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alrightieaphroditie · 10 months

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sticky situations | j.m

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pairing *:·ﾟdbf!joel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ5k warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! pretty much porn w/ minimal plot, dads best friend, age gap (reader is in early 20s, joel is like late 30s/early 40s) kissing, fun with popsicles (so like ice play, in a way), brief mention of choking, titty play, pet names (lots of ‘baby’ and ‘honey’) dirty talk, praise, slight humiliation if you squint, smidge of mutual masturbation, bossy!joel, unprotected p in v (please wrap it before you tap it), slight breeding kink, probably poorly written smut… i think that’s it :)) an *:·ﾟi lowkey told myself i’d never write a dad’s best friend joel miller story and yet here i am. this literally came to me in a fever dream, and i promise i am still working on my screwed series, but i could not stop writing this. mostly unedited (my bad) but i feel hella proud with this one, so i really hope you all enjoy!! stay safe if your celebrating the fourth today!

synopsis *:·ﾟbeing in a secret relationship with your dad's best friend isn't for the weak. while getting some popsicles from the garage, said boyfriend - joel miller - corners you during the firework show after you spent the day teasing him.

the scorching texas sun was high in the sky, and the sounds of children squealing carried loudly over the radio playing. the miller’s (moreso tommy, even though he didn’t technically live there) had been kind enough to open their pool to the neighborhood for the fourth of july holiday, and on a day like today, you weren’t surprised that their backyard was crammed full of people.

given that your father was joel miller’s best friend, you had already had plans to come utilize his pool, but now you could barely float like you planned with how many children were swimming in it. sarah’s soccer team had come over after practice as well, and it was to the point where even walking in the backyard was like walking through a landmine; you were consciously trying not to bump into anyone or step on a foot (or a child.)

your father had planted himself at the grill with the host himself, the two of them talking about god knows what. every now and then you’d catch joel’s eyes, and he’d take in the bikini top you wore, the sage green color complementing your skin.

you had told your father that you had bought it at the mall last weekend, but the truth was that joel had bought it for you, along with the skimpiest bottoms he could find. those you were wearing too, but you had them concealed by a pair of jean shorts. with the way he was eyeing right now, and the way you were subsequently eyeing him back, you were surprised that no one around you had picked up on the fact that you two were together.

it had been a few months, pretty much ever since you came home to your dad’s from school for the summer. he had moved into this neighborhood after your parents divorce, and when he told you back in january that he had the most amazing neighbor, you were happy for him. flash forward to your visit during spring break and it was joel miller this and joel miller that in your house. not that you really minded, you thought the contractor next door was very handsome, even if he was almost twenty years older than you.

your dad had introduced the two of you during your spring break, with joel being an absolute gentleman, and for a little bit that was all you had. but then your dad was pulled away for work, and even though you were fully an adult, he wanted someone to be there for you if needed. he gave you joel’s phone number, along with the promise that joel would do anything to help you, and that started the snowball effect to the beginning of your relationship.

you hardly used the number while you were home, but for some reason you found yourself staring at it one night alone when you were back in your apartment. joel hadn’t given you any hint, any indicator that he even liked you as a person. you mean, sure, he was kind and always polite to you when your dad had him over for dinners. but you noticed he always purposefully put some type of distance between you, and it just didn’t sit right with you.

so, slightly drunk and alone, you sent him the first text message. a simple, hey, it’s y/n from next door, and then, because you were in a mood and wanted attention: sorry to bother you so late, but my dad told me to text you if i ever needed anything. immediately after you wished you could’ve deleted it, and a few minutes had passed before you decided to put your phone down for the rest of the night. just as you placed it on the table next to your bed, you felt it buzz. think he meant that for when you’re next door, but what can i do for ya?

and that was that. you and joel texted throughout the night, and then all morning, and all afternoon, and all the next night. this continued for weeks, until you graduated to having nightly phone calls, and then facetime calls (you had to have joel ask sarah how to use facetime to begin with, but you thought that was cute) and for the rest of the semester, joel became your closest friend, and your biggest crush. and when you came home for the summer, you officially started dating joel miller. well… it was official between the two of you.

you never imagined falling for your dad’s best friend, and yet, here you were, in his backyard, wearing the bathing suit he had bought you, wishing you could at least hold his hand in front of everyone.

you saw his brown eyes dart in your direction as you moved near the grill, your ears picking up their conversation about the most recent football game. you watched as his pinky finger on the hand by his side extended ever so slightly, and as you walked passed, you brushed your pinky against his. the warmth the feeling gave you made you grin, and you slipped through his open back door, looking for sarah to help you and tommy set up the fireworks display in the street.

the rest of the evening went by in a blur - there were hotdogs and burgers eaten, smores were made with the small bonfire tommy had started, the music volume continued to increase with every passing hour. by the time the sky was pitch black with only a smattering of stars, everyone was full, content, and ready to sit on the sidewalks and lawns to watch the display happening at the end of the cul-de-sac.

you sat near sarah and some of her friends from soccer, listening to them gossip about what was going on in their highschool, but your focus was on joel. your eyes followed every movement of his, watching him pick up the boxes you had hauled out there and rearrange them. the gray t-shirt he was wearing was tighter around his arms, and you watched as the material strained against his biceps, his worn blue jeans curving to the muscles in his thighs.

the sun had gone down hours ago, but your cheeks were burning like it was still noon.

it finally came time for them to start the first round, and everyone chatted excitedly as they watched tommy set up the firework. you watched as joel tossed his brother a lighter, and before you knew it, sparks were flying across the pavement, and both brothers were running from it laughing. everyone’s head tilted back as they followed the spark, and seconds later a ground shaking boom exploded, the sky becoming colored in blue sparks. the children cheered, the adults laughed, and the dogs went crazy barking.

you watched a couple more rounds, grinning as kids began chasing each other with sparklers and laughing when tommy burned his finger slightly on a rouge firework. pushing up on your feet, you wiped your pants for straw pieces of grass while you turned to sarah. “hey, i’m gonna go grab a popsicle, do you want one, hun?” the girls eyes met yours and she nodded her head while still talking to her friend.

you made your way into the garage where you knew joel kept a deep freezer full of goodies on sarah’s behalf. you grabbed the first one you saw, a red cherry popsicle, and opened it while you searched the freezer for sarah’s favorite. you were so preoccupied that you didn’t make out the sound of the door to the garage click shut under the noise of the fireworks, didn’t realize that you were no longer alone until you shifted up and rough, callused hands spread across your exposed middle.

“joel,” you gasped, turning around in his grip with a laugh. his brown eyes were lit with amusement, but they darkened slightly as they roamed down your chest, down your hips where the strings of the bikini bottoms were peaking out. his hands slid down your sides, resting on the waistband of your shorts as he tucked his fingers through the belt loops.

“y’just had to wear this damn bikini, didn’t you?” his voice was rough, grumpy almost, but that was joel’s typical voice, so you just laughed in response. behind you, the freezer door fell shut, and joel took the opportunity to lift you up so that you were sitting on top. the cold surface made you shiver, but it was joel stepping between your legs, pressing his hips against yours harshly that gave you goosebumps.

“well, a nice older man did buy it for me, so i felt compelled.” you teased, moving one of your arms to rest against his shoulder while you licked along your popsicle, the treat already melting in the heat building up in the garage. joel’s eyes zeroed in on the movement, and you couldn’t help but grin as you repeated the motion, sucking the popsicle further in your mouth than probably necessary, watching as his brown eyes practically blended in with his pupils.

“god, you’re trouble,” joel managed to get out before his lips slanted over yours. you moaned into the kiss, consciously holding your popsicle to the side so it didn’t get all over the two of you. your other hand moved to the back of his head, fingers running through his brown locks gently. joel swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and made a low humming sound. “taste like cherries,” he commented, sliding his hand from your waist up to your throat.

“it’s the popsicle,” you gasped out, feeling joel’s hand encompass your neck. he pulled your hips forward against his by your belt loop, rocking you against him. his lips trailed from yours down to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. the action had you panting out his name like a prayer, and it only further encouraged him. he managed to untie your bikini top without you noticing, and he roughly yanked the material over your head.

“let me see this thing,” leaning back, he took the popsicle from your grip, your hand becoming sticky from it melting in your hand. he licked it himself, which had you giggling, but then he put the treat up to your mouth. “open up, baby. wanna see you lick this like you lick me, yeah?” his voice was soft, comforting almost, which went against the actions of his hands, as one tightened around your neck and the other pushed the cherry treat into your mouth.

your eyes went hazy, and you focused on maintaining eye contact with joel while your face burned with heat. your mouth wrapped around the popsicle, letting him push it in as far as it could go. the coldness of the treat shocked you momentarily, feeling a slight burning sensation against your tongue as he held the popsicle in your mouth for a moment before slowly pulling it out.

your cheeks hollowed against it, sucking as much of the flavor off as you could, and when joel pulled it out of your mouth, a red string of your spit fell from your lips to your chest, dripping down in between the valley of your breasts. “fuck, honey.” joel groaned, his hips rutting against yours momentarily before he leaned down, licking up the trail of red juice on your skin. a whimper escaped from your mouth as you pressed your chest closer to his mouth, and joel took the opportunity to force the popsicle back in your mouth.

he slowly moved the popsicle inside your mouth, and even though he had his eyes closed while he pressed his mouth against your chest, you twirling your tongue around the treat, wanting to please him always. you could feel your bathing suit bottom sticking to your core with how wet you were becoming, and you wiggled your hips against joel’s body to get some type of friction.

he sucked one last kiss against your neck, biting against your skin before he pulled away. “goddamn, baby. such a good girl for me, huh? suckin’ on this popsicle like it’s my damn cock.” his crude words made you whimper, and with one last twist, he pulled the popsicle out of your mouth. his dark eyes stared at your mouth for a moment, taking in how red the popsicle made your lips. how wet they were from your saliva.

joel’s mouth formed into a smirk before it was pressed against yours. your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails scratching his scalp faintly. he sucked your bottom lip in his mouth, running his tongue over it slowly as if savoring the cherry flavor. his teeth nipped your lip, causing a moan to emit from your mouth. joel grinned against your mouth, and you tugged him closer, desperately seeking more.

the air in the garage was becoming suffocating, and you could feel sweat forming along your upper body. joel could feel it too, still clad in his t-shirt and jeans, and he gave you one more deep kiss before he pulled away. “you feelin’ hot, baby?” you could only nod your head, a whimper escaping your mouth as he grinned wickedly at you, eyeing the popsicle once more, the treat half melted. “let’s cool ya down, then.”

you watched with a slightly opened mouth as joel moved the popsicle to your chest, and you gasped when he pressed it against your skin, moving it down the valley of your breast. the coldness made goosebumps rise across your chest, and you couldn’t help the small moans at how good it felt. joel’s attention was solely on popsicle, watching the sticky trail of red juice follow where he guided it.

“joel,” you whimpered, reaching down to grip his forearm tightly. you could see him smile, could see him bite down on his bottom lip as he moved the popsicle to trail over your nipple. the gasp you made had him obsessed, and he ran the cold treat over your sensitive nub over and over again, taking in your gasps and moans, which were being drowned out by the fireworks outside.

“fuck, you look so pretty like this.” joel muttered, almost to himself, but you could make out the words in his deep voice. he sounded strained, as if he were holding himself back from simply pouncing on you. you wish he would, though, as you could feel your inner thighs become wet with your slick. your core was clenching around nothing, and it had been so long since the two of you were able to get away that you were desperately aching for him.

the popsicle was melting quicker now, the juices moving swiftly down your stomach as joel traced the popsicle across your chest to the other nipple. you were squirming as much as you could, seconds away from begging joel to stop and to just fuck you already. but you could see it in his eyes that he wanted this, that he was enjoying this, so you let him have it, and you admired the growing bulge in his jeans.

soon the popsicle was nothing but a puddle mixed into your skin, and joel tossed the stick to the side. “think i need to clean you up now, baby. look at the mess you made,” he said with a tsk, as if you were the one who drew on your chest with the popsicle. you didn’t have it in you to argue, though, especially when joel bent down and took your sensitive nipple in his mouth.

the contrast of the cold popsicle juice with joel’s warm mouth had you groaning, and you slumped against the garage wall as joel traced the popsicle trail with his tongue across your chest. he would pause here and there to place open mouthed kisses along your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d have some small bruises littering your skin. you liked wearing them though, liked having the reminder than joel had marked you as his. because you were, undoubtedly.

“joel, baby, please,” you whimpered, not fully understanding what you were asking for, but joel thought you were begging so beautifully. he wanted to hear you plead his name for the rest of his life. he pulled your nipple in his mouth, tweaking it with his teeth. a sharp pain flitted through your body, only lasting a second, but he did it again, and again, and soon you were panting.

“please, what?” joel mocked, grinning against your skin as he moved to squeeze your breast with his rough hands. “this not enough for ya?” satisfied that he cleaned up the mess the popsicle had made, he trailed his mouth up to your neck and across your jaw before pausing right in front of your face. his breath was warm as it fanned across your face, and you leaned in to kiss him but he pulled away, a teasing grin on his face.

“no,” you whined, moving your hands down the waist of his jeans. he let your fingers fumble with the button before he unbuttoned his pants himself, yanking the zipper down. your hand went inside his boxers immediately, and joel let out a curse as your fingers wrapped around the hard length of this cock. just the feeling of it in your hand had you moaning, and you slid your hand along his shaft the best you could in your position.

“‘course it ain’t enough for you. your needy little cunt needs more, yeah? needs my cock in it to stretch it out?” his hips moved in rhythm with your hand, his hand resting against the freezer top in a fist. his eyes fell shut as you pumped along his cock, and you bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him. you loved seeing him like this, because it made you feel powerful. like you were the only person who could bring joel pleasure like this.

with a growl, joel’s hands suddenly moved to your shorts, where he unbuttoned them with swiftness and yanked them down. you lifted your hips, helping him get the material past your thighs, and they fell to the garage floor. “feet up, baby.” joel tapped your thigh gently, and you removed your hand from his boxers, lifting your legs up and bending your knees to rest your feet on the edge of the freezer.

you wanted to blame the wet feeling between your legs on the humid air gathering inside the garage, but you would’ve been a damn liar. you could feel yourself soaking through the material of your bikini bottoms, and you knew the moment joel was able to see it because he let out a string of curses. he brought his hand to the material, running his fingers gently down the seam, and you both moaned.

“jesus christ, honey. have you been wet like this for me the entire time?” his southern accent was starting to show more, as it did when he got excited. he ran his fingers along the seam once more before pushing the flimsy material to the side and running his finger through your wet folds, and he groaned at feeling how wet you were before sliding one of his fingers inside of you.

“oh, yes, joel. please, fuck me, please,” you whimpered, your hips rocking against the freezer in tandem with his finger as he pumped it inside of you. if you were more cognizant, you would’ve probably been embarrassed by the noise that was coming from between your legs, but you were too lost in the pleasure, especially when joel moved his thumb up to glide against your clit.

“you are askin’ nicely, baby,” he said, mostly to himself as he watched his finger push inside of you, watched the wetness that coated it with every pump. he was obsessed with the way you were clenching around him, and he could hardly wait himself to feel that movement against his dick. “yeah, i think i will fuck ya.”

with one last push, he pulled his finger out from inside you, and laughed when he heard you whine about the loss. “‘s okay, honey. promise i’m gonna fill that little pussy up with my cock real soon, okay?” he made quick work of letting his jeans hit the floor, soon followed by his boxers. his throbbing cock sprung free from his underwear, and you couldn’t help but trail your hand down to your core, pushing your bottoms to the side and slipping your fingers through your wetness at the sight of him. he let out a low groan before spitting in his hand, bringing it to the tip of his cock and slowly palming it while he watched you swirl your fingers against your clit.

“here baby, make sure ‘m nice and wet for that pussy,” joel muttered, stepping closer to your body as held the underside of his cock in his hand, still pumping it up and down slightly. you ran your fingers through your folds once more, gathering the wetness that had started to spread down your thighs, and reached out to wrap your fingers around his tip. soon, the head of his cock was shining from both his spit and your juices.

joel moved his left hand to settle on your waist, tilting his thumb down just enough to pull the material of your bikini to the side. his other hand continued to work his shaft as he moved even closer, his knees hitting against the side of the freezer. his eyes were solely focused on your exposed pussy, but you were watching his face, wanting to see his expression when he put it in for the first time.

