#(then it's even worse and i could probably write a whole thesis on it) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefiery-phoenix · 2 months

Text

YANDERE JAE YEOL (JAY HONG) HEADCANONS

You were the new student at the Jaewon High school and the teacher asked you to introduce yourself to everyone in the class. A certain blonde haired guy with his bangs covering his eyes surveyed you with slight interest. He could feel slight warmth settling inside him as he looked at you and your features. Your smile was enchanting and captivating. You sat next to him and extended your hand out to him with a warm friendly smile on your face. He simply blushed slightly and turned away without shaking your hand. You could tell he wasn't trying to be rude, he was just shy. You got to know later on his name was Jay Hong and was given the nickname of being the prince of the fashion department

Apart from Daniel, you're the other person who could understand Jay. Whenever you'd ask him if he'd like to go out with you somewhere he'd nod with a slight smile. You've never heard him talk but it doesn't bother you too much since you could understand him. You make him feel so...warm and contended, you make him feel heard despite not talking out loud. He loves it when you smile, he always wants to see you smiling and being happy, he doesn't like seeing you sad or upset. The other day you got a lousy score on one of your tests and you were down in the dumps. Not even the incessant needling from Zack telling you to cheer up since it's a stupid test worked on you and you were pretty bummed out about it. After the lunch period was done, Jay strode over to your desk and handed you a bag and as you opened inside it and looked in it, you saw your favorite chocolates, goodies and treats along with a heartwarming little encouraging note from him. You thanked him and ended up giving him a hug and he felt like his heart would stop beating at the moment. He wanted to hold you in his arms forever and never let go of you

He'll fall for you real fast and real hard too. When he does, he catches obsessive feelings for you quite quickly too which will result in him getting rather sulky and pouty when you talk to other people, excluding Daniel. You had to work on an assignment with Zack once and the entire time, Jay sat right smack in between you both despite the complaints from Zack on how he had to deal with an annoying blonde the whole time. However Jay didn't give a damn. He'd rather shoot someone than have them steal you away from him. Just because he's quiet and shy and nice to YOU doesn't mean he has to be nice to the other annoying people who try to steal you away from him. It annoyed and frustrated him to no end when the teacher refused to let him be your partner even after asking him to change your partner so he could be with you. However he couldn't do anything about it since you actually liked the teacher and he knew you'd be sad if the teacher left and he doesn't want to see you sad

You can bet your allowance he will stalk the absolute daylights out of you and will always have your location one way or another. Say goodbye to your privacy since there'll always be someone or the other in the shadows to ensure your safety. He has FILES of your likes, dislikes and his assistant gives him an update of everything that happens in your life. He knows you better than you know yourself by now and he takes great pride in that and could probably write a freaking thesis about you and your personality. He has unfinished love letters that he wanted to give you but couldn't bring himself to do so because he didn't want to ruin your friendship with him. Poor guy would be devastated if you started ignore him, something in him will just break. Look, he can tolerate insults and anger and people hitting him but you ignoring him is much worse

Like I mentioned before, don't underestimate the way he fights just because he never really interacts or fights on common occasions, there's a reason you should always watch out for the quiet ones. He would never forgive someone trying to hurt you, he'd send them a one way ticket to the hospital with zero remorse and empathy. Have you seen the way he fights? His moves are fast and quick and it's all thanks to his training with the one and only Alexandra Sophia herself, learning a variety combination of mixed martial arts which he'll put to good use so he can protect you. If Logan ends up picking on you or making disgusting lecherous comments about you, he'll just walk over to him silently without even saying anything and just break his hand like it's nothing. Logan will have a natural hatred for blondes now thanks to him lol

Jay will get slightly pouty and jealous and sulky when you receive gifts from someone else. He'll quickly find a way to one up them because...he's Jay Hong after all. Oh, someone gave you a nice dress for your birthday? Well, here's 5 duffel bags full of the most fashionable clothes that are trending these days. Someone gifted you a new gadget? You'll have plenty more from him. He'll just walk up to you with a smile on his face and set the bags down for you. Of course, he finds it rather endearing and cute when you end up getting flustered and embarrassed like this and will not accept a no from you. You're going to accept his gifts and tokens of love for you and no, you don't get to have a say in this

Like the others he doesn't want you getting involved in gang stuff. The last thing he needs is for you to get targeted by some gang member but he's not really worried though even if that happens because he'll probably just murder them and find a way to cover up the body. Hey, when it comes to you, he's willing to do anything to make sure you're safe. What's a few dead bodies and gang members going to do anyway? He insists on dropping you off home on his bike and this is something you don't get to have a say on either. He'll just silently stand there and put his helmet on your head and gesture for you to get on his bike. He'd rather not take any chances when you're walking down the streets. He gets quite flustered when your arms are wrapped around his torso though, he'll be a blushing mess under his helmet and will be smiling smiling to himself, basking in the warmth and your soft gentle touch

He's not someone to play mind games with you or gas light you, he's too pure for that. He doesn't want to hurt you. However if your safety is being threatened, he won't hesitate to snatch you up from your life faster than you can even blink. You'll find yourself in a well furnished room on a soft large bed as you wake up. You'll of course, be quite confused as to what's happening and Jay will silently come into the room with a tray of your favorite things and set it down on the table beside the bed for you. When you ask him whether you can leave, he'll simply shake his head and refuse to let you go. You might not be bound by ropes or chains to the bed but that doesn't mean you'll be able to escape either. His loyal assistant is always there to observe you and snitch on you the moment you try anything funny

The security systems and the locks will be quite advanced and you won't be able to leave. By mistake even if you end up leaving, he'll just bring you back. He'll look at you with a slightly hurt look on his face and is sad that you tried to leave him but he understands why you'd leave him, you probably feel trapped and he gets your feeling. Which is why he'll take you out for private little outings to places he knows you'll enjoy. Just don't leave his hand, he needs to prevent you from running away again. However when it comes to someone stealing you from him...he won't have any mercy or remorse for them. They'll either get blacklisted from a company or their social status would be ruined or something. He'd do it secretly of course, without you ever finding out about it since he doesn't want you thinking that he's some sort of monster

He'll be quite hurt and devastated when you initially try to withhold yourself from eating anything and refusing to eat food. He'll look at you with the expression of a kicked puppy and a small tear will roll down his eye as he silently pleads and cajoles you to eat. He doesn't want anything happening your health, he loves you too much for that. Would you like for him to feed you because he's ready for that too. Just please eat something

He'd be flustered whenever you hug him or show him even the slightest of affection but he still loves it nonetheless. He loves it when you run your fingers through his hair, he'll let out a soft hum and look at you with a soft smile, like he has the world in front of his eyes. He'd like to touch your hair too and caress your cheek lovingly if you'd permit him too of course. He wouldn't do anything you're uncomfortable with since he's quite the gentleman. He likes holding your hand too and entwining and wrapping his fingers in yours as he kisses the back of your hand ever so gently. Overall, as a yandere, he'd be a nice one to have. Pretty chill and laid back who would ensure you're always by his side no matter what...

#yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism x reader #yandere lookism #yandere jay #yandere jay hong #yandere jay hong x reader #yandere jay hong scenarios #yandere jay hong oneshots #yandere jay hong imagines #yandere jay hong headcanons #yandere jae yeol #yandere jae yeol x reader #dark lookism characters x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism

89 notes · View notes

working-dreamer · 3 months

Text

It’s wild how shipping culture has changed so drastically over time on the internet.

In the old days people shipped characters who either had only one line of dialogue with each other, never even met, or not even from the same piece of media. It was the wild west and sure some ships were uncomfortable but people had the mindset to just block the tag and stay away from ships they didn’t enjoy.

Nowadays? It’s more like people have to clarify that their ship isn’t canon compliant, character adjacent, and story irrelevant otherwise they get a flood of comments saying “but this character isn’t like this in canon” and some people legitimately get angry if you’re not following the canon.

Like- shipping and fandom culture from what I understand it is about engaging with media in a way that caters to you. And if you don’t like a ship or show just… block the relevant tags and don’t engage in the ships? The internet isn’t supposed to cater to us- we have to cater ourselves to our internet environment. And no matter how many times people may harass others over a fandom or ship they don’t like, those ships are not gonna disappear.

The internet has just been getting worse when people have decided to place morality in their opinions by saying things like “if you enjoy the ship then you support (insert horrible thing here that’s usually completely unrelated to the ship itself)” when it used to be “eh, not my thing” and people just moved on.

And for the record this isn’t about a specific ship or anything- just an observation of how fandom has evolved (and regressed) over the years and I find it fascinating from a sociological perspective cause we still don’t know how having the internet from birth affects the development of kids and how that affects how they interact with others- isn’t that scary?

I know that’s slightly unrelated but the way people engage in media has been changing over they years and that also involves fandom and the maturity level thereof in the internet space and someone smarter than me could probably write a whole thesis paper about fandom culture and how the internet has hindered the social development of people and how that affects community specifically from a fandom lens.

Just- for your sanity younger internet children: it’s not worth harassing others over something as trivial as ‘it’s not canon that this character kisses another character.’ Just find ships you like. Block ships you don’t. And just enjoy your time doing what you like!

You can’t control the internet but you can nurture your little corner of it.

#shipping #canon ship #non canon ships #reader x character #self ship #I get so tired of seeing shipping posts and the comments or reply tweets are nothing but ‘but this isn’t canon tho!!!’#sonny when I was your age we shipped characters who never even met in canon!#even with ships I don’t like- I get exhausted seeing people get bombarded by fourteen year olds who haven’t developed critical thinking yet #every day I agree more that people under 18 shouldn’t have access to the internet #this can also apply to people who act like ‘if you dont reblog or boost this post (insert social issue here) then you’re a bad person!!’#like… no #you don’t have to apply moriality to a stinkin’ reblog button!#sure informing people is important but you don’t have to take the responsibility of the world’s issues #we’re all doing the best we can and you don’t have to prove your morality to be a good person #it’s okay to not engage with those kinds of posts if it makes you uncomfortable- that doesn’t affect your morality in any way #For example: I’m never gonna reblog gory posts showing battle zones #does that mean I support war? absolutely not!#I’m just protecting my mental health! and you need to as well #the internet is yours to make it how you want and if you want it to be an escape from the horrors of the world that’s okay #protect your happiness fam

38 notes · View notes

mummer · 1 year

Note

hellooooooo smart person!!! i have two asoiaf questions to ask you. so i was reading adwd, the chapter with ellaria sand making her big speech (can i take the skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night?) which was literally one of the best monologues ever. but i think it frames justice in a bitter, bloodthirsty manner. the martells are completely understandably pissed off by the lannisters, is george saying in this instance, even though vengeance is good (emotionally), it’ll screw everyone over? and does this apply to the starks/boltons too? we have so many good speeches on war and justice: broken man, this one, bathe in bolton blood, the mummer’s farce is almost over, etc. but they do conflict. is that the point? justice is better not pursued? or needs to be thought out?

