#art tropes I despise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edenesth · 19 days

Note

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Dear Soulmate

I'm sorry it took me so long, anon! I didn't know how to approach this and was waiting for a friend to do it first🙈

For my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast💖

Choi San — soulmate au (idiots to lovers)

In a world where soulmates exist, most people discover their other halves before reaching twenty-five, you struggle to find yours, even when he had been right in front of you all along. You've witnessed those around you revelling in the bliss of finding their destined partners, all the while blindly awaiting your own.

"I cannot believe this, I'm dying alone!" you cried.

"Pooks, he'll come when the timing's right, I just know it," Eve, your closest friend and platonic soulmate, reassured you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you poured out your frustration. Despite being on the cusp of turning 26, your soulmate remained elusive.

"How did you and Hwa find each other again?" you asked, desperate for answers.

Eve sighed, "Whenever one of us gets hurt, a flower tattoo appears on the other in the same spot of their body. You know how clumsy I am, he found me through those blossoms. But each soulmate pair has their own unique connection. Haven't you felt anything special?"

See, in this world with soulmates, each pair discovers their connection in their own way. There's no universal formula, and you despised that fact vehemently. It only added unnecessary complexity to the already challenging quest for love.

Your parents had found each other through their inner voices, where their internal voices are the other's instead of their own. Your sister had found her soulmate through a compass on her body that led her to where her other half is.

And then there was you. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Absolutely nothing at all.

And as your birthday drew near this year, panic set in. You'd soon be a year older than the age when most people found their soulmates. Maybe you didn't have one, maybe he died, maybe he got aborted as a foetus, maybe—

"Woah, woah, just take a deep breath, everything will be okay," your friend reassured, trying her best to help in any way possible, "Hey, didn't you say you've been having a lot of dreams lately? And it's always that same dream?"

You blew a raspberry in frustration, "Yeah, but I doubt my recent dreams have anything to do with my soulmate, assuming I even have one. They're always about that art museum I go to on weekends. I think it's just because I spend so much time there."

She pondered for a moment, "Wait a minute, didn't you mention that San guy you always see there? What if—"

"Oh, hell no," you exclaimed, shuddering at the possibility of that annoyingly gorgeous mountain of a man being your destined lover, "I'd rather be alone forever than end up with someone like him."

It all happened on a day when you sought solace at the museum after a taxing week at school. Exhausted from dealing with incompetent classmates and antagonistic professors, you longed for a moment of peace as you approached your cherished spot in the corner. But to your dismay, you discovered an ignorant man occupying not just one seat, but the entire bench with his belongings. And not just any bench, your bench, the one everyone knew better than to occupy.

So you did the first thing that came to mind, you might have uttered some unkind words out of irritation. Looking back, you acknowledge it was all very unnecessary, considering it was likely his first visit to the museum and he clearly didn't realise it was your spot. However, your pride prevented you from admitting fault.

Consequently, he responded with equal unpleasantness. Even the museum guards had to intervene before things escalated into a fight. Like dealing with children, they persuaded both of you to share the bench since there was clearly more than enough space for two.

You adamantly refused to yield your spot and relocate, asserting your presence since you were here first. Similarly, it seemed his foolish pride prevented him from budging as well; thus, you both found yourselves locked in a silent standoff, exchanging wary glances as you engaged in a weekly silent war.

"Ugh, was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face today," San sneered, earning a glare from you as you settled down beside him. You were running slightly late, having trouble getting up after yet another frustrating dream, one slightly more annoying than usual.

Deliberately nudging his bag aside with irritation, you narrowed your eyes, "You wish, loser. This spot is mine, and it's staying that way."

He smirked in response, "Someone's in a foul mood, but then again, when are you not? Hope it's not because of that dream where your precious bench gets snatched away for good."

"Shut the hell up—"

You stopped short, a sudden realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't shared that dream with anyone, not even Eve. No one should know about it except... No freaking way. He couldn't possibly be the one you've been waiting for all this time. It seemed too absurd to be true. Why, out of all people, would fate pair you with this insufferable, infuriating, irksome yet undeniably attractive, bastard?

"Surprise, genius. It's me, your soulmate."

"I knew," he confessed, his voice carrying frustration and resignation, "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my other half. That's why I came here in the first place, why I was in this exact spot."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. All this time, he had known, yet he had still chosen to engage in your petty conflicts.

"But when I met you," he continued, "I was excited, hopeful even. But your attitude, your stubbornness... it's unbearable. As much as I feel the pull towards you, I can't ignore how immensely annoyed I am by your behaviour."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

"I know that if I had a choice in who my soulmate is," he admitted, his gaze intense, "it would never be you."

After a moment of processing his words, you gritted your teeth in anger, "Well, joke's on you, buddy. I don't want you either. Maybe it would be best for both of us if you stop showing up here from now on."

Days turned into weeks, and true to your request, San ceased his visits to the museum. At first, you felt a strange sense of relief, but soon, that relief morphed into a tumult of conflicting emotions.

You didn't know how to feel. Did you truly mean what you said, or were those words simply born out of anger? Your emotions were a tangled mess. On one hand, you had just turned away your soulmate after yearning for his presence for so long. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the resentment that it had to be him, of all people. Part of you longed to be near him, to reconcile and embrace your destiny. But another part recoiled at the thought, recoiled at the frustration his presence brought.

Unbeknownst to you, San wasn't doing much better. His heart felt hollow, the absence of your presence leaving a gaping void. He tried to carry on with his life as before, but the weight of your rejection hung heavy on his shoulders. But his pride also kept him from reaching out to you.

He suppressed the pull towards you, buried it beneath layers of denial and indifference. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, your essence lingered in his dreams, haunting him with visions of what could have been.

Then, one day, fate intervened in a way neither of you could have predicted. You fell ill with food poisoning and ended up in the hospital. In a panic, San saw it in his dream, a vision of you lying pale and weak in a hospital bed. Without hesitation, he raced to your side, his heart pounding with fear. As he stood in the hospital room, watching over you, he realised the depth of his feelings. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were his soulmate, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected appearance, "What the hell are you doing here? Who invited you?"

His heart sank at your coldness, but before he could form a response, Eve intervened, giving you a playful smack on the shoulder, "Stop it, you! He came all this way, and you're still going to be mean to him?" Turning to San with a warm smile, she continued, "You must be San! I'm Eve, her best friend. It's nice to finally meet you. Oh, and please don't take her words to heart. She likes to pretend as if she hadn't been dying to see you again."

Blushing furiously at her blunt revelation, you shot her a glare, but she simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Behave yourself. I'll be back shortly after settling the bill with Hwa," she said, brushing past San. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod, "Please take care of her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Eve," he replied, nodding in return.

As soon as your friend left the room, he took a step closer, his tone serious, "Listen, I'm tired of playing games. I came here because I realised I can't bear to lose you again. So, tell me if you feel the same right now. If you still want me gone, I'll leave and never show my face around you ever again."

His words struck a chord, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He couldn't resist the pull any longer, sitting down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you. Relief flooded through him as he felt you relax in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again either. I'm sorry I was an idiot," you whispered.

"You should be," he teased, planting a kiss on your hair, "But I'm sorry too. Perhaps I should have told you who I was from the start. Let's just... not say things we don't mean and hurt each other again, okay?"