“god, you’re so pretty down here. think i’m the luckiest man in texas, baby.” joel said, a smirk settled on his lips as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, your mouth dropping open in a sigh as you felt it slide against your clit. joel moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, and he lifted it to his mouth, holding it between his teeth. you took in the sight of his tan and toned body, and then his eyes snapped up to meet yours as he pushed the head into your wet hole, the both of you taking in each other’s reaction.

you fought the urge to close your eyes, the feeling of his big cock stretching you out was almost too much for you. your nose scrunched up slightly, and a louder moan came from your throat. for the first time that night, you were glad tommy had spent two hours shopping for fireworks, as the sound of the explosives and festivities drowned out your cries. joel bit down on his bottom lip as he continued to push himself inside of you, mentally focusing on not coming right then and there.

he paused when he was fully seated inside of you, taking a moment to catch his breath as the two of you were both panting in the heated garage. you noticed joel’s forehead had become slick with sweat, and you gently brushed back the dark hair that had fallen forward. your hand slipped down to rest on his cheek, and he pressed a kiss into the middle of your palm before he started moving his hips.

“fuck, joel,” you whimpered, your foot slipping from it’s hold on the edge of the freezer. joel moved his right hand to grip your thigh, spreading you open before him once more. his nails dug little half-moon imprints in the fat of your thigh, and the angle allowed you to take him a little deeper than before.

“that’s what i’m doin’ honey,” his words were slightly muffled from the t-shirt in his mouth, but you could see the grin from his teasing, letting out a sharp laugh before it turned into a groan. he moved to pull his cock out, and you almost cried at the loss, your hips moving on their own accord to follow his length. his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you still, until he barely had the head of his cock inside. he thrusted forward again, much quicker this time, and this time your eyes did screw shut at the feeling of is cock filling you up so completely.

your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping him so hard that you were basically anchoring yourself to him. “so deep, joel… so good,” you praised, your head rolling back on your neck as joel continued to fuck you at a thourough pace. the t-shirt fell from his mouth as he started to moan. his knees banged against the freezer, the freezer banged against the wall, and the fireworks outside masqued both the sounds. curses and praises fell from joel’s mouth - “fuckin’ hell, baby. your pussy gets tighter every damn time i fuck you, huh? you’re doin’ so good, honey, takin’ my cock like a good girl” - and you were feeling so hot, so full. joel was nearly fucking you into oblivion with how muddled your thoughts were.

the sound of his skin slapping against your wet skin was all you could focus on, a noise you would’ve been more embarrassed by if it weren’t a testament of how turned on joel made you. each stroke of his cock had you whimpering, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. you moved a hand down to your pussy, moving your fingers against your clit and brushing up against his length every time he thrusted inside of you. the action not only made heat pool to your stomach, but it made joel groan. “that’s it baby, play with that little clit of yours. gonna make yourself come on my cock tonight? gonna let me fill this pussy up with my cum?”

“oh my god, joel, please - right there,” you sobbed, your inner thighs shaking slightly as the feelings became too much to handle. joel picked up on how close you were to coming with how tightly your pussy was clenching around him, and he continued to thrust his hips against yours, the wet noises coming from between your legs made his head feel light.

small, breathy pants fell from your mouth as you moved your fingers faster against your clit, and distantly you could hear joel encouraging you to let go - “that’s it, honey. you’re takin’ my cock so well, let me make you feel good baby.” - and as joel leaned forward to place a kiss on your damp forehead, you felt yourself burst. a loud cry came from your lips as your body went rigid, little white stars showing up behind your eyelids as pleasure coursed through every vein in your body.

“oh, fuck, baby,” joel groaned out, his grip on your body becoming impossibly tight as his hips thrust into you, his movements faltering slightly. the feeling of your pussy clenching around his length while you came was what sent him over, and he ground his hips against yours as he came. you could feel his cock throbbing, the warmth from his seed filling you up as joel tilted his head back and moaned. you watched him through hooded eyes, struggling to catch your breath, but the sight of joel coming was almost enough to help you come again.

he kept his cock inside you as you both came down from your orgasms, and it moved inside you a little when he leaned forward again, making you whimper. “sorry, baby,” joel said softly, slowly pulling himself out while pressing his lips against yours. you eagerly kissed him back, moving a hand to rest on the back of his neck while he deepened the kiss. you felt unbelievably wet, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“your cum is running down my thigh, miller.” you said against his lips, causing the older man to laugh. he pulled away enough to take in the mess that was leaking out of your pussy, and then he did something that shocked you - he gathered up the slick with two of his fingers before pushing it back inside of you. your nails dug into his skin as his fingers entered your sore pussy, moaning softly as he watched himself intensely.

his gaze moved back to your eyes, where he gave you a wicked grin before leaning in to kiss you again. you sighed against his mouth, your body relaxing on the freezer before the two of you started to clean yourselves up. joel went into the house to grab a washcloth and a spare t-shirt for you, considering your chest was stained red and covered in little hickeys. he gently cleaned the mess from between your legs, then himself, and helped you pull your shorts back on. you had him help tie your bikini top again, his fingers coasting against your skin. he gave the back of your neck a quick kiss before turning you around and putting his t-shirt over you.

“there. now those pervs outside can’t catch a glimpse of ya,” he said, seeming satisfied with himself as he yanked up his pants. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes - his cum was literally dripping out of your pussy and yet he was acting jealous.

“oh? you mean pervs like you?” you teased, laughing as he swatted away your fingers that were trying to poke him. you thought you heard him mutter something in agreement, but a particularly loud firework went off at the same moment, so you were clueless. you figured that they were on the finale with how frequent and how loud the next few fireworks were, so you gave joel one last kiss before sneaking out the door, which you thankfully noticed was locked.

as you made your way to the grass, you mentally ran a checklist. you remembered to put your shorts back on, along with your top and a t-shirt. you remembered to clean off the freezer top with one of the towels joel kept in the garage, and you remembered to let your hair down to cover a hickey on the side of your neck. you remembered to go out the garage door, while joel went out through the living room, as he told tommy he was going in to get medicine for a headache. you felt like the two of you had covered all the bases as you sat down on the grass near sarah.

“hey, where are our popsicles?”

oh, fuck.

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generalllimaginesss · 4 months

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author’s note: I blacked out while writing this, so it will be as much of a surprise to me when I wake up and reread it as it will to you when you read it for the first time. It wasn’t requested, just something that my brain came up with and wouldn’t let me sleep until I finished it. It’s loosely based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s The Grudge and the movie Sweet Home Alabama (my favorite movie). Also, this is completely made up in my head and in no way reflects something that Luke Hughes has done, or will do. It’s also 2:06 AM and I can’t promise that it’s proofread very well because I can barely keep my eyes open (I worked a double today).

Warnings: cursing, ANGST, cheating, kinda sad but has a good ending. Slow beginning, but I promise it gets better!

Without further ado….

The Grudge

“Hello?”

The single word that was the catapult for the demise of your relationship. The single word that changed the course of what you pictured your future as.

Luke’s side of the call was silent, the only noise able to be heard was his breathing, heavy as if the weight of the world was crushing his lungs, deflating him of life.

He wasn’t supposed to be calling. He had told you he was having a guys week, a time for him to regroup with his brothers and friends at the lake house. It was his own little sanctuary away from the life that he had worked so hard for. A quiet place. He had asked for that time, to which you agreed, he needed a break.

“Luke? Everything ok?”

He wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone in that instance. The reality that he was about to destroy the last bit of trust that you held for him constricting him as he fought with his vocal cords, trying like hell to form some form of vocalization.

“I need to tell you something,” He managed to squeeze the words out, every bit of courage mustered into it. The feeling of facing the mistake that he had made seemed impossible compared to simply just refusing to acknowledge it. He could ignore it all, ghost you, and pretend like he had never ruined everything. He had ruined your relationship, your love. You. He had ruined you, including everything that came from the relationship the two of you developed a couple of summers before he had left to play for Michigan.

Ironic that it would begin and end during the summer.

“Ok. Are you-”

“Are you alone?”

His brothers will kill him when they find out, but your family? The thought of them being there to wipe your tears and listen to your rants that have to do with him break his heart. He had developed a special relationship with your dad, your mom always put a stocking out for him during the holiday season, your brother? He had taught your little brother how to skate, how to play hockey. Even though he couldn’t coach your little brother’s team, he had supported him since the beginning. He had bought him his first jersey. 43.

“Yeah, Luke. You’re scaring me.”

“God, I fucking hate myself. I’m so sorry,” Sobbing, the sound of his arm wiping his nose could be heard. He knew he shouldn’t cry. He chose this.

He knew he didn’t always treat you like you should have, no deserved, to be treated. He didn’t spend time with you like he should have, he didn’t tell you he loved you enough. When you yelled at him about things, he would scream back. He would never hit you, but his words cut through your core, sometimes feeling worse than what you imagined the sting of one of his slaps might feel like.

The anxiety that stemmed from Luke’s call gripped your lungs, confusion coursing through your body outweighing the blood that sucked at carrying the oxygen at the moment. There was nothing random about your relationship, he didn’t surprise you with anything, much less a phone call.

Something is wrong.

The silence was deafening, overwhelmingly so.

“I tried to tell myself that you would never find this out, but there was somebody taking pictures and I need you to hear it from me first, ok?” He closed his eyes forcing himself to find some shred of courage left inside of him.

“Ok,” The word was breathy as it left your lips, a courtesy to encourage him to continue.

“I cheated,” It flowed out of his mouth in such a casual way that it felt like somebody had stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife and watching as you writhed in pain. The taste of iron flooded your senses as you bit your cheek to hold yourself together.

“We went to one of the local bars. She was the bartender, she knew us. Trevor invited her to the house after her shift and me and her ended up alone together while the others were out back and one thing led to another…one of the guys took a picture and posted it on their story. They forgot about you.” He tried to explain it in a way that redeemed himself. He was only 20 years old…this bartender could’ve taken advantage of him, but you knew him.

He didn’t get close to just anybody, he was the gate to his space. Nobody would get through the gate if he didn’t want them to, including this girl. Which made the bile that was building in your throat much more bitter. The fact that he not only cheated, but is trying to play victim makes you bubble with rage. Luke Hughes was very good at many things, but the one thing he had never quite mastered the role of was “victim.”

The shock coursed through your body like metal to a magnet, searching endlessly for something to smash into and deciding your heart was the place to do that. It felt like you forgot to breathe, your lungs aching for a breath.

“Y/N?” He willed you to talk, silence causing more anxiety than your anger ever would have.

“I never would have done this to you,” Your whisper spoke more volumes than a scream would have, cutting through the phone and going straight through Luke’s body. He wished you would scream at him, tell him he fucked up, but the way you said those words made him feel like this was it. He couldn’t come back from this one.

“I’m sorry,” His words were meaningless, but he spoke them nonetheless.

Those two words sent you into a silent rage, one that wrecked the inside of your mind but couldn’t be seen by anyone else. You hung up the phone, throwing it across your room and immediately packing everything that had to do with Luke into a box that you found.

Packing 4 years worth of things that you acquired from him was emotionally draining, each article triggering memories through the years.

His first Michigan Hockey sweatshirt that he had bought himself packed into the bottom of the box reminded you of the date he had planned. He had snuck the two of you into the arena when no one was there and taught you to skate, skills that still stick with you to this day. His first hoodie became yours that night, the smell of his cologne long gone from the comfort it brought you many nights when you felt lonely.

A Devils snow globe and jersey that was decorated with the number 43, his number, packed next. He had bought it for you the day he was drafted, convinced that it would be worth something one day. And it was. Just not to you anymore. The snow globe was attached to a memory that was better left forgotten. It was for your birthday, which happened to be the day after his. When you had gone all out for his 20th birthday, buying him a new custom suit and designer shoes that required months of savings, he gave you a snow globe that “you could add to your collection.” You had said some backhanded things to him, a huge fight came from that. A fight on your birthday, something else that you would’ve never done to him.

The last items consisted of hoodies, a few pairs of sweatpants and boxers, and a couple of jackets. The last thing, however, was something that you didn’t know if you could part with.

It was a letter that Luke had wrote you for Valentine’s Day the second year of your relationship, a sweet surprise that you weren’t expecting with your usual bouquet of daisies and roses, your two favorite flowers.

When you doubted your relationship with Luke in the past, when arguments and fights felt like it was all it consisted of, you always found your way back to his letter. He had told you that you were his end game, that there would never be somebody else that was better suited for him. He poured his heart out in that letter, telling you that he was going to marry you one day. One day when he had made it to the NHL and could roll in money, he was going to buy a rock for your finger and a huge house for all of the babies that you talked about.

Rereading the letter normally made you remember the good times, when things were good, but under the circumstances now it made you want to burn it, to watch his words turn to ash, just like the promises he had made to you.

Meaningless. His words were meaningless now.

It wasn’t always his fault, no. There were instances where you said things that you knew hurt him, things that echoed in the back of his head every now and then. Something along the lines of him never being as good as his brothers, that he would always be in their shadow. That Luke Hughes would be known as “just another Hughes brother.”

Some days he felt like that statement couldn’t be more true, that he would never live up to the records that Quinn and Jack seemed to break every time they stepped on the ice. Some days he just couldn’t see it coming together for him.

But other days he knew he was determined to make a name for himself, for Luke. The Hughes name was a force to be reckoned with. Luke wanted to be even better than his last name. Whatever it took, sometimes at the expense of those around him.

You snatched the letter that was stuck in the corner of the mirror that perched on top of your dresser, the sound of the paper crisp beneath your fingertips. As much as you wanted to destroy the letter, you figured it would be better to send it back to Luke. He needed to see all of the promises he broke and hurt he’s caused.

The paper was the last thing in the box, folded neatly on top of everything else.

Closing the box, you carried it to your car, placing it in the backseat behind the driver’s side. If there’s one thing that could be payback to Luke, it was telling his parents. He thrived on his parent’s approval, likely a symptom of being the youngest brother of an extremely successful family.

Ellen and Jim’s faces burned the back of your mind, so many memories that consisted of the two of them. Countless games at Michigan were spent with the two of them, as well as a couple of trips to New Jersey. You had helped Ellen cook supper many times, and watched as Jim coached his sons. Ellen’s pep talks were rarely intended for you, but you always felt like something could be learned from her wisdom.

The drive was silent, muscle memory the only way you could manage to get there in the state you were in. You didn’t know if the lights were green or if you used your blinker, all you could think about was Luke admitting to cheating. All of the shit you had been through with each other, all of the petty fights, had finally come to a head. You may have gone low, below the belt at some point in time, but this? You never could have ruined him like this, no matter how bad you wanted to.

As hurt as you were, you were numb. Tears wouldn’t fall, your body still in shock over the news.

As you drove up the paved driveway to the house that had become your second home, the emotions hit you when you saw Ellen in the flower beds, digging up weeds and planting new flowers.

She had heard a car approaching, causing her to look up and recognize you. Although she loved for you to visit, you normally didn’t come over unless Luke was with you, especially now that him and Jack owned the lake house.

She wiped at the sweat that was beading her forehead, dirt from her work gloves sticking in some of her blonde locks that were glued to her face. She smiled at you, before confusion flashed and she saw that you were carrying a box.

“Hi, Doll! Luke’s not here, but I’m glad you stopped by!” Her warm tone and kind smile didn’t fade, even if she did notice something off about your demeanor.

Her voice broke you. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her and Jim into this. Maybe you should have just threw everything that connected you to Luke in a garbage can and called it a day.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She walked towards you with her arms open, noticing your quivering lips and teary eyes.

She was drenched in sweat from the summer sun, but you didn’t mind it. Dropping the box on the driveway, you allowed her to wrap her arms around you tightly. Her embrace gave you comfort as sobs racked through your body. How could such a loving mom and dad create such a jack ass? They had done perfect with 2/3 of their sons…what happened with Luke?

“Do you want to go inside? Jim’s working on a sink faucet, but he won’t mind,” She ushered you inside, her hand gently pushing your back.

Nodding, you wiped your nose on your sleeve and allowed her to walk you inside. She quickly washed her hands at the sink Jim was working at, earning a few objections from him, but she hushed him and motioned to you.

His face filled with concern as he noticed something wrong with you. He could fix a lot of things, but girls was something he would leave to his wife.

The leather of the couch soothed the heat that the summer sun had left on your skin. Ellen joined, sitting next to you as she rubbed your back, calming you. She truly was like a second mom.

“Is everything ok?” She held onto your arm, the pressure from her fingers sending tingles to your brain.

“No,” You croaked, the single word rattling your throat as it struggled to exit.

“What happened?” Her voice had dropped below her regular volume, but above a whisper. She cut her eyes at Jim who was attempting to listen from the kitchen.

“He cheated…”

The shock hit his parents as hard as it did you. Quinn would never cheat, Jack? It was questionable sometimes. But they’re baby? The one that had endured the lectures from his parents the longest, the one that had seen his brother’s mistakes and learned from them, the one that seemed so in love with you that nothing could ever separate you both? It seemed nearly impossible. Surely it was a mistake.

“How do you know? The press always lies…” She trailed off, your eyes connecting to hers.