ALSO. your vibe is that you’re a theon enjoyer. so i was wondering where his story is. it’s about identity, yes? but who is he? he’s not a greyjoy, i don’t think, he seems so disconnected from that violent culture, but he’s no stark. i think he wants a family, but the north will never accept him as a stark. so what’s theon’s purpose? i’m so sorry for talking so much but i always love your answers

ok ok ok. anon ily. i might answer the theon one in a separate post if i have time; im gonna try to be as brief as possible but i am gonna put this under a readmore because you touched on uhhh probably the central question of the whole series lol! in fact you could probably write a phd thesis about violence and justice in asoiaf lol, but lets see if i can boil it down quickly maybe not clickbait???? (i lied, this got egregiously long)

ok ok ok some disclaimers up front. I personally am probably a bigger pacifist than most people lol, so this may colour my take somewhat. secondly spoilers but my answer is that i dont think the series actually has a solid answer to the question of retribution/vengeance. my favourite kinds of art are pieces that ask questions that can't be answered. and: is violence ever acceptable? can it be used as a means to a good/just end? <- is like, a hugely unsettled matter in the entire human experience. this is a question we all ask ourselves at some point. it's even more complicated and tangled in real life! is the death penalty ever okay? how can we wage just wars? how do we protest subversively? can people be rehabilitated? even: can we change? that's what politics are all about! the q of violence is something i am constantly thinking about and am still unsure of my answers! most people are!

what asoiaf does so well is pick at the idea of violence in about a hundred different ways and though a hundred different lenses. not all violences are equal! of course not! it is very clear about this, as well as that said violence is not always physical, is most often institutional. and justice.... well justice is completely incoherent in this world!!! the first chapter opens with the protagonist executing a man we as readers KNOW did nothing morally wrong! the thing with asoiaf is that there is always an added nuance to challenge you when you think you've made up your mind. someone shows a glimmer of humanity, or else descends into unexpected cruelty, or else complicates the narrative. there is always a 'but'.

for example: take robb's war for ned. he is trying to avenge his father, save his sister. okay, that's noble. that's just. you want to root for that. BUT: their warpath endangers hundreds of thousands of smallfolk, not to mention the thousands of innocents in their armies forced to fight one another and die for the sake of one man. how could that be worth it? BUT: tywin's army was desolating the riverlands anyway, so wouldnt it be a net good to defeat them? BUT: protecting smallfolk was never their priority; their 'justice' is only for the highborn; politically, an independent north would probably not be any better or worse for the peasantry. a tree of hanging women who lay with lions. "the north remembers", when it's first used on page, is not a joyous rally; it's robb reflecting bitterly that harrion karstark cannot openly forgive him for killing rickard, or risk losing face. rickard, who was killed for killing lannisters, because the lannisters killed his sons-- because robb waged war, because the lannisters killed ned! a poisoned cycle that can't end, an ideology defined by war, remembrance and loyalty as its own sort of sickness.

the thing about violence as justice in asoiaf is that it is never portrayed as revelatory. it's not... like... cool lol. did tywin deserve to die? idk, maybe. but this does not lift a weight off tyrion's shoulders. it doesn't feel like he won. this is something all characters must bear and grapple with. arya in particular is rich with this and that could be its own essay ofc. at its simplest, though, we have sandor. he killed her friend. a child. do child-murderers deserve to die? a lot of people in the world would say yes. but when he is at her mercy, when he is literally begging for her to kill him, she can't. it's too much. when dany orders the disembowlment of the slavers, she questions the choice internally. does torture have utility, here? what is it worth? ("But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood... Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.") again, i dont think the narrative has a straight or easy answer, which is why she's asking at all! if these answers were easy there wouldnt be a book. or things like jon's babyswap, which i consider its own kind of violence— but it is born from an unflinching desire to avoid worse violence. so... can it be just, then? theon murders the miller's boys. little kids. does he deserve to be punished? yeah, right? but then we are confronted with reek, and the empathy in the reader flinches, says: nooooo not like that!!!! and then feels bad for ever thinking it! so if he can change, did he ever deserve to die? when joffrey dies-- joffrey!!!-- there is very little catharsis to be found. ("He has Jaime's eyes. Only he had never seen Jaime look so scared. The boy's only thirteen.") the prose focuses on his purple face, his futile desperation to breathe. the way he looks like a child, because he is.

and then there are all the logistical, logical ends that need to be dealt with when seeking retribution. you got back at someone: great. now their family or allies or loved ones will get back at you, and on and on it will go forever until no one remembers the original injustice (see: the brackens and the blackwoods). now there is a power vacuum, or a counterrevolution, now the crops have burned and everyone is starving, now there are orphans. so... was it worth it? this is generally never the intent, but none of this can be sidestepped, either. a large point: no matter how justified in war you may feel, these consequences must still be borne. whether they are worth it in the end is your decision to make.

so we come to ellaria, with no clearer answer than what we started with. and i agree, it's one of my favourite quotes too. the endless question of: what do we do with what has been done to us? the violence has already been done, there is no way to bring someone back, there is no retribution. the victims are dead and so is their killer. and yet it is a hollow justice, because nothing has changed. women like elia are still bartered as political pawns and discarded. again, there is no coherent justice in westeros. it is only by chance that gregor died anyway. the systems of power are still functioning, and the aberration of that is felt. the sand snakes are grieving, but they are grieving the only way they know how. oberyn walked past obara's weeping mother when she picked up a spear. the only language in westeros is violence, the only power in blood. well, it's better than being powerless, right? .....right?

there is no good option. doran picks a side, having agonized over it for decades. this was not easy for him! the martells are understandably pissed off by the lannisters— of course— but... who is left to seek justice from? tywin is dead. robert is dead. aerys and rhaegar are dead. gregor is dead. amory lorch is dead. they could war against/kill cersei... i guess. jaime, maybe? myrcella? tommen? great, what would be the point? will their deaths feel good, emotionally, to the martells? or will they just feel hollow, like so many scenes of retribution in the series?

so i might favour ellaria's vision-- peace and submission, anything just to survive, to avoid hurting people. but this has its own very very obvious problems! pacifism is not a get out of jail free card lmao! "war will come, whether we wish it or not," obara says. it's highly possible this move would be seen as a sign of "weakness", and would only invite worse violences from the ruling power. again— the misery of this world is systemic, not individual. that's what feudalism is. that's what power is. it requires violence to maintain. but violence is also almost always required to challenge or protest it. so, ok. fuck. fuck! how can a world like this be borne? and how can we change it?

god i wish i knew!!!!!! — george rr. martin, 2011

#asoiaf #this is nowhere even close to my full thoughts on this. at all. but a little taste a little glimmer #'a little glimmer' i say about a 1500 word post #i spent so long on this im not gonna be able to get enough sleep oops. Oh well

223 notes · View notes

hoardingpuffin · 5 months

Text

Over the Garden Wall Fable AU Concepts

Okay, so - when I was across the pond to see my partner, them and I watched Over the Garden Wall. @the-uninformed-zennial had never seen it, and it's so very much their vibe so obviously we had to. And, as we are both Fable nerds, we ended up talking about potential AU ideas. I'd had two possible concepts for AUs floating in my noggin for a while and we fleshed them out together a bit.

Now, between (hopefully) finishing Three Wishes, and the holidays, and that pesky 30+ page bachelor thesis paper, I won't have time to write them as actual fics anytime soon, so I figured I'd at least put out the concepts somewhere, and Tumblr seemed like a good choice.

For anyone unfamilar with Over the Garden Wall: It's a mini series by Patrick McHale that aired on CartoonNetwork a while ago, focussing on two brothers stuck in the mysterious Unknown trying to get home and experiencing wacky halloween-y hijinks on the way. The Unknown is often interpreted to be a sort of afterlife/limbo, and the series has a lot of themes of that direction, but it's still quite charming and cute and funny (as it is made for kids).

_____________________________________________________________

Concept 1 Icarus and Rae are in the place of Greg and Wirt – they got into some sort of fight in the real world and ended up in a situation that made them enter the Unknown as a limbo between living and dying. In this case, the characters from the Unknown would be remaining a lot more like the ones we know from the show, so the Woodsman is just The Woodsman, the Beast is just The Beast, and so on. I’m not sure who’d be in the place of Beatrice, but there are a few possibilities. If we’re going with the popular interpretation that the Unknown is a form of the afterlife, then it could be someone from canon who has passed already (if we wanna be angsty, it could be Haley maybe? I am not sure if I want her to be though), or alternatively Beatrice could just be a random soul who, like in OtGW Canon, is trying to free their own family.

In this AU, the story would probably progress similar to the one in OtGW – Icarus and Rae trying to get home and through the Unknown, getting into more fights along the way, until Icarus ends up losing faith in being able to get home completely. Rae – much like Greg – would offer himself to the Beast in order to get Icarus home, and Icarus in turn would have to step up and be a responsible older brother and save Rae from turning into an Edelwood.

There’s a lot of similarities between Icarus and Wirt, I feel like, though Wirt’s anxious poetic nature seems more alike Rae. But both Icarus and Wirt have this streak of blaming their younger brothers for stuff that those brothers weren’t necessarily responsible for, and lashing out at them, so I can see Icarus in Wirt’s place rather well. Plus, well, Rae, like Greg, going on a whole arc of “maybe this is actually my fault so I’m gonna go with the Beast to try and fix it” seems fitting for him to me.

Concept 2

Now, the other concept I might actually like more by just a little bit – in this, the people lost in the Unknown would likely be Athena and Jamie, who (due to something other in the real world) are finding themselves in the woods, where they meet the Woodsman – who would be Rae. I can just see Rae being someone to devote themselves to being the Lantern Bearer for the Beast, if it meant to keep the soul of a loved one alive (though in this case it wouldn’t be the child, but likely Aax and Caspian) – plus, the Beast has the whole antler aesthetic going on, so that can overlap neatly with the warden in my opinion. Maybe it’s just cause the Woodsman is such a tragic figure already in OtGW canon, but I think it would be a neat spin to see that character lead the ones lost in the Unknown instead of just sending them on their way, to make the idea that he might be the Beast even worse of a betrayal, which I always thought OtGW was a bit light on. I wish they’d have given that betrayal as much weight as Beatrice’s betrayal. And then, once revealed to the Woodsman that the Lantern holds the Beast’s soul, not anyone else’s, the big fight feels in character for Rae to me, too. Rae’s devotion to the ones he loves is immense, and him fighting the monster that deceived him so – especially to also keep two innocent souls safe in the process – would not only be in character, but also give a quite triumphant turn for him in this AU. Plus, he’d get the happy ending he deserves once he actually slays the Beast and returns home to see that his loved ones are actually there and likely have been all along. The unfortunate side to his AU idea is that most of the characters in the Unknown, like Rae, already being dead and likely for a long time. However, Zenni presented an alternative idea, where the inhabitants of the Unknown aren’t always actually the souls of the deceased, but might also be sort of mirror-verse representations of them. I’m not sure how Athena and Jamie would get to the Unknown then, but it would be an interesting concept to explore, and give more detail to the world – plus, give Athena and Jamie both more of a reason to trust the Woodsman and either for the believed betrayal to hit even worse or for them to not believe it because they know Rae so well in the real world.

_____________________________________________________________

Now, obviously, these are just concepts, not nearly as fleshed out as I would make an actual fanfic - and some stuff might be jumbled as I've not actually written it out before and the whole Putting Things In Your Writing Brain Into Actual Writing thing is difficult as fuck.

Anyways. Those are the two ideas I came up with and have been mulling around my noggin. I don't know if I'll write them, gonna be honest, but - they are concepts alright.

#fable smp #fablesmp #over the garden wall #otgw #over the garden wall au #fable smp fanfic

21 notes · View notes

sapphire-weapon · 7 months

Note

Okay so I love reading your opinions on all things RE. Your take and the way you write it is so refreshing, I really love it. Your observations and analysis is great and often makes me rethink a lot of things.

So here's what I've been trying to figure out. Since you said nobody but Chris looks past Leon being likable and respected. And that man needs some loving for real. Someone actually committed to the mess he is.

Would you say he is too unstable to be in an actual deeper and meaningful relationship? Is he to broken/ otherwise concencerned/ distrusting or is he just the kind of guy to not wanting to pursue deeper connections other than flings and friendships at arm's length?

Like this guy is lonely. This guy needs a hug and smack on the back of his head sometimes fr.

thank u anon. my goal here is to get ppl to think about the actual text/scripting of the story without the noise of the fandom coloring their perceptions, because this is an old fandom with a lot of pre-conceived notions and biases that poison the #Discourse almost to a cultish degree, which causes the actual story itself to get lost.

but

there are a lot of words I'd use to describe Leon. "unstable" isn't one of them. he's just... Busy. and has a hero complex that honestly makes him a little selfish.

Leon has a really abnormal life, and he knows it. he also knows just how much of a fucking nightmare it is, and he doesn't want to drag anyone else into the world of bioterrorism who otherwise would have no reason to be there or even know about it. he doesn't have the time to dedicate to a relationship, and even if he did, he wouldn't.

this is why we see him hitting on other operatives and not the civilians involved on any given mission (for reference, see: hitting on Hunnigan in OG while turning down Ashley's explicit offer of sex). there are still ways in which his lifestyle can make a civilian's life worse, even if they've already been exposed to bioterrorism. but an operative is pretty much just as fucked as he is, so they're fair game.

because, like. there's never any point where he rejects Chris's love for him. he might push back on the method with which Chris chooses to express it sometimes, and he might have other moments where he'd rather just be self-indulgent with his misery (Vendetta), but there's never a moment where it's like... "don't waste your time caring about me/I'm not worth it."

even with Ada, like... I'm not going to rehash my whole "guide to OG Aeon" post, but Leon never expresses that he feels unworthy of her help/affection/attention. he accepts it with as much grace as he can muster, in fact.

a romantic relationship just isn't his priority. relationships are work, and there are other things that he feels that he needs to give his emotional energy to -- and, because of his depression, the amount of energy he has emotionally is just much lower than that of other people. so he uses what little he has to focus on his job, because that's what's most important to him.

and I know that this probably sounds like it's running counter to my thesis statement re: Leon's character of "Leon is lonely and he fucking hates himself" but like. deprioritizing human interaction and relationships and the opportunity to be truly loved is, in and of itself, a form of self-harm. he'd rather cut himself off than put in the effort required to be vulnerable -- and that's the part that goes back to the idea of "I'm not worth it."