You nodded, squeezing him tightly, "Okay, Sannie."

#lovely asks #my pookie #itstheghostofmypast #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #soulmate au #choi san x reader #choi san x you

159 notes · View notes

queen-paladin · 5 months

Text

disclaimer: yes, I am complaining about cheating in media. Because, yes, writers have the freedom to create what they want but if the morality in creation is free for all forms of media, but no piece of art is exempt from criticism, and that includes criticism on personal moral grounds. I betcha if I said Harry Potter is good, actually, everyone on here would flood my blog telling me I am wrong because of the author's intense prejudice. That being said, I am criticizing cheating in fiction, If you don't like that, don't interact

So often lately I see period dramas where the husband cheats on the wife (ex. Poldark, The Essex Serpent, Queen Charlotte, The Great)...and not only do I despise the cheating trope with every fibre of my being to where I get panic attacks when I consume the media...but specifically with period dramas...

Do these writers not understand the greater implications of a husband cheating on a wife during these periods? More than just the humiliation and heartbreak in the case of a loving, good marriage just like it is today.

In the Western world, probably until certain laws were enacted in the 1900's, if a woman married a man, she was legally his property. She had no legal identity under him. She was financially dependent on him. Any wages she made would automatically go to her husband. Her children were also not legally her children- they belonged to the father. If the husband died, even if the wife was still alive, the children were legally considered orphans.

Women could only rarely gain a divorce from their husbands. In England in the mid-1800's specifically, if a wife divorced a husband she had to prove he had to not only cheat but also be physically abusive, incestuous, or commit bestiality. On the other hand, a husband could divorce a wife just for being unfaithful. Because, kids, there were sexual double standards.

Getting married was often the endgame for a lot of women during that time. Sometimes you couldn't make your own living enough- marriage was a way to secure your entire future financially, with more than enough money to get by. If you were a spinster and middle class, you could get by with a job. But if you are an upper-class lady, the one thing a lady does not do is get a job and work. So upper-class spinsters basically were dependent on their families to get by (ex. Anne Elliott in Persuasion faces this with her own toxic family). As strange as it sounded today, marriage gave them some freedom to go about since a husband could be persuaded sometimes more easily than a father and one had a different home, their servants, etc. A husband was your foundation entirely for being a part of society, and standing up as your own woman.

So if a husband cheated on a wife, that was a threat to take all of that away.

He could give a lot of money that could be used to support his wife and children to the mistress. He could completely abandon said wife for the mistress. And since the wife legally couldn't get a job as he still lived, she would be dependent on any money he would said- and that is IF he sent over any money.

He could take her to court and publicly humiliate her to get a divorce away from her (look up the separation of Charles and Kate Dickens, he would call her mentally ill and say her cooking was bad and that she was having more children than they could keep up with all while having an affair and divorcing her to be with the misteress). And even if the wife was the nicest, more proper, goodest, more rule-abiding never-keeping-a-toe-out-of-line lady in town...as a man, the law was default on his side (look up Caroline Norton's A Letter to the Queen which details exactly that, the poor woman had her earnings as a writer taken by her husband and was denied access to her children from said husband)

So yeah...even if there was "no love" between them (and anytime the wife is portrayed as too boring or too bitchy so He HaS tO cHeAt is brought up is...pretty victim blamey)

So yeah. Period drama writers, if you have the husband have an affair ...just consider the reality of these things and address them, maybe punish the husband for once (*gasp* men facing consequences for their actions?!?!!), and if not, just please find other options and other tropes and devices for once.

#tw: cheating #cw: cheating #period dramas #feminism #history #books #tv shows #movies #television #tv series #costume drama #period film #queen charlotte #the essex serpent #the great #poldark

340 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 2 months

Note

Do you have any fics that are AU's of Shakespearean shows? I'd be especially interested in anything related to Much Ado About Nothing, I feel like that one fits them well.

We have a #shakespeare tag you may be interested in. Here are a few inspired by Much Ado About Nothings, and a bonus Romeo & Juliet AU...

i will live in thy heart by appomattox (T)

“No,” Anathema said confidently. “No, they’re in love and too stupid to realize the other one feels the same way. We have to do something about it.” A Much Ado About Nothing fusion, sort of.

Hey nonny, nonny by Joseph_Amadeus (M)

Much Ado about Nothing + Good Omens written for the GO romcom event.

Cause what is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is by space_ally (G)

The demon was in love with the angel and vice versa. But why? Much Ado About Nothing inspired.

Some Ado About Much, Or: C'mon! We Can Play Enforcing Tropes! by edna_blackadder (G)

The Them, with help from Anathema and Newt, take a cue from Shakespeare in order to nudge an oblivious angel and demon into noticing they’ve fallen in love with each other. (Because, like Dogberry, I am an ass.)

There's a Place for Us by MissUnderstoodLyrics (E)

“So, I sparked your interest, did I?” and Crowley moved even closer, backing Ezra up against the brick wall of the alley. Ezra didn't feel threatened by this; if anything, he felt … aroused. “Yes,” he said softly and honestly, looking into Crowley's eyes. “You definitely caught my attention.” In 1845 London, Crowley and Aziraphale are heirs to the city's two most powerful families, who are entrenched in an enduring feud. Each possesses invaluable gifts—Crowley, the art of manipulation, and Aziraphale, expertise in decryption and infiltration. Trained as spies and indoctrinated to despise each other since birth, they are tasked with uncovering a shared secret, forced to work together to satisfy their respective families. As their covert missions unfold, an unexpected, passionate connection sparks, and they find themselves falling fast for each other - but it's a love neither family will abide ... A Good Omens Human AU

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #shakespeare #much ado about nothing #romeo and juliet #mod d

124 notes · View notes

vivemonroi · 2 months

Text

Okay, you know what I find truly baffling? The hate towards RadioBelle. People claim it's the most unrealistic and problematic pairing that will never become canon. Well, first off, let's talk about canonicity: yes, it's true, and I assure you, adult shippers are well aware. Lol, we've been through worse. Such pairings seldom become canon, and for good reason. The reason lies in the initial claim itself. These relationships are unhealthy, built on manipulation and deceit. They're hard to develop without stepping outside the confines of a single-episode show. That's where we, the fans, come in. Who doesn't like toying with the idea of complex relationships? After all, there are so many paths for development because we have conflict. And conflict is the foundation of any story.

As for realism, lol. The archetype of the all-knowing, confident antagonist and the naive, kind-hearted protagonist? Please, I can't think of a more overused trope. Hmm... Let's get more specific. A cannibalistic maniac who behaves like a gentleman and mentors the heroine, and a heroine fighting for a justice, whose worldview is constantly challenged? What if we put the maniac in a cell and arm the heroine with a gun and an FBI badge? There are plenty of such tropes. And the heroine doesn't necessarily have to be a woman (*coughs* I see you Will). Are you seriously accusing people of shipping one of the most obvious tropes? Is this your first fandom or what?