“He told me,” The strength you tried to regain from your prior meltdown was useless as your voice trembled, “…said that he wanted to tell me before somebody else did.”

“Oh, Honey. I’m so sorry,” She pulled you into her arms, watching as Jim rounded the corner to join. You were like the daughter the two of them had always wanted, so seeing you hurt killed them in return. And at the hands of their son? They were immensely disappointed. They didn’t raise him like this.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, and I probably should have left you both out of it,” Your attempts at stopping the free-flowing tears were useless, so you embraced each one as it fell, “…um, I brought his stuff back. I know he’s at the lake house, but I don’t think I can see him right now. I really wish we could have worked. You two will never know how much you and your boys mean to me.”

“Likewise, sweet girl. I wish I could make this all better. You may not feel like it right now, but our family will always hold a spot for you,” Ellen reassured, a hum of agreement resonating within Jim.

“Anytime you want, and I’m serious, our door will always be open for you. No matter the time or circumstance, do you understand?” Jim waited for you to respond, a nod of your head, before embracing you again.

Their words meant so much, but the hurt still ached, seemingly never ending.

You said your goodbyes, taking in the house that you would probably never see again. The walls holding memories that only those in the house would ever understand or appreciate.

Closing the front door felt like closing a chapter on your life. A chapter that felt like it was ending in the middle with no resolve, but it closed.

It needed to.

———

As the New Year approached, your parents reminded you of the plans they had that would draw them away from home. They claimed that they celebrated Christmas with you, but the New Year meant that you were alone in a house that felt big and lonely while they celebrated with their fellow group of middle aged parents.

The months had passed, agonizingly, since Luke’s cheating admittance. The summer turned to fall and fall into winter, getting colder like you were allowing your heart to do.

A few dates here and there did nothing but remind you that the guy wasn’t Luke. They should’ve been better than Luke since they actually treated you with respect and checked every box that a girl had.

But the lack of teasing, of being the biggest pain in your ass and best friend, made the hole in your life bigger. You were sure nothing would help, not even the texts from Ellen and Jim, periodically, made it better.

They all consisted of the same topic: “How are you doing?”

It was the same old same old, until it wasn’t. Until Ellen texted you after Christmas asking you about your plans for New Year’s Eve. The Hughes had always thrown a party for the New Year, packed to the brim with people.

When Ellen asked if you had plans, you had every intention on lying and saying yes. Saying that you had a date and that he was taking you to see the countdown and fireworks that followed, but something told you to tell the truth. So you did.

After you had admitted to her that you, in fact, would be all alone, she reached out and invitation to join them.

The invitation had toggled in your mind for a few days now. On one hand, you wanted to go see how everybody was, talk to his brothers, catch up with his friends. On the other, you wanted to stay home in your pajamas and watch Andy Cohen get shitfaced with Anderson Cooper while wondering if Luke would kiss somebody for the occasion.

The saying “curiosity killed the cat” proved to be true as you had finally decided to go, a sparkly gold dress accentuated your curves, hugging you in all of the right places, the places that Luke had once yearned for. You don’t know how, but your makeup was flawless, your eyeshadow bringing out your eyes in a way that you had never seen, but you loved it. Maybe this was revenge?

Even though you hadn’t made the drive in over 6 months, you still knew it like the back of your hand. Your nerves were working overtime, anxiety squeezing your thoughts the closer you got to the Hughes’ residence.

What if Luke had a new girlfriend? What if his parents were the only ones that wanted you there? Was this actually a good idea?

Too late now.

There was probably 25 or more cars that littered the driveway, most carrying a minimum of 2 people. It was a relief, maybe you could just blend in with the rest of them. A chameleon in the house of your ex lover.

Music blared, drifting from the backyard into the front, making the walk to the door less daunting of a task. There was no use in knocking, the sound of talking and music would most likely just drown it out, so you took a breath as you pushed the door open. It appeared to be the spot for the more mature crowd, Jim spotting you as soon as you walked in.

He was confused as to who you were at first, but as soon as you gave him a shy smile his face lit up with excitement. He had missed you more than he realized.

“Y/N! What a nice surprise! Come in, make yourself at home,” He squeezed you in a tight hug before relinquishing you.

“Y/N! Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you to come, but I’m so glad you did!” Ellen squealed, the clinking of her heels against the hardwood floors becoming faster as she did her best to jog to you, embracing you like her life depended on it. It lasted a few seconds before she held you out at arms length, examining you.

“Gosh, you look absolutely stunning! That dress was made for you!” She gushed.

“Thank you! I just decided to throw something together last minute. I should have let you know I was coming, but I honestly didn’t decide until right before I got dressed,” you chuckled, explaining the lack of communication on your part.

“Honey, you do not have to explain a single thing to me! I’m just so happy you’re here!” She hugged you again, rocking you side to side.

“The kids, sorry, young adults are out back. I do have to warn you…Luke did bring a date,” As she explained the dilemma, you expected yourself to break down. When it didn’t, relief washed over you. It had been almost 7 months, why wouldn’t Luke have moved on? You couldn’t be mad at him for that part, but you still held a grudge against him for allowing you to love him as much as you did and shattering your heart in the end.

There was never another conversation between the two of you. His parents never brought him up, he had never attempted to contact you, so the resolve was the fact that you returned everything. He had nothing left connecting him to you. That was how it was supposed to be, so there was no need to communicate with you. He had gotten the message loud and clear when he had returned home to a box of his things in his old bedroom and an ass-chewing from his parents and brothers. One that he would never wish on his worst enemy.

He learned from his mistake, but felt like the very toxic situation between the two of you was better left where it was: untouched.

He had been trying to move on ever since, sleeping with any girl that reminded him of you, sneaking them out before Jack had noticed, or simply just embracing the newness of being alone. It sucked at first, but he got used to it.

Ellen’s face flushed with concern at the momentary silence that followed her statement, scared that she would scare you off with the news of her son, your ex, having a date that wasn’t you.

“Ellen, it’s ok! I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” Making light of the situation was easier to fake on the outside, but trying to convince yourself was a bit harder.

You talked to Ellen and Jim for a few more minutes, catching them up on the latest details of your life, and then grabbed a Michelob to give you some liquid courage as you walked to the backyard.

There was people dancing, circles of people talking, various games being played, the scene never-ending as your eyes scanned over them. A few people locked eyes with you, recognizing you as the ex, but most everybody just continued to do whatever it was that they were doing. It wasn’t until Quinn’s eyes softened from his party vibes to concerned big brother that you felt nerves wrack your body. He immediately excused himself from the group he was talking to, making his way through the small sea of people to get to you.

For a split second you wanted to run away, but the rational side of you talked you down. It was just Quinn. Quinn had done nothing to you except loved you as if you were his own sister, so why would you run?

“Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you…how are you?” You immediately threw your arms around his torso, him returning the gesture, his hug similar to the way Ellen had hugged you.

“I’m good! I had no other plans and Ellen seemed like she really wanted me here…”

“Yeah, she hasn’t shut up about you,” He laughed, recalling how his mom mentions you anytime a girl was over, even one that Luke brought, and always comparing them to you when they left.

You were the standard that she held possible daughter-in-laws to, but they never lived up to you, she would admit.

“Gotta love her,” You chuckled, a slight awkward tension fell between you, a foreign, icky, awkwardness.

“That you do,” Quinn tried to repair the conversation, but some friends began to pull him away. He had mentioned to not leave before telling him bye, and then left with the group.

“Didn’t think you’d show up here,” The voice turned your blood to ice, freezing up what the beer had tried to let loose prior. No matter how many ways you envisioned this interaction to go down, nothing could have prepared you for hearing his voice after so long. It wasn’t like “nails on a chalkboard” irritating, but more along the lines when you pick a scab and it starts bleeding again.

That’s quite literally what it was. He was an old wound in your life that was becoming irritated because it was being messed with. No matter how much time had passed, it was still sensitive.

“Well, didn’t think I would be here either. It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to you,” You turned around, met with the beautiful, curly-haired boy that was once your everything and a petit blonde that was his temporary. She was gorgeous, you’d give her that. But it wasn’t real beauty. It was bought. There’s nothing wrong with that, but her bleach blonde hair, fake tan, and push-up bra was irritating like nails on a chalkboard.

“Do you mind going to get us something to drink?” He turned to his date, giving him the empty bottle that his hand wrapped around.

“Is that a Michelob Ultra?” You almost snorted, her question a breath of fresh air in this unfortunate meeting.

“Not her and I, you and I,” Luke quickly cleared up.

She left with a smirk playing at her lips, kissing his cheek and heading inside.

“God, please let’s go somewhere else,” He grabbed your arm, tugging you to a secluded, area beside the shed out back. Your brain told you to rip your arm from his grip and scold him for thinking it was okay to ever touch you again, but your deemed in control and allow his touch to erupt butterflies in your tummy.

“I don’t know what I was thinking bringing her here,” he groaned, realizing he was still holding onto you, quickly letting go.

“She seems more Jack’s type, if you ask me,” You suggested, Luke squinting his eyes at your words.

“Good thing I didn’t ask…” He may have been the reason the relationship ended, but he wasn’t going to put up with any slander that you had for his current life. The life that didn’t include you.

“Whatever, why did you bring me here?” You looked around at the spot. It had definitely been a spot where the two of you had snuck off to make out several times, escaping the teasing of his older brothers.

“To talk…” He shift his weight to his heels, his hands finding warmth in the pockets on his pants.

“Oh! To talk about you being a complete dipshit and cheating on me this past summer? Yes, let’s talk about that!” Sarcasm dripped from your voice like venom from a snake, targeting the next victim: Luke.

“I’m sorry…” Again, the empty apologies were beginning to grind at you now. You didn’t want the apologies or the excuses. You wanted him to shut up for once, hear you out, and then come up with a genuine apology. He had said his piece, now it was time for you to say yours.

“No, Luke. You’re not sorry for cheating, you’re sorry you got caught. Save the apologies for when you actually mean them,” You started, him immediately shutting up and listening.

“We were so fucking toxic. You know it, I know it. The whole world probably knows it by now. But, God, I loved you so much. I would have spent my whole life trying to fight for that stupid relationship and you turned around and threw it all away. And for what? Some temporary pleasure? You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get back to me?” Your words shot through him, like bullets hitting glass, shattering the surrounding areas. He couldn’t argue because everything that you were saying was true, but he’d be damned if he let you find satisfaction in being right.

“You said it yourself, it was toxic! You probably would’ve found a problem with me being there without you, anyway!” He tried to defend himself, but he was fanning a flame that he shouldn’t be messing with right now.

“Don’t you dare try to manipulate me into thinking your cheating was justified! Luke Hughes, I’ve said some fucked up shit throughout the years, but I never have, and never will ruin your trust. That’s the type of shit that lasts a lifetime. I can’t date anybody else because there’s always that ‘what if’ of them cheating!” Tears brimmed your eyes, softening the wall that surrounded Luke’s heart. He was a tough guy, but the sight of you hurting was a soft spot for him, an Achilles heel.

“You promised me a future, and then turned around and burned it to the ground without a second thought once you got a taste of fame,” Your finger poked at his chest hard enough for him to wince, expecting to see bruises the next morning.

“You’re a liar! A fucking liar and cheater!” Your voice broke as the words left your mouth, but Luke took the verbal beating that he deserved.

“Do you think I want to be labeled as a cheater, Y/N?! I’ve prayed for months that I’d just wake up and it not be real, that we’d still be together!”

“Awe, so sad, Luke. Truly heart wrenching!” You grabbed at your heart, feigning compassion as he began to clench his jaw, the muscle flexing as his annoyance rose. It was hot, but not hot enough for you to do anything about it.

“Stop being such a bitch, it may suit you, but it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.” His eyes grew dark, almost challenging you to see who would win in a game of insults.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was supposed to act however you deemed fit. Even if you’re a cheater…”

“I cheated, I’m not a cheater,” he tried to correct, a viscous chuckle tumbling from your mouth in response.

“I’m not! That’s the one and only time that it will ever happen, I can promise you that!” His voice rose in volume as he continued to defend himself.

“Oh, one and done Luke! How nice! My trust is fixed, so there’s nothing left to worry about!” The sound of people counting down in the background didn’t distract you.

10…9….8…

“If I’ve had anything in the past months it’s peace in knowing I don’t have to put up with your fucking nagging anymore!”

7…6…5…

“Yeah, and I don’t have to worry about you fucking some rando anymore!”

4…3…2…

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

1…

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The voices erupted behind the shed, but the whirlwind of a kiss muffled it all.

Luke eagerly pulled your face toward him, his lips colliding as intensely as a train hitting a car on the tracks. An accident waiting to happen, but there nothing that could be done about it.

It took a second or two, but you kissed back with the same passion as him, him pushing you backwards until your back hit the wall of the shed.

His lips were like home, sweet and comforting. The remnants of his vodka redbull tempting your taste buds to plunge deeper, but you didn’t, you let him set the pace.

One of his hands tilted your chin up, steadying it as the other pulled you closer from the small of your back. Every sense inside of you erupted in fireworks as his tongue tried to gain entrance into your mouth, but you stood your ground, or tried to at least.

The hand that steadied your chin found itself wrapped around your neck, the shock causing you to gasp as he gained entrance.

“Luke! I finally found something to drink, but we missed our-” The voice immediately tore the two of you apart, the fireworks over the lake and store bought pretty interrupting the fireworks that were going off inside of you. Your breathing was a little shallow as you tried to control it again.

“-kiss. What the hell.” She glanced between the two of you before storming off, her stiletto sinking into the grass as she desperately tried to remove it from her foot.

Luke groaned, but the chirping had just begun for you, “One and done, huh?”

“Me and her aren’t even dating!” He squealed.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow, Y/N. Do you understand me?” He pointed at you as he began to smooth over yet another failed attempt at dating, but he wasn’t going to reconcile that one.

“Aye aye, Captain,” You gave him a silly salute, earning an eye roll from him, but as soon as he turned away from you the smile wouldn’t disappear.

Call you crazy, but you hadn’t felt butterflies for a long time, probably since his note to you. What you felt tonight was an army of butterflies being obliterated by fireworks. The feeling of his fingers around your neck, his jaw muscle contracting, everything about him had turned you on.

Did you really fold that easily?

Oh well. The thought of the next day, the possibility of getting him back, along with his family far outweighed your pride.

He could be your Luke once more.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x y/n #my brain is fried from writing this #but I couldn’t stop writing

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part five

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

and then it all comes crashing down.

a/n: outbreak day! plus the time leading up. I couldn’t bring myself to write joel’s side of the tragedy, but here we are. the start of “during”. potentially a little bit of canon-divergence from here until the “after”, but I’m trying to stick with that information we have, while filling in the gaps for reader’s story. (“after” will be when they leave boston with ellie)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, fluff, a super brief mention of 9/11, this is definitely not as sad as part four but it’s also involves outbreak day so there’s that, canon-typical violence, death, yes I am turning reader into a badass and I will not apologize.

✨follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications for updates on new works/chapters✨

You never really stop thinking about him. And he never really stops being apart of your life, not truly.

He’s the first person you call, when the Towers fall in New York, not a week after you’ve started your internship. You see it on television, standing in line to get your boss his daily latte, and you pull out your cell phone without a second thought, dialling Joel’s number. “Have you seen the news?”

A freak snowstorm stops you from getting home for Christmas that year; the airport is a disaster to get through after everything that’s happened, so you take a few days off to drive it instead, but you can’t even get out of the state, let alone across the country. So your holidays that year are spent with local friends you’ve made at work, calling your family on Christmas Day and New Year’s.

You try to call Joel on New Year’s, to wish him a good year as the clock strikes twelve, but the call goes to voicemail, and your friends are counting down the ball drop as you ramble into the phone.

Hey, it’s me! Just calling to say Happy New Year, hope you’re having a good night. And hope I get to see more of you in 2002. That year sounds so funny, doesn’t it? Talk to you soon, Joel Miller. Bye.

You almost say it, the words creeping up the back of your throat. The missing him hasn’t abated, even with the time and the distance. You sleep in one of the flannel shirts you’d stolen every night, and you’ll admit that you cried a little when you had to wash them, realizing that it would wash the scent of him away almost completely.

The phone calls get more sporadic, and you don’t blame him. There’s only an hour time difference between Texas and Massachusetts, but it feels like much more. You’re off-kilter from one another, always seeming to catch each other’s voicemail instead of the real person.

You manage to make it home for the Fourth of July the following summer, your internship having turned into a real job, but a real job that’s kept you busier than ever for the first half of the year. Your boss is, blessedly, understanding, and lets you take two weeks to go back to Austin.