Leon sees what he's doing as being infinitely more important than who he is. he doesn't see who he is as a person as being worth giving up his work and/or exposing someone else to The Horrors.

and this is true for both OG and Remake Leon -- especially after the conclusion of Remake Leon's positive change arc in RE4make. prior to RE4make, you could maybe make the case that he was too broken and distrusting to pursue a deeper relationship with someone, but post-RE4make, that's not the case. post-RE4make Leon would love nothing more than to pursue a HEA with Ashley, but he knows that he has to prioritize Sherry, and his depression prevents his brain from considering the very simple question of: "Why not both?"

#resident evil #leon kennedy #meta analysis

18 notes · View notes

callipraxia · 2 months

Text

(The prodigal blogger returns! The good news, my writer's block broke. The...news-that-I-hope-is-no-worse-than-indifferent, anyway, is that it was to write...this thing. Well, gotta start somewhere, right?

I attempted to post the whole thing under a cut here, but unfortunately, I...may have found the character limit. It doesn't make much sense to me to think that I found the character limit, because I'm fairly sure the Ford essay was significantly longer than this, but it's the only reason I can think of why the button won't work properly when I put in all the text. Therefore, have the first two paragraphs followed by a link to the full thing over on dreamwidth, where you can also find my other essays and the incomplete fictions I've also posted over here.)

I was chatting Gravity Falls with a few other authors recently and at some point, the subject of least-favorite characters came up. In the course of this conversation, I expressed mild surprise over hearing that Robbie Valentino is someone who fans would care enough about to even bother hating properly and was told that this is typically because of Robbie's bullying of Dipper. I found this interesting, as although I’m certainly no fan of his – I find his personality irritating, his behavior generally repellent, and his presence in the story kind of a waste of time that could have been used for more interesting things – it had never occurred to me to think of him as a proper bully. As a jerk? Of course. As a kid who clearly wanted to be a bully? Definitely. But to me, at least, he was always so very bad at it that I remained largely indifferent to him after he stopped being annoying, despite having been bullied rather a lot myself in my younger days. A discrepancy has appeared! You all know what that means - time for the latest installment of Calli Overthinking Things In Walls ‘o Text Yet Again.

Preliminary house-keeping matters: we're talking about bullying and abuse of power, so TW for that. I also want to formally note for the record that this isn't an argumentative essay - I'm in no way trying to say my point of view is more correct than any other. If anything, I'm probably less correct than average, if there's such a thing as a correct way to interpret a character. I'll call this an essay for lack of a better term, but it doesn't aim to prove a thesis. It's just examining the reasons - some personal, some somewhat due to literary conventions - why it didn't occur to me, personally, to think of him as a proper antagonist (or, indeed, to really think of him at all) until I saw others do so. So, this might actually be the first proper personal essay I've ever written....Read more by clicking the link below.

callipraxia | Bullies, Rivals, Comparisons, and the Narrative: Part One (dreamwidth.org)

#gravity falls #gravity falls characters #robbie valentino #dipper pines #gideon gleeful #dolores umbridge #bullying tw #bullies in fiction #essay #my essays #gravity falls essays

6 notes · View notes

polarisbibliotheque · 6 months

Text

Updating by writing you guys this huge post. I mean it, it's really long xD

Heeey-ho!

I know, I know, I couldn't keep my Halloween promise T-T

Tha Halloween gods are now shouting at me "HOW COULD YOU?!"

Die Halloween gods, slowly coming after me - black and white edition

As it has happened before, I'll be posting both Dante and Vergil's part during november. I'm still working on them, so it might take a while. Do apologise.

They will be here, just with a little delay. I do think Halloween should last more than just a few days, so screw it, until Christmas, it's still legal to celebrate Halloween at the Bibliothéque \o/

Now, now, for those who don't like too much talking, I'll be explaining a little bit below why I'm taking so long. Feel free to skip it if you don't want to read it, no worries ;)

(There's a "conclusion and TL;DR for those who don't want to read this whole novel" in pink down there if you want to scroll down to that point!)

As *not* expected, my health took a crazy downturn. I know I say it all the time, but hell, I've no idea what gives this time. I literally stopped everything. I spend most of the day in pain and the rest of it sleeping. That's it.

I have an appointment with my doctor next week, but I'm not too much hopeful. Last exams showed I have two ulcers - which means scarring and bleeding in the stomach - that can be literally anything.

Not gonna lie, I'm pretty worried it can be something worse than I was expecting, although it never even appeared to exist before, but well... My anxiety isn't exactly logic.

Secondly, as you guys might not know, I'm graduated in Law, worked as a lawyer for 5+ years before having a burnout and all those health issues (yeah, yeah, don't do what I've done, all that sort of thing). But something you don't know, and honestly probably only my close family knows and cares about, is that my graduation thesis was "The Conflict of Israel x Palestine and International Law".

I researched it for 3 years before defending my thesis, got a college prize for it, the professor who mentored me made a huge speech on how I proved "we women can do it on academia and research" and that my work was really nice. I'm not saying all this 'cause I'm boasting, I'm just saying I know what I'm talking about (because you know, who has never met a man who thinks their opinion is better than yours "just because" while you have a fucking huge CV on research and graduated with honors on the same matter but, somehow, you can't beat the opinion he just pulls out of his ass?).

All of this to say, I'm devastated by what's going on. This is more than politics to me. This was my thing, you know? I had a dream, stupid ~promising young woman~ dream of doing something with my intelligence to actually help people. To actually stop massacres of happening. I wanted to work at the UN, I wanted to speak with world leaders, to show people how much I can research and how much basic human rights matter so horrid things cannot happen ever again.

When the war broke and the bombings started, I followed the news. And then the news weren't reliable anymore. I started digging to find the truth - and hells, the truth is ugly and bloody. I think that's when all those last shards of dreams came crashing down. I thought I could do something, you know? Actually do something. But in the end, my parents were broke, I had to work to help at home, I kept sending my CV to the UN but I was never enough, and I just wasted my energy and health under the boots of someone who had more power and influence than me to break me and kill my career before it even started.

I felt so horribly powerless. So horribly broken. It seems stupid, but everything that is going on out there fells personal to me, I have history with it. And it broke me. Completely. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't force myself to at least watch the horrible things going on and try to like/share so the algorithm can make it reach other people.

That's all I can do.

You know, I have a lot of Vergil in me. For the things I wrote, I think you all can see I have a thing of "I never want to feel pain again and I want power so no one can never hurt me again" - that's why I think I want to kick his ass every time I see this fucking man being so emotionally constipated and ruthless because of his trauma. It's a way to protect himself, burning every path so he never feels powerless again - and I guess we all HATE to see the parts of our own personalities we hate the most in someone elese

So yeah. I know things took a dark turn on this one, but I decided to be honest with you guys - since I'm owing so many updates: the 2 Halloween fics, Nemesis and Survivor's Blood. I'm not really well currently, and only the gods know how much effort I'm making to keep it together... At least a little bit.

Physically, I'm like V. And I'm not even trying to be funny, every time I see that lil' goth twink I want to yeet him away because, hell, I'm MAD I see myself in him (mind you, I used to be more on Dante's side of the fitness spectre xD) - and not only regarding fitness, but tiredness. Falling apart. It's so... Harrowing. I think that's the word that fits the feeling better.

Mentally, I'm Vergil. I don't want to, I want to beat him with a stick, I want to yell at his face and kick his stupid ass, but damn. I get it. That crippling fear of not wanting to feel powerless again, to have people abuse you? The feeling you're trapped in your own body? The "feelings bring only pain and suffering"? The terrifying dread of discovering you failed at everything even with all your talents and never wanting to admit it? Check all of those. I hate you Vergil, but I get you.

I'm trying, though. I use writing as a coping mechanism and as a way to resolve many things mentally, but the last months have felt SO overwhelming I went back to my paralysed state of not being able to do anything and running away from things that remind me of all THAT.

You guys might be alarmed, but there's no reason to be, though. This is a ~moment~ I'm going through and I just need to sort it all out. I'm starting to get some warning signs of numbness, vivid nightmares of past issues, the paralysis, avoidance - but I've been there before. I just haven't figured out a way to pull myself together and I don't even remember how I did that once, so it might take me some time.

I don't know why, I had some sort of weird ~boost~ while thinking in the shower today, and I might know how to give the small steps to start getting back on track and gaining that momentum I need. This weekend I had to convince my mom to celebrate her birthday 'cause she's my Samwise Gamgee carrying me up Mount Doom and she wasn't in a mood to do so - therefore on monday, I have some things in mind to discuss with her and, hopefully, things will slowly go back to their place.

Conclusion and TL;DR for those who don't want to read this whole novel hahaha

THAT BEING SAID: I'm really sorry I can't deliver everything I wanted to you, guys. I didn't expect life to get so much more fucked up than it already was, but here we are. I just have to get used to the new pace of things, but it might take a while. My output of writing will be slow, but hey, after I can get out of that paralysis phase, I'll probably be writing more and posting more - 'cause I really, really love this. With all my heart.

(also, if you people see me active on my drawing thing, posting a bunch of things, it's 'cause I'm finally getting to look at all the art I've done but never posted and actually updating it and putting my art blog to some use I haven't in a while - I won't be creating new stuff. All old stuff I procrastinated as HELL and those will be some of my small steps to get out of this rut)

Now, as a last thing, I intend to use a video from a guy I always watch on youtube as some sort of guiding light in these trying times hahahaha but seriously, he has some really sound advice and he is so down to earth. Maybe someone who's going through some fucked up times can use his advice as well and unfuck their life too :)

youtube

That's it. I felt like I needed some raw honesty today. Like I said, small steps. This is part of it hahahaha

I hope you guys understand. There's nothing I love more than writing, creating something for people - and all of this, everyone I met here and every single person that uses their time, which is the most precious thing we have, to read something I wrote gives me the greatest gift I can be given. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate you and how much I don't want to disappoint you.

So thank you. I will work slowly and I will need some time to get my shit together, but I'll always be here. I'll update everything I need and won't leave you hanging but you know... It's like Dracula Daily. It starts in April and finishes by the end of the year, taking time to put the letters together.

Aaaaand, if you read Lord of the Rings, the whole adventure takes a year. We are very much conditioned to be given content constantly to keep algorithms happy, but I do have a view that humans (and art for that matter) can't keep up with being content.

Zygmunt Bauman said we live in liquid times, and made the theory that everything is liquid nowadays (for people who like sociology and philosophy, I highly recommend his books, I love him with all my heart), so we're not really used to things that are a little more... Constant. Earthy, perhaps. Slow, stable, never leaving.

I try my best to be like that, not like a liquid, inconstant, fleeting presence. I want the things I do to be part of something that will stay, and I like being someone that stays - and doesn't just flow away because everything has to be fast and ever moving nowadays. The Bibliothéque is to be like that, I think, a place that no matter what, you can come back after ten months and you'll still find me here, drinking some tea and writing stuff. And I'll be happy to see you again, for as much as you can or would like to stay :)

kinda like Dante in his lil' shop :')

That's it. Thank you for reading me mumbling nonsensically in order to tell you I will keep updating my fanfiction, even if at a slow pace HAHAHAHAHAHA

Hope you guys have a fine weekend and a good next week! I'll be always lurking around, but the creation process will be a bit slow.

Will still be here to mumble randomly about DMC and scream random things in the void though :D

*me getting ready to tackle life for the next months, going like "still heeeeeeeeere bitch!!"*

***

And I'd like to add that I searched for "Obi Wan" on GIFs to find some sassy defying mood too add here and one of the first hits was this:

I'll leave you guys on this note 'cause I'm still wheezing about it, it's so friggin' on point I can't EVEN

#polaris speaks #update #life update #writing update #personal post #personal rant #ranting #rant post #and I meant it to be a little post going like 'haha it's gonna take a while to update'#but decided to be honest #I always think it's good when people I admire admit going through tough times or trauma or being broke or just overall not good #it makes me be less harsh on myself regarding everything I guess #so I thought this vulnerability from my part could do someone some good as it does for me when other people are vulnerable #I mean I'm hating it #seriously considering deleting this post once it goes live #don't know if I'm gonna do that but for now #I hope it helps someone #I really do #(don't worry Vergil is judging me from the distance the man would probably beat the shit out of me or hug me no in betweens with him)#Youtube

15 notes · View notes

dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year

Note

I know some people think Dean is a "ruthless Casanova" like you mentioned, a jerk of a womanizer but he's far from that ! Yeah, the guy loves sex. And women. Yes, he can't keep it in his pants and won't turn down an opportunity to get laid. But when it comes to it, we've literally seen how it is. And it's sweet, and gentle, and delicate, and loving, and considerate, and fun. I mean, he was into "sexy rules" ! I know that he probably got a girl in every town and even if sometimes he lied about who he was or what he did for a living, he never lied about it being just a one night stand. And we just have to actually look at his face after an unexpected kiss. Or when a girl hits on him and is clear about wanting him. I mean, Andrea ? Anna ? Ellie ? He's just all shy and flustered and surprised, so how can this be the expression of an asshole playboy ? My man is a lover and just loves having a good time with anyone willing to share a night with him. And the women he shared more than one night with ? The ones he had actual feelings for ? He was one loving, adorable, protective man. I know this man isn't real but, ugh, he confirmed the kind of guy I like and probably put way too high expectations for my future love life 😭😅

Sorry to have bothered you with this monologue, feel free to ignore this ask ! 😘

Are you kidding?! Never apologize for talking to me about anything, but least of all Dean Winchester. I could write an entire thesis on him, and I still wouldn't want to stop talking about him! 😍 Plus any chance to chat with you is more than welcome! ❤️

I agree wholeheartedly with everything you've said here. I'll never understand people who equate his love of sex and pleasure with being a womanizer, or playboy. Or even worse - act as though it makes him a misogynist! 😠🙄

We literally only ever see women quite happy to be with him (and why wouldn't you be?) women he never pressures or creepily pursues. In fact, as you mentioned, most of the time, it's women coming on to him. (Again, not at all surprising.) And usually, when they do, he's all flustered, and surprised.