Thirdly: we're oppressing other fans and hating on lesbians?? So, one can't even imagine, within fanon, a bi character (and Charlie is a bi) with a man if her official love interest is a woman? What about the countless instances where a heterosexual man (not bi) becomes gay in fanfics and everyone's fine with it? Talk about double standards, folks. I love Vaggie, I believe in their love with Charlie, truly. Those relationships are the healthiest and in real life, I'd wish all relationships could be like that. But here's a crucial detail. This isn't real life. Wake up, for heaven's sake. These aren't real people; you can't hurt their feelings. But you can hurt the feelings of real people, so I absolutely condemn fans of Charlastor who dump vitriol on others, and I equally despise people who write trash about the unreality and problematic nature.

Otherwise, I wish all Charlastor fans (and not only) a Happy Valentine's Day! Ship whatever pleases your twisted minds and hearts, as long as you're creating art and not harming anyone – you're awesome!

#charlastor #radiobelle #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel 2024 #happy valentine's day #opinion #alastor x charlie #charlie x alastor #hellaverse #alastor

97 notes · View notes

jerefishvr · 1 year

Text

hyde catching

.*.｡ଘ xavier thorpe x reader ଓ｡*ﾟ

SPOILER ALERT !!

trope : enemies to lovers <33

summary : when a monster,certainly a hyde, appears and messes up the academy of nevermore , two enemies are determined to find out about the truth and uncover dark secrets, all while fighting and almost sinking teeths into one another.

Xavier Thorpe was a well known student, mostly known for his impressive art and his beautiful face structure, along with his long hair. Yet, there was a girl that despised his guts so bad she almost thought she loved him. Judy Addams. No, she wasn't named after a week day. No, she wasn't as emotionless as her sister Wednesday Addams, but she sure was worse and crueler than her. She craved for something, someone, and the need was urgent.

Judy was walking down the halls of Nevermore in hurry to search for clues of who was the monster that haunted the academy when she bumped into the tall brunette long haired boy, making her roll her eyes while he had an annoying smirk on his face. She looked him in the eyes, no emotion seen on her face whenever she looked at the boy. Something about her made Xavier feel sparks but he didn't know what exactly was making him feel so small in her deadly gaze. Maybe it was her droopy eyes and cherry like lips along with her long black hair that was fixed into braids, just like her sisters, or maybe it was the way her long black skirt would fly around gracefully whenever she took a step forwards as her boots touched the ground.

"Move it Thorpe, you're disturbing my peace and quiet." She said as she walked past him, making sure to shove his shoulder as she did so. This took Xavier by surprise as he chuckled teasingly and turned around to face the dead looking girl.

"And why should i, Addams?" He said while putting emphasis on the Addams. This made the girl roll her eyes and simply ignore him as she continued walking around searching for Tyler, she knew he was the Hyde but she couldn't prove it yet, but she had to.

"I'm looking out for the academy. There's a monster out free and im not interested in any of us getting killed, even your pathetic self whom i hate." She paused and looked at Xavier's reaction before continuing.

"This academy needs proof and im here to provide it and do my best. Now excuse me but i believe i have to go somewhere" venom dripping from her voice as she looked at Xavier, suddenly feeling a tingle in her heart as she saw his beautiful smile. Her own reaction causing her to be surprised, her eyes suddenly softened and her voice now was soft like a melody now, no longer sounding like she could cut thin air. Xavier noticed this and almost panicked when he saw that she didn't look like the living dead and that her eyes suddenly were filled up with stars.

"I won't let you go out there by yourself,you know that right?" He asked the girl, watching her pale face burn up and her hair sticking on her forehead cause of the sudden anxiety she got from just looking at him.

"I don't need a man to protect me from a hyde, the worst it could do was kill me, which i wouldn't mind as id feel death's cold, comforting embrace. And most certainly, I don't need you to protect me" Judy said, not even believing herself as she had disbelief written all over her face as she noticed how her tone wasn't cold and neither did it send chills down Xavier's spine, but it only caused him to smile even more and shake his head.

He grabbed her shoulder and got close to her face, his thumb brushing her bottom lip.

"I'm not that bad as you think i am Addams" He said while smirking and getting closer to her, he could hear her heartbeat which he swore he would never hear as she didn't have one, or that's what he thought.

"Yeah, you're worse" She said and quickly turned around her head while making sure to dust off her skirt and continuing to walk.

He grabbed her hand and spun her around while putting a hand on her waist.

"Why do you hate me so much Judy?" His voice soft, yet broken. He pushed a piece of hair behind Judy's ear and stared at her lips.

"I hate how you're always top one at everything, the way you show off your skills, that stupid smirk you always have whenever you talk to a girl , but you know what i hate more about you? Your stupid smile." She listed like it was just a school project, not caring if she'd hurt him or if she'd make him the happiest man to walk on earth.

The brunette smiled and took her emotionless face in his hands, seeing a spark light up in her eyes as his lips connected with hers. She smiled a little bit and took his hair out of the bun he put it in and hugged him like there was no tomorrow.

Her soul finally felt complete, her black aching heart was now, still black but filled with planets and different types of stars dancing around.

Xavier smiled and caressed the top of her head while closing his eyes and enjoying the moment, before it got interrupted by Judy's sudden gasp.

"I saw something out there, come on we need to go now" The girl said while grabbing his hand and

a / n : i fucking hate the fact i can't find 3 pics from the same scene and have to keep using the same umbrella ones like omfg shut up I'M DONEE, anyways, my crush gave me her chuuya plushie im gonna scream

#xavier smut #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday

652 notes · View notes

still-a-morosexual-help · 3 months

Text

New rec: Choices book I actively avoided for years because the cover art gives "supernatural love triangle between the 'nice guy' & the 'bad boy'" and it's a trope I despise except turns out I'm an idiot because holy shit this was one of my favourite books

For one, the vampire lore is unique? Or at least uncommon enough that it feels like something new. It's even different from Choices' other vampire series

Second? Both LIs are wrong about their view on vampires and actually have to come to terms with this and learn to change and grow throughout the series. If anything, MC's the only one who's got it right. Both LIs have their own flaws & trauma while still being interesting and likeable characters and neither one is pushed above the other as being "the correct choice".

It also doesn't make the "bad boy" so antagonistic towards MC and the "nice guy" so sweet that it makes no sense for MC to pick the bad boy (*cough*choices' save the date*cough* my favourite is the antagonistic LI but also he's so hot & cold towards MC and a jerk to her for no real reason???). MC clicks with both of them in a different way and there's enough reason for MC to choose either one of them. It actually shows why MC needs both of them

Also, MC is initially built up in a way before they interact with the LIs so that all of their decisions throughout the story actually make sense. They're responsible but also insanely competitive. Despite staying in line presumably throughout their life, they're drawn towards anything that'll give them a shot of adrenaline

Plus all three characters get their time to shine and MC's a fucking badass, honestly they're up there with om's MC as being one of the more interesting & fun to play MCs

And MY favourite, absolute favorite thing about this, the main thing that shot this up to one of my favourite choices stories:

MC makes a Buffy reference in this. That means at one point they watched and/or read Buffy and/or Angel, saw her get together with first the tortured ""good guy"" and then later the rebellious ""bad boy"", saw all the love triangle discourse in the fandom and said well that's fucking stupid, watch me introduce them both to the concept of polyamory that's right it's NOT a fucking love triangle

or it can be if you want it to, like you can choose one of the two LIs but the "true" route, the one where you get a charm each from both LIs and complete MC's charm bracelet (usually the indicator of a fully completed story in any choices book is to complete a set of something) is the one where MC picks both of them

There are also frequent instances where the choices are [no romantic option at all] and [romantic option for both LIs eg: holding both their hands]

And yeah the LIs aren't in love with each other and spend a lot of time competing for MC, something they do right until the very end of the book BUT at about the midway point they become a proper team and start talking about the three of them as an inseparable team making it very clear that if this doesn't end with MC choosing both of them it's gonna turn into a me and you and your friend steve situation.

