is not because he's a late-bloomer. That phrase is problematic for so many reasons, one of which is that it implies that he will eventually have feelings for girls when he may not. But it also suggests that he doesn't know his own feelings and that other characters and the audience know better and are supposed to tell him what to feel. And this is the entire problem with Mike and El's relationship. Mike is always told what to feel and how to interact with her (more on this in season 3). Again, Mike is very emotionally mature and not nearly as oblivious as Dustin and Lucas (and the GA) suggest. Because we see this through his interactions with Will. He knows what he feels, he just starts to question it when people make suggestions that he's supposed to be feeling something else. He thinks he's wrong and second guesses himself, and then corrects his behavior to everyone's liking. But then we have the bullies. Who not only directly state that Will is gay but heavily imply that Mike is too. Troy only antagonizes Mike with his comments about Will's sexuality. Never Lucas and Dustin. And Mike is on the verge of tears and affected by this much more so than than they are. Not only does this imply that it's personal, but it also implies a close bond between Mike and Will. Because something had to happen in order for this kid to think they are both gay and to single Mike out. Now this could have simply just been they held hands when they were little or something similar. But either way there are multiple references to the bullying including Mike as well. Not to mention the fact that Mike is the one to fight back later. A thing Mike and Dustin end up dealing with the consequences for later when Troy attacks them with a knife, leading Mike to jump off a cliff (a significant moment that impacts his mental health the following season). His father also makes several passive aggressive comments about Mike being gay ("you see what happens Michael", "our son with a girl"). The family dinner is particularly telling. The Wheeler parents never once join in on the search for Will and are acting mostly unconcerned about it. They just don't want their kids out late. This causes Mike to lash out and say he's the only one who cares about Will. This whole scene shows how Mike is out of place in his family and very clearly sends a message - if he went missing would they even care or would they think he deserves it because of his behavior. ("You see what happens Michael"). So not only is it heavily implied by many people that Will went missing because he's gay, but that he's killed by "another queer", and that most people saw it coming and are indifferent about it. This is all what's being exposed to Mike while he worries about Will, his best friend since he was 5. A kid who he is very close to and similar to. So Mike is being told somewhat indirectly, that this will be his fate too if he isn't careful. Part 2 here

#mike wheeler #gay mike wheeler #byler #lucas sinclair

185 notes · View notes

ornii · 1 year

Note

I don't know if you have a romance planned for My Bitter Half but I really hope it's Enid.

Hear me out: Y/N Addams is crushing hardcore in Enid but, like his sister, does not really speak from his mind or his heart. So all he can do is be happy as Enid chases after Ajax even though it's painful to paint a smile on his face because she's his best friend and he has to he happy for her regardless of how he feels.

I did plan on Enid ending up being the hall of sunshine in (Y/n)’s dark world, but yes much like his sister his ability to speak his feelings is, lacking.

My Better Bitter half, Part 4

“So, you two have aspirations correct? An author? And actor?” She says, Wednesdays novel seems to be fast growing, and (Y/n)‘a infamous career of acting has head him to be a prodigy of the stage.

“I understand you've written three novels about a teen girl detective, Viper De La Muerte.” Kinbott says

“Can you tell me about her?”

“Viper is smart, perceptive, chronically misunderstood.” Wednesday said.

“Any luck getting your work published?”

“Editors are short-sighted, fear-based life forms. One once described my writing as gratuitously morbid, and suggested I seek psychiatric help.”

“Hmm.” Kinbott notes the info and jots it down.

“Ironic, isn't it?” You say.

“How did you take that?” Kinbott said.

“I sent her a "thank you." I've always been open to constructive criticism.” Wednesday said, only god knows what fate had ended for the citric.

“I'm glad to hear that.” Kinbott said, “And (Y/n), your performance as the star actor of “Hamlet” and “Death of a Salesman.” Were amazingly well received.” Kinbott says, “But your… Performances We’re always a bit, overwhelming in energy.”

“I see that as an absolute win.” You say.

“Good Because I was sent manuscripts and videos as part of both of your psych evaluations.

The relationship I found most intriguing was that of Viper and her Brother, Asriel.” Kinbott Said, you slowly turn to Wednesday, who’s eyes quickly divert from your gaze. “And (Y/n), I watched a Stellar performance of yours in “The Piano Lesson.” Which tells the story of a Brother trying to convince his sister of selling a piano, and it seems your performance was, very impactful.” She says, the siblings grow uncomfortably quiet.

“Why don't we dig into that? Part of this journey requires us going to uncomfortable places emotionally.”

“I don't travel well.” Wednesday begins.

“I get car sick.” You say.

“Would you mind if I use the powder room first?” Wednesday says, and Kinbott nods, Wednesday leaves to the room and he and the therapist are alone.

“Now, (Y/n), I noticed that the play was heavily impacted by your performance. Perhaps you and Boy Willie have more in common?”

“He’s a character I play, nothing more.”

“Are you sure? You both might be older brothers trying to create a better future for your siblings, but fail short, and feel that you have to be perfect in every way, to feel that you’re worthy to be called a “Brother.” She says, (Y/n) stares coldly at her, trying not to show any emotion. He quickly stands up.

“A question, does that Bathroom have a window?” He asks.

“Yes?” Kinbott replies and (Y/n) growls a bit, he storms over to the door and grabs the handle.

“Uh.. (Y/n), your sister is—“

“No, she isn’t.” (Y/n) opens the door to show Kinbott that his sister has escaped, (Y/n) storms off to the door without another word. Exiting the building (Y/n)’s eyes search like an owl, his head twists around to search. The only thing he notices was a coffee place, and saw a shadowy figure enter the facility.

“You little—“ (Y/n) angrily walks over, after sharply bursting into the cafe his eyes quickly lock into his sister, who sits calmly at a booth. The two stare each other down and he slowly slithers over and sits across from her. They say absolutely nothing to each other for what seems to be an eternity.

“(Y/n)—“

“Silence.” He said, “i told you what I said at the entrance, your attempts to escape end here. If I have to watch you while you sleep so be it, but you will not step out of this school.”

“As amusing as it would be for you to try and stop me, I have more important things to do than Argue with an impudent child. It is my decision that you cannot make for me.”

The tension between the two grows more and more intense.

“Take one step out of Nevermore and I will Drag you back.”

“I’d loathe to see you try.”

The two are ready to burn Jericho to the ground in their squabble, luckily a trio of teenagers, dressed as pilgrims decide to draw the ire of the twins.

“Hey, boys, check it out.” One says, they finish their argument and turn to the three.

“What's a pair of Nevermore freaks doing out in the wild?” One says, “ This is our booth.” Another chimes in, rather take them seriously the duo do what they do best.

“Why are you dressed like religious fanatics?” Wednesday asks.

“We're pilgrims.”

“Same thing, murderous crusaders.” You say and Wednesday chimes in.

“Potato, Po-ta-to.” She says.

“We work at Pilgrim World.” One boy says. Annoyed.

“It takes a special kind of stupid to devote an entire theme park to zealots responsible for mass genocide.” Wednesday hardly jabs at them.

“My dad owns Pilgrim World.” One says.

“Wow. Making a theme part based off of Genocidal egomaniacs, that’s just stupid.” You say.,

“Are you calling is stupid?” One said.

“We’re you Not here for the first part of this conversation?” You respond. The trio slowly turn to you and you rise out of your booth.

“So tell me, freak... your sister ever been with a normie? Or is she all yours like all weirdos?” They laugh and (Y/n) folds his arms.

“Sorry i don’t participate in the same chromosome adding rituals that your parents did. Not my forte.” (Y/n) responds, and one boy has finally had enough. He swings with a punch which was caught effortlessly by (Y/n), who twists his arms. He kicks another halfway across the room. He slides along the ground and he hurls the other away. One leaps and puts him in the choke hold, (Y/n) hits him with an elbow straight im the rib cage, he begins to elbow him over and over, he lurches over, gasping for air and (Y/n) calmly slams his head into the table where Wednesday said, slightly enjoying the carnage. The three lie on the ground, spiraled.

“Good Talk everyone.” You say and sit back down across from Wednesday. “As I was saying, I will drag you back to Nevermore if you won’t go willingly.” (Y/n) says, before the doors open and is greeted by a middle aged man, the sheriff of these parts possibly.

“Dad!” The barista working there rushes over, and the sheriff turns to him.

“Tyler, the hell's going on in here?”

“They were harassing a customer, and he put them in their place.” Tyler says.

“This scrawny thing took down three boys?” The sheriff said.

“I don’t need help.” You say as you turn to The sheriff, suddenly Weems enters as well, seeing the mess.

“Apologies, Sheriff. These two slipped away from me.

Come on, Addams, time to go.” She says and the twins rise to leave.