And though many people use the interaction that you mentioned, in 10x07 between him and Shaylene, where he's talking about "sexy rules" as "proof" that he's obviously a sub, I've always seen it as his happiness and willingness to talk about boundaries, and what she's willing and not willing to try. I think that's the OPPOSITE of misogyny. In spite of his eagerness (*ahem* horniness 😜) he's still more than willing to talk things out, so they both feel safe and comfortable and can have a good time. (Not that I'm trying to naysay people who want to fantasize a subby dean, of course - fantasize away. 😁)

Anyway, you're right in that Dean Winchester (and Jensen for that matter!) has set my standards for what a man should be, WAY too high. Lol! But I just love him with my whole heart, and would happily use up a thousand wishes if he could be real. 😍🫠

Thanks for the Dean chat, my dear! ❤️❤️

#dean winchester #jensen ackles #dean and women #dean and sex #spn discussion #dean winchester's character

19 notes · View notes

smallfrenchstudyblr · 1 year

Note

How do you think a student should be dealt with if you can tell the student has taken the bare bones of an essay from chatgpt but has made genuine effort to improve that essay and has just used it as a jumping off point regardless of how well or poorly the student did it? would you still consider it unethical? Do you think these cases can even be spotted by a professor? im not making a case for either side of the argument just curious ab your take

Hello !

So I am not an ethics expert, but I would say ethics is a scale. So is it more ethical to take on the bare bones of a ChatGPT essay and work on it, rather than directly submit the AI-generated output ?

I mean... I guess. It's still not very ethical, and potentially academic misconduct, imo.

Would we be able to spot it ?

I don't know. We could probably spot that there is something a bit off about the essay, but that would depend on how much you re-write it.

To me, the overwhelming issue then is less "is it ethical" but "is it a good essay in the end". And the answer is that it's not. You will NOT get a good essay, tailored to your class and the expectations of the grader, out of ChatGPT. No matter how much you re-write and re-formulate everything. A nothing burger is a nothing burger.

The problem of ChatGPT is that it does not give you quality content, complex arguments and coherence throughout that we expect from College-level writing. As long as you start the essay writing process with ChatGPT, you will be stuck here. I would argue that the worse use you can make of ChatGPT is to ask it to outline anything from scratch.

The most productive (and maybe, MAYBE ethical? to be discussed honestly) use of I can see of ChatGPT is the exact reverse: come up with your essay. Do the hard part, the one that the grader wants to see. Come up with the thesis, the structure, the arguments, the examples. Be creative ! Then draft the whole thing. And let ChatGPT be what it is meant to be : a writing tool. Have it reformulate some sentences. Have it have it find a way to better embed your examples. Feed YOUR WORK your ChatGPT, and let it produce a sleek version of YOUR content. Use it like a highly advanced version of Grammarly, or the Word editor.

TL;DR: If you want/need to save time, save time on the writing part. Not on the thinking part. The thinking is what people are for! I don't know how ethical this is, I am not making a case for or against it when you use like this. But at least it's not dumb or respectful of your peers, your grader or your lecturer.

At the end of the day, the more AI can do in term of writing, the more we will be looking for the added value of human input. And the added value IS ideas, thinking, creativity, because AI can never go beyond the content it has been trained on - but YOU can!

#ask me things #I would love someone better trained in ethics to write about actually #because there are definitely grey areas in the use of AI for writing #your girl definitely has already asked chatgpt to rewrite some sentences because English is Hard #at the end of the day it is not my sentence anymore #although its content is still very much mine #it's a Ship of Theseus problem I think

10 notes · View notes

westshellos · 1 year

Text

preface to “a few of my favourite things”

coming across @/dieworkwear’s tweets on ethical fashion while coming home to a perpetually-full wardrobe everyday really made me reconsider some of my sartorial purchases.

one thing he pointed out was the fact that the average american spends $600 on clothes a year. with that kind of money, he argued, you could buy a good piece of quality clothing that would undoubtedly last you more than a year and that didn’t involve slave wages and inhumane working conditions in the production process. this was in response to somebody defending SHEIN—what i like to call TaoBao lite for people who can’t read chinese—an ecommerce website that was recently crowned 2022′s most popular fashion brand. with the countless number of labor law violations we’ve seen from other brands (nike, zara, h&m, or most of what’s on the market right now) over the years, it’s no surprise that SHEIN too was found guilty of all these violations and more.

this isn’t news to anyone. if anything it’s become something that’s almost a given for any fashion brand that’s able to put out new stuff on their website every week (or day). as someone who knows how sewing works (sort of), i of all people should know that ethical fashion is expensive fashion: clothes aren’t easy to make, and sewing is one of the few things left that hasn’t been fully automated because it’s a meticulous, arduous process that takes immense skill and dexterity. the closest we’ve come are automatic electric sewing machines that still have to be operated by skilled tailors. it’s why clothes from a label like los angeles apparel (not the best example for dov charney reasons, but that’s a whole other topic that i don’t have the space to get into here; point is, they pay their workers a living wage of US$20-35/hour) charges US$24 for a plain cotton t-shirt and not $2. it’s why a hand knit sweater from a small business on instagram costs US$300 and not $30. making clothes is hard, and when SHEIN charges a suspiciously low amount of money for clothing, it’s because it is suspicious.

a common defense for buying from SHEIN is that it’s one of the only options for people who can’t afford to buy from ethical brands. but as @/dieworkwear has already pointed out, the average american (and arguably, singaporean in my context) probably has enough money to buy what they need (good quality things, too) and have it last for a year or more. this “defense” is, more often than not, a thinly veiled excuse for people who want to do $1000 SHEIN hauls without feeling guilty. using “there is no ethical consumption under capitalism” as a reason is arguably even worse, as it’s co-opting a phrase that’s supposed to describe the unethical nature of capitalism as a whole. it’s not something you say when you want to consume as unethically and freely as you want.

the point is that despite there being no ethical consumption under capitalism, we still have the ability to make it as ethical as we possibly can. working on an honor’s thesis on labor, capital and the ethics of care, it’s become increasingly clear to me that this tweet (pictured below) was exactly right. capitalism would want you to care less, because pessimism and resignation paves the way for compliance. they would want you to say “screw it, i’m going to do that $1000 SHEIN haul because nothing i do matters” because then you’d be doing exactly what they want: buying stuff you don’t need to line the pockets of gajillionaires.

drawing from many feminist philosophers and scholars, i wrote (or rather, am intending to write at this point in time) that love and care, under a system that promotes and reproduces itself through carelessness, is inherently radical. apart from loving and caring for the people around you, i’d say loving and caring for the things you have now can be an act of resistance too: after all, what’s not anti-capitalist about refusing to participate in the cycle of endless consumption?

despite knowing all of this for a long, long time, i was, sadly, a culprit of all these things i’ve listed. in the past, i’ve been guilty of buying way too many things when i didn’t need to. i’ve also been guilty of buying things from places with more-than-questionable ethics (i’m looking at you, TaoBao). reading these tweets and working on my thesis has imbued me with some sort of hope—that even if i don’t manage to lead the proletariat to revolution and dismantle the system from top to bottom, there’s still some point in trying. that the little things do count. so to atone for my previous sins and to help me buy less and more ethically, i’m going to start a series titled “a few of my favourite things” to appreciate the things i already have rather than feel the need to buy more. this is just the preface.

#fashion #fave things series #rambles

2 notes · View notes

legobiwan · 2 years

Note

I'm a little confused. George Lucas is against Obi-Wan/Satine taking things further w/their romance. Is it because they're in love? Because he's also said Jedi aren't celibate & are against possessive love. Yes, George sees Obi-Wan as the ultimate Jedi but didn't he also plan on having a love triangle w/Anakin/Padme/Obi-Wan that's been described as a torrid affair?

Heh, I mean, this is a textbook Watson/Doylist perspective issue (a Watson/Doylist trolley problem, perhaps?), but let's take a crack at it.

The thing is (and I'm not quoting GL here, even if we do share the same birthday), Obi-wan - for better and for worse - adheres to the Jedi Code. Except when he doesn't. And then he does again even more rigidly (guilt, anyone?). And then he doesn't. And then he does..

Obes going full-bore with Satine would be a kind of commitment to leaving the Jedi that I don't think his character could really ever stomach, as much as he cared for her. And yeah, that means they probably slept together (more than once) and then Obes tried to throw it off as "nothing" or at least something he couldn't get attached to. I mean, yikes. One-night stand, yeah, sure, that happens. Their relationship? That's a real yikes. No wonder Satine sharpened her tongue when they met again on Mandalore.

I mean, narratively, if Obi-wan commits to Satine, he has to leave the Order. Whether or not Obes's ability to compartmentalize and be the "ultimate Jedi" is ultimately healthy is a whole other issue that I don't want to touch on here. (Because committing to a relationship isn't necessarily the definition of healthy and many people are cool on their own with no-strings-attached sex or no sex at all. But, from what we can gather from the source material, he was definitely in love with her. Speculation and fan writing notwithstanding).

And, of course, you have to figure Obes wouldn't be going full-on controlling boyfriend like Anakin did - he was able to let Satine go, obviously. Ultimate Jedi and all of that and also, good for him being in a situation where (for whatever reasons) it was obvious things weren't going to work out and letting the other person just be. It's a rare skill out there, let me tell you.

Then we come to this torrid love triangle with Obes, Anakin, and Padmé, which I'm not going to look up because I am a fraud and hack (to quote Robert Evans). Obes being the "ultimate Jedi" doesn't mean he can't make "ultimate mistakes." I mean, I don't buy that Obi-wan would have a torrid love affair with Padmé given his unbelievable devotion towards Anakin, but it's a hackneyed drama idea that I'm glad was cut. Now, Anakin believing Padmé was having a torrid affair with Obes? Yeah, that tracks 100%, as Anakin was not exactly the best boyfriend/husband in the galaxy. (That's a whole other post).

At the end of the day, the idea I think GL was trying to get across was that attempting to "possess" another person was bad and that you eventually just needed to let go. (And I may be bs'ing here, but I believe some of this stemmed from his own divorce, if I'm not mistaken. It's a much better road to take, for sure). And that possession often takes the form of romance because hormones and all kinds of other weird things like society hijack brains into thinking this is how it should be. (Don't get me started, I have rants for ages about this shit).

And let's be honest - GL was/is a great storyteller but not exactly consistent with the details of his narratives. And I think some of this has played into why the whole "non-attachment" policy has become so contentious in Star Wars circles. There's just too many ways to interpret it and use it as a convenient narrative device. And you know, in-universe, this kind of makes sense, too. Any organization as large as the Jedi (and as bureaucratic) is going to have policies that don't make 100% sense and don't fit all situations.

This is all not even getting into my personal thesis that Obi-wan himself was falling deeper into the Dark Side as the war went on, and thus I suppose (although not really, given what I've said above) that could forgive a "torrid" love triangle. Again, it's a little hard to fathom and best that it was nipped in the bud.

So...uh. Not sure if this actually answered any kind of question or is just me going off on a Friday night soap box, but *throws hands*...tada!