And then when either one of them talks about how much they care about MC they start using "we" and "our" [eg: "that's our girl/boy" when the two LIs are alone together]

And then they start being as protective of each other as they are of MC

Cas screaming "don't touch him" when Gabriel gets attacked + Gabriel throwing himself over and shielding both MC & Cas when they get attacked

I'm not saying they're in love or that they'll ever fall in love but they are much much more okay with sharing a partner with each other than either one is willing to admit

anyway, this is them:

#choices #choices immortal desires #immortal desires

114 notes · View notes

zahri-melitor · 8 months

Text

Reading Digger Harkness as an Aussie: why he’s specifically written to wind me up, the undercurrents of many of his appearances, and why he’s voting No in the Voice referendum.

(Okay if you know ANYTHING about Digger and about the Voice you already knew that, but making this current-relevant!)

George “Digger” Harkness is Captain Boomerang. He’s traditionally written by DC to be specifically, deliberately annoying and disliked. Due to this he’s simultaneously quite cleverly written while also being the laziest character stereotype imaginable.

One of the things that drives me up the wall every time I read him in a book is that due to a clash of a few things in his character design, the subtext he’s evolved over time is remarkably complex, but also geared to make me despise him. Also I can’t tell how much of it is deliberate on the writer’s part.

The first thing you need to understand is that Harkness is very specifically putting on a level of Australianness for his audience (the usually American characters around him). The fascinating thing in this is that, unusually for this trope, his writers are often aware he’s doing this. The common term for this is ‘ocker’. You can notice this in the language he uses: it’s specifically peppered with ‘Australian’ words and phrases.

Now this is a pretty common thing for writers to do to demonstrate a character is Australian. It sounds like someone trying to write Crocodile Dundee or Steve Irwin. However, to my ear (and years of putting up with this), the way it’s done for Digger is…off. It’s not the standard terrible way it’s used in American media, but it’s equally not written naturally for how an Australian who natively speaks ocker/broad would use it. Digger’s playing it up, and he’s playing it up badly. (the closest comparison I can make than an Australian might understand is he sounds more like Russell Coight than Steve Irwin, with all that implies) He wants people to think he’s an Australian stereotype.

Heck, let’s break down his name for a demonstration of this.

Captain Boomerang: this is a very, very, loaded name. Digger’s specifically racist, and he’s racist in a very White Australia Policy sort of way. The writers are aware he’s racist. He uses a boomerang as a symbol as he’s Australian (surface level) but they’re also specifically drawn as white a lot of the time, both in his costume and in the weapons themselves. They’re not plain wood or decorated with traditional art. They’re white. He has a history of making boomerangs and promoting them in Australia for sale, as a white guy, which is uhhhh Not Great. He’s assumed a traditional piece of Australian Aboriginal weaponry and culture as his own, and he’s painted it white. He’s asserting that it’s his culture now and has stripped it of its traditional meaning. (Also his boomerangs often don’t come back, and have sharpened edges and are used wrongly). He doesn’t like Black People ™ but also uses a weapon specifically associated with an oppressed minority in his place of origin. The white supremacy attitude is very much coded in.

“Digger” as a nickname: oh the way this clashes and interacts with the fact he uses ‘Captain’ as a title! Digger as a term is a general nickname for Australian Army soldiers. It comes from the Gallipoli landings and the trenches of World War I. By using it as his nickname, Harkness is evoking a whole HOST of imagery and specifically nationalist cultural imagery surrounding Gallipoli as a ‘birthplace’ of Australian identity, something that’s been weaponised particularly by the Australian political right for the past 30 years as a national symbol. In the stories that a country tells itself about who they are, Harkness is evoking a very major one and also one that can read as quite toxic if not done carefully. (if you need a quick entry to the way the nickname makes me wince, look up ‘Cronulla Riots’. That’s the sort of person his name is evoking for me) The other problem on top of this – this is a soldier’s nickname. Harkness has never been in the Australian military (as far as I can tell). Combined with the fact he uses the title of ‘Captain’, he’s suggesting he’s got a military background that he 100% does not have. He’s a giant hypocrite. Now being part of the military in Australia reads differently to being part of the military in the USA, in how society sees it, but this is still not on. It’s not a natural nickname for an Australian to have, in his circumstances. It doesn’t even make sense as a traditional ironic nickname given by his friends. Which means he picked it himself. And for that style of nickname…choosing your own? That’s considered to be poor form and trying way too hard. (And nicknames are culturally important! For the personality Harkness is trying to present to his audience, he SHOULD have a nickname like this. My father’s is ‘Bones’, for instance. But choosing your own, and choosing one that implies traits that are not yours to display? Really really bad form)

Basically in summary, Harkness is very much coded in a lot of ways to essentially be the Australian equivalent of someone who stormed the Capitol on January 6, 2021. With that sort of view of his home country.

What is fascinating is that when Harkness interacts with other Australian characters, they do not like him, so the writers are aware that he’s been written to be this level of objectionable.

Now, some of this coding in his character has just accumulated over 60+ years as stereotypes have evolved and things have become ever more socially unacceptable. But the interesting thing here is that the writers ACKNOWLEDGE that unacceptable behaviour from Harkness.

I hate him so much. And I also want to fix his dialogue, which suffers from being written by Americans, to include a bunch more extremely country ocker sayings. He NEEDS to be saying things like “stone the flaming crows” and “fair shake of the sauce bottle” and “flat out like a lizard drinking” and “I didn’t come here to fuck spiders”. Because he’s putting it on. And these are the sort of things he’d lean in to to convey that level of “oh I’m not from around here, I am quoting Crocodile Dundee at you but you didn’t even realise” that he’s written to have.

#dc meta #captain boomerang #I had to only gesture at a bunch of things but there’s so much more to dig into here #he’s very cleverly written as hateable #this man has a southern cross tattoo!#he would fly the Eureka flag without having the specific union connections to still make that acceptable!#he’s an ugly Australian stereotype

95 notes · View notes

lebenspurpur · 2 years

Text

what does your favorite slasher say about you? because i am working on other things rn, but i don't want to leave all of you hanging.

These are all just jokes and my personal takes. Don't get offended and don't take them serious.