“Wait a minute, hang on. You're both Addams? Don't tell me Gomez Addams is your father? That man belongs behind bars for murder. Guessin' the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm gonna keep my eye on you two.” He says, the twins seem unbothered by this and leave with Weems. The drive back to Nevermore was a bit, colder.

“Your first day and you're already on Sheriff Galpin's radar. Wish I could say I was surprised.” Weems says.

“What did he mean about my father?” Wednesday asks.

“A Murderer, dear sister. It seems Nevermore has more hidden, wouldn’t you agree Principal Weems?” You say, and she seemingly acts oblivious.

“I have no idea, but a word of advice. Stop making enemies and start making a few friends. You're going to need them.” Weems said, their drive was halted by an accident further up, a crashed truck.

“Looks like an accident. I hope the driver's okay.” Weems said, peering further ahead, but an ominous energy radiates though the truck.

“He's dead. Broke his neck.” Wednesday said, almost sure of it, they finally drive by, seeing how scarily right she was. (Y/n) turned to his sister.

“How did you know? It wasn’t a lucky guess.” You say, and Wednesday simply turns her head back forward.

“There is Something i must Tell you, Brother.”

#netflix #male reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #platonic relationship #family #twins

201 notes · View notes

targcrazies · 9 months

Text

Moonless, Dark Night. Pt. 1

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!Strong (half Targaryen) Words: 3.2k+ Warnings: Violence and Graphic Descriptions, Emotional Distress, Mature (ish) themes, Mentions of Self-Harm and Su*cide, Adult Language, Incest.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

NOTE: I have written parts of this story before. However, I faced difficulty with linear storytelling. So, I'm trying something different. It will be shorter than I had originally planned, but better, perhaps. Hope you enjoy this. Let me know of any criticism you may or may not have, and I will surely appreciate knowing if you enjoy it. My Master's degree starts in less than a month, so I'd love to be done with this before that, lmao.

Have fun reading and thanks if you are!!

"Drip, drop, drip, drop.

Sansa listened carefully to ensure that no one had been following her. Her limbs trembled beneath her cape, her fingers frantic in the gloves. She knew well that her hair posed no threat, for it was not the silver of her husband’s. Yet, she had picked up the habit from her cousins, who shielded their silver manes whenever they desired concealment. In her eighteen years, she had never felt more like a Targaryen than she did then.

Drip, drip, drop, drip, drip, drop.

Part of her was relieved that only the droplets of water made the noises. She knew that Aemond kept her under relative scrutiny, especially since she refused him intimacy following the death of Lucerys Velaryon. “If you won’t let me near you, one of my white knights shall be here at all times.” However, he had forgotten her skills with crushed herbs and sedatives. Criston Cole had fallen gently to the ground beneath him. He was curled into a peaceful slumber, his chest heaved against the white that shielded him.

Verasys, her dragon, was kind. He was not impulsive, hot-blooded, or rash. He fed on what was given to him and only blew fire only on command. The beautiful dragon, with scales as violet as Sansa's eyes, breathed heavily in sleep when Sansa found him. Her lip trembled as she took out the keys to his steel chains. When she was done unlocking the beast, quite large for his age of only fifty-nine, she cooed him awake. He put his beak-like mouth under her chin, nuzzling gently.

“Verasys, my dear, you have to leave me behind,” she muttered in High Valyrian, tears making their way down her face like sweat. The dragon roared gently, but she shushed him. “If you stay back, they will make us commit the most heinous of crimes. They will make us kill our kin, our blood.” The dragon breathed out in anger through his nose, turning his face away, refusing to look at her. She walked to the other side, holding his face to hers. “You were born from the same clutch of eggs Syrax had sprouted from. Do you really want to fight your own sister, my dear?”

The dragon groaned in exasperation as Sansa began to weep. She used to rarely weep. “They killed my nephew,” she cried, uttering the word in relation to Lucerys- for what could have been well recognized- for the first time since the boy was born. She and Rhaenyra had made insinuations; her older half-brother, Harwin, would beam in glee whenever she played with Jace, looked after Luke, and tried to lull Joffrey to sleep.

She remembered the one time Jace addressed the abominable rumors of their bastardy to his mother, “I am a Targaryen through and through, like Sansa. Sansa also has black hair; no one calls her a bastard!” Rhaenyra laughed as she realized the concept of illegitimacy was lost on her young sons. She had explained eloquently that the black hair of the brothers was due to their grandmother, Rhaenys, whose mother was a Baratheon. “Sansa,” she gently pulled the girl closer to her, gripping her shoulders, “Has the black hair of the Strongs. She, just like the three of you, did not inherit the silver hair of the Targaryens from her mother.” Sansa’s heart leaped with joy. Many refused to acknowledge her mother’s Targaryen status due to her being a mere accident, something Prince Baelon regretted until his passing. Her grandmother, Viserra Targaryen, had intoxicated the Prince and done her deed when prancing around naked in his bedchamber did not work. Soon enough, she gave birth to their bastard, a pale-haired little girl she affectionately named Visenya as she passed. Visenya grew up in court, her older half-brothers being her only company.

When little Visenya turned seventeen, Widower Lyonel Strong joined the Red Keep with his sons. The man was fifteen years her senior, yet she was besotted by him. On her eighteenth birthday, she threw herself at her brother, the King’s feet, begging him to allow their union. Lord Strong, despite much hesitation, acquiesced, and the two were wed in a homely ceremony. Sansa was born after a stillborn, in 110 AD, a day after the birth of her husband, Aemond. It is said that Lady Strong had held onto her belly with one hand and supported the then Queen with the other as her Grace screamed and cried during her third labor. The moment the little boy’s cries were heard and he was laid onto his mother’s bosom, Lady Strong’s water gave way, and Sansa was born after a long, strenuous labor herself.

Lyonel was overjoyed, to say the least. His dear wife had named the child Sansa, a true name taken from the First Men. The King’s joy, however, was only second to his Hand’s. He held both the children in his arms. “They have the same eyes; it is uncanny,” he mused. “Aemond and Sansa. Must we betroth them, Lyonel?”

“If you insist, your Grace.” If it were some other time, Lyonel would have argued the futility of the said betrothal, how it built no new connections and produced no allies. However, at that moment, he was overcome with joy.

“They will make me kill my dearest Jace and my loveliest Joff, too, if we do not part. One day, perhaps, you will find your way to me again. Only when this has been dealt with. Until then, Verasys, you must be away. Fly, my boy, fly away.”

Verasys was not only her dragon; he also belonged to her mother. Her mother had passed shortly after the burning of Harrenhal, her frail health unable to bear the loss of her stepson, who was a dear friend, and her husband. Verasys was also one of the few belongings of her mother that had found their way to her.

She walked backward from the dragon. “Leave, my boy, fly away. This is your chance. Aegon has lost Riverlands entirely. What will follow next is the dance of the dragons. I want no part in it, and neither do you.”

The dragon looked at Sansa, his eyes glossing over her form. She shushed him again as he walked toward her, his mouth against her cheek. Verasys wiped away her tears, backed away from her, and gently flapped his wings. He was so gentle, so quiet, so sweet. Sansa knew that there would never be a dragon so calm, so very docile. Verasys isn’t one for war anyway, she told herself as she broke the chains with the dragonbone dagger that she received as a present on her wedding day from Aemond, despite knowing that Verasys could be resourceful upon need, could decimate anyone who could pose a threat to him or his Sansa. His protectiveness of even Aemond drew short, fluttered fires from Vhagar. It was Sansa who was not built for war.

THE NEXT MORNING was torturous. Aemond’s voice blasted through the entire Red Keep, his anger having scared away even the faultless birds. She stayed rooted in her chair, refusing to respond to his outburst. She refused to dignify his anger, she had done it enough before and had tired of it then.

“WHERE IS VERASYS? WHERE IS MY WIFE’S DRAGON? WHAT KIND OF TREACHERY IS THIS?” He refused to believe that the dragon left on his own accord, convinced that someone wilfully let him escape. “Why ask me? I am heartbroken by Verasys’s absence. How am I to know where he’s gone without me?” She spoke whenever inquired about the dragon’s absence. The Dowager Queen’s eyes shone like steel as she stared Sansa down. “Sansa, my sweet child, you mustn’t do anything that may put us at grave risk.”

“Your Grace, I do not know what you mean. Rather, I believe that what happened was for the best. Verasys wasn’t one for war. He’d have forfeited the moment Syrax would have flown near him. It is for the best, your Grace, that he left on his own accord.”

Aemond waited for his mother to depart before locking the gate of the chamber from the inside. “I do not know where your loyalties lie, my dear.”

“You accuse me of treason, my dear husband. That is unseemly and harsh of you.” Sansa trained her eyes on his, refusing to yield for fear of showing some weakness.