#hello there #ask legobiwan #oh boi im sure this will elicit some interesting responses #i have mixed feelings on the whole non-attachment policy and how it shaped the jedi as they came to be in rots #but it's complicated people and wholly intertwined with politics and other non-sexy topics #well if you divorce sex and love from power which gets into a whole other discussion that im not going to open here thank you very much

7 notes · View notes

subbylittlegaygirl · 18 days

Text

Little vent

1. i got into a silly little debate with someone about how because I dont have a depressing traumatic backstory and grew up relatively accepting household i “shouldn’t complain about gender dysphoria”i could probably write a college thesis length paper on how dumb this is but it mostly boils down to: just because your suffering or the suffering of someone else is worse than yours does NOT mean that you dont get the right to complain and open up. To get it through your thick skulls its like breaking a bone and losing a limb, sure one is worse than the other and has longer lasting impact, but a broken bone is still serious and both are deserving of care, someone else having a worse injury does not invalidate the broken bone persons need for medical attention

2. stop hating on gen alpha. By hating on gen alpha you are just continuing the cycle of hatred, even if you think it’s stupid is it more dumb than the shit you did when you were eight or nine? (the answer is no, its not stupid you just refuse to accept that culture is a growing entity) By remaining rooted in place on topics of modern culture you become the very people that you swore you wouldn’t be, the people that hate because they dont understand the nuances of a topic, you become like boomers who hate technology and long for “the good old days”

3. Not everyone falls under your narrative. Not every transfem wants to be called brave for just being themselves, not every psychotic person is a threat to yours or others safety, not every depressed person is always mopey and sad, not every woman in a primarily masculine field is a slay queen girlboss, identity is messy and trying to quantify anything about it into numbers or boxes is impossible

4. Sometimes there doesn’t need to be a “devils advocate” I recently had a situation where someone was arguing in favor of neo-nazi ideals under the banner of devils advocate. If you always play the role of devils advocate maybe take a step back and assess if youre devils advocate or just racist

5. If you want people to “be themselves” then quit fucking shaming them for being themselves. Someone opening up and not turning out to fit your expectations of being this cool sexy shy nerdy (but not in the bad way!!!!) softie is no excuse to shame them for being a nonstandard human being. Accepting everyone means everyone not just the ones that fit your story

6. Just because you intended something as a joke doesn’t mean it didn’t affect someone. Back in the good old days of middle school so many people made SA/Rape jokes and when one of my friends who had been a victim of sexual abuse had a breakdown because of all the reminders of her trauma and started telling people to please stop they all just said “its a joke” and continued. You dont know what someone else has been through and as a rule of thumb only joke about something if the person youre poking fun at has joked about it themselves

7. You dont owe anyone anything just because you had any kind of relationship with them. I hear way to often “but you were friends for so long” and “but hes your dad” If someone treated you poorly you have full rights to cut contact whenever, you have the right to hate them and not want anything to do with them, the only way you should love someone is because you love them, not because they did something for you or because anything besides YOUR decision

8. Please please please stop swooning over serial killers, narcissists, sex criminals, and abusers. Those people have RUINED LIVES, they deserve to be HATED with your whole soul. THEY ARE CALLED TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS BECAUSE THEY WILL FUCKING POISON YOU. STOP ROMANTICIZING ABUSE AND STOP FUCKING FEEDING THESE PIECES OF HUMAN FILTH WITH ANY FUCKING SHRED OF KINDNESS

9. Personal one but holy fuck stop shipping real people and children. Those are not writers constructs who dont exist those are people with hopes, dreams, memories, sadness, emotion, and story that you are treating as a fucking object to be paired with another object because “it would be so cute”. If you ship children i will find you and i will tear out your intestines to fucking string up like holiday garland

10. Specific one but stop treating trans people’s deadnames like just another name, at least to me everytime i hear it i get this bigass wave of dysphoria, if i poke fun at my brother and call him a name for, you know, existing as my sibling or doing something he will respond with “ok [deadname]” and it just hurts on a visceral level

vent over

#tw sa #tw trauma #tw transfobia #tw rap3 #tw abuse

0 notes

halflingkima · 26 days

Note

15, 20, 44

wait i meant to type 43, answer 43, too!

thanks b! 💕 my dnd session caught me in the middle of answering 😅

15. Which genre(s) are your favorite? The easy answer to this is romance; but last year I had a run of bad (i.e. boring) romances that set me off of mainstream romance altogether. I'm always down for a queer indie, but it's more of a gamble with the writing styles out there.

I think my real favorite genre is literary fiction, but it's like that post about poetry where 99% of it is pretentious crap except for that 1% that speaks to your soul AND that 1% is different for everyone. I think lit fic is like that, except it's more like 75% is bullshit, 20% you can generally appreciate that it's for other people, and 5% rewrites ur dna.

20. Where and how do you find new books to read? I can't tell if this is asking literally where I get books or how I hear about new books, but we'll do the latter. I do work at a library but we're REAL behind on orders (thx covid). I mostly hear about new books through youtube. my absolute favorite channel was allisonpaiges, but she's not posting right now. my current rotation is booksandlala, megwithbooks, stephaniebookish, and bookslikewhoa, but i will drop my whole sub list if anyone wants booktube recs.

43. Title of a book you own that's in the worst physical condition you have. Explain what happened to it. Post a picture if you want.

The Hobbit is definitely the most long-suffering book in this house, but it's technically my mom's. But the bookshelves are in my room, so 😈 It's probably from the first run of mass market paperbacks and it is crumbling from age lol

Otherwise, avoiding hp properties and quite a few secondhand college textbooks bc I don't wanna talk about them, I think my most scuffed book is the copy of Dracula I used for my high school senior thesis. All my copies of Dracula (4 I think?) are in roughly the same condition, but this one at least emotionally Went Thru It.

Since I get almost all of my books secondhand, it's not egregiously worse than the rest of them, but it is definitely worn. This was annotating to my advisor's specifications and lord, do I hate it now. I'd like to take a stab at annotating this again once I get a system for myself down.

44. The book(s) whose stories have become part of your very makeup. I don't even know if you intended to ask this or if it was a typo for 43 but I'm gonna answer it lol.

There are titles that affect my makeup because I read them so young and they affected me deeply then:

Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

Keeping the Moon by Sarah Dessen

Probably also the Hunger Games.

Then there are books that affect my makeup as a writer myself, that will simply always be a part of my own writing style now:

Library of the Unwritten trilogy by AJ Hackwith

London Calling duology by Alexis Hall

You Feel it Just Below the Ribs by Janina Matthewson & Jeffrey Cranor

probably also Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

Then there's books I read as an adult that changed the axes of my world and brought the concept of life into sharper focus (I do recommend but YMMV):

A Line Made By Walking by Sara Baume

Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney (before which, Normal People would've made the list)

Maybe also the Radiant Emperor duology by Shelley Parker-Chan but that could be recency bias. It did fuck me up though

#answered #crushpdf #thanks again b! sry it took like 6hrs lmao #maddy's reads

1 note · View note

alextwdgf01 · 2 years

Text

The Restoration Of Eroded Soils- Chapter 8

The Final Match

6,942 words

Stanford grumbled to himself as he collected his dirty clothes from his room, throwing them into the laundry basket held under his right arm. He'd been left home alone for the first time since Stanley had arrived to help him. Said brother was currently at his job (which he'd yet to disclose what exactly he did) and Arthuria was over at Fiddleford's apartment fixing her stolen snow mobile (and how in the world had she managed to steal it, he doesn't know).

It hadn't quite bothered him so much at first, but his blasted hormones had him feeling lonely and abandoned. To top that off, he had also started getting paranoid and anxious at the thought of Bill. He worried how he could very easily attack his brother and his friend with them outside to magical barrier. How he could harm or kill them, or worse. Posses them.

And even if Bill left them alone, Ford himself was still open to being attacked by him. He could make a deal with someone and have them tear down the barrier when no one was looking and posses them. He could get in and attack him, try to force him to finish the portal. He could hurt him, hurt his brother's friend, hurt Stanley, hurttheba-

Anyways, Stanford needed to find something around the house to keep himself busy and his mind from spiraling. He'd read through an old book he'd checked out from the library forever ago (which he really needed to return), cooked (burnt) himself some lunch, and when he couldn't find anything better, decided to do laundry.

He always hated the chore. I mean, he wasn't a dirty guy. He liked his clothes clean and neat, as well as his chin and hair. But Ford found it boring and a waste of time. Why do laundry when you could write a thesis?

Well, he couldn't complain a whole lot though. It was keeping his mind off things.

Picking up his last dirty shirt, the six fingered scientist made his way downstairs to the utility room. However, as he passed by the entry way to the living room, he noticed Stan had left a pile of his clothes by the couch. Figures.

Stanford sighed. He thought he might as well throw in his brother's clothes with the load of his. Stan didn't have that many to start with, so he would probably be needing to wash them soon anyways.

He walked over and crouched down by the pile, picking them up. As Ford picked up his jacket, he noticed something crinkling in the pocket like a piece of paper. Curious, he stuck his hand into said pocket and produced what appeared to be a folded up flyer.

"What is this?" Ford asked himself as he began unfolding it.

It was an advertisement for a boxing tournament in a nearby town. And from the looks of it, it was illegal. Why would Stan have this?

His hands trembled as he tried to make heads or tails of what the piece of paper in his hands meant.

Maybe he was planning to go watch a match? His brother had liked boxing a lot in high school, both watching and participating. But he wouldn't engage in such bloodsports. Not now, at least. He wasn't living on the streets anymore and he had a job. He wouldn't have any reason to-

Stanford's internal rambling cut off when he thought back to a few days prior, the day his twin had returned concussed and covered in bruises.

Stan had brushed it off as being the result of a bad run in with some drunks. Arthuria had confirmed it, but what if she had been in on the lie?…They were old friends and Ford wouldn't put it pass them to lie to him. He was an outsider to them. Or at least, to their friendship.

So if the attack had been a lie, a cover up, then Stan’s injuries must have come from..!

Crushing the piece of paper in his hands, he exited the living room and ran into the kitchen as fast as he could to use the phone. It made sense. Especially after the fact of him being "attacked," that he'd cut his mullet off, quite messily he might add. Likely to prevent it from being grabbed.

He needed to get to the bottom of this. In order to do that, he needed to speak with Stan. But…

Ford found himself pausing up, hand held out towards the house phone. Where exactly was he going to call? Stan didn't have a phone and he had no idea where he would even be. The next match wouldn't be until 9 tonight.

And even if he somehow managed to reach him, how would he drive there? He no longer had a car thanks to Steve. The only other person who had a form of transportation was… Arthuria!

He grabbed the phone and tapped in the number of Fiddleford where the ginger women had said she would be to repair her snow mobile. He dreaded talking to his friend and feared he would hang up on him, but he at least had to try. Maybe he could speak fast enough to get him to put Arthuria on the phone.

He had to try.

Ring.

Ri-

"Fiddleford Mcgucket speaking."

"Fiddleford!" Ford cried out, thankful he'd picked up. "Look, please don't hang up! I need to speak with Arthuria immediately, it's urgent."

"S-Stanferd? I-uh-hold on a moment." the other end went silent for a painstakingly short while before another voice spoke.

"Hey." Arthuria answered.

"Arthuria, do-do you happen to know where Stan is?"

There was a silence at the end of the line before she answered carefully. “Is he not at his job..?”

Stanford sighed. She was obviously covering for him. He didn’t blame her. He would have probably done the same under the similar circumstances. But right now he didn’t want that answer. He wanted the truth.

“I found the flyer.”

"…I told him he needed to tell you." Arthuria sighed, likely shaking her head.

"He should have, yes, but I'm not concerned with that right now. I must talk to him immediately."

"Stan's at the gym practicing right now. He should be back soon." she said, giving Ford a bit of reassurance.

It did the trick, as some of the tension building in his shoulders eased up, causing them to drop a few inches. He took a few shuddering breath to calm down, but his worries didn’t disappear. He still had some things to discuss with his twin as soon as he was back from his “job”.

He nodded m, even if Arthuria couldn’t see anything. “Thank you… for telling me…”

“Yeah…and Stanford? Be careful with what you say to him. He… he meant well.” She added before hanging up.

The pregnant scientist sat in silence for a while after placing the phone back on the reciever. Arthuria said he meant well in what he was doing. But what purpose could Stan have for dealing in underground fights? For the money? Why couldn’t he just get a job like he lied about having?

He took a moment to breathe, calming his racing mind. Ford had to discuss this with Stan when he returned from the gym. He couldn't let it devolve into an argument and destroy the progress they've made in reconciling.

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

"~Doo da doo, drivin' back to my brother's house, lyin' 'bout where I've been.~" Stan sang to himself as he drove down the winding gravel road.

Tonight was the final fight, the fight that could set his brother up for months. It had taken a lot to get to this point, putting his body through the ringer. Literally. But it was all gonna be worth it in the end. As long as it would help Ford.