RZ Michael Myers

daddy issues

he can kill you in a millisecond, and you like that

you're pretty introverted and probably traumatized

you might be masochistic

hands you all know what I mean

fast food is something dear to you, and you probably enjoy candy

Vincent Sinclair

definitely a savior complex

you're introverted and most likely dabble in either art or music

long haired men are a weakness of yours

the trope of the conventional ugly character who's been mistreated their whole life has you in a chokehold

you're either into soft aesthetics like fairy core or pastel goth or into heavier, dark aesthetics like grunge or goth

you prefer relaxed free time activities over adventurous ones

Bo Sinclair

daddy issues to the max

also a savior complex

you're either extroverted or an ambivert

there's a chance that you have at least one sibling

you're either very self-defensive in fights or you don't argue at all

music taste relies on either rock, punk, grunge or metal music

you enjoy 00s MTV shows

Lester Sinclair

you're probably an ambivert or an introvert

fairy core, cottage core or/and goblin core make you very happy

you like to collect things

an animal lover and you probably enjoy the forest

for some reason, I think you'd enjoy road trips

your favorite ice cream flavor might be a fruit

you despise capitalism

Baby Firefly

you like the idea of worshiping a woman's body

you're either super into feminine aesthetics and clothing, or you really enjoy masculine things

you like a partner that can defend you and your relationship

public displays of affection are no problem for you

a little unhinged, but hey aren't we all

you like perfume and jewelry

Otis Driftwood

you use sarcasm and playful banter to communicate with your friends, or you're super sweet, no in between

you've had some strange phases growing up

heavy patriotism is something you despise

politics as a whole is something you kind of despise

you enjoy the smell of petroleum

for whatever reason, I think you're into/were into philosophy

RJ Firefly because I'm generous

you like dogs and the forest

you are also touch starved and really want a hug

you like soft things

chances of a twilight phase (plus points if you were team Jacob)

for some reason, I think you enjoy werewolf and vampire media

Brahms Heelshire

you're probably younger than the average slasher fan

you like dark/light academia

the idea of an educated, sophisticated life makes you happy

your partner should be romantic

you do a lot of things simply for the aesthetic of them

also a twilight phase

you collect fictional crushes religiously

Thomas Brown Hewitt

you're really sweet

you like baking, sewing, crafting or cooking

owning a garden would make you very happy

you're a little shy sometimes

domestic fantasies are your favorite fantasies

you're very loyal, and would go anywhere to protect your loved ones

Jason Vorhees

there's a chance that you might be extroverted

you rooted for the nice, friendly character in teenage romance trios instead of the mysterious, edgy ones

picknicks and hunting trips are sweet date ideas to you

favorite subject was probably either English, PE or arts

you're probably short and/or have a size kink

were you into Wicca, or any other nature-based practice at any point of your life? I feel like you were

Asa Emory

you had a crush on either a priest, a doctor, a teacher, or on all three before

now you're definitely a masochist

you've taken the kink test before, haven't you?

you're older than the average slasher fan

also daddy issues, congratulations

and mmmmaybe religious trauma?

Amanda Young

1K notes · View notes

leggerefiore · 9 months

Note

May I ask for ye old misunderstanding trope of reader being somewhat afraid of Ingo and thinking he actively despises them because he just always looks … like that?

I love myself some art where Ingo just has a downturned mouth, but I LIVE for the fanartist that make him look just completly intense and extremly angry all the time. I would just love something with reader insert realizing hes actually a sweetheart despite his absolutely intimidating glare.

cw: fluff, short

▲▽▲▽▲

He was a busy man.

A busy, busy man with a stern face to match. His lips were always frozen into a harsh pout and his eyes narrowed into something like a glare.

Every time you seemed to encounter him, he looked as if he had just left an annoying conversation with someone he certainly didn't like. Not to mention his stuff body language and quick strides, letting him move through the area as quickly as possible. You flinched as he approached you, an assistant brought on board due to their administrative work overload. Ingo gazed at you with his stern expression. What was he going to do?

“… Ah, are those the incident report documents?” His tone was polite, if not a bit too loud, “Thank you. I was just coking to retrieve them.” You politely handed the sheets over to the man, who's firm expression remained unchanged. It felt like an odd confliction. Angry face, yet kind manner of speaking.

You felt faint still.

It was another few days before you encountered him so personally again.

You had ended up staying late to ensure that there would not be a backlog of paperwork to finish tomorrow. Another yawn left you as you drank a sip of your beverage, hoping it would give you the energy to finish everything. It was then that the twins' office door opened a door and out stepped Ingo, his coat laying off his arm as he gazed around the area reserved for Depot Agent desks.

His stern expression landed on you. You watched as he tensed up and used his fast stride to approach you, eyes zeroing in on what must have been your soul. Would you start yelling at you and berating you? It was nerve-racking. A soft hand was laid on your desk as he cleared his throat. “It has become quite late, no?” The usual loudness was there, but a certain gentleness was in his words, “I'd feel uncomfortable leaving you here alone. Want to walk out with me?��

Your heart raced, but for different reasons.

You decided to broach it.

Stepping toward the older twin sitting at his desk scribbling away at documents, you approached him. His head carefully came up, eyes harsh and frown even deeper than usual. It almost made you want to turn away and run. You would not.

“... You're really kind, you know,” you tell him easily, “Thank you for being so nice to me.” You place a take-out coffee from one of your favourite cafés in Nimbasa before him. Ingo gazes blankly for a moment before his eyes shift into something much gentler and sweet.

“No, thank you,” he turned up to you with an odd smile playing at his lips, “This is a favourite shop of mine. How did you know?” You wanted to gasp.

“It's actually my favourite,” you reply eagerly, “We should go there together sometime!”

Ingo eagerly nodded and quickly gazed over your schedules in the system to see when you'd both have some time off at the same time.

It seemed you had a date.

#ingo x reader #ingo/reader #pokemon x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon ingo/reader

102 notes · View notes

agnezluf · 1 year

Text

The Aesthetics of Discomfort

Plot : 9/10

The yandere : 8/10

Artwork : 8/10

Author and artist : Seuseu

Alternative Title : Aesthetics of Unpleasantness

If you like this one, do yourself a favor and check the author’s other works. Her writing is rather out of the box. They are taboo, provocative, mind stimulating read, worthy of praise. Her art is really good, with distinctive black and white with a smart play of other colors.

This one is a short completed read at 6 chapters. It left me perplexed in the end, as shocked as the main character to find the twist and desperately wanting more! I always believe that it takes quite a skill to make a concise read as engaging as possible. Easier to drag out to season after season, but every chapter and panel of this manhwa is well thought-out and effectively communicated what the author wants to convey.

The background setting is Omegaverse. Rather boring and overdone trope? Hear me out. In a skilled hand, you can see a twist that you do not see often. The main character, Hayden is a tall and built alpha who hang around with omega friends. The internalised hatred towards his own kind making him continuously taking suppressant to control his alpha urge and pheromones almost pretending to be an omega himself. He despises his natural instinct. This, until he meets the ever charming and popular alpha, Brett, who is like a peacock, releasing pheromones without care. Things get really heated when Brett’s action pushed Hayden to go out of hiding during his intense heat. There is only one way out.

The writing is incredibly concise, pacing is perfect. I love it as it is, but I wish to be able to read the aftermath of the plot twist. And I want to add the picture of one of the main character after the plot twist reveal, just to give you an idea of how clever and sensitive the artist is, in capturing human expression. But this story is best to dive knowing as little as possible.

The yandere is not the most forceful one. However you need to give him a full mark for understanding fully his prey, both physically and psychologically. He is incredibly manipulative yet likeable. You end up rooting for him to getting his object of desire.