“I shan’t use that word, for what I assume to be treason is what you might consider loyalty.” He said, “I know of your regular consumption, Sansa. Or, I knew, I suppose.”

She knew what he meant, “I have never made a point for it to be discreet, dear husband. I am not giving birth to a child until this war has been dealt with.”

“War,” he spat, “This isn’t war; this is a defense against treason.” He sat down, facing her, knowing that another debate would ensue.

Her lips lifted in what he often called a “bitter smile.” Her anger and her sardonicism reflected in her gaze at once. “What’s defense and what’s treason here varies on perspective.”

“Aegon is the first-born son of my Father, your own uncle; he is the rightful heir.”

“The boy Uncle never once even mentioned as his heir? I won’t argue with you on who the rightful heir is. I just want you to remember that no “faction” is truly in the right here. None.” She hated herself for the partial lie she told, but she had to stay safe. Rhaenyra was her rightful Queen; she will always be. Her nephews, acknowledged by Laenor Velaryon, are her trueborn sons and her rightful successors. Her heart broke at the memory of Lucerys, at the thought of his beautiful face eaten in half.

“Why must you speak like a…” he lowered his voice and leaned closer to her face, “…a traitor?”

“You accuse me of treason again, my husband.”

“I only note the precarious implication of your rebuttals. This is no game, Sansa; this is-”

“Oh, yes, this is war. What do I, a woman, know of war? What an irony, given it is a woman you all are fighting against!”

Aemond sat back, his lips sealed tight. “I never said that dirty thing; you know it was Cole who said so.”

“And you associate yourself so closely with him, disregarding the harmful notions he poses.” She posited, “Being a freethinker, as you claim to be–”

“Oh dear wife, I believe we both can agree that you and I do not see eye to eye on something this grave. Yet, we choose to stay together, love each other. He is only a servant, as his duty is to serve.” His hand on the table had closed in a tight fist, “Let’s not argue the futility of unmatched opinions when you and I have plenty.” He mentioned 'love' in hopes of seeing her eyes soften, in hopes of irking something in her heart that once held his gaze in utmost adoration. The warmth had gone, the love was nowhere. When he looked into her eyes, he only felt cold, so unloved that it scared him.

“We do not.” Sansa was gritting her teeth by then, “You had once told me that were you to become King, you would want your eldest child to inherit the throne, be it a girl or a boy. That is a belief that could threaten Aegon and his lackeys against your support toward the throne, against me. We were never as shortsighted as our family here.”

“Sansa, my dear, do you not realize that Rhaenyra is not one of us?”

“She was never meant to be the enemy,” Sansa spoke quietly, almost under her breath, her hand covering her mouth coyly, “This is pure conspiracy succeeding over conciliation.”

There was a time, Aemond thought, when debates would lead them to bed and they’d make love. Things had changed. Lucerys’s death had left her incapacitated to feel any love toward him, even though he had emphatically repeated– like a prayer– that he never meant to kill him.

Every time he recalled having, tearfully and apologetically, informed her of the accident at the Rook's Nest; his body broke down to his knees.

“It matters little what you intended. What does matter here is what you have caused. Husband, you have waged war against Rhaenyra, against Uncle Daemon. May the Seven protect us all.” She spoke through venomous, angry tears, spitting all over him, “Uncle will never forgive this.” She had shaken her head with untenable vigour, walking away from him in pure dread, “And why should he? Would YOU have forgiven this? We deserve to burn. Poor Luke, oh poor, poor Luke. My dear ne- my Luke!”

When Aemond stepped closer to her, despite her backing away, wringing his hands, “I did not kill any of his children; they’re untouched, unharmed.” Her laughter echoed as a shriek, “You know him so little, it is dangerous to not know the man you have waged war against. You foolish, foolish man.”

He tried to hold her, fall to her feet, cry his apologies if that could calm her. She refused to even touch him, almost throwing herself out the window to evade him. He had a feeling, an instinctual irk, that she would deal with the news worse than anybody at the Red Keep. The Dowager Queen and the Hand chastised him for having murdered kin; Aegon had little to say but how conflicts such as these- almost always and without fail- produced corpses, and Helaena had blamed Aemond for procuring the most ominous out of thin air. Sansa, however, was ardently, hopelessly, fiercely grieving.

She, unlike her husband, remembered their days during childhood as happier times. Joffrey was too little and Helaena was always consumed in her own interests. The five of them used to play, practice sword-fighting, and have lessons together. After Rhaenyra left for Dragonstone, Sansa visited them on dragonback, every once in a while. She attended tourneys and had been beside Rhaenyra in all her birthings, except for the one where she had lost her little girl, her little Visenya. Sansa had grieved the death of a child not even half alive, crying and praying for the wellbeing of the soul in silence. Luke was so real; he was fourteen, a boy with his own likes and dislikes, his own quirks.

Before he knew it, she had begun to yell out the window, “Verasys, Verasys, come to me, Verasys. Take me away from this warmongering, foolish beast!” Aemond could have ripped his heart open, and it would have hurt less.

“Sansa, my love, what are you doing-” he could hear the dragon flapping his wings hard against the air; the dragon had broken the chains off himself to fly to Sansa, to respond to her cries.

“If you step any closer, I will JUMP from here, I will.” The Dowager Queen and the Hand were banging on their gate, pleading Aemond and Sansa to let them in. “I want to see none of you. I want to apologize to Rhaenyra, if my DEATH shall appease her, I will let her have it. Don’t you dare come closer, for I WILL JUMP!” Aemond did not dare stop her when she mounted the dragon and took off, barely secured in her place. The thought of her jumping to her death at his touch made his skin crawl, he found himself within he could hurt himself so bad that she'd love him again.

She returned two days later, having calmed down significantly. She handed them a treaty Rhaenyra had sent with her. They had the following demands:

Aemond the Kinslayer shall be excommunicated to Essos. Whether his wife, Lady Sansa Strong, decides to stay at the Red Keep or leave with him is up to her.

Ser Otto Hightower, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, Prince Aegon, and Princess Helaena, alongside Lord Jaehaerys, Lord Maelor, and Lady Jaehaera, shall depart for Oldtown within a fortnight.

The Red Keep, the Crown of Iron and Rubies of Aegon the Conqueror, and Blackfyre should all be returned to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

Refusing any of these claims, the scroll dictated, would lead to war. Aegon laughed, instructing that the scroll be thrown in the hearth.

The Dowager Queen had turned red upon reading the clauses, the Hand looked betrayed. “Have they reduced you to a raven?” Aegon asked, staring at his sisters-in-law, his cousin, in sheer disbelief.

“I did what I could for a mother who has lost her son. This is the least I could do. I have not agreed to these clauses, I only brought the scroll here.”

“Were you aware of the content of the scroll?” The Hand enquired, his voice and face both frightfully calm and cold.

“No, I was not. I was merely requested to hand this scroll to the Hand of the King.” Her eyes were transfixed straight ahead, staring nowhere, yet focused.

“How did you spend the last two days on Dragonstone?” Aemond was sitting on one of the steps to the Iron Throne, closer to the ground. Aegon now sat on the throne, Sansa grimaced at the thought of it alone. Aemond, on the other hand, had worried himself to death, having been advised against flying to Dragonstone himself, especially after word arrived right away that she was alright and needed time to sort out the demise of Lucerys Velaryon. That his arrival at Dragonstone will be equivalent to his waging direct warfare. Thus, when he finally spoke, his question sounded more like concern than an interrogation, so unlike the rest.

“We grieved, your Grace.” Her lilac eyes stared dead into his, her face contorting, ever so slightly, in disgust. Anyone who doesn’t know her well would not even notice. He was not one of them, unfortunately. He could have wept; he almost did. He felt like he had lost her forever. However much love, respect, and admiration she once had for him was gone.

It had been a week since, and she had somehow regained normalcy. While she was still cold, biting, uninviting; she was calmer, considerate even. She allowed no intimacy– something he hadn’t let his mother and grandsire know– because if it weren’t for the origin of her birth and her status as his wife, she’d have long been beheaded as a traitor. Her dragon having left did little to acquit her to his family. It was odd that she barely attempted to clear herself of any suspicion. It was almost as if she took the special treatment for granted. He’d have to remind himself every time he felt angry at her indifference that she was only half a Strong. Her grandparents were children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and she was just as much a Targaryen as he was, if only not for her hair. The futility of such comparison was jarring, for she looked like a Targaryen through and through. She and Rhaenys Targaryen were similar in that sense; both fiery dragonriders with hair as dark as a cloudy, moonless night and eyes startlingly lilac.

He snapped himself out of his derailed trail of thoughts to find his wife by the window, watering the plant that she had brought back with her from Dragonstone. “Will you never admit, out loud, that I accidentally killed your nephew?”