He meets you at the airport, your name scrawled on a piece of paper, a bouquet of daisies in his grip, and you nearly burst into tears right there in the terminal. Your entire two weeks is filled with him, though you try to split your time between the Miller’s house and your own, letting your sister talk your ear off more than she already does on the phone, taking a few afternoons to help your dad around the hardware store. But almost every night finds you in Joel’s bed.

You all go to the park for fireworks on the Fourth. Your parents are re-introduced to Joel, though you’re both adamantly just calling each other “good friends” — which earns you an eye roll from your sister. Sarah runs around the field with the other kids, waving sparklers and giggling like mad. You stick close to Joel, the three of you sitting on a blanket in the grass, and you watch the firework together, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm swung around your waist. Sarah’s too preoccupied with the firework display to notice.

When you get home the next morning, your sister hands you a polaroid, the words July 4th 2002 written in sharpie along the border. It’s you and Joel, backlit, your head on his shoulder as a gigantic white firework explodes in the night sky. You don’t know what to say.

“I know you never wanted to leave him,” she says, and you nearly burst into tears as you hug her.

It’s another tearful goodbye when your two weeks are up, and you’re a fool to think it’d be any easier than the first time. You say goodbye to your parents first, and Joel picks you up in his truck, taking you to the airport. He kisses you deeply outside, burying his hands in your hair and squeezing you tight before letting you go.

And always the same farewell, the same thing he said when you first left, the same thing he’s said at the end of every phone call.

“Take care of yourself, baby.”

You meet Dean through a friend of a friend.

It’s almost Christmas, 2002, and you haven’t been home since July. Your phone calls with Joel have dwindled to almost non-existent; you just don’t have the time. Work is busy, to the point where you find yourself still sat at your desk until nearly midnight some nights. And you’re still missing each other, voicemails left occasionally, the missed calls stacking up through the week until it’s the weekend and you feel too tired to put yourself through the heartbreak of hearing his voice.

Hey, darlin’, it’s me. I keep missin’ ya, I guess. Hope you’re doin’ okay. Don’t work too hard, yeah? Been thinking about you a lot and I just…Take care of yourself.

It felt like a goodbye. Standing in your kitchen, takeout spread out on your counter, chopsticks in hand. He hadn’t said it, not specifically. There was no I can’t do this anymore, no this hurts too much, doesn’t it hurt you too? But it still felt like a finality, of sorts.

You took the takeout to bed with a bottle of wine.

That weekend, your friends drag you out to some party. A housewarming thing for someone you don’t know, a fancy loft on the other side of the city. It’s as good a reason as any to get out of your head, throwing on a new dress and a bit of makeup. You do shots in your apartment before piling into a cab, tipsy by the time you get to the party. There’s lots of faces you don’t know, your friends pulling you through the crowds, one of them grinning at you.

“You have to meet Dean.”

He’s tall. Sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes and he’s a lawyer. He laughs at your jokes and gets you another drink when you finish your first. He’s from Boston; a pure-bred, he tells you, and chuckles when you ask to see his pedigree.

You wake up in his bed the next day, your dress and shoes scattered on the floor of his stupidly nice apartment, head throbbing with a hangover, guilt bubbling up on your tongue like bile. Dean makes you coffee and calls you a cab, gives you a business card with his number on it. “God, this feels like a business deal,” he says, shaking his head, nearly taking the card back. “I can find a takeout menu or something, write my number on that instead.”

“No, this is good,” you laugh, and the guilt mixes with something strangely giddy when he kisses you goodbye.

When you get home, you wrap yourself in the flannel you’d taken from Joel, and weep. Part of you whispers that you shouldn’t feel guilty, that Joel’s all the way across the country, that you two aren’t technically together to begin with, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest.

Your friend calls in the early afternoon, and when she hears the crack in your voice, she’s on your doorstep not thirty minutes later. You spill your guts — recount the story of you and Joel, show her the polaroid from the Fourth of July, tell her everything, until you’re crying on your couch again.

“Honey, maybe you should talk to him,” she tells you, and you know she’s right, but the idea of talking to Joel just makes your chest hurt more. “This isn’t good for either of you, holding on like this when you can’t be together. Talk to him.”

Joel beats you to the punch, calling you shortly after your friend has left. “Hey, finally got you instead of your voicemail.”

“Hah, yeah,” you reply, sinking a little deeper into the couch. “Sorry I keep missing you.”

“S’okay,” he mumbles, and it only hurts more when you can almost see him in your head, sitting on his couch or at the edge of his bed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” you lie, wiping the wet from your cheeks. “Just busy lately, y’know?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, then pauses. “You sure you’re okay?”

You inhale deeply, feeling the air rattle its way through your lungs. “Joel, I met someone.”

It’s a long moment, before he says anything, so long you think you’ve lost him for a second, that he hung up. But then, “That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“No,” he says instantly, and you both let out watery laughs. “No, but it…It is good. You’re all the way out there and I’m here and…Missin’ you, not havin’ you around, it hurts, y’know?”

“I do,” you agree, biting into your lower lip when it wobbles. “I miss you too, Joel, it’s just—”

“I know, baby,” he replies, and the tone in his voice makes your eyes slip shut, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I gotta go, I promised Sarah movie night. We’ll….we’ll talk soon, alright?” A pause. “Take care of yourself.”

The line goes dead for real then, and you launch your phone across the room, groaning when it lands on the carpet and doesn’t smash to pieces. You bury yourself in the pillows on the couch, and just cry.

Dean calls the following week, and asks you out to dinner. Dinner evolves into more than that, more dates and more conversation. He works two blocks down from you, and brings you coffee every morning on his way to his office. He takes you to museums and art galleries and introduces you to his friends. It’s easy to fall for him, and you let yourself do it. He kisses you at midnight on New Year’s, whispers that 2003 is going to be the best year of your lives.

You have no idea how wrong he will turn out to be.

It’s September 26th, 2003. It’s your twenty-fifth birthday.

It starts out like a normal day; as normal as it can be, lately. You’ve made a point to ignore the news as best you can, letting Dean recap it for you when he gets home each day, filling you in on the water cooler talk that you only half listen to.

Dean’s up and gone when you wake up, but there’s a birthday card beside your pillow, a cartoon cake with a silly face. You’re another year older… And the inside reads: and other year cuter! Happy Birthday! It’s cheesy and you scoff out a laugh, getting up and going about your morning routine. A fire truck screams down the road when you walk out of the building, cop cars trailing after it, but you think nothing of it; sirens are a common occurrence in the city.

It’s a short walk from your apartment — the apartment you now share with Dean, the pair of you having relocated somewhere that was closer to both your jobs — to work, and you stop by your favourite coffee shop, only slightly disappointed when they don’t have the raspberry scones you like. “It’s a supply chain thing,” the girl behind the counter tells you with a shrug. “They haven’t been able to get ingredients in for weeks. I’m just glad we have coffee.”

“That makes two of us,” you agree, taking your cup with a nod. “Have a good day!”

“You, too!”

There’s a big bouquet of roses waiting on your desk, the card signed with Dean’s name, and the other girls ooh and ahh at the arrangement. One of them asks you if you think he’ll propose, and you have to resist the urge to sprint in the opposite direction.

Dean calls on your lunch break, tells you he’s already pre-ordered from your favourite Thai place, and it’ll be waiting for you when you get home from your post-work drinks with your friends. When he tells you he loves you, it still makes your chest ache, just a touch.

You still think about Joel. It’s hard not to. After that last call, when you told him you’d met Dean, you called back a few days later, unable to stop yourself. There were apologies, from both him and you, and the conversation ended with a promise that you’d still stay in touch, that it would still be friendly between you, and that maybe someday could be an option, if the time was right, but you wouldn’t stand in each other’s way.

So you’ve stayed in touch. The phone calls are still more sporadic than anything, but it’s always nice to hear his voice, and he always has a joke to crack. And, consistent Joel Miller, at the end of every phone call: “Take care of yourself, darlin’.”

You get a surprising amount of work done that day, your friends appearing at five o’clock on the dot and dragging you away from your computer. You let them buy you happy hour drinks and put a Birthday Princess tiara on your head, laugh your way through the evening until it’s almost nine. You thank you friends and leave the bar, and think as you walk past one of the little corner store grocery shops that you could really use a chocolate bar.

You’re walking down the toiletries aisle, the basket hanging from your elbow filled with not just chocolate, but a few other things you couldn’t resist, when your phone rings, an Austin area code flashing on the screen.

“I didn’t know today was your birthday,” Joel says by way of hello, and you giggle. “How have I known you this long and not known that you and I have the same birthday?”

“You never asked,” you answer, reaching for a tissue box with a fun pattern, “and it never came up, really. Wait, today’s your birthday too?”

“Thirty-six and still breathin’,” he confirms, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “I stopped by the hardware store today for a few things, your dad told me.”

“Ahh.” Your parents had called you just before you’d left for work. “That store must be so boring without me in it.”

“It really is,” Joel agrees, and then his voice drops. “No one around to make out with in the aisles.” A beat, and then. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say quickly, shaking your head even though you know he can’t see it, the memory of being pressed between the shelves of paint cans and Joel Miller making your face heat. “It’s a good memory.”

“It is,” he agrees, making a little humming noise. “So, boyfriend got big plans for you tonight?”

“Thai food and a movie,” you tell him, grabbing a bottle of toilet cleaner. “Just left the bar, had some drinks with my work friends. Never really been a big birthday person, y’know?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, darlin’.”

“What about you, Joel Miller?” you ask, heading down the next aisle. A lot of the shelves are empty, and it makes your brow furrow. “What big birthday plans do you have this evening?”

“Hah, none,” he replies. “Working a double with Tommy, just took a break now. Told Sarah I’d be home by nine, but I don’t know if that’ll work out. They gave us the wrong size for the headers and…” He trails off. “That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

“I’d listen to you read the phone book,” you joke. “At least get yourself a cake? Something like that? If I’d known we shared the same birthday I would have had my sister bring something over for you.”

“Sarah made me breakfast, got me out of bed on time. That’s all I need, really.”

“Is it?”

You don’t mean the question to sound as heavy as it does, and silence hangs between you for a long moment before you stutter out an apology. Joel’s quick to change the subject.

“Boyfriend is still your boyfriend, right? No ring on your finger yet?”

“You know, you’re the second person to bring that up today,” you say, heading down the next aisle. It’s just as empty as the one before, and your confusion deepens. “You want the truth?”

“Generally.”

“If he asked, I don’t think I’d say yes.” Heat rises in your face, and you stutter again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies, and there’s a softness in his tone that you recognize, making warmth spread through your chest. “I’m always here for you, darlin’. I know things are different now, but I’m still here.”

“I appreciate that.”

You hear Tommy’s voice in the background, and Joel curses under his breath. “I gotta go. Enjoy your night. Happy Birthday.”

“You, too. Happy Birthday, Joel,” you reply, a smile in your voice, and then the line clicks off.

You loop through the rest of the aisles, sliding your phone back into your pocket. When you ask the cashier about the empty shelves, you get the same answer you’d gotten at the coffee shop. “Supply chain issues.”

The apartment is quiet when you get inside, tossing your keys into the bowl beside the door. The Thai food is sitting on the counter, as promised, and you set your grocery bags down beside it, stealing a few noodles before calling for Dean. “Honey, I’m home!”

There’s no response, and you assume he must be in the shower, so you pad down the hall. The bedroom light is off, moonlight flooding through the window, and as you step into the doorway, you see him, standing there, facing the window. His hands are at his sides, and as you watch, his hand twitches, the movement making your brow furrow.

“Dean?” you call, taking a half-step forward. In an instant, something feels wrong, and worry rises in your chest, makes your heart racket against your ribs. “Babe, what’s going on?”

He turns then, so fast you can’t even blink before it happens. And he just…stares. There’s no light in his eyes, just a dead look that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You say his name again, the worry seeping into your voice, and then he snarls.

“Fuck.”

You don’t understand what’s happening, but your body seems to react of it’s own accord. Dean lunges toward you, an inhuman sound falling out of him, and your eyes skirt around, looking for something to protect yourself with as he scrambles over the bed, limbs flailing, those dead eyes boring into you. Your hand flashes out, curling around the leather-wrapped handle of the baseball bat, and as you’re knocked to the ground, you use it as a barrier, shoving the metal against his chest.

His face is all wrong. It’s not just the dead eyes; his teeth are yellowed and his gums blackened as he snaps at you, trying to claw at you. White marks have risen all over his face, spreading out like a map beneath his skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You manage to plant your foot on his chest, and shove with all your might, yelling as the movement makes your knees twinge. He doesn’t go far, but it’s enough to get him off of you, and you scramble backwards, throwing the door shut as you run for the kitchen, the bat held tightly in your grasp. Heart racing, you find the biggest knife you can in the kitchen, sucking down hurried breaths. You’re in shock.

There’s a flash of red outside the balcony door, and you turn to see flames explode from the building across from yours. On the streets below, cars start to crash into each other, the sound of sirens twice as loud. You can hear people screaming, even through the glass.

A loud bang pulls you back into the apartment, and you turn just as Dean comes sprinting down the hall, losing his balance and skidding across the carpet. You throw the kitchen knife as he lunges for you, but it misses, the blade bouncing off his chest and sliding beneath the coffee table. A guttural growl echoes through the apartment, and when he leaps at you, you swing.

Your first hit smacks his shoulder. It doesn’t do much, but he lets out a pained yowl and when you swing again, there’s a sickening crack. He swipes at you, lunging again as you stumble backwards through the living room, the couch toppling over as you both fall onto it. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you scream, pain radiating through your arm, but you tighten your grip on the bat and ram the end of it into his face.

Another growl, another swing. You manage to get to your feet, blood pouring down your arm, painting your blouse crimson, and you put the kitchen island between you and him, moving quickly, keeping the bat held high.

When he jumps again, you swing. Hard. The bat connects with his temple, his neck cracking loudly as his head snaps to the side, and he slumps to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth. The metal rings as you drop the bat, collapsing onto the kitchen floor a moment later, blinding grabbing for one of the dishrags hanging from the stove, covering your shoulder with it and clamping your hand over the wound.

Why is this happening?

You’re not quite sure how long you’re sat there, curled against the cabinets. The bleeding on your shoulder slows, but doesn’t stop completely, and you’re starting to feel lightheaded. Not just the blood loss, you know, but the shock. Dean’s body has stopped twitching, but there’s something seeping out of his mouth, curling across the tile. When you spot the movement, you’re on your feet in a second, blinking past the momentary wooziness, grabbing the bat again.

When you click on the television, a loud beep echoes, nothing but a black screen, and you try to change the channel, but it’s the same on every one. Finally, the beep ends, and a robotic voice takes its place.

…indoors. Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions. Stay indoors…

Over and over again.

Your arm is pulsing, the rag on your shoulder wet with blood. You need to clean it, you think. You need some water, you need to—

The phone starts ringing. Your phone. Cell phone. Where you left it, in your purse. Your purse is by the door, across the apartment. You have to walk around Dean to get there, and you go slow, your eyes glued to his unmoving form. The bat is still in your hand, the end of it dragging over the carpet as you walk towards the door. Another metallic noise when it hits hardwood.

Your eyes are still on Dean as you dig in your purse, on the thing still coming out of his mouth, crawling along the grout lines in the tile. Out, out, out, you need to get out, you need to get away, you need to—

Your fingers close around your cell. Hit the button, bring it to your ear.

“Are you safe?” Joel barks, and you nearly drop the phone, the sound of his voice slamming you back into your head, your breath hitching so hard you almost choke. “Baby, where are you?”

“Home,” you cry, leaning against the wall, gripping the bat so hard your knuckles hurt. “I-I got home and Dean, he just…he…I…” You wheeze, your breath not enough, your head feeling lighter, your vision spotting with black. “He’s dead. I’m bleeding.”

“It’s everywhere,” he says, his voice low, and he keeps talking, but you don’t think he’s talking to you. You space out, your gaze glued to the body on your floor, until Joel says your name. “Why are you bleeding? What happened?”

“He…” you trail off, your eyes focusing on Dean’s bloody knuckles, limp on the kitchen floor. “He grabbed me, he…he was trying to bite me.”

“Did he?”

“No,” you say, your voice sounding a bit more sure. You shake your head, pressing your palm against your shoulder. The pain spikes, but it helps, clears your head a bit. “It’s a scratch. Deep.”

“You need to clean it, you hear me?” Joel says. “Patch yourself up, baby, all right? You have a first aid kit?”

You drop the bat, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead. You’re shaking. “In the bathroom.”

“Good, go, do it now. I’m not hanging up until you do.”

You reach for the bat again, use it as a prop to get back to your feet. You cast Dean’s still form one more glance before retreating down the hallway. He’d burst through the bedroom door, and wood splinters cover the floor, the door still half on its hinge, split down the middle.