So what are you waiting for? Go have a read and enjoy the highlight of the day.

#male yandere #yandere boy #yandere boys #yandere male #yandere recommendations #maleyandere #yandereboy #yanderemale #yandere #yanderemales #omegaverse yandere #nez bl manhwa review

96 notes · View notes

hihimissamericanbi · 4 months

Note

Enemies to lovers AND only one bed? Babe, you're speaking my favorite language here. Tell me more.

well hello there, snitchy snitch!!

Okay, picture this. Sapphic enemies to lovers. Wedding trope. Our MCs are the sister of the groom and sister of the bride. They have disliked each other from the moment they met, back when their siblings first started dating. One is "Miss Priss," the other is "Surly Girlie." Our story takes place at the bachelorette party, a weekend away at the beach. Both our MCs arrive late (so they are grumpy AF already) to find they have to share the only room left. and there's only one bed.

NOW. IS THIS NOT THE PERFECT PANSMIONE. Harry and Draco are getting married. Hermione and Pansy never mended things after the war; they still despise (read: are obsessed with) one another. Now, they've had to work together (ew) to plan this stupid joint bachelor trip for the whole crew. To top it all off, Pansy's portkey got cancelled last minute, and Hermione got caught up in a work emergency at the ministry (at least what I was doing was important, parkinson; sorry if I don't feel bad your fancy first-class portkey got bumped). They spend the first night in their shared bedroom bitching each other out and sleeping as far away from each other as they can get, rolled over to each side and huffing in exasperation.

Honestly this works great for any HP ship pairing. Jily having to work together to plan Wolfstar's bachelor trip. Wolfstar exes-to-lovers planning Jily or Jegulus' trip. Drarry planning Ginsy's. You get the idea.

Below the cut for more stream-of-consciousness fic, incl NSFW art from @upthehillart :D

@hpsaffics you're getting a tag here too :)))

After much description of hot girls in bathing suits (hermione's ass) (pansy's legs) and both of them just absolutely losing their minds over each others' bodies, with lots of sniping back and forth to cover up how embarrassingly into each other they are, they end up last ones at the muggle bar the second night, too tipsy to try apparating. Fuck it, granger, dance with me. Oh boy, do they DANCE. It's so fucking hot, they can't get enough of each other, the feel of their bodies close, their flesh beneath each others' hands, that LOOK in pansy's eyes that says I'm going to eat you alive and you're going to say thank you. But just before something drastic happens, like hermione putting her lips to pansy's neck like she's been wanting to for honestly a very long time, longer than she cares to admit, Harry bursts onto the dancefloor "there you are!!! we've been looking everywhere for you get in the uber right now!"

The spell is broken, and, faces beet red, they let harry drag them back to the air bnb. they take turns showering, being sure to change into pj's in the bathroom (Pansy in a giant band tee shirt and booty shorts, Hermione in a lace pink matching set). Hermione is tying her hair up in a specially-charmed silk scarf and going over some notes from work that got delivered by owl while they were out, and pansy thinks she's the loveliest thing she's ever seen. Pansy's caught staring. "what?" "nothing, granger." there's a pause, like maybe they each want to say more, but instead, pansy just turns out her light with her wand. "night, granger," she whispers.

There in the dark, they both lay on their backs, listening to each other breathe. they end up having a tension-filled, intense exchange where they are truly vulnerable with each other for the first time. apologies are given and accepted in the softest whispers. tentatively, pansy reaches out a hand beneath the covers, drags the back of her fingers gently over the soft skin of hermione's arm. "i really am. sorry. i never meant any of it. you." deep breath. "you're the most incredible girl I've ever met. I've always thought so."

and then--

Hermione moves with that intense decisiveness of hers. She rolls over, straddles pansy, grips her face and kisses her long and deep. Pansy opens her mouth to her instantly, and a stupid little moan escapes and it's the most pathetic sound she's ever made but she will make it again and again if it's hermione who pulls it from her. "Want you," Hermione whispers into pansy's neck, finally latching on and sucking, biting, coaxing blooming bruises of violet and and blue to her pale skin. She shoves her hands up underneath pansy's tee shirt, not an ounce of hesitation, grips her tits hard. kneads them, dances fingers over her nipples, seeing which touches elicit the most gasps from the beauty beneath her. pansy is arching and writhing with pleasure, and hermione grins into her mouth, wicked and brutal. The witch who kept a woman in a jar for months for slandering her friends, the witch who destroyed horcruxes and single-handedly kept two boys alive for the better part of seven years, the 20-something witch ruthlessly bulldozing over all the old white bureaucratic wizards at the ministry, is now the witch taking pansy apart inch by inch and fuck if pansy isn't thrilled to be broken by those powerful hands, sucked dry by plush lips, devoured by sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight as they sink into her skin over and over.

But Pansy has a few tricks up her own sleeve. She grips hermione with strong thighs and rolls them over, "Can I take off your scarf?" she breathes it her ear. "wanna pull your hair while i suck on your tits." Hermione whimpers and pulls her scarf off and pansy gathers those fucking curls into her fist and pulls, careful of course not to damage the curl pattern. Pansy licks a long stripe up her now-bared neck and over her ear, then whispers, "pull your top down. let me see." Hermione obeys, of course she obeys, pansy is commanding and relentless and if pansy wants to look hermione will let her. she fingers a strap of her camisole down off one shoulder, skims her fingertips over the top of her breast, just over the nipple still hidden beneath the fabric. Pansy's mouth is dry and her cunt throbs as she anticipates finally getting a glimpse of her nipple, already hard and poking through the silk and lace. "all the way," pansy murmurs. "take it out. show it to me." hermione whines and squirms and finally digs her hand all the way in and pulls out her breast, so fucking full and delicious with large brown nipples that beg to be kissed, so of course pansy does. Pansy looses her patience and pulls the camisole all the way down, exposing both breasts to her gaze and her wandering hands. she dives in, laving attention all across hermione's warm skin, nipping and licking and sucking and groping. her hips have started grinding down against hermione's pelvis, and hermione is arching up to meet her. "wanna make you come," pansy growls between hermione's tits. "how do you like it?" hermione stills, and pansy looks up. "um," hermione bites her lip. pansy kisses it out from behind her teeth. "yes, baby? what do you want? let me give it to you." Hermione take a deep breath. "i thought i was going to have my own room. i may have brought a few... toys." "oh, like what?" Hermione rolls over, digs around her her bag by the bed, and shyly pulls out an ENTIRE FUCKING STRAP. The magic kind that connects sensations from the strap to the wearer's clit. "I was hoping i might get lucky, going out and everything this weekend." Pansy's speechless. "Would you, um, let me fuck you with it?" hermione asks, big brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Cut to, pansy on all fours, legs kicked wide, ass up, facing the mirror by the bed, watching hermione completely naked and fucking her with her cock, her curves bouncing and slapping with every thrust, the sounds wet and loud and crude, mixing with Pansy's gasps over and over and over. Pansy's tee is shoved up by hermione's demanding hand; she's gripping the skin of her shoulder, her other fist burying in Pansy's hip and pulling her back onto her dick even as she fucks into her, hard and deep and fast. Hermione is strong and her grip bruises and Pansy couldn't move if she wanted to. "M close," Hermione murmurs. "yes, yes, yes," pansy chants in reply, all other words fucked right out of her brain. "touch yourself for me, baby, wanna watch you come first." but when pansy collapses down to one shoulder so she can use her other hand to rub her clit, she gasps in shock. Hermione has wordlessly and wandlessly charmed her fingers to vibrate. pansy shouts when her charmed fingers makes contact with her aching clit, swollen and needy from what feels like a lifetime of getting handled by hermione fucking granger. just a few passes through her folds and over her clit has Pansy shaking and coming with a muffled scream, Hermione following right behind her, the force of her orgasm plunging her cock even harder into pansy's pulsing cunt. it kicks off a second orgasm for pansy, back to back, and she screams and screams until hermione finally pulls out and gather pansy into her arms, shushing her and smoothing her hair.