She did not pause, did not look back, “You will not entrap me in your web of deceits, husband.” She could have scratched his other eye out, to avenge her nephew, but she chose not to. Oftentimes, those days, she’d have the urge to tell him that he was a petty, shallow half-man for never having gotten over the loss of an eye. People get through so much worse. But, she stopped herself. Every single time.

#game of thrones #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x cousin!reader #aemond targaryen x strong!reader #aemond x reader

71 notes · View notes

ryttu3k · 4 months

Note

BECAUSE I AM DUMB (and it is almost 2am) I sent you an astarion ask for the ship ask, but my brain meant wyllstarion! (apparently my brain decided that astarion is intrinsically connected to wyllstarion)

Haha, all good! <3

[ship meme]

Ship It

1. What made you ship it?

lmao it was a post about that clip saying that Astarion used to dream of marrying a man like Wyll. Just the thought of Astarion feeling like he's too old and jaded and cynical for this very pure romance, but Wyll still being young and idealistic and intensely romantic and, you know what, he's going to woo the heck out of this mysterious and charming elf he's crushing on.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Okay so. I have a List.

They bring out the best in each other. Wyll encourages Astarion, by his actions, to help people, to do good, to be heroic. Wyll so wholeheartedly believes in being a hero that it just... starts rubbing off on Astarion too. Conversely, Wyll can be selfless to a fault, and Astarion can sort of reel him back a bit, get him to think about himself and his own needs. I absolutely believe that left on his own, Wyll would agree to Mizora's deal and sacrifice his own freedom for his father, and Astarion is probably the one best positioned to get Wyll to think about his own future and reject the pact.

The contrasts and parallels in their story. The obvious contrast, monster vs monster hunter, starting out (more or less) chaotic evil vs lawful good, but eventually meeting somewhere in the middle (see: above point about bringing out the best in each other). And then the parallels - both of them are heavily under the influence of someone else, seemingly abandoned by the gods and any other important support structures (Astarion being cut off by Cazador from any kind of support, Wyll being disowned by Ulder who I still haven't forgiven, he was seventeen years old!!), and their main narrative arc is about breaking free from their respective tormentors, and working out who they can be as their own free people. Why not do that together?

The romance is so healing for Astarion. More one-sided here, in that it's more of a benefit for Astarion than it is for Wyll, but a slow courtship is exactly what Astarion needs, with this foundation of trust building, knowing that Wyll cares about him for more than just what he can do in bed.

The mutual attraction. They're so down bad for each other. Using your own post here, Astarion critically fails a charisma roll and Wyll is just. Lucky for you I'm into that shit.

The hands the hands. The hands!

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Honestly, I think they genuinely do work best as a poly ship (or like, a QPP thing) with Karlach. I love all three relationships individually, but I also love them together (there's a lovely post on their dynamic as a trio here, looking at them platonically, but it still holds out for a romance). Wyll and Karlach's storylines are intrinsically bound together, and indeed the only way for Karlach to have a happy ending at this point is with Wyll and/or a love interest accompanying her back to Avernus. I... can't really see Wyll being able to brush off not helping Karlach, leading to her death; I think if she does die, he'd be deeply depressed and feel a lot of guilt for it.

Astarion, too, really values Karlach. He's the most gentle about her if Tav is torn between them, there's just this very sweet dynamic between them. And Karlach clearly adores both of them too! She and Wyll become best friends, she's basically ready to go to war against Cazador to protect Astarion, there's just... so much love and care between the three of them that I can't see any one of them wanting to leave one of the others behind. My 'canon' ending for them would be all three going to Avernus (which Wyll openly offers to do and which Astarion is 100% willing to do as well), finding a solution for Karlach's engine and Astarion's sun issues, and then returning to Baldur's Gate to start working out a future - together.

So in conclusion:

Astarion/Wyll: Good shit.

Wyll/Karlach: Good shit.

Karlach/Astarion: Good shit (but please fix the Origin spawn Astarion ending, Larian!!)

Karlach/Wyll/Astarion: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard #astarion #astarion ancunin #the blade of frontiers #the pale elf #bloodpact #wyllstarion #and some mentioned #wyllachstarion

23 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 3 months

Note

Do you draw inspiration from.your own life (events, emotions...) to write ?

HEAVILY!!!!

I think this is something I do specifically for my longer form fics...the one shot tend to be more of the sporadic, cute scenarios I imagine while I go to sleep. but longer form fics are where I really start digging into my own life and putting my own thoughts/feelings into it

a few examples:

roommate eren: actually doesn't really apply, because that was so early into my writing.

method acting eren: (gets bullet points)

eren as a character and y/n as characters I feel have parts of myself that I often feel like are at war with in my own head lol (which is why they have conflict!!)

y/n gets swayed by people around her so quickly and cares about what people think - a little too much. eren is also just deeply self destructive at times and so in his own head that he can't see what's in front of him at all. those two things combined are not a pretty combo, which is why x y and z happens in method acting.

historia's whole being jealous of y/n arc is based of me in real life!!! struggle with real life comparisons so hard and it can be something that is so obsessive for me. when the song lacy came out, it was the first time I really felt seen in the way that wanting to be like someone else so bad can be so all consuming that I wanted to kind of include that in the fic, esp how it pertains to female friendships (will say, all the reception I got about that character and that friendship soothed a lot of rough spots in my heart about that so I appreciate you all)

lana's struggles with love - particulary the part that she has bad relationships of love modeled to her, hence why she originally puts up with ricky in the first place is also based on me (guys this fic is so self indulgent please leave me alone ok) and I haven't reached the whole self actualized love part but i'll get there! (thank you for all the love on the lana character I could cry if I thought about it)

also a bit more deep, but a lot of criticism that I got about the fic (esp after the whole reveal of why eren did what he did) was like "oh he could have just told her" "I don't get why he didn't" was kind of meant to be a more subtle thing of how when you love someone who is struggling with mental illness/bad environments (which at that point he was in a kind of abusive relationship with his producer so), it's often that the way that they cope or react as a byproduct is sometimes something that doesn't make sense/isn't logical - and is no way that something to put up with (which is literally why she doesn't), but it's also why eren is more logical and rational when he gets help. you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped (which at that point he didn't want to) and they need to put their own work in (which eren obv does after everything that happens)

^^ (this is based on relationships that i've had in my own life but also feeling put in that position of doing things that weren't rational and didn't make sense that hurt people and later realizing when I put the work in what a lot of that actually was and trying to have grace with it)

kind of random, but I always imagine method acting sasha as poc. I didn't want to say it explicit so people didn't start beefing with me about x y and z, but that's why she doesn't get the same treatment as y/n or mikasa. (not saying that y/n is white or fits beauty standards, but she's a self insert so I can't exactly assign her a race so the same point can't be made). but for the sasha character, it's kind of those feelings that poc/darker skinned girls get of not being the person anyone is interested in, the girl who is always funny and never pretty, super motherly but never the girl anyone has a crush on. anyways. (sincerely the token mom friend in highschool!!!)

best friends older brother sukuna:

so like. ive never talked to my best friends older brother. he is thirty. and he's also married to a sweetie pie.

THAT BEING SAID

a big part of that fic is obviously intimacy - but more the fact that there's a lot of depth to intimacy beyond sex - especially for people who have bad first experiences and how they kind of have to grapple with that afterwards (I will not elaborate on how I relate to this. connect dots.)

AND ALSO. sibling relationships is a big part of that fic. I have two older siblings (and the fic also has two older siblings). the relationships that I have with both of them are so dynamically different - in terms of good sibling/bad sibling (if that's even a thing, which the point is kind of that it's more complicated than that) and also younger/older dynamics

^^I won't elaborate more on that but just know in that fic that i've had my fair share of sammy and my fair share of sukuna - but also had my moments where i'm immature and not fair like y/n and yuuji. so.

thanks for this ask it was so fun!!! so sorry I yapped....and overshared.....

#asks!#method acting #bsfs older brother sukuna!#I LOVE U POOKIE thanks for picking at my brain #there are typos #I am too lazy to fix them I just wanted to yap

22 notes · View notes

moonshine999 · 7 months

Text

Moonstruck

adjective

unable to think or act normally, especially because of being in love.

Synopsis : Aegon iii has a teenage crush on his queen after being married to her for several years

It had taken years to have a normal conversation with her.

It had taken resentment, fits and meltdowns in front of each other. It had taken silent dinners and embarrassing couplings. It had taken their pride, sense of identity and everything they had known before. But he would do it all that and more again.

The first time he managed to make her laugh.

It was as though The Seven themselves had strung a harp in the dead silence of night. It was as though he had finally managed to not wreck what was given to him. It was as though she was immune to his poison ivy. As though she broke free from the grasp and sprouted a flower.

He mustered the courage to tell his brother.