“Joel, why is this happening?” you ask, your voice climbing, fear taking over. You get into the bathroom, momentarily shaken by your appearance in the mirror. Your hair wild, the blood smeared along your chest and neck, your stained and torn blouse. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, and the thread of fear in his voice makes tears spring in your eyes. “But I want you to listen to me, okay? You patch yourself up, you grab what you can, and you run. You understand? Get in your car and get out of the city, as fast as you can. You don’t wait, you don’t stop for anyone, and you just keep going.”

You nod for a moment before you realize he can’t see you. “Okay. What do I…?”

“I’ll find you, baby,” he says, and the surety in his voice makes everything in you ache. “I’m gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, I’m—”

Static. Dead air. Gone.

“Joel? No, come back, Joel, please—” You stare at the phone, try to redial the number, hit the button over and over and over and over. No signal, the screen informs you.

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat, the rapid pulse against your ribs, the breaths that seem to rattle through your lungs. Outside of that, silence.

You slam the phone down, slam your hands against the bathroom sink.

“Joel!”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers

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betheckart · 7 months

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Solomon Sallow Theory

Hello !

First post, I'm going to heat things up regarding a game that a lot of people love and about a character that many hate.

Solomon Sallow in Hogwart Legacy.

This theory about him has been running through my head for some time, because of his behavior and his past and present actions, there is something that bothers me, that disturbs my Ravenclaw instinct.

So, let's update the character's situation. A retired auror, the latter finds himself forced to take under his guardianship the children of his brother who died in an unfortunate accident, Anne and Sebastian. We do not know much about the period that follows until the children's schooling where his burden is increased by a little extra in the person of Ominis Gaunt.

Then comes the famous incident and the situation escalates to the point of unforgivability.

I know, Solomon is not very popular among the Hogwart Legacy audience. Rightly so, many find him to be an idiot, a gruff and inflexible character but I keep telling myself that there is something wrong with this story, something illogical about his behavior as a as an adult having to watch over the well-being of his nephew and his niece in addition to that of their best friend who still comes from a prestigious wizarding family.

So let’s get back to the beginning…

I would like to point out that, as despicable as the Gaunts' reputation is, I don't think they would have left one of their children to an incapable person. I know that the little we hear about them is hardly glorious however, Ominis remains an heir of Slytherin, which is far from being a forgetable detail, and the Gaunts protect their blood so he would never have left a child to a man for whom they would not have a minimum of confidence, at least that is what I suppose. Naturally, we can also suspect them of having preferred to leave him with the Sallows to relieve themselves financially.

However, bare in mind that Solomon must share the core traits of his family - he is far from stupid, he knows what sport the Gaunt family plays and he must well suspect that Ominis was obliged to use an unforgivable curse. Simply, like us, he put things aside, Ominis was only a child whose actions were dictated by fear and who was consumed with guilt unlike Sebastian who did not have the slightest regret and who would have used any other spell. However, he did not hesitate to accept this possibly problematic kid under his roof even though he only had limited means. Sorry for his detractors but it must be admitted that it is an act of great benevolence, nothing obliged him to take the heir of Slytherin under his wing but he did it, only to preserve him from the dark traditions of his family , he saw the pure being that is our favorite blondie. (And clearly, given the Sallow house, the Gaunts didn't give it a damn!)

I would like now to point out something about the brilliant Sebastian Sallow. At Hogwarts his talent as a duelist is more than recognized, everyone knows it and everyone puts the emphasis again and again on how surprising our victory over him is. But I think his talent is in no way natural. I would like to point out that the rare times we get to see Anne who remains under her curse, she fights with a similar talent and it is the same with Ominis who spent his summers with them. I think these three are doing so well for one reason and that is Solomon Sallow.

Let me explain, as a former Auror, I would not be surprised if when the children began to learn magic, he was naturally able to assist them in the use of defense spells against the dark arts. Remember, the training dummies are behind the Sallow house, I don't think that's a coincidence. During the holidays I am convinced that he helped the three children develop their skills. Of course, some might object to the ban on using magic outside of school, but didn't Ominis use magic outside of school well before and without consequences? In my opinion the ministry was much more flexible on this subject at the time, in fact it was not even a subject.

So …

From the few things we got to see Anne is gifted, even under the influence of a curse. She defends herself admirably and from as little as we know about this whole thing, Ominis manages excellently despite his disability. However, without adequate training, he would never have reached such a level even with the academic support that Hogwarts offers. Sebastian is very talented, of course, but I think his uncle was very harsh with him because he is precisely a boy, the one who had to protect his sister with him. Solomon is the patriarch and naturally Sebastian would one day take over, so he had to prepare him properly. Sebastian's hard work with his uncle will have paid off - coming back to Hogwarts would have given him a certain arrogance.

Then came the incident and Anne's curse.

And, ladies and gents, here comes my theory.

Solomon is a good wizard, by that I mean a good fighter. Certainly, the condition of his niece was quite worrying but nothing would have stopped him from capturing a goblin and extracting information from him to find out who had cursed her and cure her. However, he did nothing. Why ? Why didn't he do anything? He raised his brother's children, protected Ominis and did nothing to help Anne even though he had the ability to do so? What gives ?!

Why would he act like that ? Unless… he knew the truth?

Solomon Sallow is a former Auror, which definitely means he knows how to lead an investigation and like the rest of his family knows how to use his brain. I think he searched for the person responsible for his niece’s curse and unfortunately found the answer. Victor Rockwood, a formidable bandit of unprecedented danger. A man who would not hesitate to kill him. Naturally, he had to quietly try to bring justice by keeping his nephew and niece out of the public eye. As he points out to our character, it is no use giving hope when it is useless . As long as he could not guarantee Anne's recovery, it was better not to let the truth be known.

Unfortunately and you know it, Rockwood emphasized it very well during his dialogues with Ranrock, he has connections, friends very high up in the ministry and this is largely proven by the inaction of the ministry concerning the misdeeds of the scoundrel In the region. There is no justice, Victor Rockwood is protected, unreachable and far too dangerous. And Solomon Sallow saw himself being powerless in the face of the corruption of the magical world - unable to face these dangerous people. Certainly, some might point out a certain cowardice but put yourself or walk a mile in his shoes! He was all that remained for Anne, Sebastian and also Ominis, the only adult who could protect them, watch over them! They don't have anyone else!

Solomon was therefore forced to make a terrible choice. The problem at hand being none other than his nephew. Sebastian. As he pointed out, he is his father's son but also his uncle's nephew. He grew up with his brother and raised Sebastian, he knows him by heart whether he likes it or not. Sebastian's intelligence becoming a danger, the elder Sallow would then have manipulated his nephew to make him focus on a single problem. How to cure Anne rather than the real curse caster. Just imagine for a split second : if Sebastian had known the truth, he would have launched a guerrilla war against Rockwood, certainly Ominis going with him, which would have been a disaster. The two boys would have thrown themselves headlong into the battle when they were only fourteen years old and they could have been seriously injured, died or worse! Expelled! (Oh wait...)

In short, by diverting Sebastian's attention, he protected him and by manipulating him to dissuade him from continuing his quest, he tried to keep him away from the truth so that he would not put himself in danger. We all know though that Sebastian is quite the stubborn kind and that he would definitely dive into anything he’s told not to.

Anne's curse was manageable at first, so he may have thought she would be able to live with it, but we know the situation only got worse. Anne was forced to drop out of school and return to Feldcroft. The guilt that Solomon would have developed would have pushed him to overprotect Anne. Unable to help him and knowing the truth, he would have unconsciously harbored anger towards Sebastian who naively tried to find a solution to something that did not exist. Managing him was certainly complex but at least, in a way, he was guided in a relatively wise way and Ominis was there to watch. In the game, the students talk about Sebastian but ultimately only the heir of Slytherin is considered his friend, a true friend.

But something disrupted his plan.

Us.

Many have highlighted his behavior towards our character. Let’s face it, we were the disruption. Without our presence, Ominis would never have given in for the Scriptorium, Sebastian would never have had access to Salazar Slytherin's book and he would never have been able to cross the catacombs to find the relic. Solomon had given him a quest with no outcome but our character provided assistance to which Sebastian should not have had access. When we think about this, we can understand pretty easily why - from our first dialogue ever with him - Solomon tries to impose his opinion on us regarding Anne's healing. Why he wanted us to dissuade his nephew from venturing down a dark path and unfortunately, we’ve been the downfall of them both.

When Sebastian finally uses the Imperio, Solomon understands that our presence has affected his nephew's quest and worse, it has encouraged him to cross lines he did not want him to cross. While the talented Slytherin is on the verge of becoming a man, the former Auror had just witnessed an act that he could not accept. It was proof of his failure, of his inability to protect his brother's son, that he had failed to keep him away from black magic. His hasty decision to leave Feldcroft would then have been a last-ditch move to desperately try to protect the twins.

By moving Anne away from Sebastian, the latter would no longer have to witness the deterioration of her condition and Anne would have been able to benefit from a healthy, stress-free environment which would have brought her a certain peace of mind. Everything he wanted and to offer her - offer them indeed. Solomon would have feared that beyond his quest for a cure and with the assistance of our character, his nephew would have ended up getting closer to the castle and that he would have made the connection, discovered the truth and launched this war that the Auror feared so much. He couldn't endanger the lives of his family and the new student.

I know, it's a bit exaggerated given our strike force in the game but Solomon doesn't know that. All he sees is another teenager putting themself in danger and worse, dragging his nephew along on their journey. Worse for our case, we have just started manipulating magic, how can such a character be trusted ?

In short, one can agree that if my theory is correct, it would explain a lot of things about Solomon Sallow's behavior.

I am now waiting for your opinions, hoping that I have managed to express myself well.

Théorie en version française !

Bonjour !

Première publication, je vais faire chauffer les choses concernant un jeu que pas mal de gens aiment et sur un personnage que beaucoup déteste.

Solomon Sallow dans Hogwart Legacy.

Cette théorie le concernant me trotte dans la tête depuis un certain temps, du fait de son comportement et de ses actions passées et présentes, il y a un truc qui me chagrine, qui trouble mon instinct de Serdaigle.

Donc, mettons la situation du personnage à jour. Ancien auror à la retraite, ce dernier se retrouve contraint de prendre sous sa tutelle les enfants de son frère décédé dans un malheureux accident, Anne et Sebastian. On ne sait pas grand-chose de la période qui suit jusqu’à la scolarité des enfants où sa charge s’alourdit d’un petit supplément en la personne d’Ominis Gaunt.

Vient ensuite le fameux incident et la situation dégénère jusqu’à l’impardonnable.

Je sais, Solomon n’est pas très aimé parmi le public de Hogwart Legacy. A juste titre, beaucoup trouve que c’est un con, un personnage bourru et inflexible mais je n’arrête pas de me dire qu’il y a quelque chose qui cloche dans cette histoire, quelque chose d’illogique concernant son comportement en tant qu’adulte devant veiller aux bien-être de son neveu et de sa nièce en plus de celui de leur meilleur ami tout de même issu d’une prestigieuse famille de sorcier.

Donc commençons par le commencement…

J’aimerais souligner, qu’aussi ignoble que soit la réputation des Gaunt, je ne pense pas qu’ils auraient laissé l’un de leur enfant à une personne incapable. Je sais que le peu qu’on entend à leur sujet n’est guère glorieux cependant, Ominis reste un héritier de Serpentard, ce n’est pas rien et les Gaunt protègent leur sang donc jamais ils n’auraient laissé un enfant à un homme pour lequel ils n’auraient pas un minimum de confiance, tout du moins c’est ce que je suppose. Naturellement, on peut aussi les suspecter d’avoir préféré le laisser avec les Sallow pour se soulager financièrement.

Pour autant, notons que Solomon doit être dans la même ligne que sa famille. Il est loin d’être idiot, il sait quel sport pratique la famille Gaunt et il doit bien se douter que Ominis ait été dans l’obligation de faire usage d’un sort impardonnable. Simplement, comme nous-même, il a fait la part des choses, Ominis n’était qu’un enfant dicté par la peur et qui est rongé de culpabilité contrairement à Sebastian qui n’a pas eu le moindre regret et qui aurait pu faire usage de n’importe quel autre sort. Pour autant, il n’a pas hésité à accepter ce gosse possiblement problématique sous son toit alors qu’il n’avait que des moyens limités. Navré pour ses détracteurs mais il faut avouer que c’est un acte de grande bienveillance, rien ne l’obligeait à prendre l’héritier de Serpentard sous son aile mais il l’a fait, uniquement pour le préserver des sombres traditions de sa famille, il a vu l’être pur qu’est notre petit blond favori. (Et clairement, vu la maison des Sallow, les Gaunt ne lui ont pas donné un rond !)

J’aimerais maintenant souligner un fait concernant le si brillant Sebastian Sallow. A Poudlard son talent de duelliste est plus que reconnu, tout le monde le sait et tous soulignent encore et encore à quel point notre victoire sur lui est surprenante. Mais je pense que son talent n’est en rien naturel. J’aimerais souligner que les rares fois où nous pouvons voir Anne qui reste sous le coup de sa malédiction, elle se bat avec un talent similaire et il en est de même avec Ominis qui a passé ses étés avec eux. Je pense que si ces trois-là se débrouillent aussi bien c’est pour une seule et unique raison, Solomon Sallow.

Je m’explique, en tant qu’ancien auror, je ne serais pas surprise que lorsque les enfants ont commencé à apprendre la magie, il a naturellement pu les assister dans l’usage des sorts de défense contre les forces du mal. Souvenez-vous, les mannequins d’entraînement sont derrière la maison des Sallow, je ne pense pas que ce soit un hasard. Durant les vacances je suis persuadé qu’il a aidé les trois enfants à développer leurs compétences. Certes, certains pourraient rebondir sur l’interdictions de faire usage de la magie en dehors de l’école mais Ominis n’a-t-il pas fait usage de la magie en dehors de l’école bien avant et sans conséquences ? A mon avis le ministère était bien plus souple à ce sujet à l’époque, voire ce n’était même pas un sujet.

Bref…

Du peu que nous avons pu voir, Anne est douée, même sous le coup d’une malédiction, elle se défend admirablement et du peu que nous avons pu voir, Ominis se débrouiller excellement malgré son handicap, sans un entraiment adéquat, il n’aurait jamais atteint un tel niveau même avec l’encadrement scolaire qu’offre Poudlard. En parallèle, Sebastian est très talentueux, certes, mais je pense que son oncle a été très sévère avec lui parce qu’il est justement un garçon, celui qui devait avec lui protéger sa sœur. Solomon est le patriarche et naturellement Sebastian reprendrait un jour le relai, de ce fait, il devait le préparer convenablement. Le travail acharné de Sebastian avec son oncle aura fini par payer et en revenant à Poudlard, tout cela lui aurait donné une certaine arrogance.

Puis vint l’incident et la malédiction d’Anne.

Et là, vient ma théorie.

Solomon est un bon sorcier, je veux dire un bon combattant. Certes, l’état de sa nièce était des plus préoccupant mais rien ne l’aurait empêché de capturer un gobelin et lui soustraire des informations pour savoir qui l’avait maudite et la guérir. Pourtant, il n’en a rien fait. Pourquoi ? Pourquoi il n’a rien fait ? Il a élevé les enfants de son frère, protégé Ominis et il n’a rien fait pour aider Anne alors qu’il en avait la capacité ? Pourquoi ?!

Pourquoi ? Si ce n’est qu’il savait la vérité ?

Solomon Sallow est un ancien auror, il sait mener une enquête et à l’image de sa famille, il sait faire usage de son cerveau. Je pense qu’il a cherché qui avait maudit sa nièce et que malheureusement, il a trouvé la réponse. Victor Rockwood, un bandit redoutable d’une dangerosité sans précédent. Un homme qui n’hésiterait pas à le tuer. Naturellement, il a dû tenter de faire discrètement justice en gardant son neveu et sa nièce dans l’ignorance. Comme il le souligne à notre personnage, il n’est pas utile de donner de l’espoir lorsque c’est inutile et tant qu’il ne pouvait pas garantir la guérison d’Anne, il ne valait mieux pas faire savoir la vérité.

Malheureusement et vous le savez, Rockwood l’a très bien souligné lors de ses dialogues avec Ranrock, il a des connexions, des amis très haut-placés dans le ministère et cela est largement prouvé par l’inaction du ministère concernant les méfaits du gredin dans la région. Il n’y a pas de justice, Victor Rockwood est protégé, inatteignable et bien trop dangereux. Et Solomon Sallow s’est vu impuissant face à la corruption du monde magique, incapable de faire face à ce dangereux personnages. Certes, certains pourrait souligner une certaine lâcheté mais mettez-vous à sa place ! Il était tout ce qu’il restait à Anne, Sebastian et aussi Ominis, le seul adulte pouvant les protéger, veiller sur eux ! Ils n’ont personne d’autre !