They clean each other up take turns in the bathroom, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

maybe this wedding won't be so bad after all.

ps: below is my headcanon depiction of pansmione from a fic i cannot recommend enough . Art and fic both by @upthehillart

watch out the girls are naked and hot

#ANDDD SCENE #wip tag game #smut game #celine's smut #celine spills #desperately seeking snitch #pansmione #pansmione smut #hp sapphics #enemies to lovers #and there was only one bed #hermione x pansy #upthehill art

24 notes · View notes

mxnkeydo · 4 months

Text

so scarlet (it was maroon) ✧ sokeefe

✧ ship: Sophie x Keefe

✧ what to expect: it all went down went a book went soaring across the classroom but sophie never expects it to end the way it does. acrylic smeared on cheeks, pigment-stained clothes, and a whole keefe sencen later, maybe she never despised him as much as she thought she did.

✧ genre: romance, fluff, humor, sarcasm - enemies to lovers trope, human au, and a love triangle to torment you guys 😈

✧ word count: 2.5K

✧ warnings: slight swearing

✧ link to masterlist

✧ taglist: @swans-chirping-in-the-distance @somerandomhuman080 @foxglove-and-foxfire-lover @carolineforbae @yourtwistedlies (lmk if you want to be added!)

✧ A/N: been a long time since i updated so its probably trashy but here you go!!

***

CHAPTER NINE

In the mornings, Foxfire academy was a hustle of frantic students getting ready for class, their bags like heavy boulders stuffed with binders and papers and whatnot. Amongst all the students, Sophie Foster paced in front of her locker, waiting for a certain someone to show up. And by “someone”, she meant Keefe Sencen.

Keefe was never late. Not once in the time that she knew him was he ever tardy to anything (except for when he ditched classes; then he was absent entirely). So when the bell rang and he still didn’t make an appearance, she sighed and dragged herself to her first class–math. Walking her to AP calculus was a routine–a tradition, even. Afterwards, Keefe would go the same way they came to his physics class in another hallway. Sophie used to insist he didn’t have to go through all that trouble, but now, his absence was jarring. It had her thoughts racing.

He didn’t make it to school late either, which only spiked her worry. Fitz tried to ease her anxiety, but something was wrong, she knew it. She could feel it. After lunch, she walked to art alone, settling in her seat with a frown. The desk next to her would usually be filled with Keefe’s slender figure and he’d be constantly pestering her with sarcastic remarks. Sometimes, she even wished he’d simply just go away. But now that he really was gone, Sophie wished he’d be back again.

Something was wrong, her gut was telling. Something was really wrong.

Art passed by in a blur, and when the final bell rang, Sophie absentmindedly rose from her chair and made her way towards the exit. She was one step away from leaving when–

“Miss Foster? A word.”

Sophie startled and made her way over to Ms. Clarette’s desk, shoving her hands in her hoodie pockets.

“Yes?”

“How are the sessions going?” She asked, resting her chin on his hands.

“Oh. Yeah, they’re–they’re going good. Great, actually.” For the first time, Ms. Clarette smiled genuinely. It turned her into a whole different person from the strict teacher she normally knew.

“Yes, I can see that. Your artwork has been getting better, Sophie. Are you and Mr. Sencen still at each other’s necks?”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, surprised at the question. “Um- no. We’re–we’re good now.” Ms. Clarette smiled as if she’d anticipated that answer.

“Good.” She looked down at the stack of papers on her desk with a red pencil in hand, ready for a long afternoon of grading. “I’m glad. You may leave, Miss Foster.”

Sophie released the breath she’d unknowingly held, sighing deeply as she made her way down the hall. Usually she’d stop for a chat with Linh, maybe admire another one of Dex’s contraptions, but she had no time for that now. She had somewhere to be.

Exiting the school through the main doors, she turned right instead of the usual left to her house. It wasn’t a long walk to Keefe’s place, but every second she had to wait made her more restless. Another left and a right turn later, she arrived in front of his house. She looked at the dead plants in the front yard, the oval windows on the building, and then–

Sophie’s gaze wandered to the sky, and when she saw a black, hunched figure on the roof, she squinted, blocking out the sun’s glare with her hand. Sitting on the roof somberly was none other than Keefe himself. Sophie thought about calling out, but she’d only succeed in pushing herself farther away from him. Instead, she opened the front door of the house and carefully walked in. The main hall was dusty and lifeless. An antique vase on the kitchen counter held the remains of withered flowers and their rotten stems. Paintings hung on the walls, but they were veiled with white cloths so their contents weren’t visible to any passerby. It was eerily pristine. Ghostly, even. It was as if no one had lived here in a while.

Sophie walked past all of that and climbed the stairs, skipping two steps at a time. She burst into Keefe’s room at the end of the second floor hallway, and was immediately hit with his familiar scent, that same cologne he’d started wearing along with his natural smell of musty books. It was strange when Sophie really thought of it, but it was oddly comforting. His room was more of a mess than usual; scattered books, stray pen and brushes all over his unmade bed, clothes strewn over his cluttered dresser. Sophie could barely even make it to the other side of the room without stepping on anything. She tiptoed around the bed to avoid kicking or destroying anything on the floor, but–

Spohie hissed quietly as her something sharp dug into her foot, something under the bed. She glanced down at the sharp, blue edge poking out from beneath the satin valance. Snooping was probably not the best idea, Sophie knew that, but her curiosity won her over and she gingerly pulled the object out from under the bed.

It was painting, Sophie soon realized as she marveled at it. A beautiful painting, maybe even more beautiful than the ones hanging in Keefe’s secret art room. But if it was one of his best pieces of art, why was it under the bed? Shouldn’t it be up on the wall somewhere? Sophie ran one hand across the painting, its texture bumpy against her palm. If he closed her eyes, she was sure she could imagine the scene in the painting – the white lilies at the bottom of the canvas, the faint caws of the birds overhead, the meadow of tall grass that would graze her bare legs as she walked. The clouds drifting in the sky, the pink and blue and purple trokes of the sunset. It would be a lazy day, where she would run through the expanse without a care in the world.

There was only one thing that rattled her mind.

Keefe had painted a girl standing in the grass. A girl with blonde tresses and a pink sweater and a white skirt, staring off at the horizon. And was she losing her mind, or was she wearing that same exact outfit when she and Keefe had their first tutoring session?