“She had wanted you dead. Who’s to say she doesn’t now? She took a knife given to her by the wretched Hightower and could have murdered you in cold blood, brother. And yet here you are speaking of her like a bumbling , lovesick fool-”

He stopped listening after that. Yes she could have killed him. But she didn’t. She still can kill him and run away, never to be found. But she doesn’t. And yes he was lovesick for her.

He often wondered if mother ever felt this way about father.

Or would Aegon the elder felt the same way about his lady wife. It was difficult to see them as humans. As people with living souls and feelings that he may experience the ghost of.

But he understands to some extent. So does she.

They were all human. Just strung into a war due to the same old Targaryen ambition. The one that he lacks. At least that’s what his brother says.

He had woken up from a nightmare and all she had to do was be there.

The dragon’s roar. The golden flames and scales of the sun blending in, leaving no way for him to see his mother. To see his mother curse her brother. To see his mother die as he called out to her. To see his mother not letting the heat of the flames touch him. All he felt was confusion and fear. Not of the man. Of the beast. The very same beast he represents. The very same beast he is forced to wear on his chest everyday. The very same beast his beloved finds solace in riding.

He shot up. Panting, trying to grasp onto breath, any sense of comfort that he didn’t even notice the tears fall down his face.

He caught his breath and felt a hand. No, her hand. She was awake? She did not utter a single word. All she did was look into his eyes and rub her arm up and down his. He didn’t speak. What was he supposed to say? Hells, he didn’t even know how to make sense of what he feels for her. They sat in silence. Him resting on her shoulder and with trembling hands , trying to touch her. She doesn’t fall apart. She doesn’t die. She doesn’t leave him. She’s kind. He wonders if her father was the same. At least to the people he loved.

He hears Morghul’s distant roars. Or maybe it’s a hollow ringing in his ears. He can’t even tell now. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to think of anything but her because he knows this passion for her is real. As real as it can be. It’s the only real thing that hasn’t slipped away from him.

She sprouted another flower in their abandoned land. Oh the gods, The Seven, please let her sprout an entire garden. A garden, a field of flowers they can be free in, something they can grow together.

No matter how many years it may take.

For : @myladyinthetower. Heavily inspired by their lovely headcannons. Side note : this is my first time sharing such a long work / writing of sorts like this so it’s completely open to criticism. just be respectful <3

#house of the dragon #aegon iii x jaehaera #aegon iii targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #queen jaehaera #team green #au #myladyinthetower #so this was from Aegon’s pov but I will definitely put a Jaehaera pov in the works as soon as I’m done with this #fics

42 notes · View notes

alastairstom · 5 months

Note

It annoys me sooo much that we never got a Matthew pov in tlh!!! he deserved better!!!!!!!!!!

Controversial take but as a Matthew ride-or-die I actually don't mind this.

For one thing, Matthew is going to wind up with more content than honestly any of the other TLH characters besides probably Cordelia. Between NBS and CLS and TLH and his (very probable, so much that I'm secure in it) upcoming novella, we are fed. He's the PoV character in CLS and probably in his novella, too. That's, like, a ton of PoVs. Kind of like Jem; no TID PoVs, but it's nbd because he has an entire book of PoVs.

(Of course, I don't really think this matters when answering "how developed/how good a character is Matthew?" It just bears noting that we haven't been shirked.)

For another really important thing, it bears remembering that Matthew Fairchild, like Alastair Carstairs, basically has his finger in every pie (plotline) in TLH. He's obviously part of the main ""love triangle"" plot and intersects heavily with James and Cordelia; he's critical in Thomas and Alastair's story; he's close with Anna, heavily involved in her story with Ari, and has tons of scenes with her; he's involved with Ghostwriter through his crush on Lucie. Not even to mention that he has a really well-fleshed-out plotline of his own with alcoholism, mental illness, internal battles, and the clawing realizations that come with emotional self-harm and seeking out impossible, doomed love stories. He overcomes a lot.

Having his PoV would actually tamper down his story, too. His perception of the world around him, both as an alcoholic and as someone who is doing extremely badly, would make him a heavily unreliable narrator. Probably to the point that we could not trust his account of events. We do get to see his internal struggle through those who love him; if your heart didn't break at "so silly of me, who knew toys had sharp edges" just because it was in James's PoV, you missed the point, I think. He's written with so much obvious love.

In short I don't think we should get hung up, ever, on "this character has a PoV" or "it's unfair that this one doesn't." Alastair has one (1) major PoV in TLH too, and I don't think anyone can argue that he isn't another of the best-developed TSC characters.

Sometimes you don't get a PoV because others need to speak for you when you cannot. Not because you're less important to the story or to the creator.

#matthew fairchild #tlh

20 notes · View notes

cogandstar · 6 months

Text

long and ramble-y post about persona 5 tactica and politics below the cut. spoilers and all that jazz, thou hast been warned.

persona 5 tactica has Interesting politics to me. because, well, it talks an awful lot about revolution and that jazz. and in the Kingdoms, you do a fair bit of revolution-esque stuff, complete with mass movements which are necessary for the overthrow of tyrannical rulers.

(the rebels are tbh one of my favorite parts of the game, especially with how they could very easily have been relegated completely to background noise, but instead at multiple points they are key for the success of the Phantom Thieves. it's great!)

in the cognitive realm, the game seems to come down pretty solidly on the side of "revolution is worth the accompanying violence" -- see the scene of Yoshiki presenting the Thieves with footage of the rebels suffering against the Aizen Squad, and, of course, the final boss being a god of peace who has decided to crush the revolutionary impulses within the hearts of humanity to ensure peace and tranquility.

Salmael is actually pretty interesting as a criticism of that general mindset of "peace over positive change." he's kinda (or at least can be read as) a symbol for the same thing Disco Elysium represents with the ideology of moralism. the thing that's most striking to me about him is his second form, wherein his appearance changes to be partially composed of bullets and other symbols of violence. with this, not only does p5t argue that the maintenance of peace over positive change is bad, but that it is, under the cover of gentility and nonviolence, itself fundamentally built upon violence and force.

it's not that hard to construct a leftist reading of this, even without the influences of Soviet constructivist art on the menus and UI, and the presence of Che Goddamn Guevara as a heroic Persona in the form of Ernesto. it's a game where the heroes organize mass movements to overthrow tyrannical rulers based on, respectively, a wealthy corporate heiress and a corrupt politician. (i'm not really counting nakabachi because he's not a real ruler and also Kingdom 3 is just less political than the others, it's very heavily focused on Toshiro as a person without really even a political surface level.) then, the heroes fight against the God of Liberalism, revealing the hidden violence underneath its guise of peace and moderation, and ultimately defeating it.

but you kind of run into an issue of like, what are the Thieves' revolutions for? ultimately, they're basically just all against what the tyrants do. in kingdom 1, they're against a wealthy aristocrat forcing people to set up a wedding for her and her forced-groom. in kingdom 2, they're against a ruler running an all encompassing surveillance system and forced labor camps. in kingdom 3 they're against school staff blackmailing students for personal gain.

and i think it's notable that both Marie and Yoshiki are mainly presented in settings that distance them and their wrongs from modern day capitalism. Marie's Kingdom is based on vaguely-revolutionary France, and she herself is fairly clearly based on the pop culture image of Marie Antoinette, from her name to her behavior and aesthetic in the Kingdom and even how in the real world, she makes reference to "the poors" and "commoners." if there's any class being criticized through the character of Marie Anto, it's not the bourgeoisie -- it's the old feudal aristocracy.

Yoshiki is also distanced from modern electoral politics by being predominantly shown in a world based on Bakumatsu-era Japan. it's also notable that, in the Kingdom, he is described as being a general, not in any way elected. so while in the real world, his power comes from the edifice of liberal democracy as it stands in Japan, the system that you actually lead a revolution against is a feudal-military dictatorship.

this is all without mentioning that, underneath the political veneer, the Kingdoms are all in-universe metaphors for what's going on in Toshiro's head. in the end, everything's very personal! and ultimately, after Toshiro has gone through all his character development and unleashed Che Goddamn Guevara as the manifestation of his true self, what does he do in the real world?

he gets two specific bad actors arrested, apologizes for his personal role in their corruption, and then restarts his career as an electoral politician.

as soon as p5t retreats from the cognitive world, so too does it retreat from the idea of revolution against prevailing power structures. i cannot recall a moment where anyone, really, even considers the thought of revolution against the systems that produced Marie and Yoshiki and Nakabachi; they have defeated Salmael and gotten the bad actors arrested, so it's all good.

so, i guess in summary, p5t presents pro-revolution (even pro-revolutionary violence!) and borrows aesthetically from communism, and though you can certainly read certain parts (i.e. Salmael) as fairly pointed criticisms of liberal capitalism, but. considering the game as a whole, it's structured in a way that distances its arguments in favor of revolution from those modern power structures both by limiting them to the metaphorical realm of cognition and by structuring the most political cognitive realms as historical oppressive structures.