Solomon s’est donc vu dans l’obligation de faire un choix terrible. Le problème se posant n’étant rien d’autre que son neveu. Sebastian. Comme il l’a souligné, il est le fils de son père mais aussi le neveu de son oncle. Il a grandi avec son frère et a élevé Sebastian, il le connait par cœur que cela plaise ou non à ce dernier. L’intelligence de Sebastian devenant un danger, le doyen des Sallow aurait alors manipulé son neveu pour le centrer sur un seul problème. Comment guérir Anne plutôt que sur le réel lanceur de malédiction. Imaginez ! Si Sebastian avait su la vérité, il aurait lancé une guérilla contre Rockwood en embarquant Ominis. Les deux garçons se seraient lancés à corps perdu dans la bataille alors qu’ils n’avaient que quatorze ans et ils auraient pu se blesser gravement, mourir voire pire ! Être expulsé ! Attendez… Bref, en détournant l’attention de Sebastian, il l’aurait protégé et en le manipulant pour le dissuader de continuer sa quête, l’aurait détourné de la vérité pour qu’il ne se mette pas en danger. Et Sebastian est un adolescent têtu à qui il suffit d’interdire de faire quelque chose pour garantir qu’il y plongera à pied joint sans jamais s’en détourner.

La malédiction d’Anne étant gérable dans un premier temps, il a peut-être cru qu’elle parviendrait à vivre avec mais nous le savons la situation n’a fait que s’empirer. Anne a été contrainte à se déscolariser et revenir à Feldcroft. La culpabilité que Solomon aurait développée l’aurait poussé à surprotéger Anne. Incapable de l’aider et en sachant la vérité, il aurait inconsciemment nourri une colère envers Sebastian qui naïvement essayait de trouver une solution à quelque chose qui n’existait pas. Le gérer était certes complexe mais au moins, d’une certaine façon, il était encadré dans une voie relativement sage et Ominis était là pour veiller. Dans le jeu, les élèves parlent de Sebastian mais finalement seul l’héritier de Serpentard est considéré comme son ami, un vrai ami.

Mais quelque chose à perturbé son plan.

Nous.

Beaucoup ont souligné son comportement vis-à-vis de notre personnage. Avouons-le, nous étions la perturbation. Sans notre présence, jamais Ominis n’aurait cédé pour le Scriptorium, jamais Sebastian n’aurait eu accès au livre de Salazar Serpentard et jamais il n’aurait pu franchir les catacombes pour y trouver la relique. Solomon lui avait donné une quête sans issus mais notre personnage a apporté une assistance à laquelle Sebastian n’aurait pas dû avoir accès. Quand on réfléchit à cela, on comprend alors pourquoi dès notre premier dialogue, Solomon tente de nous imposer son avis concernant la guérison d’Anne, pourquoi il voulait que nous dissuadions son neveu de s’aventurer sur un chemin obscur et malheureusement, nous avons été leur perte à tous les deux.

Lorsque finalement Sebastian fait usage de l’Imperio, Solomon comprend que notre présence a affecté la quête de son neveu et pire que cela l’a encouragé à franchir des lignes qu’il ne souhaitait pas le voir franchir. Alors que le talentueux Serpentard est en passe de devenir un homme, l’ancien auror venait d’être témoin d’un acte qu’il ne pouvait accepter. C’était la preuve de son échec, de son incapacité à protéger le fils de son frère, qu’il n’avait pas réussi à le tenir hors de la magie noire. Sa décision précipitée de quitter Feldcroft aurait alors été un dernier geste pour désespérément essayer de protéger les jumeaux.

En éloignant Anne de Sebastian, ce dernier n’aurait plus été témoin de la dégradation de son état et Anne aurait pu bénéficier d’un environnement sain et sans stress qui lui aurait apporté une certaine quiétude. Tout ce qu’il souhaitait et pouvait lui offrir, leur offrir. Solomon aurait craint qu’au-delà de sa quête d’un remède et avec l’assistance de notre personnage, son neveu aurait fini par se rapprocher du château et qu’il aurait fait le lien, découvert la vérité et lancé cette guerre que l’auror craignait tant. Il ne pouvait mettre en danger la vie de sa famille et du nouvel élève.

Je sais, c’est un peu exagéré au vu de notre force de frappe dans le jeu mais ça, Solomon l’ignore. Tout ce qu’il voit, c’est un autre adolescent qui se met en danger et pire qui entraîne son neveu dans ses périples. Pire pour notre cas, nous venons de commencer à manipuler la magie, comment avoir confiance en un tel personnage ?

Bref, je trouve que si ma théorie est juste, elle expliquerait bien des choses sur le comportement de Solomon Sallow.

J’attend vos avis en espérant avoir réussi à bien m’exprimer.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #solomon sallow

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howl-fantasies · 2 years

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Hey! It’s me again, after a while; I was wondering )if your requests were open) if I could request a oneshot about (Gotham) Edward Nygma alongside any other Gotham charecter, who have a very pristine and classy significant other who they work alongside, and one day said S/O is sat in their apartment (or place of residence) with their hair in rollers, with a face mask on, eating some sort of fast food watching, some reality TV show like ‘Say yes to the dress’ and is acting very different to their usual somewhat glamorous self.

I thought of this a while ago as I have recently been able to relax as my uni work load has been put on hold for the summer holidays! Woo Hoo! Anyway, I appreciate your work and Ishiguro do not wish to complete this request that is absolutely fine.

- Elsie x

Hello there dearie!

Oh my lord, I absolutely love the concept! Gotham's men NEED to learn nobody never wake up with a full makeup on and don't turn on themselves like the Sims when they jump out of bed to look perfect. I had so much fun imagining our guys having a mental breakdown seeing their S/O "off" mode.

So, here it is :

GOTHAM VILLAIN WALKING ON THEIR S/O WHEN THEY ARE ON THEIR "OFF" MODE

EDWARD NYGMA / THE RIDDLER

Edward was having a "meh" day. One of those during which nothing seems to surprise / interest him. It happens, you know, him being a genius and all, he sometimes finds himself being bored. But you, his stunning, witty, classy partner would know how to make his day better, he knows it.

Unsuspecting, he used the spare key you gave him a month ago and walked inside of your apartment, ready to see his day brightened by the simple view of your impeccable self. How lucky of a man he was.

"Dear?" He would call when you weren't here to greet him like you usually did. He sent you a text before coming, he was certain.

He heard the noise of your TV, pretty loud, so it was why you didn't answer. Was it also why you didn't read his text? Strange, he pictured you more like the kind of person to be lost in a book or something. But that was ok, he also had his times when he needed to put the thing on, to hear the news about him, for instance. Though, the high pitched female voices started to make him doubt you were watching Gotham News.

Nevermind, he followed the voices to your living room and brutally stopped when he saw the back of your head. What was the bright pink fluffy thing in your hair?! He had to open his mouth when he hear you. "Are you kidding me, look at you Meredith?! You look like a freaking pièce montée with that!" Did you hurt your mouth or something, you sounded like something was stuck inside of it (not something under 18 here, everybody keep calm please!)

"My love?" He asked.

"Oh fuckity Shitty Fuck!" You screamed, making one hell of a jump. Now on your feet, you were facing him, absolutely horrified.

You decided you needed to let your "on" mode cool down a bit today and since no robbery nor abduction were on your calendar, you wanted a little "off" time mode only for you.

Off time, meaning here: putting a bluish moisturising mask on your face, putting your favorite pink rabbit ears headband, your fluffy pajamas and slippers. You ordered a pizza earlier with soda and finally decided to watch your favorite trashy tv show. And here you were. Gawking like an idiot in front of your boyfriend, who looked like he was considering calling a priest to exorcise you or something.

"Ok, Ed. Please don't panic." You said, making an appeasing gesture with your hands.

"Don't panic?! Don't p-... Dear, what happened?! Did you encountered Jerome and he forced you in a weird disguise? Or am I hallucinating?!" He squeaked suddenly reaching for his wrist to check his own pulse.

Ok, he was totally panicking... "Ed..." You called again with a sigh, feeling your hand brush against your dry mask on your forehead. "Dear, it's not an attack or a prank or anything. I'm just taking a little time for myself, like... pampering, see what i'm talking about?."

Hearing your resigned voice and the little bit of annoyance in it, he stopped his frantic health check. Ok Eddie, time to think like a grown man.

Please make some space for Mister Riddler in his inner mental theater. Y/N is a human being, pretty much like him. A beautiful human being with a sumptuous as-... *Sorry Ed had to mentally punch him to keep him on track.* Ahem, like he was thinking before being brutally interrupted, Y/N is a human. Like him they have morning hair, don't always wear makeup nor impeccable clothes, and they must have to work hard to keep their skin so smooth and beautiful and...

"Ed?!" Now you are the one looking for his pulse. When you caught his gaze, you find this little light, you know, the one meaning someone FINALLY had put two and two together DUH.

"Y/N, I got it." He said, putting his hands on your shoulders and taking a long inspiration. "Of course i did. I'm a genius. Pampering, taking a self-care day, feel comfy and all..." But he suddenly turned you around to face the TV, "I got everything, except this! I mean, what the hell is this?!" He had to point the tv with his index for good measure.

He never watched "say yes to the dress." Of course he hasn't. Poor dude was too busy cracking puzzles and riddles. He's pretty confused here. You will have to explain how in hell this trashy thing is helping you feel relaxed.

Or don't, after all, it could be a pretty good opportunity to explain your lover you both have your hobbies and have to respect it ;).

Would totally be ok with you taking care of his skin and his nails. And the man would be super proud of it let me tell you. If someone messed with his fresh manucure, he would immediately turn to you / call you and apologize. "I'm afraid, we'll have to plan another self-care session my dear. Sooner than expected". (Relationship goal here!)

OSWALD COBBLEPOT / THE PENGUIN

Oswald being Oswald, he would HAVE to walk on you on one of his worst days.

His mood was terrible and he seriously was in need of a good hug, a good vent and probably his mother “special bad days” tea.

Since you moved in with him a few weeks ago, his first words to poor Olga when he went through the main doors were “WHERE IS Y/N?!” of course he had to yell even if the woman was not even a meter from him, taking his coat, hat and umbrella with a calm we all have to acknowledge. The maid will simply point in direction of the living room, keeping her smirk well hidden. Poor boy is up for a good and well deserved shock in here.

Oswald would limp in a rush to you, grumbling like an old man all along, and couldn’t wait to have you listen about his terrible day and the bunch of idiots he had to deal with.

“What the hell happened?!” He heard you scream in outrage when he was a few steps away from your position. He felt a smile growing on his face. Of course you would be concerned about his distress, you were like this with him, a worrywart, but his worrywart and he was the same with you.

“Thank you! Someone at least is able to read the mood in a room”, he had to say, glaring at Olga who, again, shrugged and get away to dust the stairs. She wasn’t going to miss the show. No way.

“No seriously, what happened to you poor thing, what did they do to you?”, Y/N cooed from the couch.

Finally, Cobblepot emerged from the hallway, his mouth ready to answer them when all the air he took to do so was sucked out of him. “M-My dear?” He called.

Y/N tensed on the sofa. Oh dear hell. Oh no.

No excuse was good enough to explain your current state: slumped on the couch, a tiger face mask, bright yellow and blue unicorns air clips and the worse? Fluffy pajamas with a penguin and a polar bear walking hand in hand on the snow, with the sentence “Take it slow in the snow” sewn under them. No. Nope. Nu-uh. You were doomed.

Y/N smiled awkwardly and made a stupid little wave with their hand. “Oswald...Dear...Well...Hello?”

His deafening silence was maybe worse than his higher screeches. When he finally opened his mouth, they were covered by the sound of the tv. “Oh my god, yes! Yes it’s the one!”

His eyes followed the female voice and took a long look at the screen. “Is it “say yes to the dress?” He suddenly asked.

You were dumbfounded a second, frowning your brows but finally answered a low “yes?”

He would stay silent and resume his walking until letting himself fall ungracefully next to you and start to watch.

“Oswald? Are you ok?”

He nodded once, his eyes still on the screen. “Mother used to watch it with me and we would talk about my day.”

Oh. Oh! Ok, Y/N can definitely make it their ritual. “Want to do it dear? I have another face mask and was about to ask Olga for another tea. How does it sound?

Sounds perfect. Cobblepot will 100% adopt this ritual and talk about his terrible day while you apply some cucumber on his tired eyes. He knows how to do perfect manucure (mommy boy, remember?) and would help his S/O with their nails, hair, skin... everything.

Their self care is as important as taking Gotham’s throne. Anybody interrupting them would be dead. And “Say yes to the dress” will stay, giving the two the perfect opportunity to bond even more about fashion. Oswald is also a very talented tailor after all, so he knows what he’s talking about. Enjoy!

VICTOR ZSASZ

Since when didn’t he stalk you? A day or two? He was letting his guard down. What if you suddenly decided to run away, change city, were shot by a lunatic... and here it goes, his brain started to panic. He was pretty busy lately, thanks to Jim, Harvey, and every idiotic cop in the city suddenly realizing their job was in fact to arrest criminals, not taking their money and looking the other way. Aah...Good old days...

Anyway, nothing now was about to stop him to go to his S/O. Even if you gave him a key, (please don’t) he would prefer to pick the locks of your door, you know...for the thrill and everything. And, I mean, I you’re lucky enough to have survived Zsasz, it probably means you have some strong sense of self preservation and weren’t foolish enough to give the sadist your keys.

When your door finally opened, he went inside of your flat like a shadow, grinning like a madman about the idea of giving you the scare of your dear life. God knows he loved to make you jump and see the rush of adrenaline in your body.

Your TV was on, he could tell, the sound of a few people resonating inside of your flat like they were with you in your living room.

Another sound made him stop for a second: someone drinking the end of a soda or a milkshake. Super loud at that. Who would have known the perfect little Y/N, always sipping their beverage like a posh aristocrat was enjoying a cheap one like any commoner on earth. How funny.

You wouldn’t even realize he was next to the couch. Not until you heard him giggle stupidly making you scream bloody murder and throwing your now empty milkshake at his head.

Being the troll he is, Victor would dodge it without even giving you a glance and lazily point at the screen saying something stupid like: “the previous one looked better uh?”

Don’t strangle him on spot. Or do it, not sure here what he may enjoy the most...

When your heart would finally stops its marathon, you would be able to take a better look at the picture: him, standing next to the couch arm, his left forearm on the top of the furniture, his right hand on his hip and his legs crossed, taking a good look at you, his S/O.

Currently rolled like a burrito in a fluffy purple plaid with only your head, hands and socks visibles. Are these little pizzas on your socks and headband by the way? And are you really wearing a panda face mask?

You were ready to punch these questions back deep inside of his throat as soon as he will ask them and make him gulp his stupid smirk. Though, you weren’t ready for his gaze to shift from your eyes and face to your table and the “is it pepperoni?” He stupidly asked, pointing at the pizza your were eating earlier like an hungry wolf. You hoped he didn't see it...

Breathe, in and out. It’s the key.

"You really are full of surprises, love." He teased, too happy to see your obvious discomfort.

Option A) giving him the middle finger. Proceed with caution though, he's really good at shooting fingers.

Option B) Scream ugly profanities at his dumb face. Good to vent, but he wouldn't give a f. Just enjoy it more and more.

Option C) slouch back on the couch and throw him the pizza's menu. "you pay for the next and the milkshakes." And wait for his lazy ass to seat next to you, because he will. Oh. And if you feel confident enough, don't hesitate to slap a ridiculous face mask on his already ridiculous face. Yes he doesn't give a shit about looking like an idiot but you wouldn't be the only idiot in the room anymore. 👍

A/N - I hope you liked it, have a beautiful day dearie 🥰💐

#gotham #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #gotham fox #victor zsasz #victor zsasz imagine #victor zsasz x reader #gotham fandom #gotham villains #gotham incorrect quotes #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #oswald cobblepot imagine #gotham oswald cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #gotham headcanons

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edfairyy · 1 month

Text

3rd of april, 21:55

a new beginning <3

i am ready to put my foot down and put in the hard work after regaining 7kg of my wl from october-feb within a matter of a month. i got myself into this situation, i’m the only one who can get myself out of it.

i have to lose 16kg and reach around 50kg by july. i’ll do anything.

i’ve made nothing but excuses the past few months. “i can’t starve like i used to” or “ill start tweaking without breakfast or lunch” are little lies i used to tell myself to give myself an excuse to eat, but i will no longer believe those lies. i CAN starve for days on end and i CAN go without an extra 2 meals a day. i CAN control what i eat.

i’m going to start completely fresh, i will no longer hold onto my old identity of a chronic binge eater or bmi 25 chubby girl. if i believe im gonna binge then im gonna do it, but if i leave all that behind it will never come to mind anymore. binging? what’s that? i only know starving.

i am a NEW girl with a skinny mindset, starting at 66kg with a goal of 50kg and a need to meet it NO MATTER WHAT. I HAVE CONTROL.

to myself:

YOU NOT NEED TO EAT. your body has AT LEAST 80,000 calories of fat to burn instead of food.

eat small stay small.

follow your plan, not your feelings.

imagine you stick to this now.

april 4th.

in a week, april 11th: you’ll be building back your habit of skipping meals, regularly fasting, and gaining back control of your life and what you eat.

in 2 weeks, april 18th: you’ll finally feel it again, the euphoria of starving, avoiding food and watching the scale go down at a minimum of 1kg a week. you’ll be in a new honeymoon phase, and nothing can break your discipline and dedication.

in a month, may 1st: you’ll finally SEE your hard work, not just FEEL how much lighter you’ve noticed yourself become, slightly less fat - nearly at your lowest weight, hopefully around 60kg.