She was probably insane. Hell, she was definitely insane.

But…she had quite the reason to believe that it was her. It was her, standing in the field, with a faint smile playing on her lips. In the painting, she was more beautiful than Sophie could ever wish to be.

The thought popped into her mind with no warning.

Do I really look like that to him?

It evaporated as soon as it appeared, but it had Sophie reeling. As much as she wanted to sit down and stare at it for forever, Sophie carefully stuffed it back under Keefe’s bed, her heart beating in her ears like a deafening drum.

The real question here was, how did Keefe get onto the roof? His bedroom had no openings other than the main door. No windows, no chimney–nothing. It was impossible, Sophie had concluded, when she realized there was more to his room than one could see.

She stepped over to the mahogany bookcase, shoving her side against it, praying it would budge. To her luck, it began to move with every push, slowly but surely revealing the same door Keefe had opened for her with a flourish when he first tutored her. She barged in like a woman on a mission, but then stumbled back as she coughed, dust rising all around her. It took a while to clear, and when she could finally see, Sophie studied the room keenly. Everything was just as she remembered; dark, homey, and incredibly messy. But the difference? There was a cold draft coming in through somewhere. Sophie perked up once she felt the wind dance across her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms. Surging forward, she threw open the curtains at the far side of the little room.

The round window was wide open, allowing Sophie to see the colors of the vibrant sunset. She peered down and immediately regretted it, groaning. Her fear of heights was most definitely not helping this situation.

But what if Keefe was in trouble? Based on Cassius’s disappearance and his son’s absence, Sophie could only guess what he was going through. Besides, she saw the way Keefe flinched when he flexed his shoulder a while ago. She could’ve asked, but she hadn’t wanted to pry into personal issues. But if they affected him like this—isolating himself, not responding to any of her concerned texts, maybe it was time she stepped in.

With a shallow breath, she poked her head out of the window again, this time with caution. Maybe there was a ladder somewhere that she could climb. But as far as Sophie could see, there was no ladder. Only a large, black pole in arm’s length.

It hit her like a lightning bolt. Of course Keefe had climbed up the pole to the roof, being the daredevil he was. And now she had to do the same.

Gulping, she sat down on the windowsill, trying her best not to look down. Once both hands were planted on the pole, she jumped and wrapped her legs around it, yelping. After letting herself get comfortable, she began to make her way up.

Idon’twannadiepleasedon’tletmedie, Sophie thought frantically, wondering if God could hear her from above. She hugged the pole for dear life as she climbed higher and higher from the ground. About halfway, she almost lost her step and let out a strangled cry as she tried to regain balance. The next half of the climb, she scurried up as fast as she could, deciding to get it all over with.

Finally, finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she neared the edge of the roof. Eagerly, she reached out for it and pulled herself up, grunting.

Sophie clambered up onto the roof, careful not to make any noise. Keefe was on the other end of the roof, and if she didn’t startle him, maybe he’d open up.

It was bound to happen; she took only one step forward but the sole of her sneakers slipped against the shingles. Sophie shrieked, falling forward on her knees. She lay there, panting. Because if she’d fallen just a little more to the left, she would’ve plummeted to her death.

Keefe’s lean figure whipped around at the commotion. Damn it, Sophie, she berated herself, staring at his wild, bloodshot eyes.

“Sophie?” He breathed, a wrinkled appearing between his brows.

“Keefe.”

“Sophie…” Keefe’s voice broke halfway and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He frantically wiped the tears from his face. “You’re–you’re not supposed to be here.”

“You’ve had quite the influence on me, then.”

Even in his miserable state, he broke into a soft smile. “Guilty.”

Sophie carefully walked to where he was and sat down beside him as he cleared his throat and fiddled with a lock of his hair. “You weren’t at school today,” she said. “You’re always at school. I was worried.”

“I’m in one piece,” he joked lamely. But seeing Sophie’s serious expression he sobered immediately. “No, seriously. I’m okay, just–” He sniffled dramatically. “Allergies.” He winced as the lie fell from his lips, knowing it was a shitty excuse.

“Spring started back in March, Keefe. It’s May now. Don’t you think I would’ve noticed your ‘allergies’ back then?”

No response.

Letting the silence settle around them, Sophie took Keefe’s hand with both of hers. “Talk to me, Keefe. Please?” She nudged his shoulder playfully. Consequently he groaned, clutching his arm.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry,” Sophie let out in one breath.

“It’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Wait… but I thought it was your left shoulder that hurt?”

At her comment, he turned and gave her a strange look. “What?”

“The last time I saw you. It was your left shoulder, and now it’s your right? What’s going on?”

“You noticed?”

“Of course I did.”

Keefe looked away and at the sun, which was sinking lower and lower every second. Streaks of orange and red were painted on the sky in rough strokes, as if an angry artist had been in a rush to complete his piece. Regardless, it was beautiful. The fading light shone on Keefe’s face, and Sophie’s heart skipped a beat as she studied it. She knew the thought was wrong as soon as it entered her head: sure, he looked like a wreck, but…he also looked good. Handsome, even. Tears glistened on his dark lashes. His lips were parted slightly. But those ice-blue eyes, normally full of life, were now dull. Empty. Vacant.

“Just so you know, I’m here,” Sophie said gently. “You can talk to me, or not, but I am here.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Keefe breathed. “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“Shut up, you deserve the world.”

Silence again. His eyes widened and then welled up.

“It’s just hard when you feel so fucking unwanted.”

“Not by me, you aren’t.”

She felt his touch burn through her clothes and into her skin where he’d let his arms rest on her waist, pulling her close. For a moment she held him close too, and he let himself sink into her warmth. And when the floodgates opened, there was no stopping it.

Sophie let this boy, this wonderful, sweet, broken boy, cry into her shoulder. Shh, she wanted to assure him. Everything will be okay. You’re okay. But now was not the time, and she didn’t—couldn’t—make any false promises, especially not to Keefe Sencen, a stranger who had quickly become one of her closest friends.

“I’m sorry,” he said at one point, his voice muffled.

“You don’t have to be,” Sophie had whispered back.

Now, the two of them sat on the roof together, Keefe’s eyes bloodshot, Sophie holding his hand like she’d never let go. Dusk turned to night, and neither of them moved. Vaguely, Sophie thought of how worried her parents—ahem, Grady—would be, but being there for Keefe was important. So she stayed.

Keefe snorted after a while and she shot him a look, wondering what was so funny about this. “Name a more iconic duo than my fear of abandonment and my instinct to self isolate. I’ll wait.” Sophie swatted him on the shoulder disapprovingly and he laughed slightly. “Humor’s my coping mechanism. I can’t help it.”

It went quiet for a minute while Sophie went deep into thought. Her hair fluttered in the chilly winds, and she shivered slightly before answering, “You and me.”

“What?”

“You asked to name a better duo. You and me.”

Keefe really looked at her. And then he shot her his million-dollar smile and— god, Sophie’s knees would have gone weak if she was standing up. He squeezed her hand.

“Yeah. We really are something, aren’t we?”

#ssiwm #so scarlet (it was maroon)#sophie foster #keefe sencen #fluff #romance #angst

18 notes · View notes