#persona #p5 #p5t #p5t spoilers #meta #long post

26 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 1 month

Text

For ST Rarepair Roulette 💕 @st-rarepair-roulette

Word Count: ~5,000

Ships: Billy Hargrove x Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway x Jason Carver.

Warnings: Implied/referenced child abuse, lots of arguing and misunderstandings, very mild references to sexual content.

~~~~~~

“No. Nope. I don’t believe that for one second.”

Gossip. That’s all it is. Heather and Chrissy laying on the former’s bed, legs up against the wall, long hair dangling over the opposite edge of the bed, exchanging silly gossip.

Never the mean kind, Chrissy won’t allow that, it’s mostly their respective crushes and fascinations from school they talk about.

Or specifically, lately how much Heather doesn’t like Chrissy’s taste in boys. Or anybody, for that matter. In her heart of hearts, she knows Heather is just protective.

Still, Chrissy tosses a little stuffed fuzzball of an animal at her friend for that comment, “Hetty! Rude!”

“Look I’m sorry, I just can’t believe that Hargrove has like, actual feelings. I don’t trust him.” Heather elaborates, through her laughter.

See, she’d say the same every time, they both know that. What matters is whether Chrissy is bold enough to go through with it. She never has been so far. It’s one thing to have a crush, but to have someone openly pining back, that’s something more rare.

An opportunity Chrissy wouldn’t like to lose just to please her best friend.

She’ll try to win her over, “One date won’t be bad.”

But Heather will make excuse after excuse, “Every girl says that before the worst night of her life.”

Chrissy rolls onto her front, sighing so heavily the weight of Heather’s mattress lifts up, like she’s turned to the most stressed little helium balloon and floated away. Maybe she did, off into her imagination, taking her common sense with her.

Maybe she’ll entertain Heather’s concerns, but only if they’re productive, “Well how did you know Jason was being genuine?”

Heather's boyfriend. Track and basketball star, high class social asshole. Chrissys has never been a fan, to be entirely honest. Her earliest memories of Jason Carver were of him shoving over smaller kids in their church group and treating every recess game as pro-level sports. She still doesn’t see what Heather finds so charming about him.

She hopes maybe he’d changed, assumes he’d have had to to win over a critical heart like the one guarded in Heather’s chest.

Oh but Heather gives no such benefit of the doubt to anybody else, “I /don’t/ know it. But /my/ boyfriend doesn’t run over innocent children in his free time.. or whatever the hell it is Billy Hargrove gets up to.”

Chrissy has to laugh at that, it's so absurd, “Oh- He does not! Billy’s /nice./”

“Prove it.” Heather challenges, popping a gum bubble between her teeth to assert her seriousness.

“Hetty.” Chrissy warns, uninterested in playing that game.

Her friend isn’t having it. Heather rolls her brown eyes with so much force she literally rolls over on the bed, sprawling out over top of Chrissy like a beloved golden retriever with no respect for sharing space. It’s always been comfortable with her, coexisting without regard to self consciousness and mothers opinions and Godly image. Probably why she lets Heather get away with being a little catty sometimes.

Like now, as she claims, “Oh come on. Make it a game, have some fun, but show me he’s genuine. Or else I’m kicking his ass.”

“Fine.” Chrissy wants to be stern, but she cracks a little smile, her real, bright one, “If I'm supposed to threaten to kick Jason’s butt, I don’t think I’d be able to.”

Heather hums in thought before presenting a solution, “I’ll do the ‘defending of our honor’ if you help me test Jay back.”

“Pinky promise you’ll be nicer to Billy once we get proof?”

“That’s /if/ we get proof, but you have my word.”

The deal is sealed. They lock pinky fingers, one soft pink nailed and one a flaming red shade. In the ten years they’d been friends since Heather joined their class in 1st grade, not a single pinky promise between them has been broken. It just isn’t done.

Admittedly, that’s a lot of pressure. Talking about cute boys doesn’t feel as fun anymore.

Chrissy’s fluttery feelings start to set in, fidgeting with her hands to hope to drive them off. If she had her bracelets on, she’d shake them and enjoy the way they ring from the hard plastics and metals banging together, but it’s late, she’s in her pjs without jewelry. She picks her nails instead.

Redirecting, Heather hands her a stuffed Winnie the Pooh, and asks a question she knows will catch her off guard, “Soooo. What are you gonna do?”

“Hetty, I haven’t had time to think!” Chrissy complains, squishing poor Pooh between her hands, choosing to abuse the stuffed toy with her anxiety instead of her own skin.

“Oh come on. What do boys care about? Cars, sex, and sports. Pick one and he’ll show his true colors.” Heather says it likes it’s all just so easy, and she already knows it all.

Chrissy isn’t as sure. She considers her options,

“Um, sports sounds the least dangerous.. maybe?”

“Until he tackles your little ass.” Heather points out.

There’s a moment where they both sort of stop moving. They both know what Heather is about to do, but Chrissy's defenses are useless to stop it. She scrunches her body up as tiny as can be, but Heather has pounced, poking her sides gently where she knows her friend is ticklish.

Chrissy used to get all self conscious when Heather would do things like that. Not just touching her skin, so close to where she feels her strongest insecurities, but even jokes, little digs that had nothing to do with Chrissy’s appearance would get her down.

They have Billy to thank for the change. Dating or not, William Hargrove isn’t one to hide his affections. Everyone knows he’s had a thing for Chrissy for a while. It’s deciphering whether he’s chasing tail, or chasing the sweet girl he’d shown enough interest in to replenish her view of herself, hung around and flirted and laughed with so freely it healed a part of her broken heart.

She thinks maybe repaying him a little would increase the chances of getting the ball rolling, and getting Heather’s trust. “What if I cheer special for him during one of his games?”

“Uh, no!” Heather shakes her head, rolled curls bouncing in their pillow curlers back and forth, ”That just makes /you/ public about it. And he can spin that if he’s being an ass for real.”

“But I don’t think-“ Chrissy starts to argue, brow knotted.

Heather holds one of her hands, showing she is doing this because she cares, even if she’s being a little harsh, “Honey, I know I’m a cynical bitch, but I don’t want to see you hurt. Save yourself the embarrassment.”

“I don’t- Heather, it’s not embarrassing to be in love!”

A gasp, slow realization dawning. “You’re right. Oh my god, Chrissy you’re so right!!”

Heather kicks her legs with glee, fuzzy slippers going flying. Right out of a movie, she squeals with delight, infecting Chrissy too with her sudden joy.

Chrissy giggles, going along with it, “I am?”

“Uh, yes! It’s perfect!” Heather scoots closer until they’re shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the ceiling together. She talks with her hands, like she’s painting the picture for her. “Don’t /cheer/ his name. /Wear/ it.”

Only, Chrissy doesn’t think she gets it, “...How?”

“His varsity jacket! If a boy gives you his varsity jacket, it’s serious business. They protect those damn things like a firstborn daughter. If you can get Billy to give you his jacket, you might as well be hitched!” Heather explains, a ball of enthusiasm.

Chrissy knows her longing heart starts racing, probably obvious to Heather too this close together, “You actually think that would work?”

Heather flips up so she’s sitting, burning some of her energy in her dramatic motions, “Duh! You show up to a game repping his varsity, baby, that deal is sealed. I’m talking a proposal at the end-zone. A wedding between quarters. I’m talkin’ baby-making under the bleachers-“

Chrissy, face as hot pink as her pj tank top, interrupts all that, “Okay! Okay. That’s… I get it.”

“Do I make you blush, fair lady?” Heather drawls, in an impression of a boy, eyebrow arched, chest puffed out, lips curled, her voiced dropped ridiculously deep-

Chrissy covers her face, trying desperately not to laugh at the ridiculous attempt, “Heatherrr!!”

Heather clutches her chest like she’s wounded, taking on a sort of accent almost from how badly she’s doing her impression, “Ah! My apologies, maiden. How ungentlemanly of me.”

“Nobody talks like that! /Billy/ doesn’t talk like that!!” Chrissy argues, though she giggles at the unseriousness of it all. So it took a while, but Heather always does know how to make her feel better.

They drop the boy talk for a while, choosing to sneak downstairs and grab some snacks at two in the morning once Heather’s parents were definitely asleep, coming back up with a strange homemade trail mix. Dark chocolate chips, raisins, pretzels, almonds and strawberries. Certainly nothing outside of Chrissy’s comfort zone, careful not to push the limits of her recovery, though it’ll probably give them both a stomachache in a few hours regardless.

Leaned against some bean bag chairs right under the open window, enjoying the birdsong and cricket chirps, they share their homemade creation, and better, more smiles and lighthearted stories. Like they used to, before highschool drama and all.

Nearing 4, Heather turns to her, uncharacteristically dead serious, and declares, “I hope he makes you this happy.”