Because that’s the only thing he was good at, wasn’t it? Anything for his brother and his brother alone. The rest didn’t matter. Even if he lost a limb or got hurt, it wasn't important. He wasn't important.

His brother was.

He pulled over, turned the engine off, and got out of the car. Stan gave himself a moment to take a deep breath and get his lie sorted out before he headed inside. He had just spent the day at his job and was returning to Ford's house, he did not spend the day at the gym prepping for the final match tonight.

Getting out of his car, he made his way up to the steps and to the front door, pulling it open. After shutting it back behind him, he heard footsteps coming from the direction of the kitchen. Probably Ford.

Sure enough, his brother was the cause of the noise, pacing back and forth by the counter, looking deep in thought. It wasn't an uncommon sight to Stan, but the worried expression he wore was.

Ford looked up at him, seeming to finally notice he'd appeared.

The elder twin stared at Stan for a long time. His eyes darting every where but his face to avoid eye contact, but landing on each and every bruise that was still visible on him. The many expression that crossed Stanford’s face weren’t hard to guess.

Stan could plainly see that his brother was worried, angry, and sad all at the same time. He sighed and braced himself.

“Hey, what’s the word Sixer?” He tried casually.

Ford didn't say anything, just took a deep breath and stuck a hand into the breast pocket of his trenchcoat and pulled out a familiar crumpled up flyer. Stan gulped.

"Stanley." Ford said sternly, yet softly. "Could you please explain this to me."

This wasn’t gonna end well, he thought.

"Well, it's a boxing flyer…" Stan offered, trying to play dumb.

Ford rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. “I can see that. What I want to know is why was this flyer in your jacket pocket?”

Stan tried a different approach. “Why were you snooping into my stuff?”

“Don’t change the subject!” Ford said loudly before mumbling. “I just wanted to do the laundry.”

This was his last card to pull. "Look, I just thought it'd be fun to go watch. A way to blow off some steam and-"

"No, Stanley. Stop lying." Ford was beginning to lose his patience. "I know you have been participating in it."

"I have no-"

"The night of the third match, right after it had ended you came back here covered in bruises and sporting a concussion!"

Damn it.

He was backed against the wall. He stared at his brother and a shiver ran down his spine.

This was too familiar. This situation, all of this. The crumpled piece of paper in Ford’s hand, the look of anger and disappointment in his eyes and the way he was confronting him about something he had kept hidden from him.

No! No, no, no, no! This was not gonna be a repeat of last time!

He tried to convince himself, but he couldn’t help feeling ashamed. Had he let his brother down? Again?

His breathing was becoming shallow. “I told you, I got jumped in an alley…” he said quietly.

"No, you didn't Stanley! Your clothes would have been bloody and tattered had that been the case!" the elder exclaimed, gesturing towards the other.

"That's easy to explain-"

"I talked to Arthuria!"

Everything went quiet. A look of hurt crossed Stan's face at hearing of Arthuria’s betrayal. She wasn't supposed to say anything to Ford. She promised she'd keep it to herself.

"She told you?"

"She didn't have to. I found out on my own."

Stan started to play idly with his fingers, trying to come up with a good explanation, but nothing crossed his mind. He was cornered. He sighed in defeat and stared at his feet, he didn’t have the strength to look at his twin.

“You are the smarter twin.” He whispered.

"Honestly Stan, what were you thinking? Underground boxing? Don't you realize just how dangerous that is, let alone illegal?" Ford asked, beginning his pacing again.

"No, but I imagine yer gonna tell me." Stan muttered sarcastically.

“Don’t try to be a smartass!” Stanford had lost his calm and was yelling.

Stan winced at the tone. His brother sounded dangerously like their father. Stanford didn’t seemed to realize this though and kept going.

“Stanley! You could have died in there! You can still die fighting in this barbaric fight!” Ford tugged at his hair and started to pace again. “Do you have any idea of the risks you are taking?! Bill could sneak into the fight and attack or hurt you to get to me? Do you realize that?!”

"It's alright, geez. None of that has happened." Stan placated, hoping to de-escalate the conversation.

"It's not alright! It could still happen! Honestly, how stupid could you be?"

Everything went silent, only the slight wind from outside could be heard.

That hurt. Hearing Ford of all people calling him stupid, when he was the only one who had ever said he wasn't. It really hurt. And it must have showed by the way the elder had tensed and his eyes had blown wide.

Stanford clasped a hand over his mouth, regretting what he had said. But it couldn’t be undone. Before he could even attempt say anything, Stan had set his jaw, masking his expression in one of anger to hide the pain as he cut him off.

“I thought I could make this work.” He said coldly. “It’s the only thing that I could apply to. You wouldn’t believe how nobody wants to hire a high school drop out.” He let that sink in.

He heard his brother moan quietly behind him in misery, but ignored it. Part of him hated hurting Ford, but maybe the nerd needed to know that words had consequences. He heard some shuffling and raised a hand to stop him.

“I thought we could make this work… but guess I was too stupid to realized that either.” He sighed in defeat and walked toward the room’s exit. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the money gets ta ya… then you won’t hear from me… ever again.”

"S-Stanley, wait!" Ford cried out.

But he wasn't listening. Stan was already out the door and down the steps, taking off in a sprint to his car as soon as his feet hit the slushy ground. By the time he'd gotten to his car, Ford was on the porch about to rush down the steps after him.

"Stanley please! Stanley!"

Cranking his car up, he threw it in reverse and once turned around, floored it down the backwoods road, not looking back. If he had, he would have seen the absolutely distraught look on Ford's face.

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

“I’m telling you. Give me five hours and I’ll have the part you need.” Arthuria sighed for the tenth time in a row.

“I don’t doubt it, I’m jus' not a hundred percent sure on the methods you’ll employ to obtain said part.” Fiddleford said while he played nervously with his fingers.

“Does it matter really? It’s not like anyone would be using them.” She shrugged her shoulders.

They were walking down the sidewalk toward the more crowded part of the town to acquire the pieces they needed in order to repair her snowmobile.

Arthuria was trying to convince the southern man she could get the part needed without him having to buy one for her. Though, Fiddleford wasn't exactly comfortable with the insinuating idea that she would probably end up stealing it.

"Regardless of if'n it's bein' used, it's still not a good ider ta steal." Fiddleford said, pulling and holding the door open to an auto part store for the ginger.

Arthuria walked by him with mischievous smirk. "It's not stealing if nobody misses it."

"Arth'ria, that's not how…" he just sighed and followed her inside.

"So." Arthuria said, clasping her hands together. "Where would the snowmobile parts be in this joint?"

"I'm not 'tirely sure. It's ma first time workin' on one, so I've never had ta look specially fer a part fer one. We'll jus' hafta ask." Fiddleford replied, walking up to the checkout counter.

She glanced around them before pointing to a sign on the ceiling with the words “mechanics” on it.

“Maybe there is a good start.”

The southern mechanic gave her an unimpressed look. "Well, duh. Though there're several isles for mechanical parts. You can go see iff'n you can find 'em while I ask. An' don' steal anythin'."

Arthuria gave an offended (and fake) gasp with a hand on her chest. "I would never."

She winked knowingly at him before walking towards one of the isles. Fiddleford just rolled his eyes and went over to the cashier.

The cashier was a young boy that seemed to wanna be anywhere, but here at the moment. He was glancing at the clock on the other side of the wall every few seconds, his fingers tapping the counter impatiently. It made Fiddleford chuckled as it reminded him of another men who had once been as impatient. He shook his head to clear the image of his old roommate.

Stanford had made clear what his priorities were and he wasn’t part of it. He had even enrolled his brother and friend into his madness. Fiddleford should probably say something about that to her. She seemed nice, despite her questionable morality.

He smiled at the cashier and pointed to the clock with a shrug.

“Can’t wait fer yer shift ta be over ta see yer friends, can ya, lad?” He joked to lighten the mood.

The cashier laughed. “Not exactly. I just wanna make it in time to see the fight tonight. It’s gonna be a blood bath.”

"The fight? Like, a live match on television?" Fiddleford asked.

"No, man. A live fight over in Boring!" the young boy clarified, voice suddenly excited.

"Oh, really." Fiddleford said, now interested.

"Totally! I didn't get to see the others because I was trapped here at work, but I gotta make it there tonight."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's the night of the final match. And from what I've heard, it's gonna be worth the money."

The engineer frowned. “If ya can bet money, am I ta assume that'n it isn’t a very legal fight?” He asked casually.

The boy laughed. “Definitely not! Legal fights aren't as entertaining. Not only because of the betting, but also these are real fights. Not just some bodybuilders paid to get up on the mat and throw fake punches."

At that moment, Arthuria walked up with a small part in her hands, placing it on the counter.

"Pretty sure this is it. What are you two talking about?" she asked curiously.

"The final match of a boxin' turn-a-ment, 'parently." Fiddleford replied.

Arthuria frowned. "It wouldn't happen to be local, would it?"

"Yep." the cashier nodded. "And the guys fighting tonight, The Jersey Devil and Big Tiny, are tough as hell. But it's a no brainer to place all bets on Big Tiny."

"Why's that?" the southern man questioned, not noticing how uneasy Arthuria was suddenly becoming.

"The dude is built like an effing brick wall. Looks like the type that eats nails with his cereal for breakfast. Not to mention all the people who've went up against him so far are hospitalized for serious injuries or in comas."

The cashier hadn’t had a chance to finished his sentence by the time the young woman had grabbed Fiddleford by the wrist and started dragging him outside. Stumbling upon his own feet, it took a couple of tries before he could match up with Arthuria’s pace.

“What’s with the hurry? We didn’t even get a chance ta buy the thing we needed.”

“I’ll come back later for it.” She said as she dragged him back to his apartment. “Right now I just need to get to Ford's house. Fast!”

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

No no no nonononoNO!

This is what kept running through Stanford's head as his brother's car disappeared down the dirt road. He had made chase for all of five minutes before the cold air burning his lungs and knowing he'd never catch up forced him to slow down and stop. He was breathing heavily, still staring in the direction of town, dumbly hoping Stan would come back.

But of course he didn't.

"You ignoramus, this is all your fault!" he yelled, berating himself for his actions. "Why do you always have to turn everything into an argument with him?! Now he's gone to the match and you may never see him agai-"

His words got choked up on a sob. He closed his eyes tightly and dug his fingers into the fabric of his pants.

It’s all he was good for these days it seems. Crying and yelling at his brother when all he ever tried to do was help him. He had apologized to him and Stan had accepted it, but it seemed as his own mind hadn’t caught up to what it meant. He had drove another friend-no, his brother away because of his arrogance. He broke everything he touched.

He cried on the wet dirt road that constituted his driveway for what felt like hours, the shadows around him stretching as the sun set on the horizon. He didn’t care how the cold was slowly seeping into his pants, making him shiver. Although it could also be from the sobbing he had a hard time to keep under control.

The sound of a motor vehicle had him freeze for a moment as he raised his head in the hopes to see the trademark red El Diablo driving back. But as the sound grew nearer, he could tell it wasn't the Stanleymobile. It sounded more like a truck, a familiar one. And it was traveling awfully fast and…he was still in the middle of the road.

Just as he went to get back on his feet, Fiddleford's truck practically slung around the curve of the road and he realized he wouldn't have enough time to get out of the way with his wobbly legs. Suddenly, his ears were filled with the sound of screeching tires while the truck jerked back and forth trying to stop. He screwed his eyes shut and coward down, shielding his head and stomach from the incoming hit…

Was he was still alive?

Hesitantly, he cracked an eye open, looking around. He was still in the middle of the road, surrounded by woods, and the truck was idling just a few inches from his face.

“Where did you learn to drive!” A high pitched southern voice screamed as the doors opened and closed.

“Nowhere.” A feminine voice answered. “Jeez, what are you doing in the middle of the road!”

Ford slowly stood on shaky legs, resting a hand on the truck's hood to keep himself steady. "I-I…was chasing after Stanley."

"Chasing?" Fiddleford questioned, confused.

"What happened?" Arthuria asked, frowning.

"I confronted Stan about competing in the tournament. He wouldn't admit it at first and I started getting frustrated."

There was a beat and the scientist rested a hand over his mouth as the words he had told his brother came flooding back to hunt him. Tears streamed down his face and more sobs escaped his lips. He closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control.

What a screw up he was…

Some shuffling and sighs were heard around him and a hand grabbed him under the elbow to moved him away from the truck. He raised his head to see his old friend gently guiding him toward an opened door to sit properly. Fiddleford was still avoiding his gaze, swiftly turned around once Ford was seated to walk up to Arthuria.

“What'n tarnation is goin' on here? Do ya care ta explain?”

"Remember that tournament the kid at the auto parts store was talking about?" Arthuria asked, waiting until the engineer nodded before continuing. "Well, Stan is in it."