🌟 in 2 months, at the start of june, when the summer heat finally comes and you’re finally past your lowest weight of 60kg and instead at 55kg, you’ll be able to wear bikinis without insane guilt or shame, hopefully slightly toned as well. you won’t be sweating like the pig you used to be last summer. you still may not be the thinnest one around you BUT you’ll finally be NORMAL. that’s all you’ve ever wanted. to not be the chubby one, or the one sucking in your stomach because of your gluttony. you’ll be at an average weight, somewhere where you’re considered “healthy” and people won’t worry about you and you won’t worry about feeling like everyone is staring at your chubby legs or fat rolls on your stomach. you’ve wanted this for years, and you’ll finally have it. you may not reach 50kg as you hoped but -10kg in less than 2 months is an achievement in its own, more realistic, and more maintainable anyway🌟

in 3 months, the start of july: when you’ve been living off fresh fruit and low cal popsicles to bare the heat of june you’ll hopefully almost be at 50kg in time for your 3 week holiday this month. all your dedication will lead to this moment. a goal you’ve been working towards since april. your family seeing you and you’ve lost 20kg in total since last year! imagine being able to say you lost 16kg of that in 3 months and kept it off - unlike your yo-yo effect of losing 10kg in 6 months and gaining most of it all back like a fatty! you’ll inevitably gain a kg or two during it, but you can always lose that once you’re back home.

in 4 months, at the start of august: you’ll finally be home from your holiday and after eating a normal amount for 3 weeks you’ll be able to slowly lose down to your ugw again with an increased intake. it may take longer than a month, but it’ll help you maintain it in the long run, and you can finally recover. 💗

come back to this any time you feel like giving up, none if this will become reality if you don’t put the work in.

♡

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kitkatsudon · 24 days

Text

So. Today has been a weird day.

Rambles below, because I’m in my feelings but that doesn’t necessarily have to be your problem.

The first thing I saw when I woke up today was that Ice Adolescence had been cancelled. The second thing piece of news I received, within a few minutes of this, was that my Grandma had passed away.

The second thing is more personal, and I haven’t come here to talk about that - I suppose more than anything it’s to give context on today’s slightly weird vibe, and why I’m feeling perhaps more nostalgic than I would be normally.

Perhaps as a distraction, I want to ramble about YOI.

Though now I’ve sat down to actually do this… where do I start?

Though my internet presence is very TKEM-focused nowadays, since its release, YOI has always been incredibly dear to me. It came out just as I had found out that my family were going to be moving across the country (and ok, in the UK that’s maybe less of a big deal than if I lived in a larger country, but I was 14, and 14 is a horrible age, so it was still a big deal to me). YOI came out in late 2016, we moved at the beginning of 2017, and I joined a much smaller school with… let’s say less choice for the people I could make friends with.

I was, technically, adopted by a friendship group, but it took a long time, some falling outs within the group, and me learning everything there ever was to know about BTS despite having no real passion for music-based fandoms for me to really feel included. The friendship group I’d left behind was much more diverse in terms of interests, and we thrived on mutual sharing and acceptance of each other’s interests. This new one was more kind of “conform or fuck you,” and I never quite managed to conform properly.

All that is to say… while I didn’t really have friends, in 2017, I had YOI and its fandom. While I was dealing with the huge changes in my life, I was comforted through it by, more than anything else, lurking around the YOI fandom. I had my first forays into posting things online using Google+, of all things (my parents didn’t let me have social media, but I could access this using my gmail), and they were drawings I had done of YOI characters, even a hand-drawn anecdote comic thing, and just… it was rudimentary, but you gotta start somewhere, right?

It became what I was known for, in my new school. It became part of me. That summer, my family went on holiday to Orlando FL to do the theme parks, and despite that having been something that I’d been begging to do for years, what I ended up being most excited about was the opportunity to go to Hot Topic and buy the YOI merch that they’d recently announced. I bought a T-shirt, a blanket, and a backpack, and although the backpack’s strap broke after a year of using it for school, I still have the T-shirt and the blanket, and they’re still special to me to this day. Back then, listening to the soundtrack on repeat, I’d decided that one day I was going to perform a dance routine to ‘In regards to love: Eros,’ and at the end of my first year of uni, that was something I was actually able to do. Was it good? Not really, I’m by no means a professional dancer, but I felt like I was paying homage to my inner… not quite child, more like my inner angsty teenager?

My whatsapp background is still YOI-themed. I still proudly display my Funko Pops and my posters in my bedroom at home. YOI is still my comfort show, and though I’m not usually one for rewatching shows, it’s still the show that I’ve rewatched the most. Even my username is a relic of my ties to the YOI fandom - though I wasn’t really using it much then, it’s something I thought up during the days when I was deepest in it, and I thought to myself “if I ever am brave enough to really start posting things online, this is the username I’ll use.” So even though the first thing I ever posted under the name KitKatsudon was the beginning of a BTS fanfiction on Quotev on all places that I was writing with a friend of mine at the time, it has its roots in YOI.

It’s sort of funny - once upon a time, I used to semi-joke that I couldn’t die before the YOI movie came out. Don’t get me wrong, my mental health was never bad enough that I had actually realistically considered not making it to Ice Ado’s release, but every time I said it, I did mean it. No matter how shitty I felt, I had to keep going, because I was going to have my bum in a seat when it eventually released in cinemas. I guess what this means now is that, unless Ice Ado is picked up by another studio, I’m just never going to die 🤷‍♀️ you’d better buckle the fuck up, mortals, because MAPPA has just granted me ultimate power.

What am I trying to say? I don’t really know. Maybe thank you, to the YOI team, for being such a positive force in my life. You gave me something comforting to hold onto while everything around me was changing, while I was starting my sexuality journey, while I didn’t have the close support of peers to help boost my mood. I don’t watch the show so often nowadays, but that’s because I save it for instances where I really need comforting. Maybe like today.

The story of Ice Adolescence may be over, at least for now, but I’ll always be grateful for what we did get.

#tw: mentions of death #nothing really major but better to be careful #kitkat’s thoughts tag #yuri on ice #it’s just rambles about what that show meant and still means to me #spoiler alert: it’s a lot #rip yoi #you deserved so much better #little kitkat who ended her GCSE English presentation thing on queerbaiting with a hopeful message about yoi paving the way for better #would be so disappointed in mappa right now

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ichigoichiesworld · 2 years

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Interview with Japan Daily News - The Mainichi - Maeda Kentaro - It’s cool to make dreams come true

(Rough Translation)

We asked Maeda Kentaro, who plays the main character Igarashi Ikki in "Kamen Kamen Rider Revice," how to become cooler.

“I believe that people who work hard and diligently are the coolest.”

Maeda began practicing karate in kindergarten and continued for about 15 years. He is a Nidan (2nd dan) karate master, and when he was in his 3rd year of junior high school, he won the first place in the whole country’s karate kata team competition.

“During the summer holidays before important competitions, I would get up early and run, I practiced in the morning and in the afternoon, and even at night, so there was not much time to eat.“

Maeda recalled, "In high school, I did not achieve good results. However,” he says, "It is important not to give up even if you don't make it, and to keep going without thinking that it was a waste of time.”

Maeda believes that even if your efforts did not directly bear fruit, there will come a day when they will be useful somewhere else.

Maeda said, "I believe I was able to become a Kamen Rider because I had all the right conditions, including karate and my skills, and my own life up to this point is accumulation of the past. If I had lacked even one single thing, I am sure I would not have been able to become a Kamen Rider.”

Never give up and keep challenging yourself

Maeda has wanted to be a Kamen Rider since he was a child.

When he was a freshman in college, he took part in a contest to fulfill his dream of becoming an actor, but was unsuccessful. However, Maeda did not give up.

When he was in his third year of college, as the people around him started to prepare for job hunting, he decided that if he was going to work, he wanted to do what he wanted to do. He decided to challenge the path of acting again, saying, "I’ve had a goal of becoming one of the best actors in Japan since I was learning karate, and I would do my best with such a big goal in mind.”

Then he’s got the leading role in Kamen Rider series.

“Be it sports or anything other fields. The way you challenge yourself to do what you want to do is what makes you cool. And that will surely one day make everyone's dreams come true!”

It has been almost a year since "Kamen Rider Revice" was first broadcast on TV.

Maeda told us about the time when he heard that he had been chosen to play the leading role, "I was so surprised that my mind went completely blank. Of course I was happy, but I had no idea what was going on. For a while, I felt as if I was not myself.”

Maeda said, “It was very difficult at first.” However, “everyone in the cast were my friends, and since we were together almost every day for a year, we were like a family, and when things got really tough, someone was always there to help out.” He said he was supported by the warmth of the people around him.

“As was the case with karate, the friends you’ve shared both painful and enjoyable experiences with are your most precious possession.”

The confidence to continue practicing karate

Maeda cited his karate experience as another thing that supported him.

“At first, my body didn't move the way I wanted since I was kinda new to it. Compared to the current state-of-art, I often feel that I should have done more. But action is my appeal point, and above all, the confidence I have gained from continuing to do this for so long has been a great support for me. It is a part of my heart that told me not to give up nor give in.”

In the movie that will be released this summer, he performed action scenes with the mind and body that he has cultivated through karate.

“Whether or not I have confidence in myself, I did my best, and I hope you will see it.“

The footprints in history

Maeda talked about the main character of Revice, Igarashi Ikki, "It's cool how he is able to act immediately to save someone."

“Someone who is willing and able to do anything for others’ sake is wonderful, right?”

Maeda then reflected on the past filming sessions and said, "If we look cool in front of the public, it is because of the hard work of all the staff involved in the production of the film. The staff members are really cool.”

“It’s not always easy to see from the outside, but it is not only those who are out in the open that are cool. We are here because there are people who support us.”

In closing, Maeda proudly stated, "Thanks to everyone who was involved in the production and everyone who supported us, I believe we have left our mark on the 50-year history of Kamen Rider.”

#kamen rider revice #igarashi ikki #Ikki Igarashi #Maeda Kentaro

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fumblingmusings · 1 year

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Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you’d like to know better!

@draw-a-circle-thats-the-compass very kindly tagged me - thank you!! I don't get to do tag games that often so hohoho. Verboseness incoming.

What book are you currently reading?

I'm re-reading Anne Bronte's Tenant of Wildfell Hall at the moment. A post on tumblr being mean about Gilbert and saying he was just as bad as Mr Rochester or Heathcliff made me go oohhhhhh how very dare so now I'm re-reading one of my favourite books of all time. The three part series from the late 90s is very good and is on Daily Motion if you'd rather watch (Tara Fitzgerald, Toby Stevens and Rupert Graves are so very good!)

What’s your favourite movie you saw in theatres this year?

I saw only one film at the cinema this year, so by default The Batman wins. It was very loud.

What do you usually wear?

Dresses, tights, brown boots, scarves and cardigans. I dress like a librarian which is... fitting.

How tall are you?

5ft 7" or about 172cm.

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

Virgo! And I share a birthday with the day the Mayflower finally managed to leave Britain and sail to America. Also Papua New Guinea's Independence Day. Those are probably the most... Anglo-centric and relevant ones to this blog's interests...

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

My real life nickname is Abbie and I certainly do not mind if people wish to call me that on here either! Or Ab. Or Abadab as I am known on Animal Crossing.

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

I wanted to be a vet, as many kids did, as I never had any pets growing up save some fish in a pond in the garden. But I also always really loved history, and wanted to work with objects behind the scenes. When my science grades weren't straight A's, I instead focused on History, Geography, Politics and English. I did a series of work placements during my summer and winter holidays during my undergrad to figure out what field I liked best - in a library, in a gallery and in an archive. The archives won, I volunteered for the next two years, did the degree, got a temp job, got a permanent job and here I am! All in all pretty smooth sailing really.

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one?

No and no! I think I am ace. I think. :I we just don't know

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

I am a good swimmer but a terrible runner. I am pretty bad at exercise in general...

Dogs or cats?

Cats! I used to work at a cattery. I adore them so much. I wish I could have one of my own but I don't have the spare funds at the moment. My goal is to have one by the time I'm 30.

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

600 hours and counting on Breath of the Wild baby

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

I tried and signed up for a dating app in August - it was a bit of a dud. But I tried, and came to conclusions about myself. Mainly, I need therapy. So I'm currently doing that. Ha. Ha....

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

I am a semi-decent cross-stitcher! I am just quite a slow one. But I have a skill for it I think. I always have three projects going at once. Not great for speed...

Are you religious?

Nah. I am baptised Anglican but I only go to church when my mum asks me to attend with her (she's Scottish Methodist herself but makes do with her village Anglican church - beggars cannae be choosers) usually just for the carol concert. I deal with Diocesan records every day at work so I have a real knowledge of how the Church of England works with very little actual belief in it. I'm not particularly spiritual either. It's interesting to me, but not out of a desire for any of it to be real.

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

A really big lie-in. A few more days and I can zzzzzzzzzzzz.

And uhhhhh I taaaaaaggggg @luciality @sunnysssol @50colonies @ashipwithoutaname @captainproudfeminist @flash-silver-4316 @astrophilic-soul

Thank you!!!!

#op #tag games

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battinsonseyeliner · 2 years

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My emotional break down after Tom treating my like shit

“How could you send me a killing curse? Hmm? Have I spoiled you too much?” Tom questioned me after I got back from taking Malfoy to the hospital wing, “spoiled me? You used the cruciatus curse to torture me for three minutes Tom, I could’ve gone crazy and live in st Mungos for the rest of my life, how do you call that spoiled?” I tried my best to fight the urge to hex him again, “you think I would have let you gone crazy? If I wanted, then I wouldn’t have lifted the curse.” His words made me speechless.

“Thank you for the reassurance, now I feel so much better,” I said with sarcasm. “Watch your attitude, Rosier,” he lowered his voice, “you know, I hate this whole new persona of yours,” I said as I sit down on his bed, “what are you talking about?” He asked me with a wee bit of confusion. “I hate Voldemort, I fucking hate his guts, I love Tom Riddle, not Voldemort, Tom Riddle is caring, protective, Tom Riddle used to comfort me with whispering parseltongue because he knows it brings me comforts, Tom Riddle used to brings me gifts after summer holidays, Tom Riddle would watch over me, Tom Riddle was a great friend, he used to do my homework, prank people with me. Voldemort doesn’t. Voldemort is cruel, evil, vile, I want Tom Riddle back, not Voldemort.” I lashed out all my emotions I have been bottling up for the past weeks at him.

Tom was taken back by my outburst, “Tom Riddle wouldn’t be able to change the world, Tom Riddle wouldn’t be able to rise to power, he was nothing but a pathetic orphan who was so desperate to know anything about his parents, nothing but weak, but Voldemort is different, he is far more stronger than Tom Riddle, Voldemort would never let people treat him the same way that Tom Riddle had been treated,” Tom sounded a bit more softer when he parted his lips this time.

He lifted my chin with his hand gently, wiping the tears from my face, “I am sorry, Kate, you have been nothing but supportive, I know how much you care about me.” He said gently, “do you even remember what we were like during our first year?” I said to him, more like to myself, “I do, sweetheart. I remember that I was shocked but happy at the same time when you told me being able to speak parseltongue is an extraordinary gift. Unlike the others, you didn’t bully me for being a half blood, you would gave other pure bloods a hard time if they had bullied me in any sorts of ways, I will be always grateful for that, for how you have went against your families beliefs for me.”

I didn’t know what to say at that moment however he continued to talk. “I am sorry Kate, for everything, and I know it’s going to be hard, but just know that there’ll always be a place for you in my heart, no matter if I am Tom Riddle or Voldemort, you will always be special to me,” Tom said before he crouched down to place a kiss on my forehead. “I just, really missed you,” I said after he leaned away, “I know, I am sorry, truly,” he said softly, almost whispering. “I will never forget about how supportive you have been towards me, you have always been there for me, I will never take that for granted, but could I just ask you to support me one more time? Please. Join me, I will protect you, you shall protect my soul as long as you live,” he pleaded while staring into my eyes, “yes, I will.”