The realness inspires Chrissy to do the prying now, switching roles, hoping her friend will open up to her in kind, “Does Jason make you happy?”

“/Jason/ does. Our parents practically arranging for us to be married from the time we were newborns, hm not so much.” Heather sighs, drawing her knees in. She doesn’t quite shut down, it’s more for comfort, self assurance, which Chrissy understands. She gives her space to collect her thoughts.

“He’s my guy best friend. And I love him. In more than the best friend way. It’d be stupid not to end up together. But god there’s so much pressure!”

“I think you should do the jacket thing too.” Chrissy offers carefully, “I’m doing it to prove /my/ date isn’t a one-hit creep. You can do it just to remind yourself why you love your boy. And that he loves you. ‘Cause I know he does, Heather. But I know you’re afraid he doesn’t.”

Heather has tears in her eyes and a sad smile when she looks at Chrissy, “What is with you quiet girls and secretly being psychics?”

Oh how Chrissy wished she truly were a psychic.

At the beginning, she wasn’t nervous at all. Her and Heather bullshitted all the time, it wasn’t anything serious. But they’re all four on a date, wandering downtown around the various second hand stores, a typical stop for one couple, and the complete opposite for the others.

Seemed as good a time as any to go through with their silly plan, it wasn’t like it would hurt anything. Except she’d tried all kinds of things to get Billy to give her his jacket, and so far, none of them worked even a little! Not browsing through a selection of jackets at the stores, not shivering dramatically, not clinging to his side either.

Chrissy felt a chip in her little heart every time, feeling like maybe Heather was right. All over a jacket. She’d have her heart broken for a little bit of wool and leather.

With her boyfriend's name on it. Her boyfriend who actually holds her hand, and tells her she’s pretty, and doesn’t creep his hands under his skirt constantly.

She doesn’t know if she could get over losing that.

Her gait down the strip is admittedly less spirited, lingering behind Heather and Jay, but Billy never leaves her behind. He engages her in conversation too, hair blowing all over the place around his face, “How the fuck do you go outside in this shit?”

Chrissy looks at him, wearing an amused little smile, “Like, ever?”

“Yeah /ever/, Princess.” Billy sarcastically, but lightheartedly bumps her shoulder lightly with his arm, “Jesus, I should take you to California. Gonna miss winters without tiny fucking knives falling from the sky.”

Heather doesn’t lose track of that comment for a minute. Excited for Chrissy, she tries to plant the seed for their plan,

“What’s the matter, Billy? You too cold?”

“Hell no. But I’m not a chick the size of a baby deer.” Billy remarks, taking the bait perfectly well, rubbing Chrissy’s arms and feeling how cold she is, “Shit, you’re fucking frozen, Chris. Here.”

And without even thinking he peels off his varsity jacket and starts to hand it over.

Used to the cold, and despite her excitement wanting to make sure Billy doesn’t get uncomfortable, Chrissy protests, “No, no, no. Keep it. I can’t let your California sunshine freeze over.”

Billy disregards that, slinging it over her shoulders anyways, “Yeah, well I’m not letting all the fuckin’ little pixies that fly around your head freeze to death either.”

Jason scoffs at him, turning around to walk backwards with the group, teasing, “Dude, what does that even mean?”

Without even looking Heather flicks his ear, getting his attention back, “Just because you don’t understand romance doesn’t mean nobody can.”

He looks at her like a kicked puppy, but Jason is nothing if not stubborn, “Pixies? Sunshine? What happened to- beautiful and charming and butterflies in the stomach?”

“I don’t know, Jason. Maybe you should fall in love again and find out.”

“Who would I fall in love with? Nobody can beat you, Holloway.”

Heather rolls her eyes, flicking her hair like an agitated horse would it’s tail, “Ah, see you almost got a couple points there. Almost. You’re in the negatives though for using my last name.”

He tries to recover it suavely, “I could call you Carver instead?”

But that isn’t Heather's way. She counters intensely, “No. I’m not being a child bride, thank you very much. Besides, who says I’m taking your name? Maybe I could call you Holloway.”

“The.. I- Okay.” Jason just sputters, turning pink up to his ears.

Behind them, still lingering a good ways back, Chrissy hums, warm and cozy in her boyfriend’s jacket, “What are they even arguing about?”

Billy laughs about that, shrugs his shoulders, “Hell if I know. They lost me a long time ago.”

“It’s funny. Heather didn’t think you were good for me, but she fights with Jason all the time.” Chrissy informs him.

Billy stops dead in his tracks. Gently uses his hold on Chrissy's hand to spin her around to face him as he fell behind,

“Hold on. Take a step back. Heather thinks /what/ about me?”

Chrissy’s nerves spike so quickly she gets a little dizzy, “Please don't take it personally. I want my two favorite people to like each other. Please.”

Her beau steadies her, instead of freaking out, “No problem. I just find it.. fuckin’ weird.”

“It’s because of the way you drive. And smoke. And act. She thinks it’s bad for me.” Chrissy blurts, knowing it’s unkind but needing him to believe that she had no part in it.

He doesn’t seem too phased by having Heather’s disapproval, apparently learning faster than most people do, “Big fucking deal. At least you know I love you, right?”

“Mhm.” Chrissy nods her assurance, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Billy’s cheek and seal the promise.

“Right. Tell her she’s the one making Jason cry his damn eyes out the second he gets tipsy on a sip of anything stronger than a fuckin’ soda pop. I’m tellin’ you, Holloway has ripped out his heart and shoved it up his own pansy ass.” Billy sounds bitter, but not overly mean.

It’s something he’s thought about before. Good to know the gossip street goes both ways.

It’s why Chrissy doesn’t feel too bad telling Billy now, “She doesn’t mean to. I think she’s scared.”

“Sacred of Carver?…. He hurt her?” His voice drops, as angry and mean as Heather warned her about.

They don’t talk much about serious things, serious isn’t their kind of fun, but Chrissy knows about Billy’s life at home. About the type of man Billy could’ve been destined to be.

She rushes to make sure he doesn’t turn on his own friend for thinking Jason was the same way, “Oh no! No, not at all. Never. It’s her mom and her daddy. They sort of forced her to date Jason. She wasn’t ready. I think she’s ready now and doesn’t want to admit it. ‘Cause that would be like taking their orders.”

“Fuckin’ parents.” Billy eventually grumbles, not knowing what else to say.

It seems to be a common theme in their group. A bonding experience for all four of them, whether or not they’re open about it.

Chrissy doesn’t really feel like talking about that stuff anymore, sort of just mumbling, “Yeah.”

Because Billy is perfect, and none of the things Heather says at all, and the actual bullies in their lives makes her want to just hide. Billy notices the drop in her mood, and silently slings an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side as they walk. Keeping her close. Safe.

Maybe someday things will work out beyond Hawkins. They have to. Winning the jacket was a silly, small victory, but it was a step.

Now Chrissy just wants, more than anything, her friends to be happy.

She holds onto Billy’s hand a little tighter.

The next time Heather and Jason get together, it’s for a study date at the end of that week. With Heather being a year above, the only class they have in common is the Biology two class Heather failed last year. There’s coloring sheets of bones and cells to be completed, so it’s not like they need each other’s help, but sitting on Heather’s bed coloring with colored pencils didn’t seem like a bad deal either way.

At some point, surrounded by all the color, Heather realizes something,

“Honey. We’re going shopping this weekend.”

Jason barely looks up from his work, focused on being neat close to the lines, “For?”

“Clothes. You’ve worn three white polos this week. I’m bringing some color into your life.” Heather pokes him with the flat end of the white pencil for emphasis.

Jason blinks, caught off his guard, “I wear green sometimes.”

“School colors don’t count. Yellow either.”

“I think I have, maybe, /one/ blue shirt.”

Heather digs in the pile for a turquoise-ish pencil, “Blue! Blue’s.. good! That’s definitely on God’s rainbow. Maybe a nice pair of blue jeans too, for once-“

That’s where Jason cuts it off. Because that’s where Heather went from playfully sharp to flat-out insulting, “Heather, please.”

She stays on the defensive, “I’m just saying. There’s nothing wrong with branching out from your choir boy uniform. That’s all.”

Sometimes it’s like she thinks if she pokes a bruise enough, it’ll make her seem like she’s strong enough to cause them. Like she’s all in charge and nothing can stop her.

Jason doesn’t want to stop her, he just wants her basic respect, “So what do you suggest?”

Not even sarcastic, just genuinely enthusiastic to share, Heather starts, “Pastels! Your hair is way too strawberry to be a dark dresser. Unless you go with emeralds, no more tacky green. Ooh, or even if you grow it out some! You know, actually-“

Jason runs his fingers over his neatly parted hair, protecting it, not hiding the concerned squeak to his voice, “No thank you, I happen to like my hair short.”

“Again, baby. Boring.” Heather just rolls her eyes, once again. Sometimes it’s like that’s all she knows how to do.