Fiddleford's eyes widened. "Ford's brother is one a' the contestants? Seriously? Why on God's green Earth wou'dy do that fer?"

She turned toward Ford. “Reasons.”

Ford hadn’t moved from his spot and kept his head hid in his hands.

"Either way, let's take Ford back and then head to the tournament to try and….sheesh, prevent a massacre, I guess."

At her words, Stanford lifted his gaze and gave them both a questioning look. "Massacre?"

"Yeeeah. Apparently, your brother is going up against some guy named Big Tiny for the last match." Arthuria said, cringing a bit.

"That's…not a very intimidating stage name." Ford said, not knowing how to react.

"No, but the number of people he's hospitalized is."

Ford’s eyes opened wide as he realized that Stan had most then likely drive to his own death. His hands were shaking as he started to rise from his seat.

“We… we gotta go!” He exclaimed with a shaky voice, still rattled by his emotional outburst.

“Who’s we?” Asked Fiddleford. “You heard the young lady, you are going home.” There was a stern tone in his voice that left no room for argument.

The two men started to glare at one another.

“I am not leaving my brother to get killed in an illegal tournament. I am going after him.” Ford stated.

"What happens if you two get into another argument? Stan won't wanna talk if that happens." Arthuria said, with her hands on her hips.

"We won't." the ginger gave him an unbelieving look. "I won't start one!"

They kept the staring contest for a while. Ford blinking rapidly as the tears subsided and he managed to gain some sort of control over his emotions. He still sniffed a couple of times and wiped his nose with his sleeves, but he held Arthuria’s gaze.

She was the one that ended up backing away and raising her arms in the air.

“All right. Let’s get this dumbass to his brother.”

"Good." Ford said, going to climb into the backseat of the truck before realizing she'd called him a dumbass. "Heeey."

"Shove it and just get in." Arthuria said, pushing him the rest of the way.

The ginger went to get back in the driver's seat, only for Fiddleford block her way.

"Oh no. I'm drivin' this time."

She raised her hands in a surrendered pose. “Fine. But you better drive fast and we are keeping the windows down.” She said as she climbed in the passenger seat next to Fiddleford.

As soon as everyone was loaded up, the southern man turned the truck back around and floored it back to town and in the direction of Boring. The drive seemt to take forever to Ford before they came upon the abandoned school it was being held at. The place was packed, the parking lot full and several other vehicles parked on the sides of the road.

The seconds the truck was put in park, Arthuria’s door flew open and she dropped on all four to retched.

Ford paid little mind to the woman, anxious to get to his brother before the match could start. Jumping out of the truck, he quickly rushed to the entryway of the high school gym, throwing open the door and rushing inside.

It was hard to navigate through the crowd, everyone almost shoulder to shoulder in the packed space. The amount of people within the confines caused the scientist's social anxiety to flair, shoulders drawing up to cover his ears nervously and wrapping an arm unconsciously about his stomach.

Blast it, this wasn't the time for such foolish anxiety.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his arm, twisting his head around to see who it was. Thankfully, it was Fiddleford, with a still queezy looking Arthuria in tow.

“Don’t worry, we’ll found him.” The southerner reassured him.

It did little to appeased Ford’s ever rising anxiety, but he nodded nonetheless, happy to have someone to ground him. Even is said person still had a well deserved grudge against him.

Fiddleford nodded in returned, but frowned worriedly when he saw Stanford holding his stomach with one of his hands.

“Are you nervous? You gotta stomachache?” He asked.

The scientist shook his head. “It’s nothing. Let’s just find Stanley and get out of here.”

Fiddleford continues to frown, but did as his former friend wished, guiding him through the sea of people to a booth where everyone was placing bets.

"200 on Big Tiny!" one of the bidders called out, handing cash to one if the workers.

"50 on Jersey!" another hollered.

"100 on Big Tiny!"

A lot of people seemed to be bidding on the Big Tiny fellow. That just made Stanford even more anxious to get to his twin before it was too late.

"What's your bid?" a man at the table asked, speech slurred by the cigar in his mouth.

"Eh, we're not here ta bid, 'm afraid." Fiddleford replied.

"We need to speak with one of the contenders." Arthuria added.

"Sorry, but audience members aren't allowed back with the fighters while they're getting ready for the match." the guy said, trying to brush them off.

"Please, it's important. He's my brother. I really need to speak with him." Ford begged.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he turned his head to see Arthuria pointing with her chin toward a wall. He followed her gaze and saw a door unattended on the far side.

“Thank you for your time.” She said to the men behind the table and guided Ford away from him.

He dutifully followed her, Fiddleford hot behind them. He still shot worried glances over his shoulder, wondering if anyone would see them (or if he would see Bill's yellow eyes), but most of the crowd was entertained by the current fight and didn’t pay them any mind.

Nearing the door to the locker room, Arthuria and Ford peered in to make sure it was the right room. The moment they saw Stan sitting on one of the benches rifling through his bag, they knew it was. A slight bit of tension left the eldest twin at knowing he'd gotten here in time.

"Stanley!" Ford said thankfully, causing the other to jump a bit.

Stan turned his head in their direction as they entered the room and shut the door behind them. His gaze bounced back and forth between the three, eyes wide in surprise.

“Wha-what… why are ya here?” He sputtered.

"We came to talk to you." Ford said, stepping forward slightly. "I came to talk to you."

"Wha'd about?" Stan asked, giving him a weary look.

"About the fight."

Stan sighed irritably, standing up. "Ugh, here we go again. Wouldja just can it with that? I get it, already."

Ford played with his fingers, trying to work up the courage and found the right words. He was hurt by Stan’s words and needed to get everything off his chest.

“No… No I can’t 'can it'… Not when I could lose you.” He managed to found Stan’s gaze. “I can’t lose you again.”

"Lose me?" Stan questioned, both surprised and confused by his brother's words.

"Have you not seen the other opponent? He's a fucking tank." Arthuria stated, throwing her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the door.

“He doesn’t scare me.” Stan replied. “I’ve dealt with worse.” He turned back toward his bag and started to wrap some bandage around his wrists and hands.

“I don’t think you have!” she said. She walked over the bench to stare directly at him. “Dude, he’s not a man! He's a… walking mountain with a head glued on top. I saw him on the other side of the gymnasium. You can’t miss him, he’s the only one that towers over the rest of the crowd.”

Stan laughed mirthlessly. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” He stated.

“This is not some crusade! This is David versus Goliath and i’m sorry to tell you, but this fight doesn’t have a happy ending.”

A silence fell upon the group. The only sound that reached them were the shouts from the crowd slipping through the walls and door.

"I don't care."

The other three tensed, looking at Stan as if he'd grown a second head.

"W-what?" Ford asked with a shaky voice.

"I don't care. I don't care what happens to me." Stan said, looking at his brother, with his gloves in hand. "I don't care if I get hurt or if he puts me in a coma like all the other sad saps he fought. I don't care. As long as I win that money ta set ya up while yer goin' through all this, that's all that matters."

The 'you're all that matters' went unspoken, but Ford could still hear it as if it had been. Did Stan really think so little of himself? So much so that he believed his twin was the only one with worth?

"Stan…h-how can you not care?" Ford questioned in disbelief.

"Because I ain't worth shit!" Stan exclaimed, turning himself fully towards his brother. "All my life, I ain't had one cent of worth to my name! I had no smarts, I had no talents, I had no friends, I had nothin' goin' for me, let alone a future like you. And everyone knew it. The principal knew it, the teachers knew, the town, Dad knew it, and so did I!"

Stanley walked the short distance between them, coming to stand face to face with the elder of the two. He looked Ford directly in the eyes, expression stoic, a facade of his true pained emotion only his eyes couldn't hide.

"You did too. I just didn't realize it until you closed the curtains and turned your back on me."

Ford stood stock still, stunned by his brother's words. God, what happened to the boisterous and worry-less boy he knew as a kid? Had the world really treated him this poorly? Or had it all been put on then too. Was he really so blind that he'd never seen the pain in his brother's eyes until now?

The door swung open suddenly behind him, causing him to jump slightly. Though, he didn't turn around to look, still frozen in place holding Stan's gaze. It was probably the referee or spectator.

"Pines, you're up in two minutes…Hey, you three aren't supposed to be back here!" the guy said, sounding a bit agitated.

"It's alright." Stan said, breaking gaze to walk around Ford. "They were just leaving."

For all of three gut-wrenching seconds, Ford continued to stand motionless, eyes wide and heart racing with fear. Fear similar to that which had kept him all those years ago from running after his brother (as well as anger). And it was doing the same thing now.

But he couldn't let his fear take control. Not now, not when Stan was still right there, not when he could still stop this-

With newfound strength, he managed to break confines of his own fear holding him in place to spin around and dash the dew short feet to Stan before he could leave the room and hugged him tightly from behind.

The younger twin stiffened, halting his movement towards the door as he stared down at the six fingered hands clutching desperately at the front of his shirt in surprise.

“Not without you.” Ford stated, voice shaking. He tried clearing his throat and regaining his emotions before continuing. “Stanley… I-I am so sorry I never realized… I should…”

He cut his words short when an involuntary sob choked him up. Unable to contain himself, Ford pressed his face uncomfortably against the back of his brother's neck, sniffling loudly.

Their friends stayed quiet as they waited for Stanford to continue. None feeling like what they might say would be wanted.

“You are not worthless, Stanley! You are the most loyal person in this world I-I've ever met and…you're my best friend. You always were! I am deeply sorry it took me this long to see it!” He whined while Stan stood frozen in place, letting him get everything out. “I-I don’t think I can get through everything alone, I know I can't…I need you by my side…for the sake of…I want them to meet you.”

Stan inhaled sharply out of surprise. Meet them?

"Wha'ddya-"

"I want the baby to know their uncle." Ford clarified, voice slightly muffled from his face being smooshed against the other's back. "And not just from stories. I-I want them to meet you. To spend time with you, to get to know you and love you as I do."

Ford could feel his twin's breath shudder at hearing his words.

"…but they might not get that chance if you fight that man out there." Ford lifted his head a bit, looking over Stan's shoulder at the side of his face. "Please…don't go out there."

Stan was staring down, eyes glazed slightly with building tears. And he stayed that way for a long moment, before swallowing the lump of emotions in his throat and closing his eyes as his shoulders slumped. He brought a hand up, resting it momentary over one of Ford's.

The elder smiled, believing he'd finally gotten through to his twin…only for his smile to vanish the moment Stan grabbed his other hand and gently pried himself from the hug. Ford was taken aback, grappling to keep ahold of the other to no avail.

Without so much as a word, Stanley slipped through the locker room door and made his way up to the ring. Stanford swore he could feel his heart shatter on the floor. His apology had come too late and now his brother would rather be put into a coma than spend another moment near him.

Tears burned his eyes as he watched him go, knowing he had failed as a brother. He numbly felt Fiddleford's boney hand rest comfortingly on his shoulder, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Arthuria stomped over to the door, glaring up to the ring where Stan was ducking under the ropes. Though instead of getting into his corner, he walked up to the referee and whispered something into his ear. The latter made an exasperated face at whatever he'd said.

"Hey, c'mere." Arthuria called over to Ford, waving for him to come look.

Confused, the pregnant scientist came up to stand beside her and watch his brother through tear-filled eyes. Stanley was stepping away from the ref, striding over to Big Tiny. He looked up at the hulking man for a moment before sticking out his hand and saying something.

Ford would be lying if he said he didn't flinch when Big Tiny reached his hand forward as well, shaking Stan's with a curt nod. When they released their grips, the grifter ducked back under the ropes and started walking back towards them as the referee spoke into a mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I announce the tournament winner by default, Big Tiny!"

Cheers, boos, and jeers erupted throughout the crowd. Stan ignored them though, smiling at the three.

"What're we standing around here for? Let's go." Stan said, nodding towards the exit.

"You…you forfeited the match?" Ford asked, his hope growing again.

"Well, duh. That's what ya wan'ed, wasn't it?" Stan asked sarcastically, face coloring slightly, avoiding Ford's eyes. "'sides, can't have ya worryin' about me gettin' hurt. You got enough stress as it is."

Wiping his eyes, Stanford smiled and threw his arms around his twin's shoulders and squeezed him tightly. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. No big deal." Stan grumbled nonchalantly, patting Ford's back in return. "Now come on. Need ta get outta here before any of these yahoos starts a riot."

Doing just that, the small group filed in line behind him and started making their way to the exit. Fiddleford cleared his throat and came up to walk next to Ford.

“Um… who’s baby are ya referrin' to?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “Did yer older brother have 'nother kid?"

Ford blinked a couple of times before turning to his friend.

“Pardon?”