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #shifting stories

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jon-withnoh · 9 months

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100, 121, 129!

100. Your favourite Gothic novel:

It’s impossible to choose just one so I‘ll give you several. I spent a lot of time with Jane Eyre during my English degree and it‘s still one of my favourites. There‘s just so much there! (I‘d also recommend Wild Sargasso Sea and Jane Steele as interesting takes on the Jane Eyre story.) Secondly, people are sleeping on The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë. I actually prefer her prose to Charlotte‘s and she opens up extremely interesting subject matter (a woman fleeing her abusive husband with her son and earning her own living as an artist, to give the briefest of summaries). Thirdly, I do of course have to recommend Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. It‘s an extremely rich text that rewards multiple readings (I am currently on my third reread, armed with book tabs and a pencil). Definitely try to get a copy that has Sally Beauman‘s introduction (or find it on my blog under the rebecca das musical tag, hehe). It gives a lot of context and provides a jumping off point for further research.

121. A book that makes you nostalgic:

Anne of Green Gables (specifically the German translation I read as a child). I „borrowed“ (read: stole) the copy from my cousin, fully intending to give it back but never actually doing it. I‘m pretty sure she never noticed. It had the first two books of the series and I reread it countless times, especially over the summer. It‘s the perfect mixture of a heroine I could really identify with and an atmosphere that fits really well with that endless, sunny feeling of childhood summer holidays (at least in my memory).

Another book that makes me very nostalgic now is Alanna, the First Adventure by Tamora Pierce. I had the first two books of the series in German translation and read them many, many times. (I actually didn‘t end up finishing the series until I was in my early twenties).

129. A book with beautiful prose:

I have to recommend another book connected to Rebecca here (mainly because I just moved and all my books are in boxes, depriving me of visual reminders of the books I have actually read): Mrs de Winter by Susan Hill has very smooth, atmospheric prose that I enjoyed a lot.

I haven‘t read a lot of fiction in the last couple of years because I focused on poetry in my MA, so I also want to recommend a couple of poetry collections:

Flèche by Mary Jean Chan — this collection changed me. I want to memorise it and have it with me everywhere. I‘m stealing this description from the back of the book since words really are failing me: „As complex themes of multilingualism, queerness, psychoanalysis and cultural history emerge, so too does a richly imagined personal, maternal and national biography. The result is a series of poems that feel urgent and true, dazzling and devastating by turns“.

Good Bones by Maggie Smith — you might have read the title poem of the collection, „Good Bones“ that went viral a few years ago. This whole collection is a delight though, with images that appear and reappear in different places in the collection, thoughts on maturing, motherhood, and the feeling of being anchored to — or escaping — the place where you grow up.

No Map Could Show Them by Helen Mort — I recommend this book to everyone who asks me about poetry. I am not lying when I say that this is the book that made me a poet. I solidly thought of myself as a prose writer before I read it. It‘s a collection focusing on present day and historical women mountaineers (with detours into other subjects). What always draws me in about Mort‘s poetry is her incredible gift of getting the imagery and form of her poems work together to really make them sing. I could give a twenty minute lecture on her use of white space alone. I love this book.

#wheeee q&a time!#ask games #book recs ask game #thank you anon!

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doctorgerth · 2 years

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update, july 22

Hey, besties!! Dropping by to say I’m alive and making it, life has just been absolutely hectic for me ever since May (in both good and bad ways, but mostly really good!!!!) which would explain my absence. I only have a few days left of summer before I have to go back to work so I am going to try my best to finish up some of the requests in my box before then. I will most likely not get to all of them, and I want to go ahead and apologize for that but here’s the heads up!

Once I go back to work (beginning of August), I will be stepping away from the blog/going on another hiatus for a bit as I really won’t have the time nor energy to write for you guys a whole lot. I might pop in every now and then to interact and share a writing bit or two, but I can’t promise or commit myself to any kind of writing schedule. They’ve never worked for me in the past even when I had freer time haha

I’m really sorry I don’t have more time or energy to do stuff for you guys on here, but I do appreciate those of you who stick by me anyway ❤️ Regardless of my activity, your kindness and support never goes unnoticed!

When I do eventually return (hopefully during the holidays, if not, definitely next summer) I’m considering either redesigning this blog completely, or starting fresh with a new one. But we shall see what the future holds! For now, I want to let you guys know that, other than the few requests I’m trying to get out before summer ends, you won’t be hearing much from me for a while. But only because of work, not because I’m leaving forever :-)

As always, thanks for all your love, care, and support! I hope you all are doing well and taking care of yourselves! 💞

#doctorgerth #update #i can’t pin this post so you’ll probably see periodic reblogs of this #I’ll also try to consistently reblog art and fanfic to keep something circulating on here while I’m away #I’m so terribly behind on one piece both anime and manga :-(((#i just haven’t been super into it lately and idk why cuz I know Wano is finally coming to a close #hopefully during my hiatus I can take time to get caught up and find that love again #k love u bye

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nikonyako · 1 year

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New Year new Niko! (art by intern_bomb on twt)

Taps microphone... HELLO am I doing this Tumblr thing right?

In the new year one of the activities I want to start is blogging! I think it could be an incredible way to document my thoughts and also reflect on how I am feeling. This is going to be for MYSELF. If you want to read it, or ask questions- go right ahead! But what I post here is for me and not to impress anyone else.

But besides that, first thing's first-

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2022 was an incredible year in so many ways. Incredible doesn't have to mean good necessarily, either. Everyone says a year can change their life but for me especially, my whole life has been turned upside-down. Below is some of the major points of my year

-I graduated University with a Bachelor of Arts in May -I worked 3 part time jobs (if you count content creation) -We adopted our cute puppy, Antonio! -Spent over a month visiting my grandfather in the hospital while taking care of my grandma who undergoing chemo for breast cancer

The fact I was able to celebrate the holidays with my grandparents this year is a complete miracle, and I am so grateful for it. The end of 2022 felt somewhat normal compared to earlier this fall.

Nobody talks about the existential crisis you have after graduating university. Since the age of three, I have been in the routine of going to school. I wake up, go to class, learn, do homework and clubs, rinse and repeat.

For the first time in my life that isn't Summer vacation, that routine is broken, and as someone who actually enjoyed going to school, I heartbreakingly miss it! I was absolutely the band nerd in school, so I spent so much time in high school and uni taking part in marching band, orchestras, and other clubs. But nobody talks about how difficult it is to continue your hobbies outside of a school setting! It isn't like any company I work for will have a club band I can play in and I am afraid to join any community ensemble because I am not sure where I am going to settle down yet!

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON FRIENDSHIPS It was so easy to see people at school; be with your friends. Your life and my life were on the same path therefore that was 90% of the social activity I needed. Now when I want to meet high school friends, it is an effort to actually plan and execute meetups, work with work schedules, etc. And don't get me started about college friends, where not a SINGLE ONE lives in the same state as me.

And despite all this free time since I wasn't fortunate enough to graduate with a full time job, I found it really difficult to do things without a schedule. I spent a lot of time alone in my room, with difficulty finding motivation to apply to dozens of full time positions, just to get rejected or not be selected after a few interviews. My mom always told me it wasn't what you know, but who you know. And very much to my dismay (because how could my mom be right??!?) she was very much correct. I networked with someone during one of my jobs and what would you know! I have a full time position starting this month. I am so nervous but also really optimistic and excited to get back into the schedule, make money, and blossom a career. Life never goes the way you expect it to, so the same can go for your career path as well! I still plan on staying connected with the part time jobs I have now, and of course my streaming isn't going anywhere.

SO LET'S TALK ABOUT STREAMING

At the start of 2022, I made a video outlining my goals for the year and what I accomplished so far. Unfortunately my goals for the year weren't met quite to what I hoped it would be, but progress is still progress and the main point of streaming is to have fun and share my passions, so I am still very happy!

In December of 2022, I also passed my 2 year anniversary of streaming! I am so grateful for the nearly 1.7k of you who follow my twitch! So many people have come and gone but I am so grateful for everyone who has taken the time, even if just for a second, to check me out. As the Beatles say, "in my life, I've loved them all~"

But the term streamer has also not sat right with me recently. SO... I need to fix that! I want to take content beyond streaming this year and become a *cue sparkles* CONTENT CREATOR! Which means... -I will make edited videos on YT and TikTok -More blogs like this and content where I can express myself in a different medium -More discord events and community interaction

I also really want to spend my 2023 making new friendships and strengthening the friendships I already have, and network and collab more! Especially in the second half of 2022, I have admittedly felt a bit lonely and isolated (though I am MEGA grateful for the friends who I do talk with and you know who you are). But I miss the amount of people I knew and saw in early 2021, when my streaming journey was just starting.

2023 is the year of..

-NETWORKING -Expressing myself in different ways -Challenging myself to step out of my comfort zone -Doing what makes ME happy That's my goals and my outlook on the future. To my future self- if you feel sad, or lost, or lonely.. take a break! Reach out to someone! Try something in a new way! Don't trap yourself in an imaginary box that you made, and don't be afraid to step out of that shell you locked yourself in once and for all. Take a deep breath and think to yourself- "Is this something that will be impacting my life in a month from now?" If the answer is no, take a deep breath, go on a walk, and reassess. But know it's ok to have your feelings. Future Niko is validated (and so are you readers!)

So my essay is over. 2023 starts NOW so push off strong and pace yourself! Make this year yours!

#vtuber #chainsaw man #pochita #new year resolutions

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space-blue · 11 months

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6, 7, 8, for the star wars asks?

Heya 3-pico, thanks a lot for the ask!!! I had fun with it <3

6. What is your favorite Star Wars meme?

That is SO hard to choose. I have an enormous meme folder for Star Wars… So since this is your ask to ME and I do whatever I want on MY blog, get one of each :

Fav Rogue One meme :

Fav prequels:

Fav Thrawn :

Fav Cad Bane :

Fav Anakin :

Fav Vader :

Fav Shiv :

Fav Luke & Obi :

Fav Cody :

Fav Obi-Wan and Anakin (very hard pick, there are many) :

Fav Sequels :

Fav Grogu :

7. Dumbest Star Wars moment?

Oh no, there are so many… Literally so much stuff is dumb in SW… I'm watching Rebels with a friend because if I couldn't vent live about the dumb shit I'd never manage. A lot of early TCW was like that too, and though I think it's pretty innofensive, some of the recent live action dumbassery is a lot more grating. I couldn't pick a top moment. I do remember doing a prequels watch party with friends, and the factory assembly scene was like sandpapering my brain it went beyond the realm of funny.

... Who am I joking. It's "Somehow Palpatine has returned" like of course it is.

8. If you could ask George Lucas one question, what would it be?

Nothing. I'm boring as hell, sorry U_U He's done his piece, he's done interviews, he's not in control much of recent projects, I got nothing to ask to the man. I'm not particularly curious. I'd probably voice that I'm a fan, tell him how I was abusing my french VHS tapes watching the trilogy back to back all alone in my grandparents' holiday house attic during the summers. I'd tell him I had an articulated Jabba the Hutt toy and fancied myself a bounty hunter. How meaningful that series was and how grateful I still am as an adult. But I think he's been asked a million questions already and I wouldn't want to pester him.

Thanks again! Feel free to ask, from those!

#star wars #memes #ask game #ask away!#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #star wars memes

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craftygal1965 · 1 year

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Alice Wong on Hospitalization, Crowdfunding Medical Care, and Finding Love In Community

By Alice WongFebruary 14, 2023

Disability rights activist Alice Wong

Eddie Hernandez Photography

In this op-ed, a leading disability rights activist talks about learning to lean on her community.

2022 was the year of the tiger, the Chinese zodiac sign I was born under. I thought it would be my year. But it wasn’t. Or at least not in the way I expected. Experiencing so many extreme ups and downs during the pandemic, I thought surely things couldn’t get worse. I was wrong.

Being disabled in a non-disabled world means a life steeped in precarity and vulnerability. I’ve written about my experiences during the pandemic as a high-risk person and relying on Medicaid in the past. Like millions of other disabled people, I am always one step from institutionalization, serious illness, or death.

Last June, I was hospitalized for four weeks in the intensive care unit, leaving me with a tracheostomy and feeding tube. I lost the ability to speak, eat, and swallow all at once. It was one the most harrowing and excruciating times of my life. I started 2022 looking forward to the fall launch of my debut memoir, Year of the Tiger: An Activist’s Life. I worked with my editor on the final edits to my manuscript and prepared for promotion with the publicity and marketing departments. I co-organized a series of online book events centering Asian disabled people by partnering with a university in my area, and created a holiday collaboration with a gay, nonbinary. disabled Asian entrepreneur who sells rainbow spoons and chopsticks. On top of all that, I started work on my next book, Disability Intimacy, an anthology of essays by disabled people set for release in 2024. I had a lot to do and was hella stoked about all of it.

While weak and under extreme pain, I had to push for changes in my treatment plan from my hospital bed, along with my sisters Emily and Grace, who took turns spending 24-hour shifts by my side watching me and keeping track of my health. My sisters saved my life more than once during those arduous weeks. Friends, fellow organizers and advocates, and acquaintances shared resources and information with me, answered questions, and took on tasks I could not do. I entrusted my book events and media requests to my friend Sandy Ho, who implemented my plans and coordinated events with my publisher.

Even with the book launch in good hands, I became overwhelmed upon my return home by the amount of supplies and equipment not covered by insurance — supplies that I will need indefinitely. I reluctantly created an Amazon wishlist and friends shared it on social media. The response from the community was swift and left me astounded. Another dear friend, Yomi Wrong, organized a crowdfunding campaign to assist my family with the significant costs of the additional care that I now require.

Loving oneself can be much harder than loving others. I had to remind myself that receiving help is not a weakness. I thought I had learned this through years of needing total assistance with my personal care. However, the gratitude I felt was twinged with ambivalence because I had never received help at such a scale before. I was also angry at the fact that any person in the United States has to crowdfund to live. Whenever I worried about the optics of “begging” for help, my friends were there to remind me that I am deserving of all these things. Now more than ever I am acutely aware of how vital community care is because the state will not save us—it was never designed to in the first place.

During that summer, through the sleepless nights, tears, pain, and exhaustion, I asked myself, “Why do I have to work so hard just to live? Are people supporting me because of who I am or what I do? What is the role of an activist within a community?” The terms “the disability community” and “the Asian American community” are limited and monolithic. For example, media coverage of the recent mass shootings of Asians in Atlanta, Monterey Park, and Half Moon Bay demonstrates how easy entire cultures are distorted and flattened. When I talk about community, I refer to my people, an interconnected web of family, friends, acquaintances, and comrades. People who know, care, love, and understand me. I love my community and am accountable to them first and foremost because it is impossible for an activist to meet the expectations of everyone and everything. The sense of urgency and uncertainty emanating from my body compels me to value my time and the relationships I have with others. This is why I am intentional about what I do, who I choose to organize with, and the ways I work with others. Activism comes in all forms. For me, it starts with staying alive, building community, and telling my story. Activism is practice grounded in love.

I never intended to be an activist. But my life has always been political. I cannot escape it. I have lived this every day ever since I was a child who had to grow up fast, a child of immigrants advocating for herself to teachers and doctors. When I became older and understood white supremacy, ableism, and structural oppression, I realized the fight was not just for myself but for everyone marginalized and devalued by institutions, systems, and practices. It is the epitome of privilege when people say they are non-political. One only has to see how COVID minimizers and misinformation gaslights people with long COVID and renders high-risk marginalized people disposable as we approach the fourth year of this never-ending plague. My recent near-death experience reaffirmed how fragile everything is. I dream of a day when I can just be and it would be enough. I wish for all disabled people the choice of becoming an activist rather than being forced to as a means of survival.

My dad used to jokingly call me 纸老虎, a paper tiger: something that seems powerful but isn’t. I guess he was referring to my disabled body, but I no longer find it offensive. After all, a paper tiger is delicate and light, it can fold and transform itself, resisting the forces that seek to crumple it. Fuel for fire, smooth and versatile. Seemingly powerless, it still has sharp edges.

I continue to slowly recover and adapt to my new body. For now, every breath from my ventilator is a ferocious feline roar of defiance and joy. I will continue, in big and small ways, to create change and cherish my people. One thing I learned in my life as an activist is the immense love, power, and solidarity that comes from working collectively and reimagining and building a world rooted in justice. A world without violence or prisons, nursing homes, and psychiatric institutions. Where every person is safe and cared for with their needs met. Where our worth is not measured by our production or labor. Where everyone belongs.

I am just one activist but I am not alone.

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#Disability rights activist Alice Wong

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