It stings.

“Look, if nothing I do is ever going to be good enough-“

Heather doesn't entertain that in the least. She slaps her hand over his homework page, making him look at her, “It’s not /you/. You know that it’s not you.”

No, he didn’t know that. Jason looks at her, confused, “What?”

“Just because you dress yourself, and you drive your stupid little station wagon around parading your image, doesn’t mean there’s not that voice in the back of your head. Maybe… maybe a tight fist too. Telling you what to do. You’re afraid.” Heather talks with her hands, just enough that Jason can see through it.

That she’s being showy to hide something.

Doesn’t mean he’s not been rendered self conscious and bare-souled all the same. He doesn’t like that, even after months with Heather not feeling safe showing her all his tender parts like that, “I don’t want to hear this from you.”

“Oh, so a girl can��t have opinions, huh? I should just spread my legs now and let something else do all the talking?” Heather heats the argument.

Jason just lets his head fall back, frustrated, “I don’t- You /know/ I don’t want that.”

“Oh please do enlighten me then, your graciousness.” Heather forces what Jason is thinking out of him.

So he lets it go, without regard to her feelings, even though he hadn’t wanted to, “Look, I’m not stupid. I know your parents are a problem, Heather. Everyone that’s read the paper knows Tom Holloway isn’t a kind man. You try to hide it, but you can’t keep it from me. And you can’t- just take it all out on me!”

“I wasn’t-“ Heather tries to backpedal.

He still doesn’t let her, “You were! You always have! Nobody has the key to the lock on your heart, but I’ve been trying anyways. And you just shut. me. down!”

“Jason…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t meet for real until high school. I’m sorry I can’t save you because I’ve got my own.. shit to deal with. But, and forgive me for using His name in vain, Jesus fucking Christ Heather!”

“Jason..” Heather repeats, clearly more misty eyed than before, and opens her arms. A hug is letting him in physically, letting him get close even when the words aren’t easy.

Mostly, she hadn’t realized Jason could read her as easily as she could read him.

He takes the vulnerability to mean it’s safe to say, “I love you.”

“I know.” Is Heather’s response. It’s not easy to say it back, not when she chokes on it every time she tries to say it to her ‘problems,’ let alone a highschool boyfriend she was never supposed to fall for, not in her own heart.

It’s enough. Jason keeps holding her, lips against her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

Heather repeats herself, “I know.”

Nothing else felt right to say. Because she /was/ sorry too, but saying it second would feel ingenuine. At least, she’d read it that way.

She closes her eyes and feels exhausted. It’s not supposed to be this hard. Their school years are drawing to a close, and yet she can’t even admit her own parents treat her like shit.

Maybe a silent tear drop or two drips off the end of her nose behind Jason’s back. If he noticed, he didn’t say a word.

After a while, Heather needs to do something, sitting and thinking and regretting not doing anything to help, “Can we call Chrissy and Billy and go get some ice cream or something?”

“Sure. I think I owe that to you for keeping myself so.. alone.” Jason admits, bashful but genuine.

And isn’t that just the thing. Heather gives him a tiny smile back, “Ditto, baby.”

Ice cream ran into the evening, all of them itching for an excuse to stay out. Chrissy was the last to finish her bowl of two raspberry scoops with sprinkles, half of it melted into sludge by the last spoonful, and even that’s not a distraction enough.

It’s early spring, which means, as the group informed Billy, that the Hawkins drive-in theater was opening back up. Nobody even needed to discuss it to know that’s what they wanted to do. There were a variety of chick-flicks and even more horror sequels in the box office, which meant the two week delay at the drive-in would make for some good choices at least. Most Hawkins residents would take their trucks out there, not some prissy little station wagon, but it would do.

At least, it should, but Billy started getting impatient with cruising along under the speed limit out to the wooded hill where the drive-in is, “Can’t this piece of shit go faster?”

Heather turned around slightly to face and scold him, “Well, we coulda brought yours if you hadn’t decided to buy the extra tiny, no room for fun model.”

Billy just snorted humorlessly, “We could fit if there was any actual fun going on. Leaving room for the Lord or whatever is what fucks it up.”

For that comment, knowing their company, Chrissy pushed Billy’s arm gently. Still, she didn’t seem to disagree too harshly, since she smiled through when he kissed her next.

Heather seemed irritated, though that tends to be her default honestly, as she huffed, “Not everyone’s a sleaze like you, Hargrove. Get used to it.”

Billy hadn’t even justified it with a response, just waved her off and used the same arm to swing it over the seat behind Chrissy. She was wearing his jacket again, hadn’t taken it off all week, curled into his side and wearing his name. In that bubbly way she does, she was also wiggling her hands about, not nervous, but happy.

Content.

Heather and Jason still had a ways to go to reach contentment.

The pair stay in the car for the movie, their counterparts in a blanket on the grass instead. Cali boy is out there freezing his ass off, but he’d said anything would be better than being trapped with relationship drama.

Heather and Jason try to ignore him.

They fail.

Jason turns to her not even a full twenty minutes after that comment starts working it’s way under his skin, “Heather?”

“Hm?” She hums to show she’s listening, but doesn’t look his way.

That’s not enough for what needs to be said, so he repeats, “Heather.”

“Yeah, that’s me. You need something?”

“I wanted- I just…. I’m sorry.”

Her pretty features screw up in confusion, “For what?”

“For not being good enough.” Jason informs, like it was the most clear thing, “You’d be happier with a guy like Billy. Maybe you could call up Steve-“

“No, fuck you if you think I could ever leave you.” She spits.

And then she grabs Jason by the collar of his polo and kisses him.

It’s nothing chaste, nothing at all like their usual peck of the lips. This is roaming tongues and hands.

Heather reigns herself in when she feels Jason’s hands, holding her hips up under the back of her shirt, shaking.

“I’m not gonna make you do anything. Sex isn’t my endgame.”

He sort of freezes, like it hadn’t occurred to him that Heather wouldn’t mind helping him in his devotion to modesty, “So what is?”

“An apartment. Maybe get a cat. I want to share a space with you long before we do marriage shit.” Heather explains lightly, smile on her face.

Jason relaxes his shoulders, “Make it a dog and we’ll see. Dogs are better.”

“Oh, ha-ha. Make it one of each and I’ll forgive you for that comment.”

Heather kisses him again, without any heat or intensity this time, just gentle, soft affection. She even lets him touch her hair, despite usually slapping his hands away for that. It helps that she’d brushed it out to be restyled before bed tonight, but still, she would have let him even if her curls were laying perfect.

When they pull away, Heather lays her head on Jason’s shoulder. Instead of watching Cat’s Eye on the screen, her gaze falls to their friends huddled up outside, and she muses, “How much you wanna bet Chrissy and Billy run away into the sunset?”

“I hope they do. Hawkins is Hell on earth.” Jason asserts, clearly serious because he usually wouldn’t even mention a place like that.

Heather sighs slightly, “Literally. The kidnappings, the murders. I can’t take much more of it.”

Confident, Jason says, “I’m sure they’d make room for us then. If we wanted to go with them.”

That has Heather sitting up straighter, surprised, “You would live in California?”

Sunny skies, living free- it didn’t seem very much his pace. The order and the mundanity of Midwestern life seemed better for Jason.

He just shrugs for now, “Who knows? We’ll see when we get there.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Heather wonders aloud, as she knows it, finding that Jason prefers to have his entire life planned out.

He only sounds a little tense as he tries to sound brave and strong, “Getting there.”

The tension between them had to have been coming from there. She wanted nothing more than to rebel and escape, while he, even when he was feeling crushed by the weight of parental disapproval, was nothing short of desperate to be back in their graces.

If Heather could be more open to discussion when that made her uncomfortable, and Jason less complicit to begin with, the pair would probably be on the right path again.

She lays her head on him again, and this time, Jason takes his arm out of one sleeve of his varsity jacket, slinging it around her like a blanket. Her heart absolutely soars. The promise to Chrissy was fulfilled, she and her honey were working out just fine now, after she’d gotten Billy’s jacket.

That’s gotta be a sign that things will work out for Heather too.

“Hey, Jason?”

“Hm?”

She feels compelled to finally confess, “I love you.”

It’s Jason this time who, after a soft little kiss to her forehead, says, “I know.”

#strr2024 #billy hargrove #chrissy cunningham #calicheer #billy x chrissy #heather holloway #jason carver #choirguard #heathson #jason x heather #my writing #ej writer #st rarepairs

14 notes · View notes