"I asked who's baby you were referrin' to." Fiddleford repeated.

Oh…that's right. Fiddleford didn't know.

Stanford twittled his fingers together, giving a nervous laugh. He looked around anxioysly to make sure no strangers within earshot.

"It's uh…i-it's mine."

The southern man looked at him crazy, obviously not expecting his answer.

The Pines twins quickly exited the gym, their respective friend close behind them. He still needed to make amends, proper ones, with Fiddleford, but the fact that they were talking was a big step.

They were already out in the parking lot, leaving the noisy gymnasium behind when-

“WELL, WELL, WELL!” a nasaly voice mused behind the group.

Stanford froze dead on his tracks, body refusing to move.

It couldn't be. Not here, not now!

Gulping, Ford slowly turned, the others following suit to see who had spoken. Under a single pole light in the parking lot just a few yards away stood a man.

His head was hung low, face just out of view. His clothes were tattered, dried blood appeared to be causing shirt sleeves to cling to his arms. He was missing a boot, the sock on his foot baring a hole.

But those weren't the most off putting features of this man. What was off putting, what scared Ford absolutely shitless was the inhuman grin that split his face as he looked up, and the glowing yellow eyes that haunted his dreams.

"ISN'T THIS INTERESTING."

12 notes · View notes

hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Thesis

After a bad day, Colson comes over to take care of you, only to find out about a secret you’ve been keeping from him.

Request: “I was wondering if you could do a Kells fic where he's dating the reader and finds out she is c*tting, and helps her. Its total ok if you aren't comfortable writing this though 🖤”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: discussion and depictions of self-harm, cursing, angst

A/N: Gonna get really serious with this one: If you are struggling with self-harm (in all forms, not just those discussed in this text) or issues with your mental health, please reach out to someone! Family, friends, anyone. I know it’s hard and you may feel like no one cares, but I promise someone does. If you don’t feel comfortable telling someone you know, message me. My page is a safe space and I will never judge you. I promise you, the world is a much better place with you in it and you deserve to take up space, you deserve to be happy.

On that note, do not read this if you feel it may be triggering to you, please.

Word Count: 2457

You sighed as you read the email subject Re: Y/L/N Final Thesis Revised 2. Every time your doctoral advisor sent you an email in response to any work on your thesis, it wasn’t good.

Ms. Y/L/N,

I regret to inform you that the corrections that you have made are still not adequate enough for submission to the board. Please read my notes attached for further work to be done.

You didn’t even bother reading the rest of the email, instead choosing to slam your head down against your wooden desk. “Fuck!” You yelled to your empty house.

You had rewritten your doctoral thesis 4 times already and submitted for approval twice, both of which were rejected. Your advisor was trying to be patient with you, but you could tell his tolerance was running low. “What am I doing wrong?” You whispered to yourself, closing your eyes as you let your head rest against the wood.

Maybe you’re just not smart enough. That unhelpful voice in your mind chimed in, making you groan. Seriously though, if you were smarter, then you would have been approved already.

Your chest started tightening and you felt nauseous, tears coming to your eyes. You reached around for your phone, hearing Colson’s voice in your mind. “If you have a bad day, text me. You can always talk to me.”

Hey

You texted him, hoping he would respond soon. Your breathing was getting heavier and you just wanted to talk to someone that wasn’t the voice in your head.

Hey, I’m in the studio rn, everything ok?

My thesis got rejected

Again :(

I’m sorry babe

Wanna see you

Colson didn’t answer for a few moments, and you had a feeling he was letting out a frustrated sigh. You hated bothering him at work, it always made you feel like a nuisance to him.

I can’t leave right now

You’ll be okay

It’s just a paper

Now it was your turn to let out a sigh. Colson didn’t exactly understand why this was so important to you. Every time you got upset after it didn’t turn out well, he told you the same thing, “It’s just a paper, you can just rewrite it.”

But it’s not just a paper. It’s currently the only thing standing between you and a doctorate degree. And you’ve rewritten it four times before.

He’s just sick of you whining about it.

You annoy him

He doesn’t care about you

You got up from your desk and made your way to the bathroom, not sure if you were going to throw up or do something worse. The voice kept speaking, her incessant words running through your head.

You know what’ll make you feel better.

And you did. You had been trying to stop, and you were doing pretty good until a few weeks ago. Up until that point it was rare, a few times a month. Now it was 4 times a week; more days than not.

You reached under your bathroom counter, pulling out the small, inconspicuous makeup bag. You brought it over and set it on the edge of the bathtub, sitting on the floor next to it.

The zipper felt familiar under your fingers as you pulled it, the metal coming into view. Your secret stash of hellish paradise.

You pulled one of the razers out, feeling the coolness on your skin. Pulling up the sleeve of your sweater, you placed the sharp edge against the fragile skin on your wrist. You took a deep breath as you slid it across the skin, not even wincing at the pain. The blood rolling out of the wound was beautiful to you, a therapy in itself. You laid the arm over the bathtub, taking another slice at your wrist.

You had to be careful not to go too close to the hand or else the sweaters you wore could ride up and expose you, and you couldn’t make too many cuts or someone would be bound to notice.

Once you had made 4 slits in your skin, you stopped. The razor fell to the edge of the bathtub as you watched the blood drip down your arm, gravity pulling it towards your hand to pool in your palm. As fucked up as it was, you liked the view. The pain barely registered to you anymore.

It felt like all the fears were draining from your body with the blood. You knew it would all come back eventually, but in this moment, you felt peace. Your stomach stopped turning and your chest loosened. And for just a little while, the voices in your head were gone.

You laid there for probably 30 minutes, the peaceful silence engulfing you. Eventually you came back to your senses, realizing the mess you had made. You sighed, standing up and turning the faucet on. You watched the blood that sat in the tub wash away before running your arm under the water. It stung a bit, but the blood disappeared from your arm, leaving you with the visual of 4 dark red cuts.

Once the tub was clean, you moved to the cabinets under the sink again, this time grabbing a package of band-aids and covering the marks that were bleeding slightly after the water pressure opened them up again. You ran the blade under water from the sink to clean it before throwing it back in the bag and hiding it. Satisfied that all evidence of your sins was gone, you pulled down the sleeves of your sweater and made your way to your couch to watch a true crime documentary.

A little over a half hour later Colson texted you.

Picking up your favorite food :)

Be over in 10

You smiled at your phone for a second before guilt crept into your mind. How could you think that he doesn’t care about you? He’s never done anything but love you.

You are the world’s worst girlfriend.

You bit your lip, trying to make the thoughts go away. You didn’t want to be upset when Colson got there, it would spoil his whole night.

It didn’t quite work, but you were able to put on a fake smile when he got to your door. He set the bags of food on your coffee table before flopping on top of you on the couch. His face buried into your neck, pressing soft kisses onto the skin all over. He did this whenever he knew you were sad, it made you laugh.

He sat up, looking down on you, “how’s my girl doing?” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Better now that you’re here.” You mumbled, throwing your clothed arms around his middle and pulling him back against you. He chuckled and flipped you around so his back was against the couch and you were resting on his chest.

You smiled at him, you don’t deserve him, the voice screamed. You ignored it, burying your head into his shirt, the smell of him filling your nose. “What’re we watching?”

Your voice was muffled by the fabric, “The Vanishing of Elisa Lam.”

He looked up, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “of course we are.”

“We can watch something else.” You mumbled. Colson chuckled and sat up, pulling you with him to rest in his lap, your back against his chest.

His long arm reached to grab the food off the table, setting one box in your hands. “Your weird true crime show is fine, babe. You choose tonight.” He kissed your cheek, making you smile and sink further into his chest.

A little while passed and you had both finished your food, placing the empty boxes on the table. Colson’s arms were around your waist and you moved to hold his hands. You had tried wrapped your palm over the back of his hand, but he flipped his hand so his palm encased yours. As the documentary played, he began to rub circles into your skin subconsciously, moving down your wrist slowly.

In his arms you momentarily forgot about your session in the bathroom from earlier, but when his thumb brushed against the bandage on your arm you were shocked back into reality. “What’s that?” He mumbled, chin resting on your shoulder and looking down to the shirt sleeve.

“Nothing, I cut myself doing dishes earlier.” You lied, it being second nature at this point.

Colson’s hand moved to the edge of your sleeve, moving to roll it up. “You’re so clumsy sometimes.”

You yanked your arm out of his hand as you felt the fabric moving up, “what are you doing?” You asked, holding your arm closer to yourself subconsciously.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I was gonna kiss it better.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to.” You sighed, turning your attention back to the TV. He didn’t like that answer and based off of your reaction, he could tell something was up.

He reached to hold your arm again, and you relaxed into his touch, thinking he would just hold your hand. Instead, he dragged your sleeve up your arm, exposing four band-aids on your wrist and older, exposed scars.

“Colson!” You yelled, standing up and wiggling out of his grasp.

He had a shocked expression on his face that slowly turned into a mixture of concern and hurt. He tried to form words but was struggling. Finally, he got out a whispered “why?”

You bit your tongue, arms wrapped around your body as you faced away from him. Your breathing got heavy and you could feel tears coming to your eyes. He’s definitely gonna leave you now.

When you didn’t respond he stood up slowly, walking towards you and wrapping his arms around you. His lips met the top of your head briefly before replacing them with his chin.

The feeling of his embrace was enough to send your walls crashing down, tears finally falling down your face. You shook in his arms, your knees buckling under you. He whispered as he held you up, “hey hey hey hey, I’m here, baby. I’m right here. You can talk to me.” He led you back to the couch, pulling you back into his lap. You turned towards him and buried your face into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tighter than they ever had before.

Your sniffles filled the room, followed by your quiet “I’m sorry.”

Colson shook his head, taking your face in his hand and moving it away from his skin so you were forced to look at him. “You don’t have to be sorry.” You nodded and he slowly wiped the tears from under your eyes. The soft motion made you calm down ever so slightly. After a few minutes of being held, your sobs stopped, tears not falling as hard. “Can we talk about this.”

You sniffled but nodded your head, your eyes not meeting his. “I’m not gonna be upset with you, or angry. I just need you to be honest with me, okay?” He asked, his blue eyes searching your face. You simply nodded again, turning your head all the way down so your nose was parallel to the floor. The top of your head pressed against Colson’s chest.

“How long?” His voice was a whisper, but it held an infinity of emotion.

You mumbled out a response, “a while.” You could feel how fast his heart was beating, “Before I met you. It’s just gotten a lot worse lately.”

He nodded, sucking his lips in. “Why didn’t you talk to me? You know you can always talk to me, darling.”

New tears fell from your eyes. “I tried to.” You whispered, feeling guilty. His hand moved to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He took a few moments to remember what you were talking about before he sighed. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were so upset. I didn’t know.” He whispered, “But I know now, so from now on you gotta tell me if you feel like doing this to yourself.”

You nodded against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. Don’t be sorry, why are you sorry?” He asked

You shrugged, “sorry you have to deal with me.”

He grabbed your face again, this time forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever say that again. Okay? I fucking love you. You’re going through some shit right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you. I don’t want you to ever think that.” As he spoke his harsh tone got softer, quieter.

“I just don’t feel like I’m good enough, for anything.” You slumped into him, your head laying on his shoulder.

His arms pulled you further into him, “Y/N, you are the smartest, most amazing, most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You’re literally about to become a doctor! That’s fucking incredible. I am so proud of you.”

“’m not really gonna be a doctor.” You mumbled, “I can’t get this fucking thesis approved.”

He sighed into your hair, “You are going to get through this. You have worked your ass off to get here, I know you’re not gonna let a stupid paper get in your way.” He pressed a kiss into your hair and you looked up to him, a pout still on your face. “Baby you aren’t just good enough, you’re better. I know it feels shitty right now but you’re gonna get through this. And I’m gonna be right here with you.”

He leaned down and pressed a deep kiss to your lips. It took a second, but you kissed him back. “Thank you.” You whispered when you pulled away, reaching up to wipe your tears away with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“I love you.” He whispered, “do you think we could throw your blades away?” He asked softly.

“I might need your help.” You whispered. He nodded, lifting you off his lap and standing up. He grabbed your hand and you led him to your bathroom. You found the bag and handed it to him. “I can’t…” You whispered, trying to stop the tears you felt behind your eyes.

Colson nodded, taking it from you and opening it, frowning at the metal inside. “I don’t want to throw them away here, because you could get them out of the trash later. So, I’m gonna take them back to my house tomorrow and I’ll throw them out there.”

You nodded, hand squeezing his. You moved closer to him, resting your free hand on his shoulder, and pressing your cheek against his chest. “I love you.”

He smiled down at you, wrapping his arm around you, “I love you too.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #colson imagine

247 notes · View notes